diff options
Diffstat (limited to 'old/68385-h/68385-h.htm')
| -rw-r--r-- | old/68385-h/68385-h.htm | 26690 |
1 files changed, 0 insertions, 26690 deletions
diff --git a/old/68385-h/68385-h.htm b/old/68385-h/68385-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index 09fcf75..0000000 --- a/old/68385-h/68385-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,26690 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE html> -<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> -<head> - <meta charset="UTF-8" /> - <title> - Civilization in the United States, by Harold E. Stearns—A Project Gutenberg eBook - </title> - <link rel="icon" href="images/cover.jpg" type="image/x-cover" /> - <style> /* <![CDATA[ */ - -body { - margin-left: 2.5em; - margin-right: 2.5em; -} -.x-ebookmaker body {margin: 0;} -.x-ebookmaker-drop {color: inherit;} - -h1, h2, h3 { - text-align: center; - clear: both; - margin-top: 2.5em; - margin-bottom: 1em; - word-spacing: .2em; -} - -h1 {line-height: 1;} - -h2.chap {margin-bottom: 0;} -h2+p {margin-top: 1.5em;} -.x-ebookmaker h1, .x-ebookmaker .chapter, .x-ebookmaker .newpage {page-break-before: always;} -.x-ebookmaker h1.nobreak, .x-ebookmaker h2.nobreak, .x-ebookmaker .nobreak {page-break-before: avoid; padding-top: 0;} - -.transnote h2 { - margin-top: .5em; - margin-bottom: 1em; -} - -p { - text-indent: 1.75em; - margin-top: .51em; - margin-bottom: .24em; - text-align: justify; -} -.x-ebookmaker p { - margin-top: .5em; - margin-bottom: .25em; -} - -.center p, p.center {text-align: center; text-indent: 0;} - -.p2 {margin-top: 2em;} -.p4 {margin-top: 4em;} -.b4 {padding-bottom: 4em;} -.x-ebookmaker .b4 {padding-bottom: 1em;} - -.in0 {text-indent: 0;} -.in2 {padding-left: 2em;} -.in4 {padding-left: 4em;} - -.xxsmall {font-size: 50%;} -.small {font-size: 70%;} -.smaller {font-size: 85%;} -.larger {font-size: 125%;} - -p.drop-cap {text-indent: 0; margin-bottom: 1.1em;} -p.drop-cap:first-letter { - float: left; - margin: .09em .55em 0 0; - font-size: 225%; - line-height:0.7em; - text-indent: 0; - clear: both; -} -p.drop-cap.i .smcap1 {margin-left: -.3em;} -p.drop-cap.a .smcap1 {margin-left: -.75em;} -p.drop-cap .smcap1 {margin-left: -1.2em;} -p.drop-cap.b .smcap1 {margin-left: -1.3em;} -p.drop-cap.al .smcap1 {margin-left: -1.5em;} -p .smcap1 {font-size: 115%;} -.smcap1 {text-transform: uppercase;} - -.x-ebookmaker p.drop-cap {text-indent: 1.75em; margin-bottom: .24em;} -.x-ebookmaker p.drop-cap:first-letter { - float: none; - font-size: 100%; - margin-left: 0; - margin-right: 0; - text-indent: 1.75em; -} - -.x-ebookmaker p.drop-cap.a .smcap1, - .x-ebookmaker p.drop-cap .smcap1, - .x-ebookmaker p.drop-cap.b .smcap1, - .x-ebookmaker p.drop-cap.al .smcap1 {margin-left: 0;} -.x-ebookmaker p .smcap1 {font-size: 100%;} -.x-ebookmaker .smcap1 {font-variant: normal;} - -.center {text-align: center;} - -.right {text-align: right; margin-right: 2em; page-break-before: avoid;} - -.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} - -hr { - width: 75%; - margin: 4em auto 4em auto; - clear: both; -} -.x-ebookmaker hr { - margin-top: .1em; - margin-bottom: .1em; - visibility: hidden; - color: white; - width: .01em; - display: none; -} - -.tb { - text-align: center; - padding-top: .76em; - padding-bottom: .24em; - letter-spacing: 1.5em; - margin-right: -1.5em; -} - -table { - margin-left: auto; - margin-right: auto; - max-width: 100%; - border-collapse: collapse; -} -.x-ebookmaker table {width: auto; max-width: 100%; margin: 1em auto 1em auto;} - -.tdl { - text-align: left; - vertical-align: top; - padding-right: 1em; - padding-left: 1.5em; - text-indent: -1.5em; -} -.x-ebookmaker .tdl { - padding-left: 1em; - text-indent: -1em; - padding-right: 0; -} -#toc td {padding-bottom: .5em;} -#toc .small td {padding-bottom: 0;} - -.tdc {text-align: center;} -.tdc.chapsub { - font-size: 1.05em; - padding-top: .25em; - padding-bottom: 1em; -} - -.tdr { - text-align: right; - vertical-align: bottom; - padding-left: .3em; - white-space: nowrap; -} -#foreign .tdr {padding-left: 0; padding-right: .33em;} - -.pagenum { - position: absolute; - right: .25em; - text-indent: 0; - text-align: right; - font-size: 70%; - font-weight: normal; - font-variant: normal; - font-style: normal; - letter-spacing: normal; - line-height: normal; - color: #acacac; - border: .0625em solid #acacac; - background: #ffffff; - padding: .0625em .125em; -} - -.figcenter { - margin: 2em auto 2em auto; - text-align: center; - page-break-inside: avoid; -} -.x-ebookmaker .figcenter {margin-top: 1em;} - -img { - padding: 0 0 .5em 0; - width: 100%; - height: auto; -} - -a.ref {text-decoration: none;} - -ul {margin-left: 3em; padding-left: 0;} -li {list-style-type: none; padding-left: 2em; text-indent: -2.5em; text-align: left;} -.x-ebookmaker ul {margin-left: 1em; padding-left: 0;} -.x-ebookmaker li {list-style-type: none; padding-left: 1em; text-indent: -1.5em;} - -.footnote { - border: thin dashed black; - margin: 1.5em 10%; - padding: .5em 1em .5em 1.5em; -} - -.footnote {font-size: .95em;} -.footnote p {text-indent: 1em;} -.footnote p.in0 {text-indent: 0;} - -.fnanchor { - vertical-align: 60%; - line-height: .7; - font-size: smaller; - text-decoration: none; -} -.footnote .fnanchor {font-size: .8em;} - -.index {margin-left: 1em;} -.x-ebookmaker .index {margin-left: 0;} -ul.index {padding-left: 0;} -li {list-style-type: none;} -li.indx, li.ifrst {list-style-type: none; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em; padding-top: .2em;} -li.isub1 {padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -2em;} -li.ifrst {padding-top: 1em;} - -.blockquot { - margin: 1.5em 5% 1.5em 5%; - font-size: 95%; -} - -.x-ebookmaker .blockquot {margin: 1.5em 3% 1.5em 3%;} - -.hang p { - text-align: justify; - padding-left: 2em; - text-indent: -2em; -} - -.poetry-container { - margin: 1.5em auto; - text-align: center; - font-size: 98%; - page-break-before: avoid; - page-break-inside: avoid; -} - -.poetry, .poetry.short { - display: inline-block; - text-align: left; - margin-left: 0; -} - -.poetry .stanza {padding: 0.5em 0;} -.poetry .verse {text-indent: -3em; padding-left: 3em;} - -.poetry .tb {margin: .3em 0 0 0;} - -.poetry .attrib {margin-right: -2em; text-align: right; margin-top: -.5em;} - -.poetry .indentq {text-indent: -3.45em;} -.poetry .indent0 {text-indent: -3em;} -.poetry .indent4 {text-indent: -1em;} -.poetry .indent8 {text-indent: 1em;} - -.x-ebookmaker .poetry-container {text-align: center;} -.x-ebookmaker .poetry {display: block; text-align: left; margin-left: 10%;} -.x-ebookmaker .poetry.short { - display: inline-block; - page-break-before: avoid; - page-break-inside: avoid; - margin-left: 0; - max-width: 20em; -} -.x-ebookmaker .poetry .stanza {page-break-inside: avoid;} -.x-ebookmaker .poetry .tb {text-align: left; padding-left: 2em;} - -.transnote { - background-color: #999999; - border: thin dotted; - font-family: sans-serif, serif; - margin-left: 5%; - margin-right: 5%; - margin-top: 4em; - margin-bottom: 2em; - padding: 1em; -} -.x-ebookmaker .transnote { - page-break-inside: avoid; - margin-left: 2%; - margin-right: 2%; - margin-top: 1em; - margin-bottom: 1em; - padding: .5em; -} - -.covernote {visibility: hidden; display: none;} -.x-ebookmaker .covernote {visibility: visible; display: block; text-align: center;} - -.wspace {word-spacing: .3em;} - -span.locked {white-space:nowrap;} -.pagenum br {display: none; visibility: hidden;} - -.illowe4 {width: 4em;} -.w100 {width: 100%;} - - /* ]]> */ </style> -</head> - -<body> -<p style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Civilization in the United States, by Various</p> -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online -at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> - -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: Civilization in the United States</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:0; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:1em;'>An inquiry by thirty Americans</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Various</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Editor: Harold E. Stearns</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: June 23, 2022 [eBook #68385]</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</p> - <p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em; text-align:left'>Produced by: Emmanuel Ackerman, Charlie Howard, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive)</p> -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CIVILIZATION IN THE UNITED STATES ***</div> - -<div class="transnote covernote"> -<p class="center larger">Transcriber’s Note</p> - -<p>Cover image created by Transcriber, using part of -an image of the original book’s Title page, -and placed into the Public Domain.</p> -</div> - -<div class="newpage p2 center wspace"> -<h1> -CIVILIZATION IN THE<br /> -UNITED STATES</h1> - -<p class="p2 larger"><i>AN INQUIRY BY THIRTY AMERICANS</i></p> - -<p class="p4 b4">EDITED BY HAROLD E. STEARNS</p> - -<div class="figcenter illowe4"> - <img class="w100" src="images/i_001.png" alt="Publisher Logo" /> -</div> - -<p class="p2"><span class="smaller">NEW YORK</span><br /> -HARCOURT, BRACE AND COMPANY -</p> -</div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<p class="newpage p4 center wspace"> -<span class="smaller">COPYRIGHT, 1922, BY<br /> -HARCOURT, BRACE AND COMPANY, INC</span></p> - -<p class="p4 center"><span class="xxsmall">PRINTED IN THE U. S. A. BY<br /> -THE QUINN & BODEN COMPANY<br /> -RAHWAY, N. J.</span> -</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_iii">iii</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="PREFACE">PREFACE</h2> -</div> - -<p><span class="smcap">This</span> book has been an adventure in intellectual co-operation. -If it were a mere collection of haphazard essays, gathered -together to make the conventional symposium, it would have -only slight significance. But it has been the deliberate and -organized outgrowth of the common efforts of like-minded men -and women to see the problem of modern American civilization -as a whole, and to illuminate by careful criticism the -special aspect of that civilization with which the individual -is most familiar. Personal contact has served to correct overemphasis, -and slow and careful selection of the members of a -group which has now grown to some thirty-odd has given to -this work a unity of approach and attack which it otherwise -could not possibly have had.</p> - -<p>The nucleus of this group was brought together by common -work, common interests, and more or less common assumptions. -As long ago as the autumn of last year Mr. Van Wyck -Brooks and I discussed the possibility of several of us, -who were engaged in much the same kind of critical examination -of our civilization, coming together to exchange ideas, to -clarify our individual fields, and to discover wherein they coincided, -overlapped, or diverged. The original desire was the -modest one of making it possible for us to avoid working at -cross-purposes. I suggested that we meet at my home, which -a few of us did, and since that time until the delivery of this -volume to the publishers we have met every fortnight. Even -at our first meeting we discovered our points of view to have -so much in common that our desire for informal and pleasant -discussions became the more serious wish to contribute a definite -and tangible piece of work towards the advance of intellectual -life in America. We wished to speak the truth about -American civilization as we saw it, in order to do our share -in making a real civilization possible—for I think with all of -us there was a common assumption that a field cannot be<span class="pagenum" id="Page_iv">iv</span> -ploughed until it has first been cleared of rocks, and that constructive -criticism can hardly exist until there is something -on which to construct.</p> - -<p>Naturally the first problem to arise was the one of ways and -means. If the spirit and temper of the French encyclopædists -of the 18th century appealed strongly to us, certainly their -method for the advancement of knowledge was inapplicable in -our own century. The cultural phenomena we proposed to -survey were too complicated and extensive; besides, we wished -to make a definite contribution of some kind or another while, -so to speak, there was yet time. For the cohesiveness of the -group, the good-humoured tolerance and cheerful sacrifice of -time, were to some extent the consequence of the intellectual -collapse that came with the hysterical post-armistice days, -when it was easier than in normal times to get together intelligent -and civilized men and women in common defence against -the common enemy of reaction. We wished to take advantage -of this strategic situation for the furtherance of our co-operative -enterprise, and decided, finally, that the simplest plan -would be the best. Each of us was to write a single short -essay on the special topic we knew most thoroughly; we were -to continue our meetings in order to keep informed of the -progress of our work and to see that there was no duplication; -we were to extend the list of subjects to whatever legitimately -bore upon our cultural life and to select the authors by common -agreement; we were to keep in touch with each other -so that the volume might have that inner consistency which -could come only from direct acquaintance with what each of -us was planning.</p> - -<p>There were a few other simple rules which we laid down -in the beginning. Desirous of avoiding merely irrelevant criticism -and of keeping attention upon our actual treatment of -our subjects rather than upon our personalities, we provided -that all contributors to the volume must be American citizens. -For the same reason, we likewise provided that in the list there -should be no professional propagandists—except as one is a -propagandist for one’s own ideas—no martyrs, and no one who -was merely disgruntled. Since our object was to give an uncompromising, -and consequently at some points necessarily<span class="pagenum" id="Page_v">v</span> -harsh, analysis, we desired the tone to be good-natured and -the temper urbane. At first, these larger points of policy were -decided by common agreement or, on occasion, by majority -vote, and to the end I settled no important question without -consultation with as many members of the group as I could -approach within the limited time we had agreed to have this -volume in the hands of the publisher. But with the extension -of the scope of the book, the negotiations with the publisher, -and the mass of complexities and details that are inevitable in -so difficult an enterprise, the authority to decide specific questions -and the usual editorial powers were delegated as a matter -of convenience to me, aided by a committee of three. Hence -I was in a position constantly to see the book as a whole, -and to make suggestions for differentiation, where repetition -appeared to impend, or for unity, where the divergence -was sharp enough to be construed by some as contradictory. -In view both of the fact that every contributor has full liberty -of opinion and that the personalities and points of view finding -expression in the essays are all highly individualistic, the underlying -unity which binds the volume together is really -surprising.</p> - -<p>It may seem strange that a volume on civilization in the -United States does not include a specific article on religion, -and the omission is worth a paragraph of explanation. Outside -the bigger cities, certainly no one can understand the social -structure of contemporary American life without careful study -of the organization and power of the church. Speaking generally, -we are a church-going people, and at least on the surface -the multiplicity of sects and creeds, the sheer immensity -of the physical apparatus by which the religious impulse is -articulated, would seem to prove that our interest in and -emotional craving for religious experience are enormous. But -the omission has not been due to any superciliousness on our -part towards the subject itself; on the contrary, I suppose I -have put more thought and energy into this essay, which has -not been written, than into any other problem connected with -the book. The bald truth is, it has been next to impossible -to get any one to write on the subject; most of the people I -approached shied off—it was really difficult to get them to talk<span class="pagenum" id="Page_vi">vi</span> -about it at all. Almost unanimously, when I did manage to -procure an opinion from them, they said that real religious -feeling in America had disappeared, that the church had become -a purely social and political institution, that the country -is in the grip of what Anatole France has aptly called Protestant -clericalism, and that, finally, they weren’t interested in -the topic. The accuracy of these observations (except the -last) I cannot, of course, vouch for, but it is rather striking -that they were identical. In any event, the topic as a topic -has had to be omitted; but it is not neglected, for in several -essays directly—in particular, “Philosophy” and “Nerves”—and -in many by implication the subject is discussed. At one -time Mr. James Harvey Robinson consented to write the article—and -it would have been an illuminating piece of work—but -unfortunately ill health and the pressure of official duties made -the task impossible for him within the most generous time -limit that might be arranged.</p> - -<p>I have spoken already of the unity which underlies the volume. -When I remember all these essays, and try to summon -together the chief themes that run through them, either by -explicit statement or as a kind of underlying rhythm to all, -in order to justify the strong impression of unity, I find three -major contentions that may be said to be basic—contentions -all the more significant inasmuch as they were unpremeditated -and were arrived at, as it were, by accident rather than design. -They are:</p> - -<p>First, That in almost every branch of American life there -is a sharp dichotomy between preaching and practice; we let -not our right hand know what our left hand doeth. Curiously -enough, no one regards this, and in fact no one consciously -feels this as hypocrisy—there are certain abstractions and -dogmas which are sacred to us, and if we fall short of these -external standards in our private life, that is no reason for -submitting them to a fresh examination; rather are we to -worship them the more vociferously to show our sense of sin. -Regardless, then, of the theoretical excellence or stupidity of -these standards, in actual practice the moral code resolves itself -into the one cardinal heresy of being found out, with the chief -sanction enforcing it, the fear of what people will say.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_vii">vii</span></p> - -<p>Second, That whatever else American civilization is, it is not -Anglo-Saxon, and that we shall never achieve any genuine -nationalistic self-consciousness as long as we allow certain -financial and social minorities to persuade us that we are still -an English Colony. Until we begin seriously to appraise and -warmly to cherish the heterogeneous elements which make up -our life, and to see the common element running through all -of them, we shall make not even a step towards true unity; -we shall remain, in Roosevelt’s class-conscious and bitter but -illuminating phrase, a polyglot boarding-house. It is curious -how a book on American civilization actually leads one back -to the conviction that we are, after all, Americans.</p> - -<p>Third, That the most moving and pathetic fact in the social -life of America to-day is emotional and æsthetic starvation, -of which the mania for petty regulation, the driving, regimentating, -and drilling, the secret society and its grotesque regalia, -the firm grasp on the unessentials of material organization of -our pleasures and gaieties are all eloquent stigmata. We have -no heritages or traditions to which to cling except those that -have already withered in our hands and turned to dust. One -can feel the whole industrial and economic situation as so -maladjusted to the primary and simple needs of men and -women that the futility of a rationalistic attack on these infantilisms -of compensation becomes obvious. There must be -an entirely new deal of the cards in one sense; we must change -our hearts. For only so, unless through the humbling of -calamity or scourge, can true art and true religion and true -personality, with their native warmth and caprice and gaiety, -grow up in America to exorcise these painted devils we have -created to frighten us away from the acknowledgment of our -spiritual poverty.</p> - -<p>If these main contentions seem severe or pessimistic, the -answer must be: we do not write to please; we strive only -to understand and to state as clearly as we can. For American -civilization is still in the embryonic stage, with rich and -with disastrous possibilities of growth. But the first step in -growing up is self-conscious and deliberately critical examination -of ourselves, without sentimentality and without fear. We -cannot even devise, much less control, the principles which are<span class="pagenum" id="Page_viii">viii</span> -to guide our future development until that preliminary understanding -has come home with telling force to the consciousness -of the ordinary man. To this self-understanding, this book is, -in our belief, a genuine and valuable contribution. We may -not always have been wise; we have tried always to be honest. -And if our attempt will help to embolden others to an equally -frank expression of their beliefs, perhaps in time wisdom will -come.</p> - -<p>I am glad that, however serious, we are never solemn in these -essays. Often, in fact, we are quite gay, and it would be a -humourless person indeed who could not read many of them, -even when the thrusts are at himself, with that laughter which -Rabelais tells us is proper to the man. For whatever our defects, -we Americans, we have one virtue and perhaps a saving -virtue—we still know how to laugh at ourselves.</p> - -<p class="right"> -H. E. S. -</p> - -<p class="in0">New York City, July Fourth, 1921.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CONTENTS">CONTENTS</h2> -</div> - -<table id="toc"> -<tr class="small"> - <td> </td> - <td> </td> - <td class="tdr">PAGE</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Preface</span></td> - <td class="tdl"><i>The Editor</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#PREFACE">iii</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The City</span></td> - <td class="tdl"><i>Lewis Mumford</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#toclink_3">3</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Politics</span></td> - <td class="tdl"><i>H. L. Mencken</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#toclink_21">21</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Journalism</span></td> - <td class="tdl"><i>John Macy</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#toclink_35">35</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Law</span></td> - <td class="tdl"><i>Zechariah Chafee, Jr.</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#toclink_53">53</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Education</span></td> - <td class="tdl"><i>Robert Morss Lovett</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#toclink_77">77</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Scholarship and Criticism</span></td> - <td class="tdl"><i>J. E. Spingarn</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#toclink_93">93</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">School and College Life</span></td> - <td class="tdl"><i>Clarence Britten</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#toclink_109">109</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Intellectual Life</span></td> - <td class="tdl"><i>Harold E. Stearns</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#toclink_135">135</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Science</span></td> - <td class="tdl"><i>Robert H. Lowie</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#toclink_151">151</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Philosophy</span></td> - <td class="tdl"><i>Harold Chapman Brown</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#toclink_163">163</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Literary Life</span></td> - <td class="tdl"><i>Van Wyck Brooks</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#toclink_179">179</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Music</span></td> - <td class="tdl"><i>Deems Taylor</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#toclink_199">199</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Poetry</span></td> - <td class="tdl"><i>Conrad Aiken</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#toclink_215">215</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Art</span></td> - <td class="tdl"><i>Walter Pach</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#toclink_227">227</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Theatre</span></td> - <td class="tdl"><i>George Jean Nathan</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#toclink_243">243</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Economic Opinion</span></td> - <td class="tdl"><i>Walter H. Hamilton</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#toclink_255">255</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Radicalism</span></td> - <td class="tdl"><i>George Soule</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#toclink_271">271</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Small Town</span></td> - <td class="tdl"><i>Louis Raymond Reid</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#toclink_285">285</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">History</span></td> - <td class="tdl"><i>H. W. Van Loon</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#toclink_297">297</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Sex</span></td> - <td class="tdl"><i>Elsie Clews Parsons</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#toclink_309">309</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Family</span></td> - <td class="tdl"><i>Katharine Anthony</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#toclink_319">319</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Alien</span></td> - <td class="tdl"><i>Frederic C. Howe</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#toclink_337">337</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Racial Minorities</span></td> - <td class="tdl"><i>Geroid Tanquary Robinson</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#toclink_351">351</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Advertising</span></td> - <td class="tdl"><i>J. Thorne Smith</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#toclink_381">381</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Business</span></td> - <td class="tdl"><i>Garet Garrett</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#toclink_397">397</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Engineering</span></td> - <td class="tdl"><i>O. S. Beyer, Jr.</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#toclink_417">417</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Nerves</span></td> - <td class="tdl"><i>Alfred B. Kuttner</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#toclink_427">427</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Medicine</span></td> - <td class="tdl"><i>Anonymous</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#toclink_443">443</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Sport and Play</span></td> - <td class="tdl"><i>Ring W. Lardner</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#toclink_457">457</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Humour</span></td> - <td class="tdl"><i>Frank M. Colby</i></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#toclink_463">463</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdc chapsub" colspan="3"><span class="smcap">American Civilization from the Foreign Point of View</span></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl"> I <span class="smcap">As an Englishman Sees It</span></td> - <td class="tdl"><span class="in2"><i>Henry L. Stuart</i></span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#toclink_469">469</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl"> II <span class="smcap">As an Irishman Sees It</span></td> - <td class="tdl"><span class="in2"><i>Ernest Boyd</i></span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#toclink_489">489</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl">III <span class="smcap">As an Italian Sees It</span></td> - <td class="tdl"><span class="in2"><i>Raffaello Piccoli</i></span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#toclink_508">508</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl" colspan="2"><span class="smcap">Bibliographical Notes</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#toclink_527">527</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl" colspan="2"><span class="smcap">Who’s Who of the Contributors</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#toclink_557">557</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl" colspan="2"><span class="smcap">Index</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#toclink_565">565</a></td> -</tr> -</table> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div id="toclink_3" class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_3">3</span></p> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CIVILIZATION_IN_THE_UNITED_STATES"><span class="smaller">CIVILIZATION IN THE UNITED STATES</span></h2> -</div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="THE_CITY">THE CITY</h2> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap al"><span class="smcap1">Around</span> us, in the city, each epoch in America has been -concentrated and crystallized. In building our cities we -deflowered a wilderness. To-day more than one-half the population -of the United States lives in an environment which -the jerry-builder, the real estate speculator, the paving contractor, -and the industrialist have largely created. Have we -begotten a civilization? That is a question which a survey of -the American city will help us to answer.</p> - -<p>If American history is viewed from the standpoint of the -student of cities, it divides itself roughly into three parts. The -first was a provincial period, which lasted from the foundation -of Manhattan down to the opening up of ocean commerce after -the War of 1812. This was followed by a commercial period, -which began with the cutting of canals and ended with the -extension of the railroad system across the continent, and an -industrial period, that gathered force on the Atlantic seaboard -in the ’thirties and is still the dominant economic phase of -our civilization. These periods must not be looked upon as -strictly successive or exclusive: the names merely express in a -crude way the main aspect of each era. It is possible to -telescope the story of America’s colonial expansion and industrial -exploitation by following the material growth and the -cultural impoverishment of the American city during its transformations.</p> - -<p>The momentum of the provincial city lasted well on to the -Civil War. The economic basis of this period was agriculture -and petty trade: its civic expression was, typically, the small -New England town, with a central common around which were -grouped a church—appropriately called a meeting-house—a -school, and perhaps a town hall. Its main street would be -lined with tall suave elms and bordered by reticent white -houses of much the same design as those that dotted the countryside. -In the growing towns of the seaboard this culture was<span class="pagenum" id="Page_4">4</span> -overthrown, before it had a chance to express itself adequately -in either institutions or men, and it bloomed rather tardily, -therefore, in the little towns of Concord and Cambridge, between -1820 and the Civil War. We know it to-day through -a largely anonymous architecture, and through a literature created -by the school of writers that bears the name of the chief -city. Unfortunately for the further development of what we -might call the Concord culture, the agricultural basis of this -civilization shifted to the wheat-growing West; and therewith -channels of trade were diverted from Boston to ports that -tapped a richer, more imperial hinterland. What remained -of the provincial town in New England was a mummy-case.</p> - -<p>The civilization of the New England town spent itself in -the settlement of the Ohio Valley and the great tracts beyond. -None of the new centres had, <i xml:lang="la" lang="la">qua</i> provincial towns, any fresh -contribution to make. It had taken the culture of New England -more than three centuries before it had borne its Concord -fruit, and the story of the Western movement is somehow -summed up in the legend of Johnny Appleseed, who -planted dry apple seeds, instead of slips from the living tree, -and hedged the roads he travelled with wild apples, harsh and -puny and inedible. Cincinnati and Pittsburgh jumped from -a frustrate provincialism into the midst of the machine era; -and so for a long time they remained destitute of the institutions -that are necessary to carry on the processes of civilization.</p> - -<p>West of the Alleghanies, the common, with its church and -school, was not destined to dominate the urban landscape: the -railroad station and the commercial hotel had come to take -their place. This was indeed the universal mark of the new -industrialism, as obvious in 19th-century Oxford as in Hoboken. -The pioneer American city, however, had none of the -cultural institutions that had been accumulated in Europe during -the great outbursts of the Middle Age and the Renaissance, -and as a result its destitution was naked and apparent. It is -true that every town which was developed mainly during the -19th century—Manchester as well as Milwaukee—suffered -from the absence of civic institutes. The peculiarity of the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_5">5</span> -New World was that the facilities for borrowing from the -older centres were considerably more limited. London could -export Madox Brown to Manchester to do the murals in the -Town Hall: New York had still to create its schools of art -before it had any Madox Browns that could be exported.</p> - -<p>With the beginning of the 19th century, market centres which -had at first tapped only their immediate region began to reach -further back into the hinterland, and to stretch outward, not -merely for freight but for immigrants, across the ocean. The -silly game of counting heads became the fashion, and in the -literature of the ’thirties one discovers that every commercial -city had its statistical lawyer who was bold enough to predict -its leadership in “population and wealth” before the century -was out. The chief boast of the American city was its prospective -size.</p> - -<p>Now the New England town was a genuine community. In -so far as the New England community had a common social -and political and religious life, the town expressed it. The -city which was representative of the second period, on the -other hand, was in origin a trading fort, and the supreme -occupation of its founders was with the goods life rather than -the good life. New York, Pittsburgh, Chicago, and St. Louis -have this common basis. They were not composed of corporate -organizations on the march, as it were, towards a New -Jerusalem: they were simply a rabble of individuals “on the -make.” With such a tradition to give it momentum it is -small wonder that the adventurousness of the commercial period -was exhausted on the fortuities and temptations of trade. A -state of intellectual anæsthesia prevailed. One has only to -compare Cist’s <cite>Cincinnati Miscellany</cite> with Emerson’s <cite>Dial</cite> to -see at what a low level the towns of the Middle West were -carrying on.</p> - -<p>Since there was neither fellowship nor social stability nor -security in the scramble of the inchoate commercial city, it -remained for a particular institution to devote itself to the -gospel of the “glad hand.” Thus an historian of Pittsburgh -records the foundation of a Masonic lodge as early as 1785, -shortly after the building of the church, and in every American<span class="pagenum" id="Page_6">6</span> -city, small or big, Odd Fellows, Mystic Shriners, Woodmen, -Elks, Knights of Columbus, and other orders without -number in the course of time found for themselves a prominent -place. (Their feminine counterparts were the D.A.R. -and the W.C.T.U., their juniors, the college Greek letter fraternities.) -Whereas one will search American cities in vain -for the labour temples one discovers to-day in Europe from -Belgium to Italy, one finds that the fraternal lodge generally -occupies a site of dignity and importance. There were doubtless -many excellent reasons for the strange proliferation of -professional fraternity in the American city, but perhaps the -strongest reason was the absence of any other kind of fraternity. -The social centre and the community centre, which -in a singularly hard and consciously beatific way have sought -to organize fellowship and mutual aid on different terms, are -products of the last decade.</p> - -<p>Perhaps the only other civic institution of importance that -the commercial towns fostered was the lyceum: forerunner -of the elephantine Chautauqua. The lyceum lecture, however, -was taken as a soporific rather than a stimulant, and if it -aroused any appetite for art, philosophy, or science there was -nothing in the environment of the commercial city that could -satisfy it. Just as church-going became a substitute for religion, -so automatic lyceum attendance became a substitute for -thought. These were the prayer wheels of a preoccupied -commercialism.</p> - -<p>The contrast between the provincial and the commercial -city in America was well summed up in their plans. Consider -the differences between Cambridge and New York. Up to the -beginning of the 19th century New York, at the tip of Manhattan -Island, had the same diffident, rambling town plan that -characterizes Cambridge. In this old type of city layout the -streets lead nowhere, except to the buildings that give onto -them: outside the main roads the provisions for traffic are so -inadequate as to seem almost a provision against traffic. Quiet -streets, a pleasant aspect, ample domestic facilities were the -desiderata of the provincial town; traffic, realty speculation, -and expansion were those of the newer era. This became evident -as soon as the Empire City started to realize its “manifest<span class="pagenum" id="Page_7">7</span> -destiny” by laying down, in 1808, a plan for its future -development.</p> - -<p>New York’s city plan commissioners went about their work -with a scarcely concealed purpose to increase traffic and raise -realty values. The amenities of city life counted for little in -their scheme of things: debating “whether they should confine -themselves to rectilinear and rectangular streets, or -whether they should adopt some of those supposed improvements, -by circles, ovals, and stars,” they decided, on grounds -of economy, against any departure from the gridiron design. -It was under the same stimulus that these admirable philistines -had the complacency to plan the city’s development up to -155th Street. Here we are concerned, however, with the -results of the rectangular plan rather than with the -motives that lay behind its adoption throughout the country.</p> - -<p>The principal effect of the gridiron plan is that every street -becomes a thoroughfare, and that every thoroughfare is potentially -a commercial street. The tendency towards movement -in such a city vastly outweighs the tendency towards -settlement. As a result of progressive shifts in population, -due to the changes to which commercial competition subjects -the use of land, the main institutions of the city, instead of -cohering naturally—as the museums, galleries, theatres, clubs, -and public offices group themselves in the heart of Westminster—are -dispersed in every direction. Neither Columbia -University, New York University, the Astor Library, nor the -National Academy of Design—to seize but a few examples—is -on its original site. Yet had Columbia remained at Fiftieth -Street it might have had some effective working relation with -the great storehouse of books that now occupies part of -Bryant Park at Forty-second Street; or, alternatively, had the -Astor Library remained on its old site it might have had some -connection with New York University—had that institution not -in turn moved!</p> - -<p>What was called the growth of the commercial city was -really a manifestation of the absence of design in the gridiron -plan. The rectangular parcelling of ground promoted speculation -in land-units and the ready interchange of real property:<span class="pagenum" id="Page_8">8</span> -it had no relation whatever to the essential purposes for -which a city exists. It is not a little significant that Chicago, -Cincinnati, and St. Louis, each of which had space set aside -for public purposes in their original plans, had given up these -civic holdings to the realty gambler before half of the 19th -century was over. The common was not the centre of a -well-rounded community life, as in New England, but the centre -of land-speculation—which was at once the business, the -recreation, and the religion of the commercial city. Under -the influence of New York the Scadders whom Martin Chuzzlewit -encountered were laying down their New Edens throughout -the country.</p> - -<div class="tb">* * * * *</div> - -<p>It was during the commercial period that the evolution of -the Promenade, such as existed in New York at Battery -Park, took place. The new promenade was no longer a park -but a shop-lined thoroughfare, Broadway. Shopping became -for the more domesticated half of the community an exciting, -bewildering amusement; and out of a combination of Yankee -“notions,” Barnum-like advertisement, and magisterial organization -arose that <i xml:lang="la" lang="la">omnium gatherum</i> of commerce, the -department store. It is scarcely possible to exaggerate the -part that Broadway—I use the term generically—has played -in the American town. It is not merely the Agora but the -Acropolis. When the factory whistle closes the week, and -the factory hands of Camden, or Pittsburgh, or Bridgeport pour -out of the buildings and stockades in which they spend the -more exhausting half of their lives, it is through Broadway -that the greater part of their repressions seek an outlet. Both -the name and the institution extend across the continent from -New York to Los Angeles. Up and down these second-hand -Broadways, from one in the afternoon until past ten at night, -drifts a more or less aimless mass of human beings, bent upon -extracting such joy as is possible from the sights in the windows, -the contacts with other human beings, the occasional or -systematic flirtations, and the risks and adventures of purchase.</p> - -<p>In the early development of Broadway the amusements were -adventitious. Even at present, in spite of the ubiquitous<span class="pagenum" id="Page_9">9</span> -movie, the crowded street itself, at least in the smaller communities, -is the main source of entertainment. Now, under -normal conditions, for a great part of the population in a -factory town one of the chief instincts to be repressed is that -of acquisition (collection). It is not merely that the average -factory worker cannot afford the luxuries of life: the worst -is that he must think twice before purchasing the necessities. -Out of this situation one of Broadway’s happiest achievements -has arisen: the five and ten cent store. In the five and ten -cent store it is possible for the circumscribed factory operative -to obtain the illusion of unmoderated expenditure—and even -extravagance—without actually inflicting any irreparable rent -in his purse. Broadway is thus, in more than one sense, the -great compensatory device of the American city. The dazzle -of white lights, the colour of electric signs, the alabaster architecture -of the moving-picture palaces, the æsthetic appeals of -the shop windows—these stand for elements that are left out -of the drab perspectives of the industrial city. People who -do not know how to spend their time must take what satisfaction -they can in spending their money. That is why, although -the five and ten cent store itself is perhaps mainly an institution -for the proletariat, the habits and dispositions it encourages -are universal. The chief amusement of Atlantic City, that -opulent hostelry-annex of New York and Philadelphia, lies -not in the beach and the ocean but in the shops which line the -interminable Broadway known as the Boardwalk.</p> - -<p>Broadway, in sum, is the façade of the American city: a -false front. The highest achievements of our material civilization—and -at their best our hotels, our department stores, and -our Woolworth towers are achievements—count as so many -symptoms of its spiritual failure. In order to cover up the -vacancy of getting and spending in our cities, we have invented -a thousand fresh devices for getting and spending. As a consequence -our life is externalized. The principal institutions -of the American city are merely distractions that take our eyes -off the environment, instead of instruments which would help -us to mould it creatively a little nearer to humane hopes and -desires.</p> - -<p>The birth of industrialism in America is announced in the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_10">10</span> -opening of the Crystal Palace in Bryant Park, Manhattan, in -1853. Between the Crystal Palace Exhibition and the Chicago -World’s Fair in 1893 lies a period whose defects were -partly accentuated by the exhaustion that followed the Civil -War. The debasement of the American city during this period -can be read in almost every building that was erected. The -influence of colonial architecture had waned to extinction during -the first half of the century. There followed a period of -eclectic experiment, in which all sorts of Egyptian, Byzantine, -Gothic, and Arabesque ineptitudes were committed—a period -whose absurdities we have only in recent years begun to escape. -The domestic style, as the century progressed, became -more limited. Little touches about the doors, mouldings, fanlights, -and balustrades disappeared, and finally craftsmanship -went out of style altogether and a pretentious architectural -puffery took its place. The “era of good feeling” was an era -of bad taste.</p> - -<p>Pittsburgh, St. Louis, and Chicago give perhaps the most -naked revelation of the industrial city’s characteristics. -There were two institutions that set their mark upon the early -part of this period. One of them was the Mechanics’ Hall. -This was usually a building of red brick, structural iron, and -glass, whose unique hideousness marks it as a typical product -of the age of coal-industrialism, to be put alongside the -“smoke-halls” of the railroad termini. The other institution -was the German beer-garden—the one bright spot on the edge -of an urban landscape that was steadily becoming more dingy, -more dull, and more depressing. The cities that came to life -in this period had scarcely any other civic apparatus to boast -of. Conceive of Pittsburgh without Schenley Park, without -the Carnegie Institute, without the Library or the Museum -or the Concert Hall, and without the institutions that have -grown up during the last generation around its sub-Acropolis—and -one has a picture of Progress and Poverty that Henry -George might have drawn on for illustration. The industrial -city did not represent the creative values in civilization: it -stood for a new form of human barbarism. In the coal towns -of Pennsylvania, the steel towns of the Ohio and its tributaries, -and the factory towns of Long Island Sound and Narragansett<span class="pagenum" id="Page_11">11</span> -Bay was an environment much more harsh, antagonistic, -and brutal than anything the pioneers had encountered. -Even the fake exhilaration of the commercial city was lacking.</p> - -<p>The reaction against the industrial city was expressed in -various ways. The defect of these reactions was that they -were formulated in terms of an escape from the environment -rather than in a reconstruction of it. Symptomatic of this -escape, along one particular alley, was the architecture of -Richardson, and of his apprentices, McKim and White. No -one who has an eye for the fine incidence of beautiful architecture -can avoid a shock at discovering a monumental Romanesque -building at the foot of Pittsburgh’s dingy “Hump,” -or the hardly less monstrous beauty of Trinity Church, Boston, -as one approaches it from a waste of railroad yards that -lie on one side of it. It was no accident, one is inclined to -believe, that Richardson should have returned to the Romanesque -only a little time before Henry Adams was exploring -Mont St. Michel and Chartres. Both men were searching -for a specific against the fever of industrialism, and architects -like Richardson were taking to archaic beauty as a man -who was vaguely ill might have recourse to quinine, in the -hope that his disease had sufficient similarity to malaria to be -cured by it.</p> - -<p>The truth is that the doses of exotic architecture which -Richardson and his school sought to inject into the American -city were anodynes rather than specifics. The Latin Renaissance -models of McKim and White—the Boston Public Library -and Madison Square Garden, for example—were perhaps -a little better suited to the concrete demands of the new -age; but they were still a long way from that perfect congruence -with contemporary habits and modes of thought which -was recorded in buildings like Independence Hall. Almost -down to the last decade the best buildings of the industrial -period have been anonymous, and scarcely ever recognized for -their beauty. A grain elevator here, a warehouse there, an -office building, a garage—there has been the promise of a -stripped, athletic, classical style of architecture in these buildings -which shall embody all that is good in the Machine Age:<span class="pagenum" id="Page_12">12</span> -its precision, its cleanliness, its hard illuminations, its unflinching -logic. Dickens once poked fun at the architecture of -Coketown because its infirmary looked like its jail and its jail -like its town hall. But the joke had a sting to it only because -these buildings were all plaintively destitute of æsthetic inspiration. -In a place and an age that had achieved a well-rounded -and balanced culture, we should expect to find the same spirit -expressed in the simplest cottage and the grandest public -building. So we find it, for instance, in the humble market -towns of the Middle Age: there is not one type of architecture -for 15th-century Shaftesbury and another for London; neither -is there one style for public London and quite another for -domestic London. Our architects in America have only just -begun to cease regarding the Gothic style as especially fit for -churches and schools, whilst they favour the Roman mode -for courts, and the Byzantine, perhaps, for offices. Even the -unique beauty of the Bush Terminal Tower is compromised by -an antiquely “stylized” interior.</p> - -<p>With the beginning of the second decade of this century -there is some evidence of an attempt to make a genuine culture -out of industrialism—instead of attempting to escape from -industrialism into a culture which, though doubtless genuine -enough, has the misfortune to be dead. The schoolhouses -in Gary, Indiana, have some of the better qualities of a Gary -steel plant. That symptom is all to the good. It points perhaps -to a time when the Gary steel plant may have some of -the educational virtues of a Gary school. One of the things -that has made the industrial age a horror in America is the -notion that there is something shameful in its manifestations. -The idea that nobody would ever go near an industrial plant -except under stress of starvation is in part responsible for the -heaps of rubbish and rusty metal, for the general disorder -and vileness, that still characterize broad acres of our factory -districts. There is nothing short of the Alkali Desert that -compares with the desolateness of the common American industrial -town. These qualities are indicative of the fact that -we have centred attention not upon the process but upon the -return; not upon the task but the emoluments: not upon what -we can get out of our work but upon what we can achieve when<span class="pagenum" id="Page_13">13</span> -we get away from our work. Our industrialism has been in -the grip of business, and our industrial cities, and their institutions, -have exhibited a major preoccupation with business. -The coercive repression of an impersonal, mechanical technique -was compensated by the pervasive will-to-power—or -at least will-to-comfort—of commercialism.</p> - -<p>We have shirked the problem of trying to live well in a -régime that is devoted to the production of T-beams and toothbrushes -and TNT. As a result, we have failed to react creatively -upon the environment with anything like the inspiration -that one might have found in a group of mediæval peasants -building a cathedral. The urban worker escapes the mechanical -routine of his daily job only to find an equally mechanical -substitute for life and growth and experience in his amusements. -The Gay White Way with its stupendous blaze of -lights, and Coney Island, with its fear-stimulating roller coasters -and chute-the-chutes, are characteristic by-products of an -age that has renounced the task of actively humanizing the -machine, and of creating an environment in which all the fruitful -impulses of the community may be expressed. The movies, -the White Ways, and the Coney Islands, which almost every -American city boasts in some form or other, are means of -giving jaded and throttled people the sensations of living -without the direct experience of life—a sort of spiritual masturbation. -In short, we have had the alternative of humanizing -the industrial city or de-humanizing the population. So far -we have de-humanized the population.</p> - -<div class="tb">* * * * *</div> - -<p>The external reactions against the industrial city came to a -head in the World’s Fair at Chicago. In that strange and -giddy mixture of Parnassus and Coney Island was born a new -conception of the city—a White City, spaciously designed, -lighted by electricity, replete with monuments, crowned with -public buildings, and dignified by a radiant architecture. The -men who planned the exposition knew something about the -better side of the spacious perspectives that Haussmann had -designed for Napoleon III. Without taking into account the -fundamental conditions of industrialism, or the salient facts -of economics, they initiated what shortly came to be known<span class="pagenum" id="Page_14">14</span> -as the City Beautiful movement. For a couple of decades -Municipal Art societies were rampant. Their programme had -the defects of the régime it attempted to combat. Its capital -effort was to put on a front—to embellish Main Street and -make it a more attractive thoroughfare. Here in æsthetics, -as elsewhere in education, persisted the brahminical view of -culture: the idea that beauty was something that could be -acquired by any one who was willing to put up the cash; that -it did not arise naturally out of the good life but was something -which could be plastered on impoverished life; in short, -that it was a cosmetic.</p> - -<p>Until the Pittsburgh Survey of 1908 pricked a pin through -superficial attempts at municipal improvement, those who -sought to remake the American city overlooked the necessity -for rectifying its economic basis. The meanness, the spotty -development, and the congestion of the American city was at -least in some degree an index of that deep disease of realty -speculation which had, as already noted, caused cities like -Chicago to forfeit land originally laid aside for public uses. -Because facts like these were ignored for the sake of some -small, immediate result, the developments that the early reformers -were bold enough to outline still lie in the realms of -hopeless fantasy—a fine play of the imagination, like Scadder’s -prospectus of Eden. Here as elsewhere there have been -numerous signs of promise during the last decade; but it is -doubtful whether they are yet numerous enough or profound -enough to alter the general picture.</p> - -<p>At best, the improvements that have been effected in the -American city have not been central but subsidiary. They -have been improvements, as Aristotle would have said, in the -material bases of the good life: they have not been improvements -in the art of living. The growth of the American -city during the past century has meant the extension of paved -streets and sewers and gas mains, and progressive heightening -of office buildings and tenements. The outlay on pavements, -sewers, electric lighting systems, and plumbing has been stupendous; -but no matter what the Rotary Clubs and Chambers -of Commerce may think of them, these mechanical ingenuities -are not the indices of a civilization. There is a curious confusion<span class="pagenum" id="Page_15">15</span> -in America between growth and improvement. We use -the phrase “bigger and better” as if the conjunction were -inevitable. As a matter of fact, there is little evidence to show -that the vast increase of population in every urban area has -been accompanied by anything like the necessary increase of -schools, universities, theatres, meeting places, parks, and so -forth. The fact that in 1920 we had sixty-four cities with -more than 100,000 population, thirty-three with more than -200,000, and twelve with more than 500,000 does not mean -that the resources of polity, culture, and art have been correspondingly -on the increase. The growth of the American city -has resulted less in the establishment of civilized standards of -life than in the extension of Suburbia.</p> - -<p>“Suburbia” is used here in both the accepted and in a more -literal sense. On one hand I refer to the fact that the growth -of the metropolis throws vast numbers of people into distant -dormitories where, by and large, life is carried on without the -discipline of rural occupations and without the cultural resources -that the Central District of the city still retains in its -art exhibitions, theatres, concerts, and the like. But our metropolises -produce Suburbia not merely by reason of the fact -that the people who work in the offices, bureaus, and factories -live as citizens in a distant territory, perhaps in another state: -they likewise foster Suburbia in another sense. I mean that -the quality of life for the great mass of people who live within -the political boundaries of the metropolis itself is inferior to -that which a city with an adequate equipment and a thorough -realization of the creative needs of the community is capable -of producing. In this sense, the “suburb” called Brookline -is a genuine city; while the greater part of the “city of Boston” -is a suburb. We have scarcely begun to make an adequate -distribution of libraries, meeting places, parks, gymnasia, -and similar equipment, without which life in the city tends to -be carried on at a low level of routine—physically as well as -mentally. (The blatantly confidential advertisements of constipation -remedies on all the hoardings tell a significant story.) -At any reasonable allotment of park space, the Committee on -Congestion in New York pointed out in 1911, a greater number -of acres was needed for parks on the lower East Side than<span class="pagenum" id="Page_16">16</span> -was occupied by the entire population. This case is extreme -but representative.</p> - -<p>It is the peculiarity of our metropolitan civilization, then, -that in spite of vast resources drawn from the ends of the -earth, it has an insufficient civic equipment, and what it does -possess it uses only transiently. Those cities that have the -beginnings of an adequate equipment, like New York—to -choose no more invidious example—offer them chiefly to those -engaged in travelling. As a traveller’s city New York is near -perfection. An association of cigar salesmen or an international -congress of social scientists, meeting in one of the -auditoriums of a big hotel, dining together, mixing in the -lounge, and finding recreation in the theatres hard by, discovers -an environment that is ordered, within its limits, to a nicety. It -is this hotel and theatre district that we must charitably think -of when we are tempted to speak about the triumphs of the -American city. Despite manifold defects that arise from want -of planning, this is the real civic centre of America’s Metropolis. -What we must overlook in this characterization are the long -miles of slum that stretch in front and behind and on each -side of this district—neighbourhoods where, in spite of the -redoubtable efforts of settlement workers, block organizers, and -neighbourhood associations, there is no permanent institution, -other than the public school or the sectarian church, to remind -the inhabitants that they have a common life and a common -destiny.</p> - -<p>Civic life, in fine, the life of intelligent association and common -action, a life whose faded pattern still lingers in the old -New England town, is not something that we daily enjoy, as -we work in an office or a factory. It is rather a temporary -state that we occasionally achieve with a great deal of time, -bother, and expense. The city is not around us, in our little -town, suburb, or neighbourhood: it lies beyond us, at the end -of a subway ride or a railway journey. We are citizens occasionally: -we are suburbanites (<em>denizens</em>, <em>idiots</em>) by regular -routine. Small wonder that bathtubs and heating systems and -similar apparatus play such a large part in our conception of -the good life.</p> - -<p>Metropolitanism in America represents, from the cultural<span class="pagenum" id="Page_17">17</span> -angle, a reaction against the uncouth and barren countryside -that was skinned, rather than cultivated, by the restless, individualistic, -self-assertive American pioneer. The perpetual -drag to New York, and the endeavour of less favourably situated -cities to imitate the virtues and defects of New York, -is explicable as nothing other than the desire to participate -in some measure in the benefits of city life. Since we have -failed up to the present to develop genuine regional cultures, -those who do not wish to remain barbarians must become -metropolitans. That means they must come to New York, -or ape the ways that are fashionable in New York. Here -opens the breach that has begun to widen between the metropolis -and the countryside in America. The countryman, -who cannot enjoy the advantages of the metropolis, who has -no centre of his own to which he can point with pride, resents -the privileges that the metropolitan enjoys. Hence the periodical -crusades of our State Legislatures, largely packed with -rural representatives, against the vices, corruptions, and follies -which the countryman enviously looks upon as the peculiar -property of the big city. Perhaps the envy and resentment -of the farming population is due to a genuine economic grievance -against the big cities—especially against their banks, -insurance companies, and speculative middlemen. Should the -concentration of power, glory, and privilege in the metropolis -continue, it is possible that the city will find itself subject to -an economic siege. If our cities cannot justify their existence -by their creative achievements, by their demonstration of the -efficacy and grace of corporate life, it is doubtful whether they -will be able to persuade the country to support them, once the -purely conventional arrangements by means of which the city -browbeats the countryside are upset. This, however, brings -us to the realm of social speculation; and he who would enter -it must abandon everything but hope.</p> - -<div class="tb">* * * * *</div> - -<p>Metropolitanism is of two orders. At its partial best it is -exhibited in New York, the literal mother city of America. -In its worst aspect it shows itself in the sub-metropolises which -have been spawning so prolifically since the ’eighties. If we -are to understand the capacities and limitations of the other<span class="pagenum" id="Page_18">18</span> -great cities in America, we must first weigh the significance of -New York.</p> - -<p>The forces that have made New York dominant are inherent -in our financial and industrial system; elsewhere those -same forces, working in slightly different ways, created London, -Rome, Paris, Berlin, Vienna, Petrograd, and Moscow. -What happened in the industrial towns of America was that -the increments derived from land, capital, and association went, -not to the enrichment of the local community, but to those who -had a legal title to the land and the productive machinery. In -other words, the gains that were made in Pittsburgh, Springfield, -Dayton, and a score of other towns that became important -in the industrial era were realized largely in New York, -whose position had been established, before the turn of the -century, as the locus of trade and finance. (New York passed -the 500,000 mark in the 1850 census.) This is why, perhaps, -during the ’seventies and ’eighties, decades of miserable depression -throughout the industrial centres, there were signs of -hope and promise in New York: the Museums of Art and -Natural History were built: <cite>Life</cite> and <cite>Puck</cite> and a batch of -newspapers were founded: the Metropolitan Opera House and -Carnegie Hall were established: and a dozen other evidences -of a vigorous civic life appeared. In a short time New York -became the glass of fashion and the mould of form, and through -the standardization, specialization, and centralization which -accompany the machine process the Metropolis became at -length the centre of advertising, the lender of farm mortgages, -the distributor of boiler-plate news, the headquarters -of the popular magazine, the publishing centre, and finally the -chief disseminator of plays and motion pictures in America. -The educational foundations which the exploiter of the Kodak -has established at Rochester were not characteristic of the early -part of the industrial period—otherwise New York’s eminence -might have been briskly challenged before it had become, after -its fashion, unchallengeable. The increment from Mr. Carnegie’s -steel works built a hall of music for New York long -before it created the Carnegie Institute in Pittsburgh. In -other words, the widespread effort of the American provincial -to leave his industrial city for New York comes to something<span class="pagenum" id="Page_19">19</span> -like an attempt to get back from New York what had been -previously filched from the industrial city.</p> - -<p>The future of our cities depends upon how permanent are -the forces which drain money, energy, and brains from the various -regions in America into the twelve great cities that now -dominate the countryside, and in turn drain the best that is in -these sub-metropolises to New York. To-day our cities are at -a crossing of the ways. Since the 1910 census a new tendency -has begun to manifest itself, and the cities that have grown -the fastest are those of a population from 25,000 to 100,000. -Quantitatively, that is perhaps a good sign. It may indicate -the drift to Suburbia is on the wane. One finds it much -harder, however, to gauge the qualitative capacities of the -new régime; much more difficult to estimate the likelihood of -building up, within the next generation or two, genuine regional -cultures to take the place of pseudo-national culture which -now mechanically emanates from New York. So far our provincial -culture has been inbred and sterile: our provincial -cities have substituted boosting for achievement, fanciful -speculation for intelligent planning, and a zaniacal optimism -for constructive thought. These habits have made them an -easy prey to the metropolis, for at its lowest ebb there has -always been a certain amount of organized intelligence and -cultivated imagination in New York—if only because it is the -chief point of contact between Europe and America. Gopher -Prairie has yet to take to heart the fable about the frog -that tried to inflate himself to the size of a bull. When Gopher -Prairie learns its lessons from Bergen and Augsburg and Montpellier -and Grenoble, the question of “metropolitanism versus -regionalism” may become as active in America as it is now in -Europe.</p> - -<p>Those of us who are metropolitans may be tempted to think -that the hope for civilization in America is bound up with the -continuance of metropolitanism. That is essentially a cockney -view of culture and society, however, and our survey of the -development of the city in America should have done something -to weaken its self-confident complacence. Our metropolitan -civilization is not a success. It is a different kind of wilderness -from that which we have deflowered—but the feral<span class="pagenum" id="Page_20">20</span> -rather than the humane quality is dominant: it is still a wilderness. -The cities of America must learn to remould our -mechanical and financial régime, for if metropolitanism continues -they are probably destined to fall by its weight.</p> - -<p class="right"> -<span class="smcap">Lewis Mumford</span> -</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div id="toclink_21" class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_21">21</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="POLITICS">POLITICS</h2> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p class="in0">No person shall be a Representative who ... shall not, when -elected, be an inhabitant of that State in which he shall be chosen.... -No person shall be a Senator who ... shall not, when -elected, be an inhabitant of that State for which he shall be chosen.</p> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap b"><span class="smcap1">Specialists</span> in political archæology will recognize these -sentences: they are from Article I, Sections 2 and 3, of -the constitution of the United States. I have heard and forgotten -how they got there; no doubt the cause lay in the fierce -jealousy of the States. But whatever the fact, I have a notion -that there are few provisions of the constitution that have had -a more profound effect upon the character of practical politics -in the Republic, or, indirectly, upon the general colour of American -thinking in the political department. They have made -steadily for parochialism in legislation, for the security and -prosperity of petty local bosses and machines, for the multiplication -of pocket and rotten boroughs of the worst sort, and, -above all, for the progressive degeneration of the honesty and -honour of representatives. They have greased the ways for -the trashy and ignoble fellow who aspires to get into Congress, -and they have blocked them for the man of sense, dignity, and -self-respect. More, perhaps, than any other single influence -they have been responsible for the present debauched and -degraded condition of the two houses, and particularly of the -lower one. Find me the worst ass in Congress, and I’ll show -you a man they have helped to get there and to stay there. -Find me the most shameless scoundrel, and I’ll show you -another.</p> - -<p>No such centripedal mandate, as far as I have been able to -discover, is in the fundamental law of any other country practising -the representative system. An Englishman, if ambition -heads him toward St. Stephen’s, may go hunting for a willing -constituency wherever the hunting looks best, and if he fails<span class="pagenum" id="Page_22">22</span> -in the Midlands he may try again in the South, or in the -North, or in Scotland or Wales. A Frenchman of like dreams -has the same privilege; the only condition, added after nineteen -years of the Third Republic, is that he may not be a candidate -in two or more <i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">arrondissements</i> at once. And so with -a German, an Italian, or a Spaniard. But not so with an -American. He must be an actual inhabitant of the State he -aspires to represent at Washington. More, he must be, in all -save extraordinary cases, an actual inhabitant of the congressional -district—for here, by a characteristic American process, -the fundamental law is sharpened by custom. True enough, -this last requirement is not laid down by the constitution. It -would be perfectly legal for the thirty-fifth New York district, -centring at Syracuse, to seek its congressman in Manhattan, or -even at Sing Sing. In various iconoclastic States, in fact, the -thing has been occasionally done. But not often; not often -enough to produce any appreciable effect. The typical congressman -remains a purely local magnifico, the gaudy cock of -some small and usually far from appetizing barnyard. His -rank and dignity as a man are measured by provincial standards -of the most puerile sort, and his capacity to discharge the -various and onerous duties of his office is reckoned almost exclusively -in terms of his ability to hold his grip upon the local -party machine.</p> - -<p>If he has genuine ability, it is a sort of accident. If he is -thoroughly honest, it is next door to a miracle. Of the 430-odd -representatives who carry on so diligently and obscenely at -Washington, making laws and determining policies for the -largest free nation ever seen in the world, there are not two -dozen whose views upon any subject under the sun carry any -weight whatsoever outside their own bailiwicks, and there are -not a dozen who rise to anything approaching unmistakable -force and originality. They are, in the overwhelming main, -shallow fellows, ignorant of the grave matters they deal with -and too stupid to learn. If, as is often proposed, the United -States should adopt the plan of parliamentary responsibility -and the ministry should be recruited from the lower house, -then it would be difficult, without a radical change in election -methods, to fetch up even such pale talents and modest decencies<span class="pagenum" id="Page_23">23</span> -as were assembled for their cabinets by Messrs. Wilson -and Harding. The better sort of congressmen, to be sure, -acquire after long service a good deal of technical proficiency. -They know the traditions and precedents of the two houses; -they can find their way in and out of every rathole in the -Capitol; they may be trusted to carry on the legislative routine -in a more or less shipshape manner. Of such sort are the specialists -paraded in the newspapers—on the tariff, on military -affairs, on foreign relations, and so on. They come to know, -in time, almost as much as a Washington correspondent, or one -of their own committee clerks. But the average congressman -lifts himself to no such heights of sagacity. He is content to -be led by the fugelmen and bellwethers. Examine him at -leisure, and you will find that he is incompetent and imbecile, -and not only incompetent and imbecile, but also incurably -dishonest. The first principles of civilized law-making are -quite beyond him; he ends, as he began, a local politician, interested -only in jobs. His knowledge is that of a third-rate country -lawyer—which he often is in fact. His intelligence is that -of a country newspaper editor, or evangelical divine. His -standards of honour are those of a country banker—which he -also often is. To demand sense of such a man, or wide and -accurate information, or a delicate feeling for the public and -private proprieties, is to strain his parts beyond endurance.</p> - -<p>The constitution, of course, stops with Congress, but its -influence is naturally powerful within the States, and one finds -proofs of the fact on all sides. It is taking an herculean effort -everywhere to break down even the worst effects of this influence; -the prevailing tendency is still to discover a mysterious -virtue in the office-holder who was born and raised in the State, -or county, or city, or ward. The judge must come from the -bar of the court he is to adorn; the mayor must be part and -parcel of the local machine; even technical officers, such as engineers -and health commissioners, lie under the constitutional -blight. The thing began as a belief in local self-government, -the oldest of all the sure cures for despotism. But it has gradually -taken on the character of government by local politicians, -which is to say, by persons quite unable to comprehend the -most elemental problems of State and nation, and unfitted by<span class="pagenum" id="Page_24">24</span> -nature to deal with them honestly and patriotically, even if they -could comprehend them. Just as prohibition was forced upon -the civilized minorities collected in the great cities against their -most vigorous and persistent opposition, so the same minorities, -when it comes to intra-state affairs, are constantly at the mercy -of predatory bands of rural politicians. If there is any large -American city whose peculiar problems are dealt with competently -and justly by its State legislature, then I must confess -that twenty years in journalism have left me ignorant of it. -An unending struggle for fairer dealing goes on in every State -that has large cities, and every concession to their welfare is -won only at the cost of gigantic effort. The State legislature -is never intelligent; it represents only the average mind of the -county bosses, whose sole concern is with jobs. The machines -that they represent are wholly political, but they have no political -principles in any rational sense. Their one purpose and -function is to maintain their adherents in the public offices, -or to obtain for them in some other way a share of the State -funds. They are quite willing to embrace any new doctrine, -however fantastic, or to abandon any old one, however long -supported, if only the business will promote their trade and -so secure their power.</p> - -<p>This concentration of the ultimate governmental authority -in the hands of small groups of narrow, ignorant, and unconscionable -manipulators tends inevitably to degrade the actual -office-holder, or, what is the same thing, to make office-holding -prohibitive to all men not already degraded. It is almost -impossible to imagine a man of genuine self-respect and dignity -offering himself as a candidate for the lower house—or, since -the direct primary and direct elections brought it down to the -common level, for the upper house—in the average American -constituency. His necessary dealings with the electors themselves, -and with the idiots who try more or less honestly to lead -them, would be revolting enough, but even worse would be his -need of making terms with the professional politicians of his -party—the bosses of the local machine. These bosses naturally -make the most of the constitutional limitation; it works -powerfully in their favour. A local notable, in open revolt -against them, may occasionally beat them by appealing directly<span class="pagenum" id="Page_25">25</span> -to the voters, but nine times out of ten, when there is any sign -of such a catastrophe, they are prompt to perfume the ticket -by bringing forth another local notable who is safe and sane, -which is to say, subservient and reliable. The thing is done -constantly; it is a matter of routine; it accounts for most -of the country bankers, newspaper owners, railroad lawyers, -proprietors of cement works, and other such village bigwigs -in the lower house. Here everything runs to the advantage -of the bosses. It is not often that the notable in rebellion -is gaudy enough to blind the plain people to the high merits of -his more docile opponent. They see him too closely and know -him too well. He shows none of that exotic charm which accounts, -on a different plane, for exogamy. There is no strangeness, -no mysteriousness, above all, no novelty about him.</p> - -<p>It is my contention that this strangle-hold of the local machines -would be vastly less firm if it could be challenged, not -only by rebels within the constituency, but also by salient men -from outside. The presidential campaigns, indeed, offer plenty -of direct proof of it. In these campaigns it is a commonplace -for strange doctrines and strange men to force themselves upon -the practical politicians in whole sections of the country, despite -their constant effort to keep their followers faithful to -the known. All changes, of whatever sort, whether in leaders -or in ideas, are opposed by such politicians at the start, but -time after time they are compelled to acquiesce and to hurrah. -Bryan, as every one knows, forced himself upon the Democratic -party by appealing directly to the people; the politicians, in -the main, were bitterly against him until further resistance -was seen to be useless, and they attacked him again the moment -he began to weaken, and finally disposed of him. So with -Wilson. It would be absurd to say that the politicians of his -party—and especially the bosses of the old machines in the -congressional districts—were in favour of him in 1912. They -were actually against him almost unanimously. He got past -their guard and broke down their resolution to nominate some -more trustworthy candidate by operating directly upon the -emotions of the voters. For some reason never sufficiently -explained he became the heir of the spirit of rebellion raised -by Bryan sixteen years before, and was given direct and very<span class="pagenum" id="Page_26">26</span> -effective aid by Bryan himself. Roosevelt saddled himself -upon the Republican party in exactly the same way. The -bosses made heroic efforts to sidetrack him, to shelve him, to -get rid of him by any means short of homicide, but his bold -enterprises and picturesque personality enchanted the people, -and if it had not been for the extravagant liberties that he took -with his popularity in later years he might have retained it until -his death.</p> - -<p>The same possibility of unhorsing the machine politicians, I -believe, exists in even the smallest electoral unit. All that is -needed is the chance to bring in the man. Podunk cannot produce -him herself, save by a sort of miracle. If she has actually -hatched him, he is far away by the time he has come to his -full stature and glitter—in the nearest big city, in Chicago -or New York. Podunk is proud of him, and many other -Podunks, perhaps, are stirred by his ideas, his attitudes, his -fine phrases—but he lives, say, in some Manhattan congressional -district which has the Hon. Patrick Googan as its representative -by divine right, and so there is no way to get him -into the halls of Congress. In his place goes the Hon. John -P. Balderdash, State’s attorney for five years, State senator for -two terms, and county judge for a brief space—and always a -snide and petty fellow, always on the best of terms with the -local bosses, always eager for a job on any terms they lay down. -The yokels vote for the Hon. Mr. Balderdash, not because they -admire him, but because their only choice is between him and -the Hon. James Bosh. If anything even remotely resembling -a first-rate man could come into the contest, if it were lawful -for them to rid themselves of their recurrent dilemma by soliciting -the interest of such a man, then they would often -enough rise in their might and compel their parish overlords, -as the English put it, to adopt him. But the constitution protects -these overlords in their business, and in the long run the -voters resign all thought of deliverance. Thus the combat -remains one between small men, and interest in it dies out. -Most of the men who go to the lower house are third-raters, -even in their own narrow bailiwicks. In my own congressional -district, part of a large city, there has never been a candidate -of any party, during the twenty years that I have voted, who<span class="pagenum" id="Page_27">27</span> -was above the intellectual level of a corner grocer. No successful -candidate of that district has ever made a speech in -Congress (or out of it) worth hearing, or contributed a single -sound idea otherwise to the solution of any public problem. -One and all, they have confined themselves exclusively to the -trade in jobs. One and all, they have been ciphers in the house -and before the country.</p> - -<p>Well, perhaps I labour my point too much. It is, after all, -not important. The main thing is the simple fact that the -average representative from my district is typical of Congress—that, -if anything, he is superior to the normal congressman -of these, our days. That normal congressman, as year chases -year, tends to descend to such depths of puerility, to such -abysses of petty shysterism, that he becomes offensive alike to -the intelligence and to the nose. His outlook, when it is honest, -is commonly childish—and it is very seldom honest. The -product of a political system which puts all stress upon the -rewards of public office, he is willing to make any sacrifice, -of dignity, of principle, of honour, to hold and have those -rewards. He has no courage, no intellectual <i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">amour propre</i>, no -ardent belief in anything save his job, and the jobs of his -friends. It was easy for Wilson to beat him into line on the -war issue; it was easy for the prohibitionists to intimidate and -stampede him; it is easy for any resolute man or group of men -to do likewise. I read the <cite>Congressional Record</cite> faithfully, -and have done so for years. In the Senate debates, amid -oceans of tosh, I occasionally encounter a flash of wit or a -gleam of sense; direct elections have not yet done their work. -But in the lower house there is seldom anything save a garrulous -and intolerable imbecility. The discussion of measures -of the utmost importance—bills upon which the security and -prosperity of the whole nation depend—is carried on in the -manner of the Chautauqua and the rural stump. Entire days -go by without a single congressman saying anything as intelligent, -say, as the gleams that one sometimes finds in the New -York <cite>Herald</cite>, or even in the New York <cite>Times</cite>. The newspapers, -unfortunately, give no adequate picture of the business. -No American journal reports the daily debates comprehensively, -as the debates in the House of Commons are reported<span class="pagenum" id="Page_28">28</span> -by the London <cite>Times</cite>, <cite>Daily Telegraph</cite>, and <cite>Morning Post</cite>. -All one hears of, as a rule, is the action taken, and only too -often the action taken, even when it is reported fairly, is unintelligible -without the antecedent discussion. If any one who -reads this wants to know what such a discussion is like, then -I counsel him to go to the nearest public library, ask for the -<cite>Record</cite> for 1918, and read the debate in the lower house on the -Volstead Act. It was, I believe, an average debate, and on a -subject of capital importance. It was, from first to last, almost -fabulous in its evasion of the plain issue, its incredible timorousness -and stupidity, its gross mountebankery and dishonesty. -Not twenty men spoke in it as men of honour and self-respect. -Not ten brought any idea into it that was not a silly idea and -a stale one.</p> - -<p>That debate deserves a great deal more study than it will -ever get from the historians of American politics, nearly all of -whom, whether they lean to the right or to the left, are bedazzled -by the economic interpretation of history, and so seek -to account for all political phenomena in terms of crop movements, -wage scales, and panics in Wall Street. It seems to me -that that obsession blinds them to a fact of the first importance, -to wit, the fact that political ideas, under a democracy as under -a monarchy, originate above quite as often as they originate -below, and that their popularity depends quite as much upon -the special class interests of professional politicians as it depends -upon the underlying economic interests of the actual -voters. It is, of course, true, as I have argued, that the people -can force ideas upon the politicians, given powerful leaders of -a non-political (or, at all events, non-machine) sort, but it is -equally true that there are serious impediments to the process, -and that it is not successful very often. As a matter of everyday -practice the rise and fall of political notions is determined -by the self-interest of the practical politicians of the country, -and though they naturally try to bring the business into harmony -with any great popular movements that may be in progress -spontaneously, they by no means wait and beg for mandates -when none are vociferously forthcoming, but go ahead -bravely on their own account, hoping to drag public opinion -with them and so safeguard their jobs. Such is the origin of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_29">29</span> -many affecting issues, later held dear by millions of the plain -people. Such was the process whereby prohibition was foisted -upon the nation by constitutional amendment, to the dismay of -the solid majority opposed to it and to the surprise of the -minority in favour of it.</p> - -<p>What lay under the sudden and melodramatic success of the -prohibitionist agitators was simply their discovery of the incurable -cowardice and venality of the normal American politician—their -shrewd abandonment of logical and evidential -propaganda for direct political action. For years their cause -had languished. Now and then a State or part of a State -went dry, but often it went wet again a few years later. Those -were the placid days of white-ribbon rallies, of wholesale -pledge-signings, of lectures by converted drunkards, of orgiastic -meetings in remote Baptist and Methodist churches, of a childish -reliance upon arguments that fetched only drunken men -and their wives, and so grew progressively feebler as the country -became more sober. The thing was scarcely even a -nuisance; it tended steadily to descend to the level of a joke. -The prohibitionist vote for President hung around a quarter -of a million; it seemed impossible to pull it up to a formidable -figure, despite the stupendous labours of thousands of eloquent -dervishes, lay and clerical, male and female. But then, out of -nowhere, came the Anti-Saloon League, and—sis! boom! ah! -Then came the sudden shift of the fire from the people to the -politicians—and at once there was rapid progress. The people -could only be wooed and bamboozled, but the politicians could -be threatened; their hold upon their jobs could be shaken; they -could be converted at wholesale and by <i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">force majeure</i>. The -old prohibition weepers and gurglers were quite incapable of -this enterprise, but the new janissaries of the Anti-Saloon -League—sharp lawyers, ecclesiastics too ambitious to pound -mere pulpits, outlaw politicians seeking a way back to the -trough—were experts at every trick and dodge it demanded. -They understood the soul of the American politician. To him -they applied the economic interpretation of history, resolutely -and with a great deal of genial humour. They knew that his -whole politics, his whole philosophy, his whole concept of honesty -and honour, was embraced in his single and insatiable<span class="pagenum" id="Page_30">30</span> -yearning for a job, and they showed him how, by playing with -them, he could get it and keep it, and how, by standing against -them, he could lose it. Prohibition was rammed into the constitution -by conquering the politicians; the people in general -were amazed when the thing was accomplished; it may take -years to reconcile them to it.</p> - -<p>It was the party system that gave the Anti-Saloon League -manipulators their chance, and they took advantage of it with -great boldness and cleverness. The two great parties divide -the country almost equally; it is difficult to predict, in a given -year, whether the one or the other musters the most votes. -This division goes down into the lowest electoral units; even -in those backward areas where one party has divine grace and -the other is of the devil there are factional differences that -amount to the same thing. In other words, the average American -politician is never quite sure of his job. An election (and, -if not an election, then a primary) always exposes him to a -definite hazard, and he is eager to diminish it by getting help -from outside his own following, at whatever cost to the principles -he commonly professes. Here lies the opportunity for -minorities willing to trade on a realistic political basis. In the -old days the prohibitionists refused to trade, and in consequence -they were disregarded, for their fidelity to their own -grotesque candidates protected the candidates of both the regular -parties. But with the coming of the Anti-Saloon League -they abandoned this fidelity and began to dicker in a forthright -and unashamed manner, quickly comprehensible to all professional -politicians. That is, they asked for a pledge on one -specific issue, and were willing to swallow any commitment on -other issues. If Beelzebub, running on one ticket, agreed to -support prohibition, and the Archangel Gabriel, running on another, -found himself entertaining conscientious doubts, they -were instantly and solidly for Beelzebub, and they not only -gave him the votes that they directly controlled, but they also -gave him the benefit of a campaign support that was ruthless, -pertinacious, extraordinarily ingenious, and overwhelmingly effective. -Beelzebub, whatever his swinishness otherwise, was -bathed in holy oils; Gabriel’s name became a thing to scare -children.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_31">31</span></p> - -<p>Obviously, the support thus offered was particularly tempting -to a politician who found himself facing public suspicion -for his general political practices—in brief, to the worst type -of machine professional. Such a politician is always acutely -aware that it is not positive merit that commonly gets a man -into public office in the United States, but simply disvulnerability. -Even when they come to nominate a President, the -qualities the two great parties seek are chiefly the negative -ones; they want, not a candidate of forceful and immovable -ideas, but one whose ideas are vague and not too tenaciously -held, and in whose personality there is nothing to alarm or -affront the populace. Of two candidates, that one usually wins -who least arouses the distrusts and suspicions of the great -masses of undifferentiated men. This advantage of the safe -and sane, the colourless and unprovocative, the apparently -stodgy and commonplace man extends to the most trivial contests, -and politicians are keen to make use of it. Thus the job-seeker -with an aura of past political misdemeanour about him -was eager to get the Christian immunity bath that the prohibitionists -offered him so generously, and in the first years of -their fight they dealt almost exclusively with such fellows. -He, on his side, promised simply to vote for prohibition—not -even, in most cases, to pretend to any personal belief in it. -The prohibitionists, on their side, promised to deliver the votes -of their followers to him on election day, to cry him up as one -saved by a shining light, and, most important of all, to denounce -his opponent as an agent of hell. He was free, by this agreement, -to carry on his regular political business as usual. The -prohibitionists asked no patronage of him. They didn’t afflict -him with projects for other reforms. All they demanded was -that he cast his vote as agreed upon when the signal was given -to him.</p> - -<p>At the start, of course, such scoundrels frequently violated -their agreements. In the South, in particular, dry legislature -after dry legislature sold out to the liquor lobby, which, in those -days, still had plenty of money. An assemblyman would be -elected with the aid of the prohibitionists, make a few maudlin -speeches against the curse of drink, and then, at the last minute, -vote wet for some thin and specious reason, or for no<span class="pagenum" id="Page_32">32</span> -avowed reason at all. But the prohibition manipulators, as I -have said, were excellent politicians, and so they knew how -to put down that sort of treason. At the next election they -transferred their favour to the opposition candidate, and inasmuch -as he had seen the traitor elected at the last election -he was commonly very eager to do business. The punishment -for the treason was condign and merciless. The dry rabble-rousers, -lay and clerical, trumpeted news of it from end to end -of the constituency. What was a new and gratifying disvulnerability -was transformed into a vulnerability of the worst -sort; the recreant one became the county Harry Thaw, Oscar -Wilde, Captain Boy-Ed, and Debs. A few such salutary examples, -and treason became rare. The prohibitionists, indeed, -came to prefer dealing with such victims of their reprisals. -They could trust them perfectly, once the lesson had been -learned; they were actually more trustworthy than honest believers, -for the latter usually had ideas of their own and interfered -with the official plans of campaign. Thus, in the end, -the professional politicians of both parties came under the yoke. -The final battle in Congress transcended all party lines; democrats -and republicans fought alike for places on the band-wagon. -The spectacle offered a searching and not unhumorous -commentary on the party system, and on the honour of -American politicians no less. Two-thirds, at least, of the votes -for the amendment were cast by men who did not believe in it, -and who cherished a hearty hope, to the last moment, that some -act of God would bring about its defeat.</p> - -<p>Such holocausts of frankness and decency are certainly not -rare in American politics; on the contrary, they glow with -normalcy. The typical legislative situation among us—and -the typical administrative situation as well—is one in which -men wholly devoid of inner integrity, facing a minority that is -resolutely determined to get its will, yield up their ideas, their -freedom, and their honour in order to save their jobs. I say -administrative situation as well; what I mean is that in these -later days the pusillanimity of the actual law-maker is fully -matched by the pusillanimity of the enforcing officer, whether -humble assistant district attorney or powerful judge. The -war, with its obliteration of customary pretences and loosening<span class="pagenum" id="Page_33">33</span> -of fundamental forces, threw up the whole process into high -relief. For nearly two long years there was a complete abandonment -of sense and self-respect. Rowelled and intimidated -by minorities that finally coalesced into a frantic majority, -legislators allowed themselves to be forced into imbecility after -imbecility, and administrative officers, including some of the -highest judges in the land, followed them helter-skelter. In -the lower house of Congress there was one man—already forgotten—who -showed the stature of a man. He resigned his -seat and went home to his self-respect. The rest had no -self-respect to go home to. Eager beyond all to hold their -places, at whatever cost to principle, and uneasily conscious of -their vulnerability to attack, however frenzied and unjust, they -surrendered abjectly and repeatedly—to the White House, to -the newspapers, to any group enterprising enough to issue orders -to them and resolute enough to flourish weapons before -them. It was a spectacle full of indecency—there are even -congressmen who blush when they think of it to-day—but -it was nevertheless a spectacle that was typical. The fortunes -of politics, as they now run, make it overwhelmingly probable -that every new recruit to public office will be just such a poltroon. -The odds are enormously in favour of him, and enormously -against the man of honour. Such a man of honour -may occasionally drift in, taken almost unawares by some -political accident, but it is the pushing, bumptious, unconscionable -bounder who is constantly <em>fighting</em> to get in, and only -too often he succeeds. The rules of the game are made to fit -his taste and his talents. He can survive as a hog can survive -in the swill-yard.</p> - -<p>Go to the Congressional Directory and investigate the origins -and past performances of the present members of the lower -house—our typical assemblage of typical politicians, the cornerstone -of our whole representative system, the symbol of our -democracy. You will find that well over half of them are -obscure lawyers, school-teachers, and mortgage-sharks out of -almost anonymous towns—men of common traditions, sordid -aspirations, and no attainments at all. One and all, the members -of this majority—and it is constant, no matter what party -is in power—are plastered with the brass ornaments of the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_34">34</span> -more brummagem fraternal orders. One and all, they are devoid -of any contact with what passes for culture, even in their -remote bailiwicks. One and all their careers are bare of -civilizing influences.... Such is the American <em>Witenagemot</em> -in this 146th year of the Republic. Such are the men who -make the laws that all of us must obey, and who carry on our -dealings with the world. Go to their debates, and you will -discover what equipment they bring to their high business. -What they know of sound literature is what one may get out of -McGuffey’s Fifth Reader. What they know of political science -is the nonsense preached in the chautauquas and on the -stump. What they know of history is the childish stuff taught -in grammar-schools. What they know of the arts and sciences—of -all the great body of knowledge that is the chief intellectual -baggage of modern man—is absolutely nothing.</p> - -<p class="right"> -<span class="smcap">H. L. Mencken</span> -</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div id="toclink_35" class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_35">35</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="JOURNALISM">JOURNALISM</h2> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap al"><span class="smcap1">According</span> to the <cite>World Almanac</cite> for 1921 the daily circulation -of newspapers in the big cities of the United -States in 1914 (evidently the most recent year for which the -figures have been compiled) was more than forty million. For -the six months ending April 1, 1920, the average daily circulation -of five morning newspapers and eleven evening newspapers -in Greater New York City was, as shown by sworn -statements, more than three and a third million. These statistics -cover only daily newspapers, not weekly or monthly -journals; and the figures for New York do not include papers -in languages other than English. The American certainly -buys newspapers. To what extent he reads them it is impossible -to determine. But we may fairly assume that the great -majority of literate inhabitants of the United States of all ages -are every day subjected in some measure to the influence of the -newspaper. No other institution approaches the newspaper in -universality, persistence, continuity of influence. Not the -public school, with all other schools added to it, has such -power over the national mind; for in the lives of most people -formal schooling is of relatively short duration, ceasing with -adolescence or earlier. The church? Millions of people never -go to church, and the day when the clergy dominated human -thought is gone for ever. If we add to the daily press the -weekly and monthly periodicals, with a total circulation per -issue of two hundred million (for the year 1914), we shall not -be far wrong in saying that the journalist, with the powers -behind him, has more to do, for good or for evil, than the -member of any other profession, in creating and shaping the -thoughts of the multitude. Compared with him the teacher, -the preacher, the artist, the politician, the man of science, are -restricted, interrupted, indirect in reaching the minds of their -fellow-men.</p> - -<p>So that in estimating the capacities and contents of the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_36">36</span> -American mind, which we have no means of lining up in its -hundred million individual manifestations and examining directly, -an analysis of the American newspaper is a fair rough-and-ready -method. What everybody reads does not tell the -whole story of what everybody is, but it tells a good deal. -Moreover, it is not necessary to analyze any one newspaper -or to separate its clientèle from that of any other newspaper. -For though everybody knows that the New York <cite>Tribune</cite> and -the New York <cite>World</cite> have distinct qualities which differentiate -them from each other, that some papers are better and some -are worse, yet on the whole the American newspaper is amazingly -uniform from Portland, Maine, to Portland, Oregon. It -is, indeed, a more or less unified institution fed by the same -news services and dominated by kindred financial interests. -If you travel much, as actors do, without interest in local -affairs, when you go to the hotel news-stand in the morning, -you cannot tell from the general aspect of the newspaper you -pick up what city you are in; and in a small city it is likely -to be a metropolitan paper that has come a hundred miles or -more during the night. Indeed, this is the first thing to be -learned about the American from a study of his newspapers, -that he lacks individuality, is tediously uniform, and cut according -to one intellectual pattern. He may have his “favourite” -newspaper, and with no sense that his confession of -habitude is shameful he may write the editor that he has read -it constantly for forty years. But if it goes out of existence, -like his favourite brand of chewing-gum or cigarettes, there is -no aching void which cannot be comfortably filled by a surviving -competitor. Editors, except those in charge of local news, -move with perfect ease from one city to another; it is the same -old job at a different desk.</p> - -<p>The standardization of the newspaper reader and the standardization -of the journalist are two aspects of the same thing. -As a citizen, a workman, a human being, the journalist is simply -one of us, a victim of the conformity which has overwhelmed -the American. When we speak of the influence of -the journalist, we are not speaking of an individual, but of “the -powers behind him,” of which he is nothing but the wage-earning -servant, as impotent and unimportant, considered as<span class="pagenum" id="Page_37">37</span> -an individual, as a mill-hand. Journalism in America is no -longer a profession, through which a man can win to a place -of real dignity among his neighbours. If we had a Horace -Greeley to-day, he would not be editor of a newspaper. He -would not wish to be, and he would not be allowed to be. Certainly -his vigorous integrity would not be tolerated in the modern -unworthy successor of the newspaper which he founded. -The editor of a newspaper is no doubt often a man of intelligence -and experience and he may be well paid, like the manager -of a department store; but he is usually submerged in -anonymity except that from time to time the law requires the -newspaper to publish his name. His subordinates, assistant -editors, newswriters, reporters, and the rest, are as nameless -as floor-walkers, shipping clerks, salesladies, and ladies engaged -in more ancient forms of commerce.</p> - -<p>It is true that during the last generation there has been -a tendency in the newspaper to “feature” individuals, such -as cartoonists, conductors of columns, writers on sport, dramatic -critics, and so on. But these men are artists, some of them -very clever, who have nothing to do with the news but contribute -to the paper its vaudeville entertainment. During -the war there was a great increase in the amount of signed -cable matter and correspondence. This was due to the necessity -of the prosperous newspaper to show its enterprise and to -cajole its readers into believing that it had men of special ability -in close touch with diplomats and major-generals collecting and -cabling at great expense intimate information and expert opinion. -The circumstances were so difficult that the wisest and -most honest man could not do much, except lose his position, -and nobody will blame the correspondents. But it is significant -that not a single American correspondent emerged from -the conflict who is memorable, from the point of view of a -more or less careful reader, as having been different from the -rest. If from a miscellaneous collection of clippings we should -cut off the dates, the alleged place of origin and the names -of the correspondents, nobody but an editor with a long and -detailed memory could tell t’other from which, or be sure -whether the despatch was from Mr. Jones, the special correspondent -of the <cite>Christian Science Monitor</cite> (copyright by the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_38">38</span> -Chicago <cite>News</cite>) or an anonymous cable from the London office -of the Associated Press. And even the editor, who may be -assumed to know the names of hundreds of his colleagues and -competitors, would begin his attempt at identification by examining -the style of type to see if it looked like a column from -the <cite>Sun</cite> or from the <cite>World</cite>. Almost all the war news was a -hopeless confusion of impressions, of reports of what somebody -said somebody else, “of unquestionable authority,” had -heard from reliable sources, and of sheer mendacity adapted to -the momentary prejudices of the individual managing editor, -the American press as a whole, and the American people. And -this is a rough recipe for all the news even in times of peace, -for the war merely aggravated the prevalent diseases of the -newspapers.</p> - -<p>Since the purpose of this book is to discuss peculiarly American -characteristics, it should be said at once that the tendency -of the newspaper to obliterate the journalist as a person immediately -responsible to the public is not confined to America. -Economic conditions in Europe and America are fundamentally -alike, and the modern newspaper in every country must be a -business institution, heavily capitalized, and conducted for -profit. In England the decline of journalism as a profession -and the rise of the “stunt” press has been noted and deplored -by Englishmen. Years ago it meant something to be editor -of the London <cite>Times</cite>, and the appointment of a new man to -the position was an event not less important than a change in -the cabinet. Who is editor of the <cite>Times</cite> now is a matter of no -consequence except to the man who receives the salary check. -English journalism is in almost as bad a case as American. In -England, however, there is at least one exception which -has no counterpart in America, the Manchester Guardian; -this admirable newspaper has the good fortune to be owned -by people who are so rich that they are not obliged, and so -honest that they are not willing, to sell out. It is this fact -which has afforded Mr. Scott, the editor-in-chief for nearly -half a century, an opportunity adequate to his courage and -ability. There are few such opportunities in England, and -none in America. Even the Springfield <cite>Republican</cite> has largely -lost its old character.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_39">39</span></p> - -<p>As for the continental papers, one who does not read any of -them regularly is in no position to judge. In 1900 William -James, a shrewd observer, wrote in a letter: “The Continental -papers of course are ‘nowhere.’ As for our yellow papers—every -country has its criminal classes, and with us and in -France, they have simply got into journalism as part of their -professional evolution, and they must be got out. Mr. Bosanquet -somewhere says that so far from the ‘dark ages’ being -over, we are just at the beginning of a new dark-age period. -He means that ignorance and unculture, which then were -merely brutal, are now articulate and possessed of a literary -voice, and the fight is transferred from fields and castles and -town walls to ‘organs of publicity.’” This is only a passing -remark in an informal letter. But it is a partial explanation -of American yellow journalism which in twenty years has -swamped the whole press, including papers that pretend to be -respectable, and it suggests what the state of things was, and -is, in France.</p> - -<p>It should be noted, however, that personal journalism has -not entirely disappeared in France, that the editor can still be -brought to account, sometimes at the point of a pistol, for lies -and slander, and that a young French <i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">littérateur</i>, before he -has won his spurs in poetry, drama, or fiction, can regard journalism -as an honourable occupation in which it is worth while -to make a name.</p> - -<p>With the decadence in all countries, certainly in America, of -the journalist as a professional man in an honourable craft, -there might conceivably have been a gain in objectivity, in the -right sort of impersonality. Anonymity might have ensured a -dispassionate fidelity to facts. But there has been no such -gain. Responsibility has been transferred from the journalist -to his employers, and he is on his mettle to please his employers, -to cultivate whatever virtues are possible to journalism, -accuracy, clearness of expression, zeal in searching out -and interpreting facts, only in so far forth as his employers -demand them, only as his livelihood and chances of promotion -depend on them. The ordinary journalist, being an ordinary -human being, must prefer to do honest work; for there is no -pleasure in lying, though there is a temptation to fill space with<span class="pagenum" id="Page_40">40</span> -unfounded or unverified statements. And if his manager orders -him to find a story where there is no story, or to find a -story of a certain kind where the facts lead to a story of another -kind, he will not come back empty-handed lest he go -away empty-handed on pay-day. Any one who has worked in -a newspaper office knows that the older men are likely to be -weary and cynical and that the younger men fall into two -classes, those who are too stupid to be discontented with any -aspect of their position except the size of their salaries, and -those who hope either to rise to the better paid positions, or -to “graduate,” as they put it, from daily journalism to other -kinds of literary work.</p> - -<p>The journalist, then, should be acquitted of most of the -faults of journalism. Mr. Walter Lippmann says in his sane -little book, “Liberty and the News”: “Resistance to the -inertias of the profession, heresy to the institution, and willingness -to be fired rather than write what you do not believe, -these wait on nothing but personal courage.” That is a little -like saying that the harlot can stop harlotry by refusing to ply -her trade—which is indeed the attitude of some people in comfortable -circumstances. I doubt if Mr. Lippmann would have -written just as he did if he had ever had to depend for his -dinner on pleasing a managing editor, if he had not been from -very early in his brilliant career editor of a liberal endowed -journal in which he is free to express his beliefs. Most newspaper -men are poor and not brilliant. The correspondents -whom Mr. Lippmann mentions as “eminences on a rather -flat plateau” are nearly all men who have succeeded in other -work than newspaper correspondence, and if not a newspaper -in the world would hire them, most of them could afford to -thumb their noses at the Ochses, Reids, and Harmsworths. -Personal courage is surely a personal matter, and it can seldom -be effective in correcting the abuses of an institution, especially -when the institution can hire plenty of men of adequate if not -equal ability to take the place of the man of stubborn integrity. -I know one journalist who lost his position as managing editor -of two wealthy newspapers, one in Boston, the other in New -York, in the first instance because he refused to print a false -and cowardly retraction dictated by a stockholder whom the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_41">41</span> -editor-in-chief desired to serve, in the second instance because -he refused to distort war news. But what good did his single-handed -rebellion do, except to make a few friends proud of -him? Did either newspaper lose even one mournful subscriber? -Did the advertising department suffer? Far from it. Another -man took his place, a man not necessarily less honest, but of -more conformable temperament. The muddy waters of journalism -did not show a ripple. Paradoxically, the journalist is -the one man who can do little or nothing to improve journalism. -Mr. Lippmann’s suggestion that our salvation lies “ultimately -in the infusion of the news-structure by men with a new training -and outlook,” is, as he knows, the expression of a vague hope, -too remotely ultimate to have practical bearing on the actual -situation. The man of training and outlook, especially of outlook, -is the unhappiest man in the employ of a newspaper. His -salvation, if not ours, lies in getting out of newspaper work and -applying his ability and vision in some occupation which does -not discourage precisely the merits which an honest institution -should foster. This is not merely the opinion of a critical -layman but represents accurately if not literally the advice -given to me by a successful editor and writer of special articles. -“In this game,” he said, “you lose your soul.”</p> - -<p>The stories of individuals who have tried to be decent in -newspaper work and have been fired might be valuable if they -were collated and if the better journalists would unite to lay -the foundation in fact of more such stories. But a profession, -a trade, which has so little sense of its own interest that it -does not even make an effective union (to be sure, the organization -of newspaper writers met with some success, especially -in Boston, but to-day the organization has practically disappeared) -to keep its wages up can never be expected to unite -in the impersonal interests of truth and intellectual dignity. -The individual who charges against an enormous unshakable -institution with the weapons of his personal experience is too -easily disposed of as a sore-head and is likely to be laughed -at even by his fellow-journalists who know that in the main -he is right.</p> - -<p>This has happened to Mr. Upton Sinclair. I have studied -“The Brass Check” carefully for the selfish purpose of getting<span class="pagenum" id="Page_42">42</span> -enough material so that the writing of this chapter should be -nothing but a lazy man’s task of transcription, not to speak of -the noble ethical purpose of reforming the newspaper by exposing -its iniquities. I confess I am disappointed. “The -Brass Check” is a mixture of autobiography, valuable in its way -to those who admire Mr. Sinclair, as I do most sincerely, and -of evidence which, though properly personal, ought to be -handled in an objective manner. I am puzzled that a man of -“training and outlook,” who has shown in at least one of his -novels an excellent sense of construction, could throw together -such a hodge-podge of valid testimony, utterly damning to -his opponents, and naïve trivialities, assertions insecurely -founded and not important if they were well founded. I am -so sure that Mr. Sinclair is on the whole right that I am reluctant -to criticize him adversely, to lend a shadow of encouragement -to the real adversary, who is unscrupulous and securely -entrenched. But as a journalist of “training and outlook” -I lament that another journalist of vastly more ability, -experience, and information should not have done better work -in selecting and constructing his material. As a lawyer said to -his client, “You are a saint and you are right, but a court-room -is no place for a saint and you are a damn bad witness.” -Mr. Sinclair’s evidence, however, is all there to be dug out -by whoever has the will and the patience. If one-tenth of it -is valid and nine-tenths of doubtful value, the one-tenth is -sufficient to show the sinister forces behind the newspapers and -to explain some of the reasons why the newspapers are untrustworthy, -cowardly, and dishonest.</p> - -<p>Though Mr. Sinclair tells some damaging stories about the -sins of anonymous reporters and of the prostitution of writers -like the late Elbert Hubbard, who had no excuse for being -anything but honest and independent, yet Mr. Sinclair on the -whole would agree with me that the chief responsibility for -the evils of journalism does not rest upon the journalist. He -tries to place it squarely where it belongs on the owners of -the press and the owners of the owners. But it is difficult to -determine how the weight of guilt is distributed, for the press -is a monster with more than two legs.</p> - -<p>Part of the responsibility rests upon the reader, if indeed<span class="pagenum" id="Page_43">43</span> -the reader is to blame for being a gullible fool and for buying -shoddy goods. Mr. Lippmann says: “There is everywhere an -increasingly angry disillusionment about the press, a growing -sense of being baffled and misled.” And Mr. Sinclair says: -“The people want the news; the people clamour for the news.” -Both these statements may be true. But where do the learned -doctors find the symptoms? A few of us who have some -special interest in the press, in publicity, in political problems, -are disillusioned and resentful. Probably everybody has said -or heard somebody else say: “That’s only a newspaper story,” -or “You cannot believe everything you read.” But such mild -scepticism shows no promise of swelling to an angry demand on -the part of that vague aggregate, the People, for better, more -honest newspapers, to such an angry demand as you can actually -hear in any house you enter for cheaper clothes and -lower taxes.</p> - -<p>If we make a rough calculation of the number of papers sold -and of the number of people in the main economic classes, it is -evident that papers of large circulation must go by the million -to the working-people. Well, is there any sign of growing -wrath in the breasts of the honest toilers against the newspapers, -against Mr. Hearst’s papers, which throw them sops -of hypocritical sympathy, not to speak of papers which are -openly unfair in handling labour news? Or consider the more -prosperous classes. In the smoking-car of any suburban train -bound for New York some morning after eight o’clock, look at -the men about you, business men, the kind that work, or do -something, in offices. They are reading the <cite>Times</cite> and the -<cite>Tribune</cite>. There may be some growls about something in the -day’s news, something that has happened on the stock-market, -or a stupid throw to third base in yesterday’s game. But is -there any murmur of discontent with the newspaper itself? I -fail to find any evidence of widespread disgust with the newspaper -as it is and a concomitant hunger for something better. -The Reader, the Public is mute, if not inglorious, and -accepts uncritically what the daily press provides. The reader -has not much opportunity to choose the better from the worse. -If he gives up one paper he must take another that is just as -bad. He is between the devil and the deep sea, as when he<span class="pagenum" id="Page_44">44</span> -casts his ballot for Democrat or Republican. And if he votes -Socialist he gets the admirable New York <cite>Call</cite>, which is less a -newspaper than a vehicle of propaganda. When one paper is -slightly more honest and intelligent than its rivals, the difference -is so slight that only those especially interested in the -problems of the press are aware of it. For example, in discussing -these problems with newspaper men, with critical readers -of the press, persons for any reason intelligently interested -in the problems, I have never found one who did not have -a good word to say for the New York <cite>Globe</cite>. It is so appreciably -more decent than the other New York papers that I can -almost forgive it for thrusting Dr. Frank Crane under my -nose when I am looking at the amusing pictures of Mr. Fontaine -Fox—the newspaper vaudeville has to supply stunts for -all juvenile tastes. Yet the <cite>Globe</cite> does not find a clamorous -multitude willing to reward it for its superiority to its neighbours, -which I grant is too slight for duffers to discern. The -American reader of newspapers, that is, almost everybody, is -a duffer, so far as the newspaper is concerned, uncritical, docile, -only meekly incredulous. It may be that “the people” get as -good newspapers as they wish and deserve, just as they are said -to get as good government as they wish and deserve. Certainly -if the readers of newspapers seem to demand nothing -better, the manufacturers of newspapers have no inducement to -give them anything better. But this does not get us any -nearer a solution of the problem or do more than indicate that -some vaguely indeterminate part of the responsibility for the -evils of the newspapers must rest on the people who buy them.</p> - -<p>From the buyer to the seller is the shortest step. The newspaper -is a manufacturing concern producing goods to sell at a -profit; it is also a department store, and it has some characteristics -that suggest the variety show and the brothel. But -the newspaper differs from all other commodities in that it does -not live by what it receives from the consumer who buys it. -Three cents multiplied a million times does not support a newspaper. -The valuable part of a newspaper from the manufacturer’s -point of view, and also to a great extent from the -reader’s point of view, is the advertisements. The columns of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_45">45</span> -“reading matter,” so called, are little more than bait to attract -enough readers to make the paper worth while as a vehicle -for advertisements. It is of no importance to the management -whether a given column contain news from Washington or -Moscow, true or false, or a scandal or a funny story, as long -as it leads some thousands of human eyes to look at it and so -to look at adjacent columns in which are set forth the merits -of a safety razor or an automobile tire or a fifty-dollar suit -of clothes at thirty-nine dollars and a half. There has to be -a good variety and a certain balance of interest in the columns -of reading matter to secure the attention of all kinds of people. -This accounts for two things, the great development in the -newspaper of pure, or impure, entertainment, of more or less -clever features, at the expense of space that might be devoted -to news, and also the tendency to accentuate narrative interest -above all other kinds of interest. A reporter is never sent out -by his chief to get information, but always, in the lingo of the -office, to get a “story.” This is sound psychology. Everybody -likes a story, and there are only a few souls in the world -who yearn at breakfast for information. To attack the newspaper -for being sensational is to forget that all the great stories -of the world, from the amatory exploits of Helen of Troy and -Cleopatra to the scandalous adventures of Mrs. Black, the -banker’s wife, are sensational and should be so treated. The -newspaper manager is indifferent to every quality in his news -columns except their power to attract the reader and so secure -circulation and so please the advertiser. And the advertiser -has as his primary interest only that of bringing to the attention -of a certain number of people the virtues of his suspenders, -shoes, and soothing syrup.</p> - -<p>But the advertiser has a secondary interest. The newspaper -willy-nilly deals with ideas, such as they are. No idea inimical -to the advertiser’s business or in general to the business system -of which he is a dependent part must be allowed in the paper. -Therefore all newspapers are controlled by the advertising department, -that is, the counting-room. They are controlled -negatively and positively. We are discussing general characteristics -and have not space for detailed evidence. But one -or two cases will suffice.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_46">46</span></p> - -<p>An example of the coercion of the newspaper by the advertiser -was recently afforded by the Philadelphia press. The -Gimbel Brothers, owners of a department store, were charged -by United States Government officials with profiteering. The -only Philadelphia paper that made anything of the story was -the <cite>Press</cite>, which was owned by Mr. Wanamaker of the rival department -store. The other papers ignored the story or put it in -one edition and then withdrew it. If there is an elevator accident -in a general office building, it is reported. If there is a -similar accident in a department store, it is usually not reported. -When the New York <cite>Times</cite> (April 25, 1921) prints -a short account of the experience of four Wellesley college students -who disguised their intellectual superiority and got jobs -in department stores, the head-line tells us that they “Find -They Can Live on Earnings,” though the matter under the -head-line does not bear this out. Perhaps it does no harm to -suppress, or fail to publish, news of accidents and to make -out a good case for the living and working conditions of shop-girls. -These are minor matters in the news of the world and -their importance would appear only if they were accumulated -in their tediously voluminous mass.</p> - -<p>The positive corruption of the newspaper by the advertiser -goes deeper and proceeds from larger economic powers than -individual merchants. There is all over the world a terrific -economic contest between the employing classes and the wage-earning -classes. The dramatic manifestation of this contest is -the strike. Almost invariably the news of a strike is, if not -falsified, so shaped as to be unfavourable to the workers. In -the New York <cite>Nation</cite> of January 5, 1921, Mr. Charles G. -Miller, formerly editor of the Cleveland <cite>Plain Dealer</cite>, exposes -the lies of the Pittsburgh papers during the steel strike. In -two weeks the Pittsburgh papers published more than thirty -pages of paid advertisements denouncing the leadership of the -strike and invoking “Americanism” against radicalism and -syndicalism. The news and editorial attitude of the papers -coincided with the advertisements and gave the impression that -the strikers were disloyal, un-American, bolshevik. They were -silent on the real questions at issue, hours, pay, working conditions. -And not only the Pittsburgh press but the press of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_47">47</span> -the entire country was poisoned. For the Associated Press -and other news services are not independent organizations -feeding news to their clients but simply interrelated newspapers -swapping each other’s lies. The Denver newspapers -control all the news that is read in Boston about the Colorado -coal mines. The Boston newspapers control all the news that -is read in San Francisco about the New England textile mills. -The head of a local bureau of the Associated Press is not a -reporter; he is merely a more or less skilful compiler and -extracter who sends to the nation, to the whole world, matter -which is furnished him by the papers of his district. So that -he can usually hold up his hand and swear to the honesty of -his service; he is like an express agent who ships a case of -what he thinks is canned corn, and it is not his fault if there -is opium concealed in the case.</p> - -<p>The power of the advertiser to make the newspaper servile -and right in its opinions is not confined to the local department -store or the special industry operating through a district -press. Nor is it confined to the negative punishment of withdrawing -advertising of commodities like hosiery, chewing gum, -and banking service from papers that offend their masters. -There is another method of exerting this power, and that is -to buy advertising space in which to set forth ideas calculated -to influence public opinion. Here is a full page from a New -York paper containing a cartoon and text, the main idea of -which is that Labour and Capital should pull together. It is -signed by “‘America First’ Publicity Association” and is -Bulletin No. 115 in a series—“be sure to read them all.” -This full-page bulletin, of which there have already been -more than a hundred, appeared in many newspapers—I do -not know how many; and a full page costs a good deal of -money. What is the object of this patriotic association? The -prevailing theme of the bulletins which I have seen is “Labour -be good! Fight Bolshevism! Beware the Agitator!” Who is -going to be influenced by these bulletins? Not the workingman. -He knows what he wants, and if he is the dupe of agitators -and false theories, these sermons can never rescue him. -Not the capitalist. He knows what he wants, and gets it. -Perhaps the little middle-class fellow may swallow such buncombe<span class="pagenum" id="Page_48">48</span> -on his daily journey between his office and his home in -the suburbs. But he is already an intellectually depraved servant -of the employing classes, and it is not worth hundreds -of thousands of dollars to complete and confirm his corruption. -The primary object of the advertisement is to keep the newspaper -“good,” to encourage its editorial departments, through -the advertising department, not to fall below 99 and 44/100% -pure Americanism or admit ideas inimical to the general interests -of chambers of commerce, manufacturers’ associations, -and other custodians of the commonweal. I suspect that -some clever advertising man has stung the gentlemen who -supply the money for this campaign of education, but what is -a few million to them? The man who can best afford to laugh -is the business manager of the newspaper when he looks at the -check and meditates on the easy money of some of his advertising -clients and the easy credulity of some of his reading -clients.</p> - -<p>It may be argued that the newspaper, which is a business, -ought to be controlled, directly and indirectly, by business interests; -and certainly if we allow the commercial powers to -manage our food supply, transportation, and housing, it is a -relatively minor matter if the same powers dominate our press. -In like manner if we tolerate dishonest governments, we are -only dealing with an epiphenomenon when we consider the -dishonest and inefficient treatment by the press of public affairs, -national and international. All the news of politics, diplomacy, -war, world-trade emanates from government officials -or from those who are interested in turning to their own advantage -the actions of officials. Business is behind government, -and government is behind business; which comes first -is unimportant like the problem of the chicken and the egg. -It is a partnership of swindle, and though the details of the -relation are infinitely complicated, the relation in itself is -easy to understand and accounts quite simply for the fact that -world news is the most viciously polluted of all the many -kinds of news. The efforts of a merchant to keep up the good -name of his department store, or of a group of manufacturers -to break a strike are feeble and even reasonable, so far as -they use the newspapers, compared to the audacious perversion<span class="pagenum" id="Page_49">49</span> -of truth by the combination of arch criminals, government -and international business.</p> - -<p>The star example in modern times is the current newspaper -history of Russia. The New York <cite>Nation</cite> of March 6, 1920, -published an article showing that in the columns of the New -York Times Lenin had died once, been almost killed three -times, and had fallen and fled innumerable times. The <cite>New -Republic</cite> published August 4, 1920, a supplement by Lippmann -and Merz summarizing the news which the <cite>Times</cite> printed -about Russia during the three years preceding March 1920. -The analysis shows an almost unbroken daily misrepresentation -of the programme, purposes and strength of the Russian -government and continuous false “optimism,” as the writers -gently call it, about the military exploits of Russia’s enemies, -the “white hopes,” Kolchak and Denekin. The writers expressly -state that they did not select the <cite>Times</cite> because it is -worse than other papers but, on the contrary, because it “is -one of the really great newspapers of the world.” “Rich” or -“powerful” would have been a better word than “great.” -The sources of error in the Times were the Associated Press, -the special correspondents of the Times, government officials -and political factions hostile to the present Russian régime. -Among the offenders was the United States Government or -the journalistic fake-factory in or adjacent to the Department -of State. At this writing the article in the <cite>New Republic</cite> has -been out nearly a year, that in the <cite>Nation</cite> more than a year. -It is fair to assume that they have been seen by the managers -of the <cite>Times</cite> and other powerful journalists, that if there was -any misstatement the weekly journals would have been forced -to recant, which they have not done, and that if the Ochses -of the newspaper world had any conscience they would have -been at least more careful after such devastating exposures. -But the game of “Lying about Lenin” goes merrily on.</p> - -<p>The American government and the American press have not -been more mendacious in their treatment of Russia than the -governments and the press of other nations, but they have -been more persistently stupid and unteachable in the face of -facts. The British government has been engaged in an agile -zigzag retreat from its first position of no intercourse with<span class="pagenum" id="Page_50">50</span> -Russia, and when the London <cite>Labour Herald</cite> exposed the trick -of Lloyd George which consisted of printing and sending out -<em>from Russia</em> propaganda against the Soviet government, the -prince of political liars was obliged to stop that fraud. On -the other hand one of the first acts of our new administration -was Mr. Hughes’s idiotic confirmation of the attitude held by -the old administration, and he furnished the newspapers real -news, since the Secretary’s opinions, however stupid, are real -news, to add to their previous accumulation of ignorance and -lies, and thereby encouraged them in their evil ways. If a -government is composed of noodles and rogues, the press -which reports the activities of the government and the opinions -of its officials is only secondarily responsible for deceiving the -public. The editors might be more critical in sifting the true -from the false. But the newspaper has no motive for trying -to correct the inherent vices of business and government; it -does not originate those vices but merely concurs in them and -reflects them. The newspaper is primarily responsible only -for the stupidity and mendacity of its correspondents and -editors. It is not an independent institution with its own ethic, -with either will or full opportunity to serve the truth, but is -only the symptom and expression of the vast corruption that -lies behind it and of the dense popular ignorance that stands -gaping before it.</p> - -<p>The <i xml:lang="cy" lang="cy">Dunciad</i> of the Press does not end in quite universal -darkness. There is a little light over the horizon. A new -organization called The Federated Press, which endeavours to -“get the news in spite of the newspapers and the great news -agencies,” announces that already two hundred editors all over -the world are using its service. It is too soon to tell how successful -this enterprise will be, but it is a ray of promise, because -it is an association of working journalists and not a -vague aspiration of reformers and uplifters. Until some such -organization does become powerful and by practical labour -make an impression on the daily paper, we shall have to depend -for enlightenment on a few weekly and monthly periodicals -of relatively small circulation. Most of the popular -weeklies and monthlies are as bad in their way as the newspapers, -but they aim chiefly at entertainment; their treatment<span class="pagenum" id="Page_51">51</span> -of the news in special articles and editorials is a subordinate -matter, and their chief sin is not dishonesty but banality. The -periodicals which do handle the news, always honestly, usually -with intelligence, the <cite>Nation</cite>, the <cite>New Republic</cite>, the <cite>Freeman</cite> -and one or two others, must have an influence greater than -can be measured by their circulation; for though the giant -press laughs at the cranky little Davids with their vicious -radical ideas, and though it is too strong to be slain or even -severely wounded, yet it cannot be quite insensible to the -stones that fly from those valorous slings. It is, however, -an indication of the low mental level of America that the combined -circulation of these journals, which are, moreover, -largely subscribed for by the same readers, is less than that of -a newspaper in a second-rate city. Two of them are endowed -or subsidized by liberal men of means and none of them is -shiningly prosperous. An intelligent populace would buy them -by the million. So we leave the responsibility where, after -all, it belongs. The American press is an accurate gauge of -the American mind.</p> - -<p class="right"> -<span class="smcap">John Macy</span> -</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div id="toclink_53" class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_53">53</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="THE_LAW">THE LAW</h2> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="smcap1">“The</span> first thing we do, let’s kill all the lawyers.” This -outcry of Jack Cade’s followers that the disappearance -of the whole profession was the initial step in man’s progress -toward a better world would be echoed in the United States -by the revolutionists of to-day, and also by not a few solid -business men who have nothing else in common with the mediæval -agitator except perhaps the desire to see the fountains -run wine and make it a felony to drink near-beer. Indeed -almost every one takes his fling at the law. Doctors and ministers -can be avoided if we dislike them, but the judge has a -sure grip upon us all. He drags us before him against our -will; no power in the land can overturn his decision, but defeated -litigants, disappointed sociologists, and unsuccessful -primary candidates all join in a prolonged yell, “Kill the umpire.”</p> - -<p>Where there is smoke, there is fire. Underneath all this -agitation is a deep-seated suspicion and dissatisfaction aroused -by the legal profession and the whole machinery of justice. -It exists despite the fact observed by Bryce, that our system -of written constitutions has created a strongly marked legal -spirit in the people and accustomed them to look at all questions -in a legal way—a characteristic exemplified when other -peoples judged the Covenant of the League of Nations as an -expression of broad policies and the aspirations of a hundred -years, while we went at it word by word with a dissecting -knife and a microscope as if it had been a millionaire’s will -or an Income Tax Act. Moreover, although lawyers as a class -are unpopular, they are elected to half the seats in the legislatures -and in Congress. The profession which cannot boast -a single English Prime Minister in the century between Perceval -and Asquith, has trained every President who was not -a general, except Harding. Perhaps this very fact that lawyers<span class="pagenum" id="Page_54">54</span> -receive public positions out of all proportion to their numbers -partially accounts for the prejudice felt against them by men -in other professions and occupations.</p> - -<p>Hostility to lawyers and case-law is no new phenomenon in -this country. Puritans and Quakers arrived with unpleasant -memories of the English bench and bar, who had harried them -out of their homes. To them, law meant heresy trials, -and the impression that these left on the minds of their victims -has been set down forever by Bunyan in the prosecution of -Faithful at Vanity Fair. The Colonists were no more anxious -to transplant some Lord Hate-good, his counsellors, and his -law books to our shores, than Eugene V. Debs would strive -to set up injunctions and sedition statutes if he were founding -a socialistic commonwealth in the South Seas. The popular -attitude toward lawyers was re-inforced by the clergy who -were naturally reluctant to have their great moral and intellectual -influence disputed by men who would hire themselves -out to argue either side of any question. The ministers who -ruled Massachusetts and Connecticut by the Law of Moses, -wanted no rivals to challenge their decisions upon the authority -of Bracton and Coke. And everywhere, except perhaps -on the Southern plantations, the complicated structure of -feudal doctrines, which constituted such a large part of English -law well into the 18th century, was as unsuited to Colonial -ways and needs as a Gothic cathedral in the wilderness. Life -was so pressing, time was so short, labour so scarce, that the -only law which could receive acceptance must be so simple -that the settlers could apply it themselves. Although Justice -Story has spread wide the belief that our ancestors brought -the Common Law to New England on the <i>Mayflower</i>, the -truth is that only a few fragments got across. These were -rapidly supplemented by rules based on pioneer conditions. -Much the same phenomenon occurred as in the California of -1849, where the miners ignored the water-law of the Atlantic -seaboard which gave each person bordering on a stream some -share of the water, and adopted instead the custom better -suited to a new country of first come, first served. Almost -the earliest task of the founders of a Colony was the regulation -of the disputes which arise in a primitive civilization by a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_55">55</span> -brief legislative code concerning crimes, torts, and the simplest -contracts, in many ways like the dooms of the Anglo-Saxon -kings. Gaps in these codes were not filled from the Common -Law, as would be the case to-day, but by the discretion of the -magistrate, or in some Colonies, in the early days, from the -Bible. Land laws and conveyances were simple,—the underlying -English principle of primogeniture was abolished outright -by several Colonial charters, and disputes of title were -lessened by the admirable system of registering deeds. Such -law did not require lawyers, and it is not surprising that even -the magistrates were usually laymen. The chief justice of -Rhode Island as late as 1818 was a blacksmith. Oftentimes -a controversy was taken away from the court by the legislature -and settled by a special statute. Thus, instead of the -English and modern American judge-made law, the Colonists -received for the most part executive and legislative justice, and -lived under a protoplasmic popular law, with the Common Law -only one of its many ingredients.</p> - -<p>The training of the few Colonists who did become lawyers -may be judged from that of an early attorney general of Rhode -Island:</p> - -<p>“When he made up his mind to study law, he went into the -garden to exercise his talents in addressing the court and jury. -He then selected five cabbages in one row for judges, and -twelve in another row for jurors. After trying his hand there -a while, he went boldly into court and took upon himself the -duties of an advocate, and a little observation and experience -there convinced him that the same cabbages were in the court -house which he thought he had left in the garden,—five in one -row and twelve in another.”</p> - -<p>The natural alienation of such attorneys from the intricacies -of English law was increased by occasional conflicts between -that system and Colonial statutes or conceptions of justice. An -excellent Connecticut act for the disposal of a decedent’s land -was declared void by the Privy Council in London as contrary -to the laws of England, and the attempt of the New York -governor and judges to enforce the obnoxious English law of -libel in the prosecution of Peter Zenger in order to throttle -the criticism of public officials by the press, would have succeeded<span class="pagenum" id="Page_56">56</span> -if the jury had not deliberately rejected the legal definitions -given by the court.</p> - -<p>The Common Law became somewhat more popular when the -principles of individual rights which had blocked Stuart oppression -were used against George III. After the Revolution, -however, it suffered with all things English. Many lawyers -had been Loyalists. The commercial depression turned the -bar into debt collectors. The great decisions of Lord Mansfield -which laid the foundations of modern business law were -rejected by Jefferson and many other Americans because of -that judge’s reactionary policy towards the Colonies. Many -States actually passed legislation forbidding the use of English -cases as authorities in our courts. The enforcement of the -Common Law of sedition and criminal libel by judges, many -of whom had been educated in England, identified the Common -Law with the suppression of freedom of speech. Nevertheless, -the old simple Colonial rules were insufficient to decide -the complex commercial questions which were constantly arising, -especially in maritime transactions. Aid had to be obtained -from some mature system of law.</p> - -<p>At this moment a rival to the Common Law presented itself -in the Napoleonic code of 1804, attractive to the populace -just because it was French, and to many of the bar because of -its logical arrangement and because unlike English lawyers -they were widely read in Roman and modern Continental law. -For a time it was actually doubtful whether the legal assistance -which American judges needed would be drawn from England -or France. French writers were cited in the courts and Livingston -drafted a code on the Napoleonic model for Louisiana. -The English law had, however, one great advantage. It was -written in our own language. Furthermore, a group of exceptionally -able judges such as Joseph Story and James Kent, by -their decisions and writings, virtually imported the great bulk -of the Common Law into this country and reworked it to meet -American conditions. Nevertheless, this law was something -that came from outside and had not grown up altogether from -the lives and thoughts of our own people, so that it has never -meant to Americans what English law means to Englishmen,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_57">57</span> -for whom it is as much a product of their own land as parliamentary -government or the plays of Shakespeare.</p> - -<p>Another reason for American hostility to law was found at -the frontier. The pioneer, imbued with the conviction that he -was entitled to the land which he had cleared, ploughed and -sown, often thrown by crop failures into debt to the tradesmen -in the town, resented law as something which was forced upon -him by people who led easy lives, who took his land away -for some technical defect of title, foreclosed mortgages, compelled -him to pay for goods of high prices and low quality, -suppressed hereditary feuds, and substituted a mass of book -learning which he was too ignorant or too busy to read, for -the simple principles of fair play which seemed sufficient to -him. Habitual obedience to law was a spirit which could not -develop in men who were largely squatters, and who, from -the outset of our national history, disregarded the Congressional -statutes which required that public lands must be surveyed -before they were settled. Sometimes, as in this instance, -the settler’s resistance to law was successful. More often they -were overpowered by the strength of civilization and submitted -to the law sullen and unconvinced.</p> - -<p>The old frontier is gone, a new frontier has arisen. The -meeting place of unfriendly races has moved Eastward from -the Missouri to the Merrimac. The pioneers of to-day came -often from autocratic lands where law was something imposed -on them from above, and they were slow to regard our law -as different in kind. It was not a part of themselves. Moreover, -they did not find in America the energetic police organization -which had compelled their obedience in Europe. The -men who framed our system of laws were taught by Puritanism -that duties declared by those lawfully in authority -should be voluntarily performed. A statute once on the books -got much vitality from this spirit and from the social pressure -of the homogeneous settled communities, whatever the difficulties -of enforcement at the frontier. These forces behind law -became weaker when the population was split into numerous -and diverse races by the great tide of immigration. Obedience -to law, never automatic among us, now became liable to cease<span class="pagenum" id="Page_58">58</span> -altogether whenever a person thought the law unreasonable or -felt fairly certain that he would not be found out.</p> - -<p>This belief that a law ceases to have obligation when it becomes -inexpedient to obey it, extends far beyond the recently -arrived elements in our population. For instance, a wealthy -man with several American generations behind him, who was -serving on the jury in an accident case, stood up on a chair -as soon as the jury got into the consultation-room and urged -them to disregard everything which the judge had instructed -them about the inability of the plaintiff to recover if he, as -well as the defendant, was negligent. “This doctrine of contributory -negligence,” said this educated juryman, “is not the -law of France or Germany or any country on the Continent of -Europe. A number of eminent writers agree that it is a thoroughly -bad law. Let’s have nothing to do with it.” Needless -to say, the plaintiff recovered. This conception of a higher -law than that on the books may owe something to the Abolitionists’ -belief that they were not bound by the laws protecting -the inhuman institution of slavery. Many conscientious -persons still hold that a man ought not to be punished for disobeying -a law which he believes to be morally wrong. Fortunately, -a corrective to this dangerous doctrine of the inner -legal light is found in the words of a leading Abolitionist, Judge -Ebenezer Rockwood Hoar, in charging the Grand Jury on -riotous resistance to the fugitive slave law, although he himself -regarded it as vicious legislation:</p> - -<p>“A man whose private conscience leads him to disobey a -law recognized by the community must take the consequences -of that disobedience. It is a matter solely between him and -his Maker. He should take good care that he is not mistaken, -that his private opinion does not result from passion or -prejudice, but, if he believes it to be his duty to disobey, he -must be prepared to abide by the result; and the laws as they -are enacted and settled by the constituted authorities to be -constitutional and valid, must be enforced, although it may be -to his grievous harm. It will not do for the public authorities -to recognize his private opinion as a justification of his -acts.”</p> - -<p>Disrespect for law has been aggravated by the changing<span class="pagenum" id="Page_59">59</span> -function of the lawyer since the Civil War. In the forties and -fifties, he stood out as a leader in his community, lifted by -education above the mass of citizens, often before the public -gaze in the court-room and chosen because of his forensic eloquence -to deliver many of those set orations which Americans -constantly demand, brought forward by the litigation of those -days as the avenger of crime, the defender of those unjustly -imprisoned, the liberator of the escaping slave, or upholding -some great public right on behalf of his city or State—the -construction of a toll-free bridge across the Charles, the maintenance -of the charter of Dartmouth College. After 1870, -this pre-eminence was challenged by the new captains of industry, -and their appearance was accompanied by an alteration -in the work of many an able lawyer, which soon obscured -him to the popular imagination. The formation of large businesses -required more and more the skill which he possessed. -Rewards for drafting and consultation became greater than -for litigation, which was growing tedious and costly, so that -his clients avoided it whenever possible. Consequently, he -changed from an advocate into a “client care-taker,” seldom -visible to the people and often associated in their minds with -the powerful and detested corporations which he represented. -Much of the prejudice against “corporation lawyers” was unjust, -and the business development of to-day would have been -impossible without the skill in organization and reorganization -of great enterprises which they displayed during the last half -century. However, popular opinion of a class is inevitably -based, not on all its members, but on a conspicuous few, and -the kind of legal career described in Winston Churchill’s “Far -Country” was common enough to furnish data for damaging -generalizations. In any case, the decline in the public influence -of the bar was inevitable, especially as certain businesses -retained the exclusive legal services of a staff of men, -so that it could be said: “Lawyers used to have clients; now, -clients have lawyers.”</p> - -<p>Of course, during this period there were many lawyers who -made a notable success by conducting cases against corporations. -These accident lawyers were, however, no more popular -than their opponents, even with the workingmen whom<span class="pagenum" id="Page_60">60</span> -they represented. The small means of their clients made any -remuneration from them improbable unless damages were recovered. -Consequently, the lawyer agreed to take nothing if -defeated, but to even matters up insisted on a large fraction -of the amount awarded, usually one-third or even more, if he -won. Therefore, he fought not merely for justice and his -client, but for his own fee, and the temptation to win by -every possible means was great. Business men were quick to -label him unscrupulous, while workingmen resented it when -a large slice of the money which the jury gave to them as a -just measure for suffering a lifelong disability vanished into -some lawyer’s pockets.</p> - -<p>No satisfactory substitute for the contingent fee was suggested, -but the prejudice created by the system and by the dislike -of corporation lawyers was too great to be dispelled by -the many members of the bar whose practice lay in neither -of these two fields. And indeed, the profession as a whole -cannot free itself from blame for some very definite evils, soon -to be discussed. Unfortunately, the long-standing antagonism -between lawyers and laymen has distracted the thoughts of -both sides from wrongs which ought to be and can be cured, -and turned them to never-ending disputes on problems of relatively -small importance. For instance, almost any layman -will open a discussion of the function of the lawyer by condemning -the profession because it defends criminals who are -known to be guilty. The solution of this problem is not easy, -but it is not worth a hundredth of the attention it receives, for -it hardly ever arises. The criminal law is a small part of the -whole law, and lawyers who have spent their whole lives in that -field have declared that they were not certain of the guilt of -a single client. A far more important problem is whether a -lawyer should advocate the passage of legislation which he -personally considers vicious. Indeed, the underlying question, -to which lawyers and laymen ought to be devoting themselves, -is this. How far can the State ascertain the proper -course of action by limiting itself to hearing paid representatives -of the persons directly interested, financially or otherwise; -or should the State also call in and pay trained men to -investigate the question independently? The solution of this<span class="pagenum" id="Page_61">61</span> -question will affect not only lawyers, but other professions as -well. Medical experts, for instance, might cease to be hired -by millionaires to prove them insane, or by the prosecuting -attorney with the opposite purpose, but might be employed by -the court to make an impartial inquiry into the mental condition -of a prisoner. In short, it may be that we have carried -the notion of litigation as a contest of wits between two sides -so far that the interests of society have not been adequately -safeguarded.</p> - -<p>If laymen have erred in concentrating on minor points, -lawyers have been far too ready to deny laymen any right to -discuss law at all. It is just as if school-teachers should -maintain that parents and citizens in general have no concern -in the problems of education. The time has come to close -the gulf in American life between the legal profession and the -people who are ruled by laws. Law is the surface of contact -where the pressure of society bears upon the individual. -Doubtless, he attributes to the law many of the features in -this pressure to which he objects, whereas they actually result -from the social structure itself. The man who feels wronged -by a prosecution for bigamy, or for stealing bread when he is -starving for lack of employment, cannot expect to change the -law without also changing the views of the community on -monogamous marriage and the organization of industry. -These institutions of society show themselves in the law just -as the veins in a block of marble show themselves at the -surface, but it is as futile for him to blame the law for “capitalism,” -private property, or our present semi-permanent marriages -as to try to get rid of the veins by scraping the surface of -the marble. On the other hand, there are aspects of law which -do not correspond to any existing social requirements or demands, -and the layman has good cause to offer his opinion. -And it may be worth listening to. The onlooker often sees most -of the game. Although the layman may lack technical knowledge, -he can appreciate the relation of law to his own department -of human activity—business, social service, health—in -ways that are difficult for the lawyer who is absorbed in the -pressing tasks of each day. Moreover, the lawyer’s habitual -and necessary obligation to conform to existing laws naturally<span class="pagenum" id="Page_62">62</span> -inclines him to overlook their defects, which are obvious to -those who can spend in detached criticism the same time which -he requires for practical application. Modern medicine was -created by Pasteur, who was not a doctor; modern English -law by Bentham, who was a lawyer to the extent of arguing -one case and who was edited by Mill, a philosopher and -economist.</p> - -<p>Knowledge is no longer a matter of water-tight compartments. -“All good work is one,” says Wells in “Joan and -Peter.” Law touches psychology in its treatment of the defective -and insane, medicine and surgery in industrial accidents -and disease, political science in municipal corporations, -economics in taxation, philosophy in its selection of the purposes -it should strive to accomplish. And this is a meagre list. -The greatest need of American law is the establishment of -means for intelligent mutual understanding and effective co-operation, -not merely between lawyers and experts in such other -fields as those mentioned, but between lawyers and the mass of -our population, who fill the jails, pay the taxes, drink city -water, get hurt in factories, buy, sell, invest, build homes, and -leave it all to their children when they die.</p> - -<p>For these men and women have a right to complain of our -law. Its evils are not those commonly decried, lawyers to defend -the guilty, reliance on precedents instead of common -sense, bribed judges. The real defect is failure to keep up to -date. Many existing legal rules have the same fault as New -York surface-cars before the subway or Hoboken Ferries -before the tubes. They were good in their day, but it has -gone by and they cannot handle the traffic. The system -formulated by Story and Kent worked well for the farms, -small factories, and small banks of their time, but the great -development of national resources and crowded cities presented -new situations unsuited to the old legal rules, and kept -men too busy for the constructive leisure necessary for thinking -out a new system. The law became a hand-to-mouth -affair, deciding each isolated problem as it arose, and often -deciding it wrong. Yet lawyers were satisfied with law, just -as business men with business. Then came the agitation of -the last fifteen years, which has at least made us discontented<span class="pagenum" id="Page_63">63</span> -about many things. The next task is to stop calling each other -names, sit down together, think matters through to a finish, -and work together to complete the process which is farther -along than we realize, of making over the common law system -of an agricultural population a century ago to meet the needs -of the city-dwelling America of to-day.</p> - -<p>A first step toward co-operation would be more discussion -of law in the press. Several years ago Charles E. Hughes in -a public address said that one reason why courts and lawyers -were so unpopular in this country was the unfamiliarity of the -people with what they were doing. Outside of criminal prosecutions, -divorces, and large constitutional cases, newspapers -give very little attention to legal questions, and even these -cases are presented fragmentarily with almost no attempt to -present their historical background and the general principles -at issue. There is nothing to compare with the resumé of -trials and decisions which appears from day to day in the London -<cite>Times</cite>, no popular exposition of legal problems such as -Woods Hutchinson has done for medicine or numerous writers -for the achievements of Einstein. Surely law can be made -as intelligible and interesting to the ordinary educated reader -as relativity. It enters so intimately into human relationships -that some knowledge of it is very important, not as a guide in -specific transactions as to which a lawyer ought to be consulted, -but as part of the mental stock-in-trade of the well-informed -citizen. Wider realization of the difficulties of the work of -judges and lawyers would bring about a friendlier and more -helpful popular attitude.</p> - -<p>The public might understand, for example, why law does -not progress so conspicuously and rapidly as medicine or engineering. -Part of the blame rests, no doubt, upon lawyers, -who have been less active than other professions in discussing -and applying new ideas, but the very nature of the subject is -an obstacle to quick change. In law, progress requires group -action; the individual can accomplish little. The physician -who discovers a new antitoxin, the surgeon who invents a new -method of operating for gastric ulcer, can always, if his reputation -be established, find some patient upon whom to test his -conception. Its excellence or its faults can be rapidly proved<span class="pagenum" id="Page_64">64</span> -to his own mind and that of any skilled onlooker. And new -ideas, if sound, mean a larger practice and money in his pocket. -The lawyer gets no such rewards for improving the law, and -has no such opportunities for experiment. If he is convinced -by observation, wide reading, and long thinking, that arrest -for debt should be abolished, or the property of a spendthrift -protected by law from his creditors, or trial by jury abandoned -except in criminal trials, he cannot try out these theories upon -some client. He must sacrifice days from his regular work to -persuade a whole legislature to test his idea upon thousands -of citizens, and if the idea is a bad one, the experiment will -be a widespread disaster. Consequently law reform always -faces an instinctive and discouraging legislative opposition. -Even after every State except two had adopted the Uniform -Negotiable Instruments Law, the Georgia legislature refused -to do so because the Act abolished days of grace, the old custom -allowing a debtor three days beyond the time of payment -named in his note. They said that when a man had promised -to pay a debt on May 1, it was un-American not to let him -wait till May 4. Again, a committee of very able New York -lawyers recently drew a short Practice Act setting forth the -main requirements for the conduct of a law-suit, and leaving -the details to the judges, who may be supposed to know more -about their own work than the legislature. Similar laws have -long been in successful operation in England, Massachusetts, -and Connecticut, whereas the existing New York Code of -Civil Procedure with its thousands of sections has been a -vexatious source of delay and disputes in the press of urban -litigation. The new measure was an admirable and thorough -piece of work, endorsed by the Bar Associations of New York -City and the State. Yet it was killed by the age-long opposition -of the country to the town. Upstate lawyers, less harassed -by the old Code because of uncrowded rural dockets, -objected to throwing over their knowledge of the existing system -and spending time to learn a new and better one. The -legislature hated to give more power to the courts. As a result, -the new bill was scrapped, and nothing has been done -after years of agitation except to renumber the sections of -the old Code with a few improvements.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_65">65</span></p> - -<p>Another factor in law reform is the existence of fifty legal -systems in one nation. Even if the law is modernized in one -State, the objectionable old rule will remain in the other forty-seven -until their legislatures are persuaded by the same tedious -process. On the other hand, this diversity has its merits. -Some of the progressive Western States serve as experiment -stations for testing new legal and governmental schemes. Still -more important, the limitations on legal experimentation are -somewhat offset by the opportunities for observation of the -workings of different legal rules in neighbouring States. The -possibilities of this comparative method for judging the best -solution of a legal problem have not yet been fully utilized. -For example, a dispute has long raged whether it is desirable -to compel a doctor to disclose professional secrets on the witness-stand -without the patient’s consent. About half the -States require him to keep silent. The reasons given are, -that patients will seek medical aid less freely if their confidences -may be disclosed; doctors would lie to shield their -patients; some doctors are hired by employers to treat workmen -injured in accidents and will try to get evidence on behalf -of the employers if they are allowed to testify. So far, -the discussion has turned on the probability or improbability -that these arguments represent the facts, and neither side has -collected the facts. The discussion could be brought down to -earth by an investigation in New York which has the privilege, -and Massachusetts, where secrecy is not maintained. Are -doctors less consulted in Massachusetts, do they perjure themselves, -do they ingratiate themselves with workmen to defeat -subsequent accident suits? Statistics, personal interviews -with judges and physicians, and examination of the stenographic -records of trials ought to give valuable assistance in determining -which half of the States has the better rule.</p> - -<p>Since law reform requires highly organized group action, -some individual should be charged with the responsibility of -organization. At present, it is everybody’s business. Judges -are hearing cases all day and writing opinions at night, and -they have no legislative position as in England, where they can -draft bills and present them in the House of Lords. Individual -lawyers carry little weight. The Bar Associations have accomplished<span class="pagenum" id="Page_66">66</span> -much, but the work of their members is done without -pay in the intervals of practice, and they have no official -standing. The Attorney General is necessarily a partisan, representing -the State’s side in litigation, with neither the time -nor the duty to improve the law in general. The United -States and the larger States badly need a Minister of Justice. -All complaints of legal inefficiency would come to him, and he -would be constantly collecting statistics of the cases in the -courts and their social consequences, observing procedure personally, -or through a corps of expert assistants, conferring with -the judges and the Bar Associations, drafting or examining -measures affecting the administration of justice and giving -his opinion about them to the legislature, and charged with -the general duty of ascertaining whether every person can find -a certain remedy from the laws for all injuries or wrongs, obtaining -right and justice freely and without purchase, completely -and without denial, promptly and without delay.</p> - -<p>Until we establish such an official, we can rely on three instruments -of legal advance, each of which may be a point of co-operation -between lawyers and laymen. Of the first, the Bar -Associations, something has already been said. The second -is the judiciary. Unfortunately, the tendency of the American -antagonism to law to concentrate on personal topics has -warped the prolonged discussion of this branch of our government -during the last ten years, and, indeed, since 1789. -Charges of corruption and incompetency against individual -judges, and methods of getting a bad judge off the bench, have -entirely obscured the problem of getting good judges on the -bench. The power of judges to declare statutes unconstitutional -and void makes them the controlling factor in our government, -yet there is no country where less attention is paid -to their selection and training. It is of no use to recall a poor -judge by popular vote if the people are eager to put one of -the same type in his place. Nothing need be added to the -estimate in Bryce’s “Modern Democracies” of the unevenness -of judicial personnel. The most obvious need, if the inferior -judges are to be brought up to the level of the best men, -is for higher salaries. But that alone is not enough to induce -leaders of the bar to become judges. No salary could be<span class="pagenum" id="Page_67">67</span> -so high as the income of successful metropolitan lawyers. -The time has come for greater willingness on their part -to retire from a large practice in middle life and devote -their talents to judicial work. And even this will be useless, -unless selection is based on merit. Our system of an elective -judiciary is probably too deeply rooted to be entirely abandoned, -though it is clear that legal talent is not a quality, like -executive ability, readily capable of being appraised by the -electorate. On the other hand, it is not altogether certain that -State governors would appoint judges without regard to partisan -considerations. An interesting compromise plan has -been suggested, that there should be a Chief Justice, elected -by the people, who should be in effect the Minister of Justice -already described. All the other judges would be appointed -by him, for life or for long terms, while his responsibility for -wise selections would be secured by a short term or even by -the recall. A governor does so many tasks that his judicial -appointments do not play a large part in the popular judgment -of his record, but the Chief Justice would stand or fall on the -merits of the administration of law under his management.</p> - -<p>Moreover, we do not deal fairly by the judges chosen under -existing systems. After they have been selected, they should -have more opportunity to study the special duties of their position -before beginning work, and more leisure amid trials and -opinions for general legal reading and for observation of the -complexities of modern life which are inevitably involved in -their decisions, especially on constitutional questions. Most -litigation grows out of urban and industrial conditions, with -which State supreme court judges may easily get out of touch, -if they remain continuously in the State House in a small -upstate city like Springfield, Albany, or Sacramento, with little -opportunity to visit the factories and tenements of Chicago, -New York, and San Francisco. It may also be doubted -whether our usual system which restricts some judges to trials -and others to appellate work is wise; an occasional change -from one to the other is both refreshing and instructive. -Judges frequently complain of the monotony of their work, -cooped up with a few associates of similar mental interests, so -that the atmosphere may acquire the irritability of a boarding-house.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_68">68</span> -It is not generally understood how much judges are -cut off from other men. Close intimacy with their former -friends at the bar or with wealthy business men who may have -cases before them, is sure to cause talk. Graham Wallas’s -suggestion of an occasional transfer to active work of a semi-judicial -character, like Judge Sankey’s chairmanship of the -English Coal Commission, seems valuable. Our Interstate -Commerce Commission would provide such an opportunity. -Finally, the existing gulf between courts and law schools might -be narrowed by summer conferences on growing-points in -the law, where each side could give much out of its experience -to the other.</p> - -<p>The remaining instrument of progress is the law schools. -“Legal education,” says Bryce, “is probably nowhere so thorough -as in the United States.” The chief reasons for this success -are two, the professional law teacher, who has replaced -the retired judge and the practising lawyer who lectured in -his spare hours; and the case-system of instruction. This -method is not, as is popularly believed, the memorization by -the students of the facts of innumerable cases. It imparts -legal principles, not on the say-so of a text-book or a professor, -but by study and discussion of the actual sources of -those principles, the decisions of the courts. The same method -in the Continental Law would result in a class-room discussion -of codes and commentators, which are there the sources. -One of the most interesting signs of its success is its spread -from law into other sciences such as medicine. Books based -on the study of concrete situations are used in public schools -for the study of geography and hygiene, and charitable societies -work out the general needs of the community from the problems -of individual families. This system has superseded in -all the leading law schools the old methods of lecturing and -reading treatises. Its most conspicuous service is, of course, -vocational, the training of men whose advice a client can safely -accept. Already some States have required a law-school degree -as a condition of admission to the bar, and the old haphazard -law-office apprenticeship will eventually disappear, although -the question of how far a man who is earning his living should -be allowed to study law in his spare hours at a night law school<span class="pagenum" id="Page_69">69</span> -whose standards must usually be lower than a full-time school -remains as a difficult problem in a democratic country. Efficiency -of training conflicts with equality of opportunity. A -second service of the leading law schools is the modernization -of the law through the production of books. A great example -of this is the “Treatise on Evidence,” by John H. Wigmore, -dean of Northwestern Law School, which is every day -influencing courts and renovating the most antiquated portion -of the common law.</p> - -<p>Of late years, the need for fresh changes in method has become -plain. Christopher Columbus Langdell, the inventor of -the case-system, laid down two fundamental propositions: -“First, that law is a science; second, that all the available -materials of that science are contained in printed books.” Experience -has proved that he was right in believing that attendance -in a lawyer’s office or at the proceedings of courts was -not essential to a legal education. But the scope of legal -study must now extend beyond printed books, certainly beyond -law books. Since law is not an isolated department of knowledge, -but a system of rules for the regulation of human life, -the truth of those rules must be tested by many facts outside -the past proceedings of courts and legislatures. Not only -law in books but law in action has to be considered, and after -learning the principles evolved by a process of inclusion and -exclusion in the decisions or by intermittent legislative action, -the scholar must find how those principles actually work in -the bank, the factory, the street, and the jail. The problem -is still debated, whether this can better be done in the pre-legal -college course or by the use of non-legal experts in the -law schools, or whether the necessary material should be -assimilated and presented by the law teachers themselves. Yet -this widening of the content of legal study does not in the least -impair the validity of Langdell’s method, the systematic investigation -of the sources of law at first hand, whether those -sources be found in the reports and statutes which he had in -mind, or in the economic, social, and psychological facts which -have demanded attention in recent years.</p> - -<p>Something must be said in closing of those portions of the -law where change has been most necessary. Of these our<span class="pagenum" id="Page_70">70</span> -criminal law is easily the most disgraceful. Its complete inability -to perform its task has been exhaustively demonstrated -by the opening chapter of Raymond Fosdick’s “American -Police Systems.” The lawyers and judges are only partly -to blame, for their work forms only the middle of three stages -in the suppression of crime. The initial stage of arrest and -the final stage of punishment are in the hands of administrative -officials, beyond the control of the bench and bar. Many -criminals are never caught, and the loss of public confidence -in the justice or effectiveness of prisons makes juries reluctant -to convict. Yet the legal profession is sorely at fault for -what takes place while the prisoner is in the dock. The whole -problem calls for that co-operation between lawyers, other -experts, and laymen, of which I have already spoken. Unless -something is soon done, we may find crime ceasing to be -a legal matter at all. Even now, many large department stores -have so little belief in the criminal courts and prisons that -they are trying embezzlers and shoplifters in tribunals of -their own, and administering a private system of probation -and restitution. The initial step is a reformulation of the purpose -of punishment. Twenty-five years ago, Justice Holmes -asked, “What have we better than a blind guess to show that -the criminal law in its present form does more good than -harm?”</p> - -<p>One serious reason for its breakdown has been the creation -of innumerable minor offences, which are repeatedly committed -and almost impossible to suppress. The police are diverted -from murders and burglaries to gambling and sexual delinquencies, -while the frequent winking at such breaches of law -destroys the essential popular conviction that a law ought to -be obeyed just because it is law. The Chief of Police of New -Orleans told Raymond Fosdick, “If I should enforce the law -against selling tobacco on Sunday, I would be run out of office -in twenty-four hours. But I am in constant danger of being -run out of office because I don’t enforce it.” So they were -hanging green curtains, which served the double purpose of -advertising the location of the stands and of protecting the -virtue of the citizens from visions of evil.</p> - -<p>At the present time we have thrown a new strain on the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_71">71</span> -criminal law by the enactment of nation-wide prohibition. The -future will show whether the main effect of this measure will -be an increase in disrespect and antagonism for law, or the -ultimate removal of one of the chief causes of lawlessness -and waste. Unfortunately, the perpetual discussion of home-brew -receipts and hidden sources of supply has prevented a -general realization that we are witnessing one of the most far-reaching -legislative experiments of all time. What we ought -to be talking about is the consequences of prohibition to health, -poverty, crime, earning-power, and general happiness. It is -possible, for instance, that total abstinence for the working -classes coupled with apparently unlimited supplies of liquor -for their employers may have the double consequence of increasing -the resentful desire of the former to wrest the control -of wealth from those who are monopolizing a time-honoured -source of pleasure, and of weakening the ability of -the heavy-drinking sons of our captains of industry to stand -up in the struggle against the sober brains of the labour leaders -of the future. Prohibition may thus bring about a striking -shift of economic power.</p> - -<p>The delays, expense, and intricacies of legal procedure demand -reform. The possession of a legal right is worthless to -a poor man if he cannot afford to enforce it through the courts. -The means of removing such obstacles have been set forth by -Reginald H. Smith in “Justice and the Poor.” For instance, -much has already been accomplished by Small Claims Courts, -where relief is given without lawyers in a very simple manner. -When a Cleveland landlady was sued by a boarder because she -had detained his trunk, she told the judge that he had set fire -to his mattress while smoking in bed and refused to pay her -twenty-five dollars for the damage. The judge, instead of -calling expert witnesses to prove the value of the mattress, -telephoned the nearest department store, found he could buy -another for eight dollars, and the parties agreed to settle on -that basis. Again, family troubles are now scattered through -numerous courts. A father deserts, and the mother goes to -work. The neglected children get into the Juvenile Court. -She asks for a separation in the Probate Court. A grocer sues -her husband for food she has bought, before a jury. She<span class="pagenum" id="Page_72">72</span> -prosecutes him before a criminal court for non-support, and -finally secures a divorce in equity. One Court of Domestic -Relations should handle all the difficulties of the family, which -ought to be considered together. Much of the injustice to -the poor has been lessened by legal aid societies, which have -not only conducted litigation for individuals but have also -fought test-cases up to the highest courts, and drafted statutes -in order to protect large groups of victims of injustice. The -injury done to the poor by antiquated legal machinery is receiving -wide attention, but it is also a tax on large business -transactions which is ultimately paid by the consumer. Reform -is needed to secure justice to the rich.</p> - -<p>The substantive law which determines the scope of rights -and duties has been more completely overhauled, and many -great improvements have been accomplished. Relations between -the public and the great corporations which furnish -transportation and other essential services are no longer left -to the arbitrary decisions of corporate officers or the slow -process of isolated litigation. Public service commissions do -not yet operate perfectly, but any one who doubts their desirability -should read a contemporary Commission Report and -then turn to the history of the Erie Railroad under Jim Fiske -and Jay Gould as related in “The Book of Daniel Drew.” -The old fellow-servant rule which threw the burden of an industrial -accident upon the victim has been changed by workmen’s -compensation acts which place the risk upon the employer. -He pays for the injured workman as for a broken -machine and shifts the expense to his customers as part of -the costs of the business. The burden is distributed through -society and litigation is rapid and inexpensive. Unfortunately, -no such satisfactory solution has been reached in the law of -labour organizations, but its chaotic condition only corresponds -to the general American uncertainty on the proper treatment -of such organizations. It is possible that just as the King, -in the Middle Ages, insisted on dragging the Barons into his -courts to fight out their boundary disputes there, instead of -with swords and battleaxes on the highway, so society which -is the victim of every great industrial dispute will force employers -and workmen alike to settle their differences before a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_73">73</span> -tribunal while production goes on. The Australian Courts of -Conciliation have lately been imitated in Kansas, an experiment -which will be watched with close interest.</p> - -<p>Less importance must be attached, however, to the development -of particular branches of the law than to the change -in legal attitude. The difference between the old and the new -is exemplified by two extracts from judicial decisions which -were almost contemporaneous. Judge Werner, in holding the -first New York Workmen’s Compensation Act unconstitutional, -limited the scope of law as follows:</p> - -<p>“This quoted summary of the report of the commission to -the legislature, which clearly and fairly epitomizes what is -more fully set forth in the body of the report, is based upon -a most voluminous array of statistical tables, extracts from -the works of philosophical writers and the industrial laws of -many countries, all of which are designed to show that our -own system of dealing with industrial accidents is economically, -morally, and legally unsound. Under our form of government, -however, courts must regard all economical, philosophical -and moral theories, attractive and desirable though -they may be, as subordinate to the primary question whether -they can be moulded into statutes without infringing upon -the letter or spirit of our written constitutions.... With -these considerations in mind we turn to the purely legal phases -of the controversy.” (Ives <i>v.</i> South Buffalo Ry. Co., 201 N. Y. -271, 287, 1911.)</p> - -<p>A different attitude was shown by the Supreme Court of the -United States in its reception of the brief filed by Mr. Louis -D. Brandeis on behalf of the constitutionality of an Oregon -statute limiting woman’s work to ten hours a day. Besides -decisions, he included the legislation of many States and of -European countries. Then follow extracts from over ninety -reports of committees, bureaus of statistics, commissioners of -hygiene, inspectors of factories, both in this country and in -Europe, to the effect that long hours of labour are dangerous -for women, primarily because of their special physical organization. -Following them are extracts from similar reports discussing -the general benefits of shorter hours from the economic -aspect of the question. Justice Brewer said:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_74">74</span></p> - -<p>“The legislation and opinions referred to in the margin may -not be, technically speaking, authorities, and in them is little -or no discussion of the constitutional question presented to us -for determination, yet they are significant of a widespread -belief that woman’s physical structure, and the functions she -performs in consequence thereof, justify special legislation restricting -or qualifying the conditions under which she should be -permitted to toil. Constitutional questions, it is true, are not -settled by even a consensus of present public opinion, for it is -a peculiar value of a written constitution that it places in unchanging -form limitations upon legislative action, and thus -gives a permanence and stability to popular government which -otherwise would be lacking. At the same time, when a question -of fact is debated and debatable, and the extent to which -a special constitutional limitation goes is affected by the truth -in respect to that fact, a widespread and long continued belief -concerning it is worthy of consideration. We take judicial -cognizance of all matters of general knowledge.” (Muller <i>v.</i> -Oregon, 208 U. S. 412, 420, 1907.)</p> - -<p>The decision displays two qualities which are characteristic -of the winning counsel since his elevation to the bench; it -keeps its eye on the object instead of devoting itself to abstract -conceptions, and it emphasizes the interest of society in new -forms of protection against poverty, disease, and other evils. -To these social interests, the property of the individual must -often be partly sacrificed and in recent years we have seen the -courts upholding the guarantee of bank deposits, State regulation -of insurance rates, and suspension of the right of landlords -to recover unreasonable rents or dispossess their tenants. -All this would have been regarded as impossible fifty years -ago.</p> - -<p>These extensions of governmental power over property have -been accompanied by legislation severely restricting freedom -of discussion of still more radical types of State control. It is -argued that the right of free speech must face limitation like -the right of the landlord. The true policy is exactly the opposite. -Not only is it unjust for the State to carry out one form -of confiscation while severely punishing the discussion of another -form, but in an age of new social devices the widest liberty<span class="pagenum" id="Page_75">75</span> -for the expression of opinion is essential, so that the -merits and demerits of any proposed plan may be thoroughly -known and comparisons made between it and alternative -schemes, no matter how radical these alternatives may be. A -body of law that was determined to stand still might discourage -thought with no serious damage; but law which is determined -to move needs the utmost possible light so that it may be sure -of moving forward.</p> - -<p>No one has expressed so well the new importance of social -interests, and the value of freedom of speech; no one, indeed, -has expressed so nobly the task and hopes of American Law, -as the man of whom it is said that among the long list of -American judges, he seems “the only one who has framed for -himself a system of legal ideas and general truths of life, and -composed his opinions in harmony with the system already -framed.” (John H. Wigmore, “Justice Holmes and the Law -of Torts,” 29 Harv. L. Rev. 601.) Yet no one has been more -cautious than Justice Holmes in warning us not to expect too -much from law.</p> - -<p>“The law, so far as it depends on learning, is indeed, as it -has been called, the government of the living by the dead. It -cannot be helped, it is as it should be, that the law is behind -the times. As law embodies beliefs that have triumphed in -the battle of ideas and then have translated themselves into -action, while there is still doubt, while opposite convictions still -keep a battle front against each other, the time for law has -not come; the notion destined to prevail is not yet entitled to -the field.” (“Collected Legal Papers,” 138, 294.)</p> - -<p>It is the work of the present generation of American lawyers -to be sure that the right side wins in the many conflicts now -waging. We cannot be certain that the law will make itself rational, -while we remain as inactive as in the past, absorbed in -our own routine, and occasionally pausing to say, “All’s right -with the world”; for, to quote Holmes once more, “The mode -in which the inevitable comes to pass is through effort.”</p> - -<p class="right"> -<span class="smcap">Zechariah Chafee, Jr.</span> -</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div id="toclink_77" class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_77">77</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="EDUCATION">EDUCATION</h2> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="smcap1">If</span> Henry Adams had lived in the 13th century he would have -found the centre of a world of unity in the most powerful -doctrine of the church, the cult of the Virgin Mary. Living -in the 19th century he sums up his experience in a world of -multiplicity as the attempt to realize for himself the saving -faith of that world in what is called education. Adams was -not the first to be struck with the similarity of the faiths of -the mediæval and the modern world. This comparison is the -subject of an article by Professor Barrett Wendell published -in the <cite>North American Review</cite> for 1904 and entitled “The -Great American Superstition”:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>“Undefined and indefinite as it is, the word education is -just now a magic one; from the Atlantic to the Pacific, it is -the most potent with which you can conjure money out of -public chests or private pockets. Let social troubles declare -themselves anywhere, lynchings, strikes, trusts, immigration, -racial controversies, whatever you chance to hold most threatening, -and we are gravely assured on every side that education -is the only thing which can preserve our coming generations -from destruction. What is more, as a people we listen -credulously to these assurances. We are told, and we believe -and evince magnificent faith in our belief, that our national -salvation must depend on education.”</p> -</div> - -<p>Professor Wendell goes on trenchantly to compare this reigning -modern faith with that in the mediæval church. He calls -attention to the fact that whereas the dominant architectural -monuments of the Old World are great cathedrals and religious -houses, implying the faith that salvation could be assured -by unstinted gifts to the church, in our modern times the most -stately and impressive structures are our schools, colleges, and -public libraries, many of them, like the cathedrals, erected<span class="pagenum" id="Page_78">78</span> -by sinners of wealth in the pursuit of individual atonement -and social salvation. “Ask any American what we shall do -to be saved, and if he speak his mind he will probably bid -us educate our fellow-men.” He might have extended his -comparison to the personal hierarchy of the two institutions, -for at the time of his article the President of Harvard spoke -to the people of the United States with the voice of Innocent -III, surrounded by his advisers among university presidents -and superintendents gathered like Cardinal Archbishops, -in the conclave of the National Education Association, of which -the Committee of Ten was a sort of papal curia. Although -the educational papacy has fallen into schism, the cities are -still ruled by superintendents like bishops, the colleges by -president and deans, like abbots and priors, and the whole -structure rests on a vast population of teachers holding their -precarious livings like the parish priests at the will of their -superiors, tempered by public opinion. Indeed, Professor -Wendell is struck by the probability that as European society -was encumbered by the itinerant friars, so America will have -“its mendicant orders of scholars—the male and female doctors -of philosophy.” But it is his main theme which concerns -us here, that “the present mood of our country concerning -education is neither more nor less than a mood of blind, -mediæval superstition.”</p> - -<p>The difference between faith as religion and as superstition -may be hard to define, the terms having become somewhat interchangeable -through controversy, but in general we should -doubtless use the pragmatic test. A vital and saving faith -which actually justifies itself by results is religion; a faith -which is without constructive effect on character and society, -and is merely fanciful, fantastic, or degrading we call superstition. -The old education which America brought from -England and inherited from the Renaissance was a reasonable -faith. It consisted of mathematics, classics, and theology, and -while it produced, except in rare instances, no mathematicians, -classical scholars, or theologians, it trained minds for the -learned professions of those days and it gave the possessors -of it intellectual distinction, and admitted them to the society<span class="pagenum" id="Page_79">79</span> -of cultivated men everywhere. Its authority was largely traditional, -but it worked in the world of that day much as the -thirty-three Masonic degrees do in the world of Masonry. It -may properly be called a religion, and in its rigid, prescribed, -dogmatic creed it may be compared to the mediæval theology. -At any rate, it suffered the same fate and from the same cause. -Its system was too narrow for the expanding knowledge and -the multiplying phenomena of the advancing hour. It failed -to take account of too many things. The authority of tradition, -by which it maintained its position, was challenged and -overthrown, and private judgment was set in its place.</p> - -<p>Private judgment in education is represented by the elective -system; President Eliot was the Luther of this movement -and Harvard College his Wittenberg. Exactly as after the -Reformation, however, the attitudes of assertion and subservience -in spiritual matters continued to manifest themselves -where the pope had been deposed, in Geneva and Dort and -Westminster, so in spite of the anarchy of the elective system -the educational function continues to impose itself in its traditional -robes of authority, and to be received with the reverence -due to long custom. And in this way education in -America from being a saving faith has become an illusion. -The old education, its authority challenged, its sway limited, -and nobody caring whether its followers can quote Latin or -not, is in the position of the Church of Rome; the so-called -new education, uncertain in regard to material and method, -direction and destination, is like the anarchic Protestant sects. -Neither possesses authority; the old system has lost it, and -the new ones have never had it. They are alike in depending -upon the blindness of the masses which is superstition.</p> - -<p>Although the generalization remains true that the mood of -America toward education is a mood of superstition, there are -certain forms of education operative in America to-day which -approve themselves by performance and justify the reasonable -faith in which they are held. The argument in favour of the -elective system, by force of which it displaced the prescribed -classical course, was that it was necessary to give opportunity -for specialization. This opportunity it has given, and in certain<span class="pagenum" id="Page_80">80</span> -directions the results produced by American institutions -are of high value. Our scientific education is the most advanced, -and in the professions which depend upon it, engineering -and medicine, our product doubtless “compares favourably” -with that of Europe. These facts cannot be cited, -however, as a valid reason for the American faith in education -as a whole. It is recognized to-day that progress in -natural science has far outrun that in politics, social life, culture—therein -lies the tragedy of the world. A few men of -science have a knowledge of the means by which the human -race can be destroyed in a brief space—and no statesmen, -philosophers, or apostles of culture have the power to persuade -the human race not to permit it to be done.</p> - -<p>In another direction a great increase of specialization has -taken place—in the preparation for business. Our colleges -of business administration rival our scientific schools in the -exactness of their aim, and the precision of their effort. Here -again, however, it may be questioned whether their success -is one to justify belief in the educational process as a whole. -The result of such specialization upon the business organization -of society can hardly be to arouse a critical, and hence -truly constructive, attitude in regard to the whole economic -problem; it is nearly certain to promote a disposition to take -advantage of the manifest shortcomings of that organization -for individual successful achievement. Whether society as a -whole will profit by the efforts of such experts as our business -colleges are turning out remains to be seen. Whether we are -wise in strengthening the predatory elements which put a strain -on the social organization, at a time when the whole structure -is trembling, is open to question. Here again the faith of -America in education as social salvation is not justified by individual -results, however brilliant and fortunate.</p> - -<p>The value of the specialist to society is unquestionable, -but he alone will not save it. Such salvation must come from -the diffusion and validity of the educational process as a whole, -from the men and women of active intelligence, broad view, -wide sympathy, and resolute character who are fitted as a -result of it to see life steadily and see it whole, reason soundly -to firm conclusions in regard to it, and hold those decisions in<span class="pagenum" id="Page_81">81</span> -the face of death. The specialist indeed may be considered -a necessary subtraction from the general social army, a person -set apart for special duty, whose energies are concentrated and -loyalties narrowed. We expect him to die, if need be, in maintaining -that the world moves, but not for freedom of thought -in the abstract. It is by the generally trained, all-round product -of our education that the system must be judged. And -what do we find?</p> - -<p>The general student, it appears, tends to be the product of -as narrow a process as the specialist, but not as deep. As the -demands of specialization become more exacting, its requirements -reach farther and farther back into the field of general -education, and more and more of the area is restricted to its -uses. The general student in consequence becomes a specialist -in what is left over. Moreover, he exercises his right of private -judgment and free election along the path of least resistance. -Laboratory science he abhors as belonging to a course -of specialization which he has renounced. The classics and -mathematics, to which a good share of our educational machinery -is still by hereditary right devoted, he scorns as having -no <i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">raison d’être</i> except an outworn tradition. With the -decline of the classics has gone the preliminary training for -modern languages, which the general student usually finds -too exacting and burdensome, and from the obligation of which -colleges and secondary institutions also are now rapidly relieving -him. We boasted in the late war that we had no quarrel -with the German language, and yet by our behaviour we recognized -that one of the fruits of victory was the annihilation of -at least one foreign speech within our borders. The general -student is thus confined, by right of private judgment of -course, to his own language and literature, and such superficial -studies in history and social science as he can accomplish -with that instrument alone. His view is therefore narrow and -insular. His penetration is slight. He is, in short, a specialist -in the obvious.</p> - -<p>Not only does the general student tend to be as restricted -in subject-matter as the specialist, but he lacks the training -in investigation, reasoning, and concentration which the latter’s -responsibility for independent research imposes. The<span class="pagenum" id="Page_82">82</span> -definition of the aim of general education on which Professor -Wendell rested his case for the old curriculum in the article -quoted above, is “such training as shall enable a man to -devote his faculties intently to matters which of themselves -do not interest him.” Now clearly if the student persistently -chooses only the subjects which interest him, and follows them -only as far as his interest extends, he escapes all training -in voluntary attention and concentration. In his natural disposition -to avoid mental work he finds ready accomplices in -his instructors and text-book writers. They realize that they -are on trial, and that interest alone is the basis of the verdict. -Accordingly they cheerfully assume the burden of preliminary -digestion of material, leaving to the student the assimilation -of so much as his queasy stomach can bear. One way in -which the study of English literature or history can be made -a matter of training in criticism and reasoning is to send the -student to the sources, the original material, and hold him -responsible for his conclusions. He may gain a wrong or inadequate -view, but at any rate it is his own, and it affords him -a solid basis for enlargement or correction. Instead of this -the student is invited to a set of criticisms and summaries -already made, and is usually discouraged if by chance he -attempts a verification on his own account. The actual reading -of Shakespeare, Bacon, Milton, Swift, Burke will give the -student at least a certain training in concentration; but this -is hard, slow, and dry work. It is much easier and more comprehensive, -instead of reading one play of Shakespeare, to -read <em>about</em> all the plays, including the life of the author, his -dramatic art, and some speculations in regard to the Elizabethan -stage. It was William James who pointed out the -difference between <em>knowledge about</em> and <em>acquaintance with</em> an -author. The extent to which we have substituted for the -direct vision, with its stimulating appeal to individual reaction, -the conventional summary and accepted criticism, the official -formula and the stereotyped view, is the chief reason for the -ready-made uniformity of our educated product.</p> - -<p>The pioneer democracy of America itself is responsible for -a method of instruction typically American. The superstitious -faith in education was the basis of a system whereby many<span class="pagenum" id="Page_83">83</span> -busy, middle-aged persons whose early advantages had been -limited, by means of attractive summaries, outlines, and handbooks, -could acquaint themselves with the names of men, -books, and events which form the Binet-Simon test of culture, -and enable the initiate to hold up his head in circles where -the best that has been thought or said in the world is habitually -referred to. This method is carried out in hundreds of -cultural camp-meetings every summer, by thousands of popular -lectures, in countless programmes of study for women’s -clubs. Unfortunately it is coming to be not only the typical -but the only method of general education in America. Chautauqua -has penetrated the college and the university. Better -that our fathers had died, their intellectual thirst unsatisfied, -than that they had left this legacy of mental soft drinks for -their children.</p> - -<p>Thus far I have had the college chiefly in mind, but the -same observations apply equally to the secondary school. The -elective system has made its way thither, and indeed one of -the chief difficulties of organizing a college curriculum for the -general student which shall represent something in the way -of finding things out, of reasoning from facts to conclusions, -and of training in voluntary attention, is that of determining -any common ground on the basis of previous attainment. Not -only the elective system but the Chautauqua method has largely -permeated our high schools. The teachers, often on annual -appointment, more than the college instructors, with comparative -security of tenure, are dependent on the favour of pupils, -a favour to be maintained in competition with dances, movies, -and <cite>The Saturday Evening Post</cite>, by interesting them. It is -therefore a common thing for teachers to repeat in diluted form -the courses which they took in college—and which in the -original were at best no saturate solutions of the subject. The -other day, on visiting a class in Shakespeare at a Y.M.C.A. -school, I ventured to suggest to the teacher that the method -used was rather advanced. “Ah, but my daughter at high -school,” he said, “is having Professor Blank’s course in the -mediæval drama.” Now such a course intended for graduate -students investigating sources, influences, and variations among -saints’ plays and mystery plays, could have no educational<span class="pagenum" id="Page_84">84</span> -value in material or method for a high-school pupil, but it was, -no doubt, as interesting as a Persian tale.</p> - -<p>Inasmuch as the colleges and the secondary schools are both -uncertain as regards the meaning and aim of general education, -it is not surprising to find the grade schools also at sea, -their pupils the victims both of meaningless tradition and reckless -experiment. The tradition of our grade schools, educational -experts tell us, was brought by Horace Mann from Prussia. -There the <i xml:lang="de" lang="de">Volkschule</i> was designed for the children of -the people, who should be trained with a view to remaining -in the station in which they had been born. At least, it may -be conceded, the German designers of the system had a purpose -in mind, and knew the means to attain it; but both purpose -and means are strangely at variance with American conditions -and ideals. Other experts have pointed out the extraordinary -retarding of the educational process after the first years, when -the child learns by a natural objective method some of the most -difficult processes of physical life, accomplishing extraordinary -feats of understanding and control; and some of the most hopeful -experiments in primary education look toward continuing -this natural method for a longer time. At present the principle -of regimentation seems to be the most important one in -the grade school, and as the pace is necessarily that of the -slowest, the pupils in general have a large amount of slack rope -which it is the problem of principals and teachers to draw in -and coil up. Altogether the grade school represents a degree -of waste and misdirection which would in itself account for -the tendencies toward mental caprice or stagnation which are -evident in the pupils who proceed from it.</p> - -<p>Thus the parallel which Professor Wendell established between -our educational system and the mediæval church would -seem to have a certain foundation. In the colleges, as in the -monasteries, we have a group of ascetic specialists, sustained -in their labours by an apocalyptic vision of a world which they -can set on fire, and in which no flesh can live; and a mass of -idle, pleasure-loving youth of both sexes, except where some -Abbot Samson arises, with strong-arm methods momentarily -to reduce them to order and industry. In the high schools,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_85">85</span> -as in the cathedrals, we have great congregations inspired by -the music, the lights, the incense, assisting at a ceremony of -which the meaning is as little understood as the miracle of -the mass. In the grade schools, as in the parish churches, we -have the humble workers, like Chaucer’s poor parson of the -town, trying with pathetic endeavour to meet the needs and -satisfy the desires of their flocks, under conditions of an educational -and political tyranny no less galling than was the -ecclesiastical.</p> - -<p>But, we may well enquire, whence does this system draw its -power to impose itself upon the masses?—for even superstition -must have a sign which the blind can read, and a source of -appeal to human nature. The answer bears out still further -Professor Wendell’s parallel. The mediæval church drew its -authority from God, and to impose that authority upon the -masses it invented the method of propaganda. It claimed to -be able to release men from the burden which oppressed them -most heavily, their sins, and in conjunction with the secular -power it enforced its claims against all gainsayers, treating the -obstinate among them with a series of penalties, penance, excommunication, -the stake. Education finds its authority in -the human reason, and likewise imposes that authority by -propaganda. It too claims the power of salvation from the -evils which oppress men most sorely to-day—the social maladjustments, -“lynchings, strikes, trusts, immigration, racial controversies”—and -it is in alliance with the secular power to -preserve its monopoly of social remedies from the competition -of anything like direct action. Now it is clear that in the -religion of Christ in its pure form the church had a basis for -its claims to possess a power against sin, and a means of salvation. -Similarly it may be maintained that human reason, -allowed to act freely and disinterestedly, would be sufficient -to cope with the evils of our time and bring about a social -salvation. Indeed, it is curious to remark how nearly the -intellectual conclusions of reason have come to coincide with -the intuitive wisdom of Jesus. The church was faithless to its -mission by alliance with temporal power, by substituting its -own advancement for the will of God, by becoming an end in<span class="pagenum" id="Page_86">86</span> -itself. Education likewise is by way of being faithless to -itself, by alliance with secular power, political and financial, -by the substitution of its own institutional advancement for -disinterested service of truth, by becoming likewise an end in -itself.</p> - -<p>In one of the most remarkable pronouncements of the present -commencement season, President Hopkins of Dartmouth -College summarized the influences which make against what he -calls Verihood. They are first, Insufficiency of mentality, or -over-professionalization of point of view; second, Inertia of -mentality or closed mindedness; and third, False emphasis of -mentality or propaganda. The late war and its evil aftermath -have put in high relief the extent of this third influence. -President Hopkins speaks as one of the Cardinal Archbishops -of Education, and I quote his words with the authority which -his personality and position give them:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>“Now that the war is passed, the spirit of propaganda still -remains in the reluctance with which is returned to an impatient -people the ancient right of access to knowledge of the -truth, the right of free assembly, and the right of freedom of -speech. Meanwhile the hesitancy with which these are returned -breeds in large groups vague suspicion and acrimonious -distrust of that which is published as truth, and which actually -is true, so that on all sides we hear the query whether -we are being indulged with what is considered good for us, -or with that which constitutes the facts. Thus we impair the -validity of truth and open the door and give opportunity for -authority which is not justly theirs to be ascribed to falsehood -and deceit.”</p> -</div> - -<p>The war was a test which showed how feeble was the hold -of American education upon the principle which alone can -give it validity. Nowhere was the suppression of freedom of -mind, of truth, so energetic, so vindictive as in the schools. -Instances crowd upon the mind. I remember attending the -trial of a teacher before a committee of the New York School -Board, the point being whether his reasons for not entering -with his class upon a discussion of the Soviet government concealed<span class="pagenum" id="Page_87">87</span> -a latent sympathy with that form of social organization. -The pupils were ranged in two groups, Jews and Gentiles, and -were summoned in turn to give their testimony—they had -previously been educated in the important functions of modern -American society, espionage, and mass action. Another occasion -is commemorated by the New York <cite>Evening Post</cite>, the -teacher being on trial for disloyalty and the chief count in his -indictment that he desired an early peace; and his accuser, one -Dr. John Tildsley, an Archdeacon or superintendent of the -diocese of New York under Bishop Ettinger:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>“Are you interested in having this man discharged?”</p> - -<p>“I am,” said Dr. Tildsley.</p> - -<p>“Do you know of any act that would condemn him as a -teacher?”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” said Dr. Tildsley, “he favoured an early peace.”</p> - -<p>“Don’t you want an early, victorious peace?”</p> - -<p>“Why ask me a question like that?”</p> - -<p>“Because I want to show you how unfair you have been to -this teacher.”</p> - -<p>“But Mr. Mufson wanted an early peace without victory,” -said Dr. Tildsley.</p> - -<p>“He didn’t say that, did he? He did not say an early -peace without victory?”</p> - -<p>“No.”</p> - -<p>“Then you don’t want an early peace, do you?”</p> - -<p>“No.”</p> - -<p>“You want a prolongation of all this world misery?”</p> - -<p>“To a certain extent, yes,” said Dr. Tildsley.</p> -</div> - -<p>Nor did the sabotage of truth stop with school boards and -superintendents. A colleague of mine writing a chapter of a -text-book in modern history made the statement that the British -government entered the war because of an understanding -with France, the invasion of Belgium being the pretext which -appealed to popular enthusiasm—to which a great publishing -house responded that this statement would arouse much indignation -among the American people, and must therefore be -suppressed.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_88">88</span></p> - -<p>We need not be surprised that since the war education has -not shown a disinterested and impartial attitude toward the -phenomena of human affairs, a reliance on the method of trial -and error, of experiment and testimony, which it has evolved. -Teachers who are openly, or even latently, in sympathy with a -form of social organization other than the régime of private -control of capital are banned from schools and colleges with -candle, with book, and with bell. Text-books which do not -agree with the convenient view of international relations are -barred. Superintendents like Ettinger and Tildsley in New -York are the devoted apologists for the system to which -they owe their greatness. To its position among the vested -interests of the world, to the prosperity of its higher clergy, -education has sacrificed its loyalty to that which alone can -give it authority.</p> - -<p>The prevention of freedom of thought and enquiry is of -course necessary so long as the purpose of education is to -produce belief rather than to stimulate thought. The belief -which it is the function of education to propagate is that -in the existing order. Hence we find the vast effort known -as “Americanization,” which is for the most part a perfect -example of American education at the present day. The spirit -of “Americanization” is to consider the individual not with -reference to his inward growth of mind and spirit, but solely -with a view to his worldly success, and his relation to the -existing order of society, to which it is considered that the -individual will find his highest happiness and usefulness in -contributing. This programme naturally enough finds a sponsor -in the American Legion, but it is truly disconcerting to -find the National Education Association entering into alliance -with this super-legal body, appointing a standing committee to -act in co-operation with the Legion throughout the year, accepting -the offer of the Legion to give lectures in the schools, -and endorsing the principle of the Lusk Law in New York, -which imposes the test of an oath of allegiance to the Government -as a requirement for a teacher’s certificate.</p> - -<p>We have now the chief reason why education remains the -dominant superstition of our time; but one may still wonder -how an institution which is apparently so uncertain of its purpose<span class="pagenum" id="Page_89">89</span> -and methods can continue to exercise such influence on -the minds and hearts of men. The answer is, of course, that -education is not in the least doubtful of its purpose and methods. -Though the humble and obscure teacher, like the Lollard -parson, may puzzle his brains about the why and how and -purpose of his being here, his superiors, the bishops, the papal -curia, know the reason. Education is the propaganda department -of the State, and the existing social system. Its resolute -insistence upon the essential rightness of things as they -are, coupled with its modest promise to reform them if necessary, -is the basis of the touching confidence with which it is -received. It further imposes itself upon the credulity of the -people by the magnificence of its establishment. The academic -splendour of the commencement season when the hierarchs -bestow their favours, and honour each other and their -patrons by higher degrees, is of enormous value in impressing -the public. Especially to the uneducated does this majesty -appeal. That an institution which holds so fair an outlook -on society, which is on such easy and sympathetic terms with -all that is important in the nation, which commands the avenues -by which men go forward in the world, should be able to -guarantee success in life to its worshippers is nothing at which -to be surprised. Hence we find the poor of different grades -making every sacrifice to send sons and daughters through -high school, through college, in the same pathetic faith with -which they once burned candles to win respite for the souls -of their dead.</p> - -<p>There are reasons, however, for thinking that the superstition -is passing. In the first place, nowhere do we find more -scepticism in regard to the pretensions of education than among -those who have been educated, and this number is rapidly -increasing. In the second place, the alliance between education -and a social system depending on private capital is too -obvious, and the abrogation of the true functions of the former -is too complete. The so-called Americanization campaign -is so crude an attempt to put something over that even the unsophisticated -foreigner whom it is intended to impress watches -the pictures or reads the pamphlets which set forth the happy -estate of the American workman, with his tongue in his cheek.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_90">90</span> -The social groups which feel aggrieved under the present order -are marking their defection by seceding from the educational -system and setting up labour universities of their own. -So serious is this secession that New York has passed the Lusk -Law, designed to bring the independent movement under State -control. In the third place, the claim of education to be an -open sesame to success in life is contradicted by the position -of its most constant votaries, the teachers. The prestige which -used to attach to the priests of learning and which placed them -above the lure of riches has vanished; their economic station -has declined until even college professors have fallen into the -servantless class, which means the proletariat. Truly for such -as they to declare that education means success in life is a -dismal paradox.</p> - -<p>Another sign of approaching reformation in the educational -system is to be found in the frankly corrupt practices which -infest it. Here the parallel to the mediæval church is not -exact, for in the latter it was the monasteries and religious -houses that were the chief sources of offence, while the colleges -and private institutions of higher learning which correspond -to them are singularly free from anything worse than -wasteful internal politics. It is the public educational system -which by reason of its contact with political government partakes -most palpably of the corruption that attends the democratic -State. It is unnecessary to mention the forms which -this corruption takes where a school board of trustees by -political appointment is given the exploitation of the schools—the -favouritism in appointments and promotions, the graft in -text-books and equipment, the speculation in real estate and -building contracts, the alienation of school property. There is -scarcely a large city in the country in which pupils and teachers -alike are not shamefully and scandalously defrauded by -action of school trustees which can be characterized in the -mildest terms as wilful mismanagement conducing to private -profit.</p> - -<p>There are two things necessary to the reform of education. -One is democratic control, that is, management of institutions -of teaching by the teachers. It is to be noted that<span class="pagenum" id="Page_91">91</span> -this is the demand everywhere of labour which respects itself—control -of the means of production and responsibility for -the result. Surely the teachers should be one of the first -groups of toilers to be so trusted. Under democratic control -the spoliation of the schools by politicians, the sacrifice of -education to propaganda, the tyranny of the hierarchy can -be successfully resisted. Once the teachers are released from -servile bondage to the public through the political masters who -control appointments and promotions, they will deal with their -problems with more authority, and be independent of the -suffrage of the pupils. Through joint responsibility of the -workers for the product they will arrive at that <i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">esprit de corps</i> -which consists in thinking in terms of the enterprise rather -than of the job, and from which we may expect a true method -of education. Already the movement toward democratic control -of teaching is taking form in school systems and colleges. -There are a hundred and fifty unions of teachers affiliated with -the American Federation of Labour. But the true analogy is -not between teachers and labour, but between education and -other professions. To quote Dr. H. M. Kallen:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>“To the discoverers and creators of Knowledge, and to its -transmitters and distributors, to these and to no one else beside -belongs the control of education. It is as absurd that any -but teachers and investigators should govern the art of education -as that any but medical practitioners and investigators -should govern the art of medicine.”</p> -</div> - -<p>The other thing needful to restore education to health and -usefulness is that it should surrender its hold upon the superstitious -adoration of the public, by giving up its pretensions -to individual or social salvation, by ceasing its flattery of -nationalistic and capitalistic ambitions, and by laying aside -its pomps and ceremonies which conduce mainly to sycophancy -and cant. Education has shown in special lines that it can -be thoroughly scientific, disinterested, devoted. It is its task -to translate these virtues of the specialist into the general field. -It is not the business of education to humbug the people in<span class="pagenum" id="Page_92">92</span> -the interest of what any person may think to be for their or -for his advantage. It is its business to deal frankly and honestly -with them, accepting in the most literal sense the responsibility -and the promise contained in the text: “Ye shall know -the truth, and the truth shall make you free.”</p> - -<p class="right"> -<span class="smcap">Robert Morss Lovett</span> -</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div id="toclink_93" class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_93">93</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="SCHOLARSHIP_AND_CRITICISM">SCHOLARSHIP AND CRITICISM</h2> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="smcap1">It</span> is natural for the musician to think any land barbarous -if it has produced no great composers, the painter if it has -produced no great painters, the critic or the scholar if it has -produced no great scholars and critics, and so on for all the -other arts and sciences. But it is idle to insist that every -race should express itself in the same way, or to assume that -the genius of a nation can be tested by its deficiencies in any -single field of the higher life. Great critics are rare in every -age and country; and even if they were not, what consolation -is there for the clash and diversity of races and nations except -the special and diverse gifts which each may furnish to the -spiritual whole? England has achieved greatness without -great music, Germany without great sculpture, ancient Rome -without great science or philosophy, Judæa with little but -poetry and religion; and it is not necessary to lay too much -stress on our own lack of great scholars and great critics—yes, -even on our lack of great poets and great painters. They -may come to-day or to-morrow, or we may be destined never -to have them. The idea that great national energy must inevitably -flower in a great literature, and that our wide-flung -power must certainly find expression in an immortal poem or -in the “great American novel,” is merely another example of -our mechanical optimism. The vision of great empires that -have been both strong and silent, Assyria, Babylonia, Egypt, -haunts all history; Virgil or Camoens only fitfully expresses -the power that is summed up in Cæsar or Magellan.</p> - -<p>But without insisting on impossible aims or illusory standards -of greatness, it is fair to ask some flow of spiritual activity, -some general spirit of diffused culture,—in a word, the presence -of a soul. For though we must eat (and common sense -will cook better dinners than philosophy), though we must -work (and the captain of industry can organize trade better -than the poet), though we must play (and the athlete can win -more games than the scholar), the civilization that has no<span class="pagenum" id="Page_94">94</span> -higher outlets for its intellect and imagination will show at -least some marks of spiritual starvation. You may see the -signs of its restless gnawing on the face of almost any American -woman beyond the first flush of youth; you may see some -shadow of its hopeless craving on the face of almost any mature -American man.</p> - -<p>The same signs are to be seen in American scholarship and -American criticism. If scholarship were what most people -think it, the dull learning of pedants, and criticism merely the -carping and bickering of fault-finders, the fact would hardly -be worth recording. But since they are instruments which -the mind of man uses for some of its keenest questionings, -their absence or their weakness must indicate something at -least in the national life and character which it is not unimportant -to understand.</p> - -<h3>I</h3> - -<p>The tradition of scholarship, like so many other things, comes -to us from what used to be called the Renaissance, the period -(it may not be ironical to be reminded) in which the Americas -were discovered and explored; and whatever savour of distinction -inheres in the idea of “the gentleman and the scholar” -was created then. Scholarship at first meant merely a -knowledge of the classics, and though it has since widened its -scope, even then the diversity of its problems was apparent, for -the classical writers had tilled many fields of human knowledge, -and the student of Homer and Virgil was really faced -with a different problem from the student of Plato or Thucydides. -Scholarship has never been a reality, a field that could -be bounded and defined in the sense in which poetry, philosophy, -and history can be. It is a point of view, an attitude, -a method of approach, and, so far as its meaning and purpose -can be captured, it may be said to be the discipline and illumination -that come from the intellectual mastery of a definite -problem involved in the growth of the human spirit.</p> - -<p>Scholarship, conceived in this sense, has no history (though -dull and learned hodge-podges have served as such), for it is -a spirit diffused over various fields of study; and in America<span class="pagenum" id="Page_95">95</span> -this spirit has scarcely even come into existence. American -Universities seem to have been created for the special purpose -of ignoring or destroying it. The chief monuments of American -scholarship have seldom if ever come from men who have -been willing to live their whole lives in an academic atmosphere. -The men whom we think of as our foremost literary scholars, -Gildersleeve, Norton, and the rest, acquired their fame -rather through their personalities than their scholarly achievements. -The historians, Motley, Prescott, Bancroft, Parkman, -Rhodes, Lea, Fiske, Mahan, were not professors; books like -Taylor’s “Mediæval Mind,” Henry Adams’s “Mont Saint -Michel and Chartres,” Thayer’s “Cavour,” Villard’s “John -Brown,” and Beveridge’s “John Marshall,” even Ticknor’s -“History of Spanish Literature,” were not written within University -walls, though Ticknor’s sixteen years of teaching tamed -the work of a brilliant man of the world until there is little -left save the characteristic juiceless virtue of an intelligent ordering -of laborious research. It would seem as if in the atmosphere -of our Universities personality could not find fruitage -in scholarly achievement worthy of it, and learning can only -thrive when it gives no hostages to the enemy, personality.</p> - -<p>Of the typical products of this academic system, the lowest -is perhaps the literary dissertation and the highest the historical -manual or text-book. It may be because history is not -my own special field of study that I seem to find its practitioners -more vigorous intellectually than the literary scholars. -Certainly our historians seem to have a special aptitude for -compiling careful summaries of historical periods, and some of -these have an ordered reasonableness and impersonal efficiency -not unlike that of the financial accounting system of our large -trusts or the budgets of our large universities. To me most of -them seem feats of historical engineering rather than of historical -scholarship; and if they represent a scholarly “advance” -on older and less accurate work, written before Clio -became a peon of the professors, it can only be said that history -has not yet recovered from the advance. Nor am I as much -impressed as the historians themselves by the more recent clash -between the “old” school and the “new,” for both seem to me -equally lacking in a truly philosophic conception of the meaning<span class="pagenum" id="Page_96">96</span> -of history. Yet there is among the younger breed a certain -freshness of mind and an openness to new ideas, though less to -the problems of human personality or to the emotional and -spiritual values of man’s life. This deficiency is especially irritating -in the field of biography. Not even an American opera -(<i xml:lang="la" lang="la">corruptio optimi</i>) is as wooden as the biographies of our -statesmen and national heroes; and if American lives written -by Englishmen have been received with enthusiasm, it was less -because of any inherent excellence than because they at least -conceived of Hamilton or Lincoln as a man and not as an historical -document or a political platitude.</p> - -<p>But literary scholarship is in far worse plight in our Universities. -No great work of classical learning has ever been -achieved by an American scholar. It may be unfair to suggest -comparison with men like Gilbert Murray, Croiset, or Wilamowitz; -but how can we be persuaded by the professors or even -by a dean that all culture will die if we forget Greek and -Latin, until they satisfy us by their own work that they themselves -are alive? Asia beckons to us with the hand of Fate, -but Oriental scholarship is a desert through which a few -nomadic professors wander aimlessly. As to the literatures in -the modern European tongues, Dante scholarship has perhaps -the oldest and most respectable tradition, but on examination -dwindles into its proper proportions: an essay by Lowell and -translations by Longfellow and Norton pointed the way; a -Dante Society has nursed it; and its modern fruits, with one -or two honourable exceptions, are a few unilluminating articles -and text-books. Ticknor’s pioneer work in the Spanish field -has had no successors, though Spanish America is at our -doors; the generous subsidies of rich men have resulted as -usual in buildings but not in scholarship. Of the general level -of our French and German studies I prefer to say nothing; -and silence is also wisest in the case of English. This field -fairly teems with professors; Harvard has twice as many as -Oxford and Cambridge combined, and the University of Chicago -almost as many as the whole of England. Whether this -plethora of professors has justified itself, either by distinguished -works of scholarship or by helping young America to -love literature and to write good English, I shall not decide, but<span class="pagenum" id="Page_97">97</span> -leave entirely to their own conscience. This at least may be -said, that the mole is not allowed to burrow in his hole without -disturbance; for in this atmosphere, as a protest and counterfoil, -or as a token of submission to the idols of the market-place, -there has arisen a very characteristic academic product,—the -professor who writes popular articles, sometimes clever, -sometimes precious, sometimes genteel and refined, sometimes -merely commonplace, but almost always devoid of real knowledge -or stimulating thought. Even the sober pedant is a more -humane creature than the professorial smart-Aleck.</p> - -<p>Whence arises this inhibition of mediocrity, this fear of personality -and intellect, this deep antinomy of pedant and dilettante? -The “fear-of-giving-themselves-away disease” which -affected the professors of the Colleges of Unreason in “Erewhon” -is mildly endemic in every University in the world, and -to a certain degree in every profession; but nowhere else does it -give the tone to the intellectual life of a whole people. If I -were a sociologist, confident that the proper search would unearth -an external cause for every spiritual defect, I might -point to any one of a dozen or more damning facts as the origin -and source of all our trouble,—to the materialism of a national -life directed solely toward practical ends, to the levelling and -standardizing influences of democracy, to Anglo-Saxon “Colonialism,” -to the influence of German erudition, or to the -inadequate economic rewards of the academic life. I should -probably make much of that favourite theme of critical fantasy, -the habits derived from the “age of the pioneers,” a period in -which life, with its mere physical discomforts and its mere -demands on physical energy and endurance, was really so easy -and simple that Americans attempt to reproduce it on all their -holidays.</p> - -<p>But in so far as they have any reality, all these are merely -symptoms of the same disease of the soul. The modern sanatorium -may be likened to the mediæval monastery without its -spiritual faith; the American University to a University without -its inner illumination. It is an intellectual refuge without the -integration of a central soul,—crassly material because it has -no inner standards to redeem it from the idols of the market-place, -or timid and anæmic because it lacks that quixotic fire<span class="pagenum" id="Page_98">98</span> -which inheres in every act of faith. It is at one and the same -time our greatest practical achievement and our greatest -spiritual failure. To call it a compound of sanatorium and -machine-shop may seem grossly unfair to an institution which -has more than its share of earnest and high-minded men; but -though the phrase may not describe the reality, it does indicate -the danger. When we find that in such a place education does -not educate, we cry for help to the only gods we know, the -restless gods of Administration and Organization; but scholarship -cannot be organized or administered into existence, even -by Americans.</p> - -<p>What can we say (though it seem to evade the question) -save that America has no scholarship because as yet it has a -body but no soul? The scholar goes through all the proper -motions,—collects facts, organizes research, delivers lectures, -writes articles and sometimes books,—but under this outer -seeming there is no inner reality. Under all the great works -of culture there broods the quivering soul of tradition, a burden -sometimes disturbing and heavy to bear, but more often -helping the soul to soar on wings not of its own making. We -think hungrily that the freshness of outlook of a young people -should be more than compensation; but the freshness is not -there. Bad habits long persisted in, or new vices painfully -acquired, may pass for traditions among some spokesmen of -“Americanism,” but will not breathe the breath of life into -a national culture. All is shell, mask, and a deep inner emptiness. -We have scholars without scholarship, as there are -churches without religion.</p> - -<p>Until there comes a change of heart or a new faith or a deep -inner searching, scholarship must continue to live this thwarted -and frustrated life. Only a profound realization of its high -purpose and special function, and the pride that comes from -this realization, can give the scholar his true place in an -American world. For this special function is none other than -to act as the devoted servant of thought and imagination and -to champion their claims as the twin pillars that support all -the spiritual activities of human life,—art, philosophy, religion, -science; and these it must champion against all the materialists -under whatever name they disguise their purpose. What<span class="pagenum" id="Page_99">99</span> -matter whether they be scientists who decry “dialectics,” or -sociologists who sneer at “mere belles-lettres,” or practical -men who have no use for the “higher life”? Whether -they be called bourgeois or radical, conservative or intellectual,—all -who would reduce life to a problem of practical activity -and physical satisfaction, all who would reduce intellect and -imagination to mere instruments of practical usefulness, all -who worship dead idols instead of living gods, all who grasp at -every flitting will-o’-the-wisp of theory or sensation,—all these -alike scholarship must forever recognize as its enemies, and its -chief tempters.</p> - -<h3>II</h3> - -<p>Scholarship, so conceived, is the basis of criticism. When a -few years ago I published a volume which bore the subtitle of -“Essays on the Unity of Genius and Taste,” the pedants and -the professors were in the ascendant, and it seemed necessary -to emphasize the side of criticism which was then in danger, -the side that is closest to the art of the creator. But the professors -have been temporarily routed by the dilettanti, the -amateurs, and the journalists, who treat a work of the imagination -as if they were describing fireworks or a bull-fight (to -use a phrase of Zola’s about Gautier); and so it is necessary -now to insist on the discipline and illumination of scholarship,—in -other Words, to write an “Essay on the Divergence of -Criticism and Creation.”</p> - -<p>American criticism, like that of England, but to an even -greater extent, suffers from a want of philosophic insight -and precision. It has neither inherited nor created a tradition -of æsthetic thought. For it every critical problem is a separate -problem, a problem in a philosophic vacuum, and so open -for discussion to any astute mind with a taste for letters. -Realism, classicism, romanticism, imagism, impressionism, expressionism, -and other terms or movements as they spring up, -seem ultimate realities instead of matters of very subordinate -concern to any philosophy of art,—mere practical programmes -which bear somewhat the same relation to æsthetic truth that -the platform of the Republican Party bears to Aristotle’s “Politics”<span class="pagenum" id="Page_100">100</span> -or Marx’s “Capital.” As a result, critics are constantly -carrying on a guerilla warfare of their own in favour of some -vague literary shibboleth or sociological abstraction, and discovering -anew the virtues or vices of individuality, modernity, -Puritanism, the romantic spirit or the spirit of the Middle -West, the traditions of the pioneer, and so on ad infinitum. -This holds true of every school of American criticism, “conservative” -or “radical”; for all of them a disconnected body -of literary theories takes the place of a real philosophy of art. -“Find an idea and then write about it” sums up the American -conception of criticism. Now, while the critic must approach -a work of literature without preconceived notion of what that -individual work should attempt, he cannot criticize it without -some understanding of what all literature attempts. The critic -without an æsthetic is a mariner without chart, compass, or -knowledge of navigation; for the question is not where the -ship should go or what cargo it should carry, but whether it is -going to arrive at any port at all without sinking.</p> - -<p>Criticism is essentially an expression of taste, or that faculty -of imaginative sympathy by which the reader or spectator is -able to re-live the vision created by the artist. This is the soil -without which it cannot flourish; but it attains its end and -becomes criticism in the highest sense only when taste is guided -by knowledge and thought. Of these three elements, implicit -in all real criticism, the professors have made light of taste, -and have made thought itself subservient to knowledge, while -the dilettanti have considered it possible to dispense with both -knowledge and thought. But even dilettante criticism is preferable -to the dogmatic and intellectualist criticism of the professors, -on the same grounds that Sainte-Beuve is superior to -Brunetière, or Hazlitt to Francis Jeffrey; for the dilettante at -least meets the mind of the artist on the plane of imagination -and taste, while the intellectualist or moralist is precluded by -his temperament and his theories from ever understanding the -primal thrill and purpose of the creative act.</p> - -<p>Back of any philosophy of art there must be a philosophy -of life, and all æsthetic formulæ seem empty unless there is -richness of content behind them. The critic, like the poet or -the philosopher, has the whole world to range in, and the farther<span class="pagenum" id="Page_101">101</span> -he ranges in it, the better his work will be. Yet this does -not mean that criticism should focus its attention on morals, -history, life, instead of on the forms into which the artist transforms -them. Art has something else to give us; and to seek -morals, or economic theories, or the national spirit in it is to -seek morals, economic theories, the national spirit, but not -art. Indeed, the United States is the only civilized country -where morals are still in controversy so far as creative literature -is concerned; France, Germany, and Italy liberated themselves -from this faded obsession long ago; even in England -critics of authority hesitate to judge a work of art by moral -standards. Yet this is precisely what divides the two chief -schools of American criticism, the moralists and the anti-moralists, -though even among the latter masquerade some whose -only quarrel with the moralists is the nature of the moral standards -employed.</p> - -<p>Disregarding the Coleridgean tradition, which seems to have -come to an end with Mr. Woodberry, and the influence of the -“new psychology,” which has not yet taken a definite form, the -main forces that have influenced the present clashes in the -American attitude toward literature seem to be three. There -is first of all the conception of literature as a moral influence, -a conception which goes back to the Græco-Roman rhetoricians -and moralists, and after pervading English thought from -Sidney to Matthew Arnold, finds its last stronghold to-day -among the American descendants of the Puritans. There is, -secondly, the Shavian conception of literature as the most effective -vehicle for a new <i xml:lang="de" lang="de">Weltanschauung</i>, to be judged by the -novelty and freshness of its ideas, a conception particularly -attractive to the school of young reformers, radicals, and intellectuals -whose interest in the creative imagination is secondary, -and whose training in æsthetic thought has been negligible; -this is merely an obverse of the Puritan moralism, and -is tainted by the same fundamental misconception of the meaning -of the creative imagination. And there is finally the conception -of literature as an external thing, a complex of rhythms, -charm, beauty without inner content, or mere theatrical effectiveness, -which goes back through the English ’nineties to the -French ’seventies, when the idea of the independence of art<span class="pagenum" id="Page_102">102</span> -from moral and intellectual standards was distorted into the -merely mechanical theory of “art for art’s sake”; the French -have a special talent for narrowing æsthetic truths into hard-and-fast -formulæ, devoid of their original nucleus of philosophic -reality, but all the more effective on this account for universal -conquest as practical programmes.</p> - -<p>The apparent paradox which none of these critics face is -that the <i xml:lang="de" lang="de">Weltanschauung</i> of the creative artist, his moral convictions, -his views on intellectual, economic, and other subjects, -furnish the content of his work and are at the same time the -chief obstacles to his artistic achievement. Out of morals or -philosophy he has to make, not morals or philosophy, but -poetry; for morals and philosophy are only a part, and a small -part, of the whole reality which his imagination has to encompass. -The man who is overwhelmed with moral theories -and convictions would naturally find it easiest to become a -moralist, and moralists are prosaic, not poetic. A man who -has strong economic convictions would find it easiest to become -an economist or economic reformer, and economics too -is the prose of life, not the poetry. A man with a strong philosophic -bias would find it easiest to become a pure thinker, -and the poet’s visionary world topples when laid open to the -cold scrutiny of logic. A poet is a human being, and therefore -likely to have convictions, prejudices, preconceptions, like -other men; but the deeper his interest in them is, the easier -it is for him to become a moralist, economist, philosopher, or -what not, and the harder for him to transcend them and to become -a poet. But if the genius of the poet (and by poet I -mean any writer of imaginative literature) is strong enough, -it will transcend them, pass over them by the power of the -imagination, which leaves them behind without knowing it. -It has been well said that morals are one reality, a poem is another -reality, and the illusion consists in thinking them one -and the same. The poet’s conscience as a man may be satisfied -by the illusion, but woe to him if it is not an illusion, for -that is what we tell him when we say, “He is a moralist, not -a poet.” Such a man has really expressed his moral convictions, -instead of leaping over and beyond them into that world -of the imagination where moral ideas must be interpreted from<span class="pagenum" id="Page_103">103</span> -the standpoint of poetry, or the artistic needs of the characters -portrayed, and not by the logical or reality value of morals.</p> - -<p>This “leaping over” is the test of all art; it is inherent in -the very nature of the creative imagination. It explains, for -example, how Milton the moralist started out to make Satan -a demon and how Milton the poet ended by making him a hero. -It explains the blindness of the American critic who recently -objected to the “loose thinking” of a poem of Carl Sandburg -in which steel is conceived of as made of smoke and blood, and -who propounded this question to the Walrus and the Carpenter: -“How can smoke, the lighter refuse of steel, be one of its -constituents, and how can the smoke which drifts away from -the chimney and the blood which flows in the steelmaker’s veins -be correlates in their relation to steel?” Where shall we match -this precious gem? Over two centuries ago, Othello’s cry after -the death of Desdemona,</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent8">“O heavy hour,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Methinks it should now be a huge eclipse</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Of sun and moon!”</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="in0">provoked another intellectualist critic to enquire whether “the -sun and moon can both together be so hugely eclipsed in any -one heavy hour whatsoever;” but Rymer has been called “the -worst critic that ever lived” for applying tests like these to the -poetry of Shakespeare. Over a century ago a certain Abbé -Morellet, unmoved by the music of Chateaubriand’s description -of the <span class="locked">moon,—</span></p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>“She pours forth in the woods this great secret of melancholy -which she loves to recount to the old oaks and the ancient shores -of the <span class="locked">sea,”—</span></p> -</div> - -<p class="in0">asked his readers: “How can the melancholy of night be called -a secret; and if the moon recounts it, how is it still a secret; -and how does she manage to recount it to the old oaks and the -ancient shores of the sea rather than to the deep valleys, the -mountains, and the rivers?”</p> - -<p>These are simply exaggerations of the inevitable consequence -of carrying over the mood of actual life into the world of the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_104">104</span> -imagination. “Sense, sense, nothing but sense!” cried a great -Austrian poet, “as if poetry in contrast with prose were not -always a kind of divine nonsense. Every poetic image bears -within itself its own certain demonstration that logic is not the -arbitress of art.” And Alfieri spoke for every poet in the world -when he said of himself, “Reasoning and judging are for me -only pure and generous forms of feeling.” The trained -economist, philosopher, or moralist, examining the ideas of a -poet, is always likely to say: “These are not clearly thought -out or logical ideas; they are just a poet’s fancy or inspiration;” -and that is the final praise of the poet. If the expert -finds a closely reasoned treatise we may be sure that we shall -find no poetry. It is a vision of reality, and not reality, imagination -and not thought or morals, that the artist gives us; and -his spiritual world, with all that it means for the soaring life -of man, fades and disappears when we bring to it no other test -than the test of reality.</p> - -<p>These are some of the elementary reasons why those who -demand of the poet a definite code of morals or manners—“American -ideals,” or “Puritanism,” or on the other side, -“radical ideas”—seem to me to show their incompetence as -critics. How can we expect illumination from those who share -the “typical American business man’s” inherent inability to -live in the world of fantasy which the poets have created, without -the business man’s ability to face the external facts of life -and mould them to his will? These men are schoolmasters, -pedants, moralists, policemen, but neither critics nor true lovers -of the spiritual food that art provides. To the creative writers -of America I should give a wholly different message from theirs. -I should say to them: “Express what is in you, all that serene -or turbulent vision of multitudinous life which is yours by right -of imagination, trusting in your own power to achieve discipline -and mastery, and leave the discussion of ‘American ideals’ -to statesmen, historians, and philosophers, with the certainty -that if you truly express the vision that is in you, the statesmen, -historians, and philosophers of the future will point to -your work as a fine expression of the ‘American ideals’ you -have helped to create.”</p> - -<p>But it is no part of the critic’s duty to lay down laws for<span class="pagenum" id="Page_105">105</span> -the guidance of the creator, though he may have insight enough -to foresee some of the directions which literature is likely to -take. He may even point out new material for the imagination -of poets to feed on,—the beautiful folklore of our native -Indians, the unplumbed depths of the Negro’s soul, the poetry -and wisdom of Asia (which it may be our chief destiny to interpret -for the nations of Europe), the myth and story of the -hundred races that are to make up the new America, and all -the undiscovered coigns and crannies of our national life. I -shall not say that these services are extraneous and unimportant, -like furnishing the fountain-pen with which a great poem -is written; but incursions into the geography of the imagination -are incidental to the critic’s main duty of interpreting -literature and making its meaning and purpose clear to all who -wish to love and understand it.</p> - -<p>The first need of American criticism to-day is education in -æsthetic thinking. It needs above all the cleansing and stimulating -power of an intellectual bath. Only the drenching discipline -that comes from intellectual mastery of the problems of -æsthetic thought can train us for the duty of interpreting the -American literature of the future. The anarchy of impressionism -is a natural reaction against the mechanical theories -and jejune text-books of the professors, but it is a temporary -haven and not a home. The haphazard empiricism of English -criticism and the faded moralism of our own will serve us no -more. We must desert these muddy waters, and seek purer -and deeper streams. In a country where philosophers urge men -to cease thinking, it may be the task of the critic to revivify -and reorganize thought. Only in this way can we gain what -America lacks, the brain-illumined soul.</p> - -<p>The second need of American criticism can be summed up -in the word scholarship—that discipline of knowledge which -will give us at one and the same time a wider international outlook -and a deeper national insight. One will spring from the -other, for the timid Colonial spirit finds no place in the heart -of the citizen of the world; and respect for native talent, born -of a surer knowledge, will prevent us alike from overrating its -merits and from holding it too cheap. Half-knowledge is either -too timid or too cocksure; and only out of this spiritual<span class="pagenum" id="Page_106">106</span> -discipline can come a true independence of judgment and -taste.</p> - -<p>For taste is after all both the point of departure and the -goal; and the third and greatest need of American criticism -is a deeper sensibility, a more complete submission to the -imaginative will of the artist, before attempting to rise above -it into the realm of judgment. If there is anything that American -life can be said to give least of all, it is training in taste. -There is a deadness of artistic feeling, which is sometimes replaced -or disguised by a fervour of sociological obsession, but -this is no substitute for the faculty of imaginative sympathy -which is at the heart of all criticism. When the social historian -is born, the critic dies; for taste, or æsthetic enjoyment, is the -only gateway to the critic’s judgment, and over it is a flaming -signpost, “Critic, abandon all hope when this gate is shut.”</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indentq">“To ravish Beauty with dividing powers</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Is to let exquisite essences escape.”</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="in0">Only out of the fusion of these three elements of taste, intellect, -and knowledge can American criticism gain what in one of its -manifestations is called “personality” and in another “style.” -Only in this way can it win in the battle against the benumbing -chaos and the benumbing monotony of American art and life.</p> - -<p>We are all cocksure but bewildered children in a world we -cannot understand. We are all parvenus—parvenus on a new -continent, on the fringes of which some have lived a little -longer than others, but the whole of which has been encompassed -by none of us for more than two or three generations; -parvenus in a new world of steam and electricity, wireless and -aeroplane, machinery and industry, which none of us has yet -been able to subdue to a mould that satisfies our deepest cravings; -parvenus in our culture, which still seems like a borrowed -garment instead of flesh of our flesh and bone of our bone. -What is the good of all the instruments that our hands have -moulded if we have neither the will nor the imagination to -wield them for the uses of the soul? Not in this fashion shall -we justify our old dream of an America that is the hope of the -world. Here are hundreds of colleges and universities; why<span class="pagenum" id="Page_107">107</span> -not fill these empty barracks with scholars and thinkers? Here -are a hundred races; why not say to them: “America can give -you generous opportunity and the most superb instruments that -the undisciplined energy of practical life has ever created, but -in the spiritual fields of art, poetry, religion, culture, it has little -or nothing to give you; let us all work together, learning and -creating these high things side by side”? Here are more hearts -empty and unfulfilled and more restless minds than the world -has ever before gathered together; why not lead them out of -their corrals, and find a fitting pasture for their brains and -souls?</p> - -<p class="right"> -<span class="smcap">J. E. Spingarn</span> -</p> - -<h3><i>GLOSSARY</i></h3> - -<p>The English language, extraordinarily rich and expressive in -everything that concerns the practical or the imaginative life, suffers -from the poverty and lack of precision of English æsthetic thought. -It may therefore be useful to indicate briefly the special sense in -which certain terms are used in this essay.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>“<i>Spectator</i>: I should say that you have advanced a subtlety that is -little more than a play on words.</p> - -<p>“<i>Friend</i>: And I maintain that when we are speaking of the operations -of the soul, no words can be delicate and subtle enough.”—<span class="smcap">Goethe.</span></p> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot hang"> - -<p><i>Art</i>—Any creation of the imagination, whether in the form of -imaginative literature or of painting, sculpture, music, etc.</p> - -<p><i>Artist</i>—The creator of a work of art in any of its forms; not used -in this essay in the narrower sense of painter or sculptor.</p> - -<p><i>Taste</i>—The faculty of imaginative sympathy by which the reader -or spectator is able to re-live the vision of the artist, and therefore -the essential pre-requisite to all criticism.</p> - -<p><i>Criticism</i>—Any expression of taste guided by knowledge and -thought. (The critic’s training in knowledge is scholarship, and -his special field of thought æsthetics.)</p> - -<p><i>Æsthetics</i>—An ordered and reasoned conception of the meaning -and purpose of art, intended for the guidance of the critic and -not of the artist.</p> - -<p><i>A Literary Theory</i>—An isolated “idea” or theory in regard to -imaginative literature, without reference to any ordered and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_108">108</span> -reasoned conception of its meaning and purpose.</p> - -<p><i>Impressionist Criticism</i>—Any expression of taste without adequate -guidance of knowledge or thought.</p> - -<p><i>Intellectualist (or dogmatic) criticism</i>—Criticism based on the conception -that art is a product of thought rather than of imagination, -and that the creative fantasy of the artist can be limited -and judged by the critic’s pre-conceived theories; or in the more -ornate words of Francis Thompson, criticism that is “for ever -shearing the wild tresses of poetry between rusty rules.”</p> - -<p><i>The Intellectuals</i>—All who lay undue stress on the place of intellect -in life, and assume that the turbulent flux of reality can be tied -up in neat parcels of intellectual formulæ.</p> - -<p><i>Poetry</i>—All literature in which reality has been transfigured by the -imagination, including poetry in its narrower sense, the novel, -the drama, etc.; used instead of “imaginative literature,” not -merely for the sake of brevity, but as implying a special emphasis -on creative power.</p> - -<p><i>Poet</i>—A writer of imaginative literature in any of its forms; not -used in this essay in the narrower sense of a writer of verse.</p> - -<p><i>Learning</i>—The accumulation of certain forms of knowledge as a -basis for scholarship, but no more the main purpose of scholarship -than his preparatory training is the sole object of the -athlete or soldier.</p> - -<p><i>Scholarship</i>—The discipline and illumination that come from the -intellectual mastery of a definite problem in the spiritual (as -opposed to the practical) life of man.</p> - -<p><i>Pedant</i>—Any one who thinks that learning is the whole of scholarship.</p> -</div> - -<p class="right"> -J. E. S. -</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div id="toclink_109" class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_109">109</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="SCHOOL_AND_COLLEGE_LIFE">SCHOOL AND COLLEGE LIFE</h2> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap b"><span class="smcap1">Should</span> we ever entertain an intelligent explorer from -Mars, we should of course importune him, in season and -out, for his impressions of America. And if he were candid -as well as intelligent, he might ultimately be interviewed somewhat -as follows:</p> - -<p>“At first I thought the most striking fact about you was -your passion for education. While I have been enjoying your -so thorough hospitality I have met a minority of Americans -who express themselves less complacently than the rest about -your material blessings; I have talked with a few dissidents -from your political theory; and I have even heard complaints -that it is possible to carry moral enthusiasm too far. But I -have yet to meet that American who is sceptical about education -as such, though on the other hand I have found few of -your citizens quite content with the working of every part of -your educational establishment. And this very discontent -was what clinched my first impression that schooling is the -most vital of your passionate interests.</p> - -<p>“Yet as I have travelled from one to another of your cities, -a second fact about you has struck me so forcibly as to contest -the supremacy of the first. You Americans more and more -seem to me to be essentially alike. Your cities are only less -identical than the trains that ply between them. Nearly any -congregation could worship just as comfortably in nearly any -other church. The casts of almost any two plays, the staffs -of almost any two newspapers, even the faculties of almost any -two colleges could exchange ‘vehicles’ with about the same -results that would attend their exchanging clothes.</p> - -<p>“And in nothing are you so alike as in your universal desire -to be alike—to be inconspicuous, to put on straw hats on the -same day, to change your clothes in Texas in accordance with -the seasons in New York, to read the books everybody else is -reading, to adopt the opinions a weekly digests for you from<span class="pagenum" id="Page_110">110</span> -the almost uniform opinions of the whole of the daily press, -in war and peace to be incontestably and entirely American.</p> - -<p>“Now, I should scarcely make bold to be so frank about -these observations if some of my new friends had not reassured -me with the information that they are not novel, that a distinguished -Englishman has put them into what you have considered -the most representative and have made the most popular -book about your commonwealth, that in fact you rather -enjoy having outsiders recognize the success of your efforts in -uniformity. There is, of course, no reason why you should not -be as similar to each other as you choose, and you must not -interpret my surprise to mean that I am shocked by anything -except the contradiction I find between this essential similarity -and what I have called your passion for education.</p> - -<p>“On Mars it has for a long time been our idea that the -function of the school is to put our youth in touch with what all -sorts of Martians have thought and are thinking, have felt and -are feeling. I say ‘put in touch’ rather than ‘teach,’ because -it is not so much our notion to pack their minds and hearts as -to proffer samples of our various cultures and supply keys to -the storehouses—not unlike your libraries, museums, and laboratories—that -contain our records. We prefer to think of -schooling as a kind of thoroughfare between our past and our -present, an avenue to the recovery and appreciation of as many -as possible of those innumerable differences between Martian -and Martian, those conflicting speculations and cogitations, -myths and hypotheses regarding our planet and ourselves that -have gone into the warp and woof of our mental history. -Thus we have hoped not only to preserve and add to the body -of Martian knowledge, but also to understand better and utilize -more variously our present minds. So it seems to us perfectly -natural, and has rather pleased than distressed us, that our -students should emerge from their studies with a multitude -of differing sympathies, beliefs, tastes, and ambitions. We -have thought that such an education enriched the lives of all -of us, lives that ignorance could not fail to constrict and subject -to hum-drum monotony.</p> - -<p>“So when I return to Mars and report that I found Earth’s -most favourable continent inhabited by its most literate great<span class="pagenum" id="Page_111">111</span> -people, a people that has carried the use of print and other -means of communication to a point we Martians have never -dared dream about; that this people has at once the most -widely diffused enthusiasm for education and the most comprehensive -school equipment on Earth; and finally that this people -is at the same time the most uniform in its life—well, I fear -I shall not be believed.”</p> - -<p>On subsequent visits the Martian might, as a wise man does -who is confronted by a logical impasse, re-examine the terms -of his paradox.</p> - -<p>As regards our uniformity, fresh evidence could only endorse -his first impressions. The vestigial remnants of what regional -cultures we have had are rapidly being effaced by our unthinking -standardization in every department of life. The -railroad, the telephone and telegraph, the newspaper, the Ford, -the movies, advertising—all have scarcely standardized themselves -before they have set about standardizing everything -within their reach. Not even our provinces of the picturesque -are immune, the places and things we like to think of as “different” -(word that betrays our standard sameness!) and glamorous -of our romantic golden age. In the Old South, Birmingham -loves to call herself the Pittsburgh of the South; our railroads -have all but hounded the packets from the Mississippi; -it is notorious that our apostles to the Indians, whether political, -religious, or pedagogic, wage relentless war on the very -customs and traditions we cherish in legend; the beautiful Missions -that a kindlier evangelism bequeathed to them are repeated -and cheapened in every suburb and village of the land, -under every harsher sky; those once spontaneous fêtes of the -plains, the “Stampede” and the “Round-Up,” have been made -so spurious that the natives abandon them for a moth-eaten -Wild West Show made in the East; and in only a year or two -even New Orleans’ Mardi Gras will be indistinguishable from -its counterfeits in St. Louis and elsewhere.</p> - -<p>As with these adventitious and perhaps not very important -regional differentiations, so with the one fundamental demarcation -our people have all along recognized as conditioning the -give-and-take of American life. The line between the East -and the West, advancing from the Alleghanies to the Rockies<span class="pagenum" id="Page_112">112</span> -and then part of the way back, has never stayed long enough -in one zone to be precisely drawn, but it has always been -sharply felt. Since Colonial times the East has meant many -things—wealth, stability, contacts with Europe, refinement, industry, -centralized finance—and the West has meant many -things—hardship and adventure, El Dorado, outlawry, self-reliance, -agriculture, vast enterprise; but they have never been -so close to meaning the same things as to-day. To-morrow -they will merge. Even now the geographical line between -them may be drawn anywhere in a belt two thousand miles -wide, in which it will be fixed according to the nativity of the -critic rather than by any pronounced social stigmata. East or -West, there is a greater gulf between the intelligent and the -unintelligent of the same parish than divides the intelligent -of different parishes. East or West, Americans think pretty -much the same thoughts, feel about the same emotions, and -express themselves in the American tongue—that is, in slang. -If the slang, the accent, the manner differ noticeably, as they -still do, there are not wanting signs that another generation will -obliterate these differences too. Publishing, to be sure, tends -to concentrate in the East, though without impoverishing the -West, since all notable circulations have to be national to survive. -The very fact that the country’s publishing can be done -from New York, Philadelphia, and Boston demonstrates our -national unanimity of opinion and expression.</p> - -<p>Before it overleapt the geographical walls, this national -unanimity had wiped out every class distinction but one, which -it has steadily tended to entrench—the money line. Families -may continue to hold their place only on the condition that -they keep their money or get more; and a moderate fortune, -no matter how quickly come by, has only to make a few correct -strokes, avoid a few obvious bunkers, and it will found a family -by inadvertence. The process is so simple that clerks -practise it during their vacations at the shore.</p> - -<p>Besides money, there is one other qualification—personal -charm. Its chief function, perhaps, is to disguise the essentially -monetary character of American social life. At any -rate, Americans are almost as uniformly charming as they are -uniformly acquisitive. For the most part it is a negative<span class="pagenum" id="Page_113">113</span> -charm, a careful skirting of certain national taboos: it eschews -frank egoism, unfavourable criticism, intellectual subtlety, -unique expressions of temperament, humour that is no respecter -of persons, anything that might disturb the <i xml:lang="la" lang="la">status quo</i> -of reciprocal kindliness and complacent optimism. The unpopular -American is unpopular not because he is a duffer or -a bore, but because he is “conceited,” a “knocker,” a “highbrow,” -a “nut,” a “grouch,” or something of that ilk. We -do not choose, as the Martian suggested, to be as similar -as possible; we choose <em>not</em> to be dissimilar. If our convictions -about America and what is American sprang from real knowledge -of ourselves and of our capacities, we should relish egoists, -disinterested critics, intellectuals, artists, and irreverent -humourists, instead of suppressing them when we cannot -mould them. That we do not relish them, that we protect -ourselves from them, is evidence that we fear them. What -reason should we have to fear them save a secret distrust of -our asseverated convictions? Our unanimity, then, would seem -to the Martian to be an artificial substitute for some natural -background we lack but should like to have; and a most dangerous -wish-fulfilment it is, for it masks our ignorance of what -we are and what we may reasonably become. Far from being -self-knowledge, Americanism would seem to him to be a -hallucination, an article of faith supported only by our determination -to believe it, and to coerce others into believing it. -The secret of our uniformity would be a stubborn ignorance.</p> - -<p>At which point our critic would have to re-examine his -earlier impressions about our “passion for education,” and -strive to understand the uses to which we actually put our -educational establishment, to appraise its function in our life.</p> - -<p>Beginning with the kindergarten, it provides us a few hours’ -relief from our responsibility toward our youngsters. Curiously, -the Americans most given to this evasion are the Americans -most inveterately sentimental about the “kiddies” and -most loath to employ the nursery system, holding it somehow -an undemocratic invasion of the child’s rights. Then somewhere -in the primary grades we begin to feel that we are purchasing -relief from the burden of fundamental instruction. -Ourselves mentally lazy, abstracted, and genuinely bewildered<span class="pagenum" id="Page_114">114</span> -by the flow of questions from only one mouth, we blithely refer -that awakening curiosity to a harassed young woman, probably -less well informed than we are, who has to answer, or silence, -the questions of from a score to three score mouths. So begins -that long throttling of curiosity which later on will baffle -the college instructor, who will sometimes write a clever magazine -essay about the complacent ignorance of his pupils.</p> - -<p>A few years, and our expectation has shifted to the main -chance. We begin worrying over grade reports and knotting -our brows over problems in arithmetic by way of assisting our -offspring to the practical advantages of education. For the -child, we now demand of his teachers solid and lasting preparation -in the things whose monetary value our office or domestic -payroll keeps sharply before us—figures, penmanship, -spelling, home economics. For us, the vicarious glory of his -“brightness.” But we want this brightness to count, to be in -the direct avenue to his career; so we reinforce the environment -that gently discourages him from the primrose paths of knowledge. -Nothing “practical” is too good for the boy at this moment—tool -chests, bicycles, wireless, what not. Thank God, -we can give him a better start than we had. As for arts and -letters, well, we guess what was good enough for his dad is good -enough for him. Meanwhile we are rather pleased than not at -the athletics and the other activities in which the grammar -school apes the high school that apes the college.</p> - -<p>The long spiral of repetitive schooling in study and sport -has now commenced its climb: year by year reviews and adds -its fresh increment to last year’s subject-matter in the classroom -and on the field. Is it so strange that when the boy meets his -college professors he is cock-sure of knowing to a hair the limits -of what is normal and important in life, beyond which lie the -abnormal interests of the grinds? That mediocre <em>C</em> is a gentleman’s -mark? Not his to question the system that, in season -and out, has borne down on passing instead of on training, and -that ends somewhere, soon or late, with a diploma and, amid -family plaudits, graduation from family control.</p> - -<p>The high schools are expected to fit ninety-five per cent. of -their charges for life and five per cent. for college. If our boy -and girl are of the ninety and five, we demand very early specialization<span class="pagenum" id="Page_115">115</span> -toward their precious careers, wax enthusiastic over -the school’s model mercantile and banking establishment, expand -to know our children are being dosed with a course in -“Civics,” generously admire the history note-books in which -they have spread much tinted ink over a little stereotyped -information, and in what we fool ourselves into believing -are the margins to all these matters proudly watch them capture -a class numeral or a school letter, grumblingly pay for -real estate signs that have gone up in flame to celebrate some -epochal victory, and bear with their antics during hazings and -initiations. It’s a democratic country, and if the poor man’s -son cannot go to college, why the college must come to him. -Nor are we without a certain undemocratic satisfaction in the -thought that he has stolen a four years’ march into business -over the rich man’s son, who spends his college hours, we -assure ourselves, acquiring habits that will leave him weak in -the hour of competition.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile the straddling masters are cramming the other -five with all the dates and rules and verbs and prose passages -which long and bitter experience has demonstrated to be likeliest -on entrance examinations. From the classrooms, as term -follows term with its endless iteration of short advances and -long reviews, there rises the bruit of rivalry: masters decorously -put forward the claims of their own colleges; pupils rejoice -when their future alma mater notches another athletic victory -to the well-remembered tally; the weak of heart are urging -upon their bewildered parents the superior merits of the -“back-door” route to some exacting university—by certificate -to a small college and transfer at the end of the first year.</p> - -<p>There are high schools in whose cases all this is understatement; -and of course there are innumerable others, especially -in these days when the most rigorous colleges have lost -a little of their faith in entrance examinations, where it is -absurd overstatement. Nevertheless your son, if he goes to -a representative Eastern college from a representative high -school, goes as a man steals second in the seventh. And his -subsequent instructors marvel at the airy nonchalance with -which he ignores “the finer things of life”!</p> - -<p>The private secondary schools, save those that are frankly<span class="pagenum" id="Page_116">116</span> -designed to relieve parents of recalcitrant boys when the public -schools will have no more of them, are pretty much without -the ninety-five per cent. of non-college men. Frequently they -have their charges for longer periods. So they are free to -specialize in cramming with more singleness of mind and at -the same time to soften the process as their endowments and -atmospheres permit. But at bottom the demand you make of -the “prep school” is the same demand your bookkeeper puts -on his son’s high school: you want your boy launched into college -with the minimum of trouble for yourself and the maximum -of practical advantage for him; your bookkeeper wants his boy -launched into business with a minimum of frippery and a -maximum of marketable skill. One boy is experted into college, -the other is experted into business. You are both among -those passionate believers in education who impressed the Martian -on his first visit.</p> - -<p>Some educator has announced that the college course should -not only provide preparation for life but should itself be a satisfactory -portion of life. What college student so dull as not -to know that? For the most part, he trusts the faculty to -provide the preparation—sometimes it would seem that he -dares it to—but he takes jolly good care that the four years -shall give him life more abundantly. He has looked forward -to them with an impatience not even the indignity of entrance -examinations could balk; he will live them to the top of his -bent; and he will look back on them tenderly, even sentimentally, -as the purplest patch of his days. So the American undergraduate -is representative of the American temper at its -best. He is the flower of our youth at its moment of perfect -bloom, its ideals not yet corrupted, its aspirations unwithered. -As he thinks and feels, all America would think and feel if it -dared and could.</p> - -<p>At this point, therefore, the Martian’s inquiry into what we -expect from our educational establishment would have to shift -its point of view from the older to the younger generation. -The Martian would be much in demand at our colleges, both -as a sure-fire lecturer and as a shining target for degrees certain -to attract wide publicity to the donors. Let us imagine him -setting aside a page in his notebook for a scheme of undergraduate<span class="pagenum" id="Page_117">117</span> -emphases, grouped and amended as his triumphant -progress permitted him to check up on his observations.</p> - -<p>Athletics would of course head the list. Regarded as play—that -is, as they affect the spectator—college sports proffer a -series of thrilling Roman holidays extending from the first week -or so of term-time to the final base-ball game and crew race -of Commencement week the next June, and for some colleges -there may be transatlantic sequels in midsummer or later. It -is by no means all play for the spectator, whose loyalty to his -institution makes it his duty to watch the teams practise, follow -the histories of the gladiators who are at once his representatives -and his entertainers, and drill himself in songs and -yells at noisy mass meetings; to bet on his college according -to his purse and without any niggardly regard for his sober -judgment as to the event; then to deck himself in the colours, -march to the field, and watch the fray from the cheering section, -where his attention will be perpetually interrupted by the -orders and the abuse of a file of insatiable marionettes who -are there to dictate when he may and when he may not give -throat to his enthusiasm; and finally, if Providence please, to -be one of the snake-dancing celebrants of victory. If he have -the right physique or talent for one of the sports, he will find -himself conscripted by public opinion to enter upon the long -and arduous regimen that turns out the annual handful of -athletic heroes—to slave on freshman squads, class teams, -scrub and third and second teams, and finally perhaps, if he -has been faithful, to play a dull minute or two of a big game -that is already decided and so receive his coveted letter and -side-line privilege as a charity. Or at the dizziest pinnacle of -success, a “star,” to endure the unremitting discipline of summer -practice, incessant training, eating with his fellow-stars -at the training table, in season and out to be the butt of instruction -and exhortation from all the experts of the entourage. -As they affect the participant, then, college sports are to be -regarded as work that differs from the work of professional -sportsmen chiefly by being unremunerated.</p> - -<p>The student’s next most vivid concern is the organization of -the social life in the academic commonwealth of which he is a -citizen. Every American college has, or fancies it has, its<span class="pagenum" id="Page_118">118</span> -own tone, its ideal type of man; and good citizenship prescribes -conformity to the spirit of the place and observance of -the letter of its unwritten code. For the type is defined by a -body of obligations and taboos transmitted from generation to -generation, sometimes through the mouthpiece of the faculty, -sometimes by way of the college “Bible” (to use the slang -name for those handy manuals of what to do and what to avoid -which the college Y.M.C.A. issues for the guidance of newcomers), -but most often by a rough process of trial and error -which very speedily convinces the freshman that the Fence is -for seniors only, or that it is impracticable to smoke his pipe -in the Yard, or that it is much healthier to take the air in a -class cap than bareheaded. The cherished “traditions” of a -college are for the most part a composite of just such privileges -and prohibitions as these, clustering round the notion of the -type and symbolizing it; and, curiously, the younger the institution, -the more insistent it is likely to be about the sanctity -of its traditions—a college feels the need of a type in much -the same degree that a factory needs a trademark.</p> - -<p>Conformity thus becomes an article in loyalty. Sometimes -the mere conformity is the desiderate virtue, as used (at least) -to be the case in Yale. Sometimes the type will go in for -individualism, as at Harvard a decade ago, where the thing to -conform to was non-conformity. One tradition is probably -universal: is there anywhere in America a college which does -not boast that it is more “democratic” than others? Democracy -undergoes some engaging redefinition in support of these -conflicting claims, but at bottom it refers to an absence of -snobs, arrogant critics, incomprehensible intellectuals, bouncing -wits, uncomfortable pessimists—in short, the discouragement -of just such individual tastes and energies as the Martian -found discouraged in our social life at large. The money line -remains. Theoretically, the poor may compete in athletics -and in other student enterprises and reap the same social rewards -as the rich: practically, they may compete and go socially -unrewarded, precisely as in the outside world. It is -natural and seemly that this should be the case, for the poor -cannot afford the avenues of association which are the breath -of society to the rich. There have been football heroes whom<span class="pagenum" id="Page_119">119</span> -the well-to-do have put in the way of acquiring wealth after -they left college, but this is patronage, not democracy. There -are also colleges proud to be known as poor men’s colleges, and -for that very reason devoid of the democracy they boast. Not -long ago the president of Valparaiso had to resign, and it developed -that among the counts against him were the deadly -facts that he had attended the annual alumni dinner in dress -clothes and had countenanced “dances, athletics, fraternities, -and such.” No, all that we really mean by democracy in college -is the equal opportunity to invest one’s inoffensive charm -and perfectly good money in a transient society, to be neighbourly -across geographical and family lines, to cultivate the -local twist of the universal ideal—to be a “regular fellow.” -Which is very much what we mean by democracy outside. -Whatever the precise type of man a college exalts, its characteristic -virtues are those that reflect a uniform people—hearty -acceptance of unexamined ideals, loyal conformity to -traditional standards and taboos, unassuming modesty in -“playing the game,” and a wholesome optimism withal.</p> - -<p>But as for genuine democracy, the unrestricted interplay of -free spirits against a common background, what college can -boast that its social organization approaches even the measure -of equality enjoyed by its disinterested scholars? There was -a modicum of it in the free elective system that obtained in Dr. -Eliot’s Harvard. There was an indifference to seniority that -sorely puzzled the graduates of other colleges. Alas, freshman -dormitories descended upon it, treacherously carrying the -banners of “democracy”; and a “group system” of courses -began to externalize intellectual interests to which the elective -system, abused as it was, had offered every opportunity for -spontaneity. It may be that the Amherst of Dr. Meiklejohn’s -experiments, or the Smith that President Neilson envisages, will -recapture opportunities now fled from Cambridge. These -cases, after all, are exceptional. For the typical American -college, private or public, marshals its students in two caste -systems so universal and so familiar that it never occurs to us -to scrutinize the one and we are liable to criticize the other -only when its excesses betray its decadence.</p> - -<p>The former, the divisioning and tagging of every recruit with<span class="pagenum" id="Page_120">120</span> -the year of his graduation, looks to be an innocent convenience -until you have surveyed its regimental effect. Freshmen are -green; so we clap ridiculous caps on them, dub them “Frosh” -or “Fish,” haze them, confine them to a York Street of their -kind or impound them in freshman dormitories, where we bid -them save themselves, the which they do in their sophomore -year at the expense of the next crop of recruits. It is not so -much the occasional brutality of hazing parties and “rushes” -that should arrest us here, nor yet such infrequent accidents as -the probably insane despair of that Harvard freshman whose -phobia for eggs drove him to suicide to escape the inflexible -diet of his class commons, as it is the remorseless mob invasion -of personality and privacy which either leaves the impressionable -boy a victim of his ingrowing sensibility or else converts -him into a martinet who in his turn will cripple others. -In the case of the Cornell freshman who was ducked for stubbornly -refusing to wear the class cap and was saved from -more duckings by an acting president who advised him—“in -all friendliness,” said the newspapers!—to submit or to withdraw -from college for a year, it is not necessary to applaud -what may have been pig-headedness in the victim, or to flay -what may have been wisdom in the executive, in order to admire -the single professor who stood ready to resign in order to -rebuke his college for her bigotry. What was really significant -here, however, and what is everywhere characteristic of this -sort of benevolent assimilation, was the tone of the university -daily’s editorial apologia:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>“Complete liberty of action has never been recognized by any but -avowed anarchists; granted the validity of the law, there can be no -charge of intolerance in the enforcement of it.”</p> -</div> - -<p>The legal “validity” of an arbitrary tradition! No “intolerance” -in its enforcement by Judge Lynch! The editor of -the <cite>Cornell Sun</cite> went on to say that the existence of the “law” -in question is “no secret from the prospective Cornellian,” implying, -no doubt, that to offer oneself for matriculation at Cornell -is <i xml:lang="la" lang="la">ipso facto</i> to accept the whole body of Ithacan tradition -and taboos, along with their interpretation and enforcement<span class="pagenum" id="Page_121">121</span> -according to the momentary caprice of the majority, as a <i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">contrat -social</i>. Small wonder he called the refractory freshman -a “red.” The young editor’s reasoning should recommend his -early appointment to a place in the greater <i>Sun</i>.</p> - -<p>The caste system of academic seniority, like all caste systems, -is worst at its base. Such customs as the sequestering -of the upper classes in their private quads or ovals, the jealous -protection of senior privileges, and the calendrical elaboration -of the alumni programme serve to import a picturesque -if rather forced variety into our drab monotony. That men -should choose to organize themselves to protect some more or -less irrelevant distinction is of no special importance to outsiders -so long as they do not use their organization to dragoon -minorities or to bully individuals. Yet, speak out against -the exploitation, and you will be accused of attacking the fellowship. -Criticize the shackling of freshmen, and there will -not be wanting college editors to call you a fanatic who cannot -bear the jolly sight of cap and gown.</p> - -<p>The other system of caste, to which we give sharp attention -when it goes badly wrong, is of course the club hierarchy. -Wherever there are clubs their social capital will necessarily -fluctuate with the quality of the members they take in. The -reformers who deplore the institution of “rushing” have of -course exaggerated its evils, but the evils are there. In young -colleges, and wherever clubs are insecure, the candidates are -liable to be spoiled for any club purposes before their destination -is settled; wherever the candidates must do the courting, -either brazenly or subtly, they tend to debauch the club. The -dilemma holds, in one form or another, all the way from the -opposed “literary” societies of the back-woods college to the -most powerful chapters of the national fraternities; and it is -particularly acute where the clubhouse is also the student’s -residence. Any remedy thus far advanced by the reformers -is worse than the disease.</p> - -<p>In many of the older colleges the equilibrium has been -stabilized by a device similar to the gentlemen’s agreement in -industry. The important clubs have gradually adjusted themselves -into a series through which the clubman passes, or into -which he penetrates as far as his personality and money will<span class="pagenum" id="Page_122">122</span> -carry him. So the initial competition for untried material is -done away with or greatly simplified; one or two large freshman -or sophomore clubs take in all the likely candidates; the -junior clubs do most of their choosing from among this number; -and the senior clubs in turn draw on the junior. Meanwhile -the member turnover is perhaps trebled, and initiations -and other gay functions multiply.</p> - -<p>It is to be remembered, however, that not all the brethren -shift onward and upward year by year. Many have to content -themselves with clubs already won, and those who pass -on are a narrowing band, whose depleted ranks are by no -means restored in the eleventh hour recruiting of “elections -at large,” deathbed gestures of democracy after a career of -ballotting to exclude candidates who had not taken all the -earlier degrees. Thus increasing distinction is purchased -through the tried and true method of decreasing numbers. To -be sure, the same end could be served if all would remain in -one club and periodically drop groups of the least likely members. -Initiations might be reversed, and punches be given to -celebrate the lightening of the ship: it would be no more fantastic -than a good part of the existing ceremonial. But—it -would be undemocratic! And, too, the celebrations might be -fatally hilarious. The present pre-initiation discipline is one -that tests for regularity and bestows the accolade on the inconspicuous, -so that the initiates turn out pretty much of a piece -and the entertainment they provide is safely conventional. But -reverse the process, assemble in one squad all the hands suspected -of being exceptional—all the queer fish and odd sticks—and -there’s no predicting what capers they might cut as they -walked the plank.</p> - -<p>The real evil of the club caste is its taste for predictability, -its standardization of contacts, its faintly cynical sophistication -where life might be a riot of adventures and experiments -and self-discoveries—in one word, its respectability. Not that -it does not provide much good fellowship and a great deal of -fun (including the varieties that have distressed its moral -critics). But that everything it provides is so definitely provided -<em>for</em>, so institutionalized, and so protected from the enrichment -different types and conditions of men could bring<span class="pagenum" id="Page_123">123</span> -to it that it is exclusive in a more sinister sense than the one -intended by the critics of its alleged snobbery.</p> - -<p>Normally the club system is by no means so snobbish as -it is thought to be; it dislikes, and is apt to punish with the -black ball, the currying of social favour and the parade of -special privilege. For youth is youth, and in the last analysis -the enemy of caste. It is the glory of college life that the -most unexpected friendships will overleap the fences run by -class and club regimentation. It is its pity that the fences, -which yield so easily to irregular friendships once they have -discovered themselves, should nevertheless be stout enough to -herd their victims past so many unrecognized opportunities -for spontaneous association. The graduate who looks back -fondly on his halcyon days is very likely passing over the -Senior Picnic and his row of shingles to recall haze-hung October -afternoons of tobacco and lazy reminiscence on the window-seat -of somebody who got nowhere in class or club, or is -wistful for the midnight arguments he had with that grind who -lived in his entry freshman year—nights alive with darting -speculation and warm with generous combat. Of these clandestine -sweets he will say nothing; he is a regular fellow; but -he affords one of the proofs that the well-worn social channels -are not deep enough to carry off all the wine of free fellowship. -And that even the moderate caste of college, securely established -as it seems, must defend itself from youth (even from -its own youth!) is demonstrated by two phenomena not to be -explained satisfactorily on any other hypothesis. What is all -the solemn mummery, the preposterous ritual, the pompous -processions to and from temples of nightmare architecture, the -whole sacrosanct edifice of the secret fraternities, if it be not -an embroidery wherewith to disguise from present and future -devotees the naked matter-of-factness of the cult? And, on the -other hand, what are the too early maturity, the atmosphere -of politely blasé languor, the ubiquitous paraphernalia for -comfort and casual hospitality that characterize the non-secret -and citified clubs of the “indifferent” college but so many -disarming confessions of the predictability of everything—the -predictability, and the necessity for quiet acceptance? Under -all the encouraging variations and exceptions runs the regimental<span class="pagenum" id="Page_124">124</span> -command of our unanimity: if you are to belong, you -must conform; you must accept the limits of the conventional -world for the bounds of your reality; and then, according to -the caprice of your <i xml:lang="la" lang="la">genius loci</i>, you will play the game as if -everything, even the minutiæ of the ritual your club has inherited -from freer spirits, were of tremendous moment, or you -will play it no less thoroughly but with the air of one who -knows that nothing is of any moment at all. The clubs, that -have so often been criticized for their un-American treason -to democracy, are only too loyally American.</p> - -<p>The third emphasis would be corollary to these two—the -political management of athletic and class and club affairs. -The politics are those of personal popularity, the management -is that of administration rather than legislation, the spirit is -the American flair for petty regulation. Where issues are in -question the tone is almost certain to be propagandist, conservatives -and radicals dividing a field littered with hard names. -College life has accumulated an abundance of machinery for -the expression of the managing instinct, and most of it works. -Nowadays the lines of representation finally knot in a Student -Council, which is at once the Cabinet, the Senate, and the -Supreme Court of the undergraduate commonwealth. The -routine of its work is heavily sumptuary, and such matters as -the sizes and colours and seasons for hatband insignia, the -length of time students may take off to attend a distant game, -the marshalling of parades, are decided with taste and tact. -Then, abruptly, it is a tribunal for major cases, just if severe: -a class at Yale fails to observe the honour rule, and upon -the Council’s recommendation twenty-one students are expelled -or suspended; it was the Student Council at Valparaiso that -secured the president’s withdrawal; and at Cornell it was the -Student Council that came to the rescue of tradition when a -freshman refused to wear the freshman cap. Invariably, one -concludes, its edicts and verdicts will support righteousness, as -its constituents understand righteousness.</p> - -<p>The constituents themselves are ordinarily on the side of -light, as they see the light. Not so long ago the faculty of -a small New England college decided to dispense with compulsory -chapel: the students voted it back. Moral crusades<span class="pagenum" id="Page_125">125</span> -spring up like mushrooms and command the allegiance of all -but the recalcitrant “rough-necks,” whom student opinion is -sometimes tempted to feel are beating their way through an -education for which they make no equivalent return in public -spirit. A typical campaign of the sort was recently put in -motion by the student daily at Brown: the editors discovered -that “the modern age of girls and young men is intensely -immoral”; they penned sensational editorials that evoked -column-long echoes in the metropolitan press; they raised a -crusade against such abominations as petting parties, the toddle -(“Rome,” they wrote, “toddled before it fell”), and “parties -continued until after breakfast time”; almost immediately -they won a victory—the Mothers’ Club of Providence resolved -that dances for children must end by eleven o’clock....</p> - -<p>And now the undergraduate will emphasize study. But a -sharp line must be drawn between study that looks forward -merely to the A.B. degree as the end of schooling and the -beginning of business, and study that is a part of professional -training, that looks forward to some professional degree at -Commencement or to matriculation in a graduate school. Both -come under the head of preparation for life; but in the former -case the degree itself is the preparation, whereas in the latter -case it is recognized that one must master and retain at least -a working modicum of the subject-matter of the professional -courses and of the liberal courses preliminary to them.</p> - -<p>The arts man, then, recognizes only the same necessity he -has faced all the way up the school ladder—to pass. If he -have entrance conditions, they are mortgages that must be paid -off, perhaps in the Summer School; he must keep off probation -to protect his athletic or political or other activity status; beyond -this, he must garner enough courses and half-courses, -semester hours or points, to purchase the indispensable sheepskin. -Further effort is supererogatory so far as concerns study -<i xml:lang="la" lang="la">per se</i>: prizes and distinctions fall in the category of “student -activities,” hobbies, and belong of right to the “sharks”; -scholarships, which in America are for the poor only, have to -do with still another matter—earning one’s way through—and -are mostly reserved for the “paid marks men,” professional -studiers, grinds.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_126">126</span></p> - -<p>Upon his programme of courses the student will often expend -as much mental energy as would carry him through an ordinary -examination: he will pore over the catalogue, be zealous to -avoid nine o’clocks and afternoon hours liable to conflict with -games, make an elaborate survey of the comparative competence -of instructors, both as graders and as entertainers and -even (quaintly enough) as experts in their fields, and enquire -diligently after snap courses. Enrolled in a course, he will -speedily estimate the minimum effort that will produce a safe -pass, unless the subject happens to be one that commends itself -to his interest independently of academic necessity. In that -case he will exceed not only the moderate stint calculated to -earn a <em>C</em>, but sometimes even the instructor’s extravagant requirements. -There is, in fact, scarcely a student but has at -least one pet course in which he will “eat up” all the required -reading and more, take gratuitous notes, ask endless questions, -and perhaps make private sallies into research. The fact that -he holds most of this labour to be self-indulgence will not temper -his indignation if he fails to “pull” an <em>A</em> or <em>B</em>, though it -is a question whether, when the grade has sealed the course, -he will be much the wiser for it than for the others.</p> - -<p>On the evils of the course system there is probably no new -thing to be said. Such devices as the “group system” at Harvard -interfere with liberty of election without appreciably correcting -the graduate’s ignorance of the courses he has passed -and cashed in for his degree. Recognizing this fact, certain -faculties have latterly inaugurated general examinations in the -whole subject-matter studied under one department, as notably -in History, Government, and Economics; but thus far the general -examination affects professional preparation, as notably for -the Law School, much more than it affects the straight arts -career, where it provides just one more obstacle to “pass.”</p> - -<p>This business of passing is a seasonal nuisance. The early -weeks of term-time are an Arcady of fetching lectures, more or -less interesting assigned reading, and abundant “cuts.” Across -the smiling sky float minatory wisps of cloud—exercises, -quizzes, tests. Then up from the horizon blow the “hour -exams,” first breath of the academic weather that later on will -rock the earth with “mid-years” and “finals.” But to be<span class="pagenum" id="Page_127">127</span> -forewarned is, for the prudent student, to get armed, and -Heaven knows he is amply warned by instructor, registrar, and -dean. So he hies himself to the armourer, the tutor, one of the -brotherhood of experts who saw him through the entrance examinations; -he provides himself with bought or leased notebooks -and summaries; he crams through a few febrile nights -of cloistral deprivations and flagellations; and the sun shines -again on his harvest of gentlemen’s <em>C</em>’s, the proud though superfluous -<em>A</em> or <em>B</em>, and maybe a <em>D</em> that bespeaks better armour -against the next onset. Or, of course, he may have slipped -into “probation,” limbo that outrageously handicaps his athletic -or political ambitions. Only if he have been a hapless -probationer before the examinations is there any real risk of -his having to join the exceedingly small company of living -sacrifices whom a suddenly austere college now “rusticates.” -(For in America suspensions and expulsions are the penalties -rather of irregular conduct than of mental incompetence or -sloth.) In four years, after he has weathered a score of these -storms and concocted a few theses, the president hands him -a diploma to frame, he sells his other furniture, puts mothballs -in his cap and gown, and plunges into business to overtake -his non-college competitors.</p> - -<p>Student opinion recognizes that the man enrolled in professional -courses or headed for a graduate school faces more -stringent necessities. He may devote himself to his more specific -training without the imputation of being a “grind,” and -if he pursues honours it will be in the line of business rather -than of indoor sport. He will be charier of cuts, more painstaking -as regards his notes and reading, and the professional -manner will settle on him early. In every college commons you -can find a table where the talk is largely shop—hypothetical -cases, laboratory experiments, new inventions, devices for circumventing -the income tax. All this, however, is really a quantitative -difference, not a qualitative. Of disinterested intellectual -activity he is if anything more innocent than his fellow -in the arts school.</p> - -<p>So much for the four great necessities of average student life—in -order of acknowledged importance: athletics, social life, -politics, study. Deans and other official but theoretical folk<span class="pagenum" id="Page_128">128</span> -will tell our Martian that the business of college is study and -that all the undergraduate’s other functions are marginal matters; -but their own conduct will already have betrayed them -to him, for he will not have missed the fact that most of their -labour is devoted to making study as dignified and popular as -the students have made sports and clubs and elections. These -four majors hold their places at the head of the list of student -emphases because no representative undergraduate quite escapes -any of them; the next ones may be stressed more variously, -according rather to the student’s capricious private inclinations -than to his simpler group reactions.</p> - -<p>Now, for instance, he is free to “go in for” some of the -innumerable “student activities,” avocations as opposed to the -preceding vocations. There are the minor sports which are not -so established in popularity that they may conscript players—lacrosse, -association football, trap shooting, swimming, and so -on. There are the other intercollegiate competitions—chess -and debating and what not. The musical clubs, the dramatic -clubs, the magazines, and many semi-professional and semi-social -organizations offer in their degree more or less opportunity -to visit rival institutions. Then, too, there is in the -larger colleges a club for almost every religious cult, from -Catholic to Theosophist, whose devotees may crave a closer -warmth of communion than they realize in the chapel, which -is ordinarily non-sectarian; a club apiece for some of the great -fraternal orders; a similar club for each of the political parties, -to say nothing of a branch of the Intercollegiate Socialist -Society, with another organization forming to supply the colleges -with associated Liberal Clubs. Moreover, all the important -preparatory schools, private and public, are certain to be -represented by clubs of their alumni, some of which maintain -scholarships but all of which do yeoman service scouting for -athletes. Frequently there is a Cosmopolitan Club for foreign -students and travelled Americans. And, finally, there are -clubs to represent the various provinces of knowledge—the -classics, philosophy, mathematics, the various sciences, and so -on indefinitely. Then, in colleges in or near cities, there are -well-organized opportunities for students who care to make a -hobby of the Uplift and go in for social service. While, for<span class="pagenum" id="Page_129">129</span> -amateur and professional sharks and grinds, there is the honour -roll of prizes, scholarships, fellowships, distinctions, and other -academic honours. Verily a paradise for the joiner. Day by -day, the calendar of meetings and events printed in the university -paper resembles nothing so much as the bulletin board -of a metropolitan hotel which caters to conventions.</p> - -<p>If at first glance all this welter of endeavour looks to be anything -but evidence of uniformity, at second will appear its significant -principle. Every part of it is cemented together by a -universal institutionalizing of impulses and values. There is -scarcely a college activity which can serve for a hobby but -has its shingle and ribbon and certificated niche in the undergraduate -régime.</p> - -<p>Even the undergraduate’s extra-collegiate social life, which -would probably stand next on the Martian’s list, is thoroughly -regimented. Speaking broadly, it is incorrect to call on girls -at the nearest girls’ college; and, speaking still more broadly, -there is usually one correct college whereat it is socially incumbent -to pay devoirs. In coeducational institutions the sex -line is an exacting but astonishingly innocent consumer of time -and energy, of which the greater part is invested in the sheer -maintenance of convention. Along both these social avenues -the student practises a mimicry of what seems to him to be the -forms regnant in secular society and, intent on the forms, tends -to miss by a little what neighbourly ease really exists there, so -that he out-conventionalizes the conventional world. The non-college -American youth, of both sexes, would scarcely tolerate -the amount of formalism, chaperonage, and constraint that -our college youth voluntarily assumes.</p> - -<p>The word “fussing” is the perfect tag for the visiting, the -taking to games and dances, the cherishing at house-parties, -and the incessant letter-writing that are the approved communications -across the sex line. You make a fuss over a girl, -and there it ends; or you make a fuss over a girl and get -engaged, and there it ends; or—and this is frequent only in the -large Western universities where well-nigh all the personable -youths of the State’s society are in college together—you make -a fuss over a girl, you get engaged, and in due time you get -married. So far as fussing is concerned, sex is far more<span class="pagenum" id="Page_130">130</span> -decorous among collegians than among their non-collegiate fellows -of the same ages and social levels. There is a place, of -course, where it is indecorous enough; but that place is next -on the Martian’s list.</p> - -<p>Which now shifts its weakening emphasis to recreation. -You will have thought that most of the foregoing attached to -recreation and that all play and no work is the undergraduate -rule. You will have erred. Above this point almost everything -on the list is recognized by the student to be in some sort -an obligation, a serious concern, a plough on which he finds his -hand gently laid by custom but which he cannot decently relinquish -till he has gained the end of the furrow.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>“Nobody could be busier than the normal undergraduate. His -team, his paper, his club, show, or other activity, sometimes several -at once, occupy every spare moment which he can persuade the -office to let him take from the more formal part of college instruction.”</p> -</div> - -<p>The quotation is not from a baccalaureate sermon: it is from -the Harvard class oration of 1921.</p> - -<p>The prime relaxation is talk, infinite talk—within its local -range, full of tang, flicking with deft satire the rumps of -pompous asses, burlesquing the comic (that is, the abnormal) -in campus situations, making of gossip a staccato criticism—and -beyond that range, a rather desultory patter about professional -sport, shows, shallow books, the froth of fashion, all -treated lightly but taken with what a gravity! For the other -relaxations there are, according to taste, the theatre of girls -and music, the novel, bath-robed sessions at poker and bridge, -late afternoon tennis or golf or handball (very nearly the only -sports left to play for their own sake), and the bouts with -Bacchus and Venus which, though they attract fewer college -men than non-college men, are everywhere the moral holidays -that insure our over-driven Puritanism against collapse.</p> - -<p>A favourite subject for college debates and Freshman -themes argues the case for and against going to college. You -could listen to scores of such debates, read thousands of such -themes, without once meeting a clear brief for education as a -satisfaction of human curiosity. Everywhere below the level<span class="pagenum" id="Page_131">131</span> -of disinterested scholarship, education is regarded as access to -that body of common and practical information without which -one’s hands and tongue will be tied in the company of one’s -natural peers. “Institutions of learning,” as the National Security -League lately advised the Vice-President of the United -States, “are established primarily for the dissemination of -knowledge, which is acquaintance with fact and not with -theory.” Consequently the universal expectation of the educational -establishment has little to do with any wakening of -appropriate if differing personalities, and has everything to -do with a standard patina, varying only in its lustre, its brighter -or duller reflection of the established scene.</p> - -<p>Nevertheless, the essential Adam does break through and -quiz the scene. Though it come lowest in his scale of emphasis, -the typical underclassman knows the qualms and hungers -of curiosity, experiments a little with forbidden fruit, at some -time fraternizes with a man of richer if disreputable experience, -perhaps strikes up a wistful friendship with a sympathetic instructor. -Then the world of normal duties and rewards and -certainties closes round him, and security in it becomes his -first concern. Sometime he intends really to read, to think -long thoughts again, to go to the bottom of things. Meanwhile -he falls into the easy habit of applying such words as “radical” -or “highbrow” to those infrequent hardier spirits who -continue restless and unappeased. Later in life you will catch -him explaining that radicalism is a perfectly natural manifestation -of adolescence and the soundest foundation for mature -conservatism. Wise churchmen still talk that way about religious -doubt, and bide their time, and later refer to the “death -of doubt”—which has really been buried alive. The Martian -would conclude that the function of terrestrial education is to -bury curiosity alive.</p> - -<p>But could he now feel that this educational establishment, -this going machine of assimilation, is responsible for our -uniformity? Will not American school and college life now -seem too perfect a reflection of American adult life to be its -parent? Everything in that scale of college values, from -the vicarious excitements of football to what Santayana -has called the “deprivations of disbelief” has its exact analogue<span class="pagenum" id="Page_132">132</span> -in our life at large; and neither any college tradition nor -yet the “genteel tradition” is of so much significance as the -will to tradition that both reveal. The Martian will long since -have suspected himself guilty of a very human error, that of -getting the cart before the horse.</p> - -<p>For we have made our schools in our own image. They -are not our prisons, but our homes. Every now and again -we discipline a rash instructor who carries too far his private -taste for developing originality; we pass acts that require -teachers to sink their own differences in our unanimity; and -our fatuous faith in the public school system as the “cradle of -liberty” rests on the political control we exercise over it. Far -from being the dupes of education, we ourselves dupe the educated; -and that college men do not rebel is due to the fact -that inside a world our uniformity dominates as easily as it -dominates the school, the regimen works, college men really -do get ahead, and the “queer” really are frustrate.</p> - -<p>Then, what is the origin of our “desperate need to agree”? -There is a possible answer in our history, if only we can be -persuaded to give our history a little attention. When we became -a nation we were not a folk. We were, in fact, so far -from being alike that there were only our common grievances -and a few propositions on which we could be got together at -all, and the propositions were more like stubborn articles of -faith than like tested observations: “We hold these truths to -be self-evident, that all men are created equal ... certain -inalienable Rights ... Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness -... the consent of the governed ... are, and of -Right ought to be, Free and Independent States.” That is not -the tone of men who are partakers in a common tradition and -who share reasonable and familiar convictions. Thus under -the spur of our first national necessity we gave the first evidence -of our capacity to substitute an arbitrary and not too -exacting lowest common denominator to which men can subscribe, -for the natural and rigorous highest common multiple -that expresses their genuine community of interest. The device -succeeded because we succeeded, but it was the propositions -that got the credit. The device has continued to succeed -ever since for the same reason that tradition succeeds in<span class="pagenum" id="Page_133">133</span> -the modern college—nobody who has had any reason to challenge -the propositions has been able to get at us.</p> - -<p>Our proper job was to create a people, to get acquainted -with each other and develop a common background. But the -almost miraculous success of our lowest common denominator -stood in the way of our working out any highest common multiple. -Instead of developing a common background, we went -on assimilating subscribers to the Declaration, our arbitrary -tradition, “Americanism.” We have been so increasingly beset -by aliens who had to be assimilated that their Americanization -has prevented our own.</p> - -<p>We now believe our national job was the Conquest of the -West, as if scattering people over a continent were any substitute -for creating a People. But we have never been seriously -challenged. If our good luck should hold, the second -or third generation after us will believe our job was the subjugation -of a hemisphere, including the assimilation of genuine -peoples who have done us less harm even than the Indians -did. But, whatever our practice, we shall never admit that -our theory has altered. Still lacking any common background, -we shall still enclose ourselves against the void in the painted -scene of our tradition.</p> - -<p>But our luck may not hold. We may be challenged yet.</p> - -<p class="right"> -<span class="smcap">Clarence Britten</span> -</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div id="toclink_135" class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_135">135</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="THE_INTELLECTUAL_LIFE">THE INTELLECTUAL LIFE</h2> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="smcap1">When</span> Professor Einstein roused the ire of the women’s -clubs by stating that “women dominate the entire life -of America,” and that “there are cities with a million population, -but cities suffering from terrible poverty—the poverty -of intellectual things,” he was but repeating a criticism of our -life now old enough to be almost a <i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">cliché</i>. Hardly any intelligent -foreigner has failed to observe and comment upon the -extraordinary feminization of American social life, and oftenest -he has coupled this observation with a few biting remarks -concerning the intellectual anæmia or torpor that seems to -accompany it. Naturally this attitude is resented, and the -indiscreet visitor is told that he has been rendered astigmatic -by too limited observation. He is further informed that he -should travel in our country more extensively, see more people, -and live among us longer. The inference is that this -chastening process will in due time acquaint him with a beauty -and a thrilling intellectual vitality coyly hidden from the superficial -impressionist.</p> - -<p>Now the thesis of this paper is that the spontaneous judgment -of the perceptive foreigner is to a remarkable degree correct. -But it is a judgment which has to be modified in certain -respects rather sharply. Moreover, even long residence -in the United States is not likely to give a visitor as vivid a -sense of the historical background that has so largely contributed -to the present situation as is aroused in the native -American, who in his own family hears the folklore of the two -generations preceding him and to whom the pioneer tradition -is a reality more imaginatively plausible than, say, the emanations -of glory from English fields or the aura of ancient pomp -enwrapping an Italian castle. The foreigner is too likely to -forget that in a young country, precisely because it is young, -traditions have a social sanction unknown in an older country -where memory of the past goes so far back as to become<span class="pagenum" id="Page_136">136</span> -shadowy and unreal. It is a paradox of history that from -ancient cultures usually come those who “were born too soon,” -whereas from young and groping civilizations spring the panoplied -defenders of conventions. It is usually when a tradition -is fresh that it is respected most; it is only when it has been -followed for years sufficient to make it meaningless that it can -create its repudiators. America is a very young country—and -in no respect younger than that of all Western nations it has -the oldest form of established government; our naïve respect -for the fathers is surest proof that we are still in the cultural -awkward age. We have not sufficiently grown up but that -we must still cling to our father and mother. In a word, we -still <em>think</em> in pioneer terms, whatever the material and economic -facts of a day that has already outgrown their applicability.</p> - -<p>And it is the pioneer point of view, once thoroughly understood, -which will most satisfactorily explain the peculiar development -of the intellectual life in the United States. For -the life of the mind is no fine flower of impoverishment, and -if the beginnings of human reflection were the wayward reveries -of seamen in the long watches of the night or of a shepherd -lying on his back idly watching the summer clouds float -past, as surely have the considered intellectual achievements of -modern men been due to the commercial and industrial organization -which, whether or not conducive to the general happiness, -has at least made leisure possible for the few. But in -the pioneer community leisure cannot exist, even for the few; -the struggle is too merciless, the stake—life itself, possibly—too -high. The pioneer must almost of necessity hate the -thinker, even when he does not despise thought in itself, because -the thinker is a liability to a community that can afford -only assets; he is non-productive in himself and a dangerously -subversive example to others. Of course, the pioneer will -tolerate the minister, exactly as primitive tribes tolerated medicine -men—and largely for the same reasons. The minister, -if he cannot bring rain or ward off pestilence as the medicine -man at least pretended he could, can soften the hardness of -the human lot and can show the road to a future kingdom -that will amply compensate for the drudgery of the present<span class="pagenum" id="Page_137">137</span> -world. He has, in brief, considerable utilitarian value. The -thinker <i xml:lang="la" lang="la">per se</i>, however, has none; not only that, he is a reproach -and a challenge to the man who must labour by the -sweat of his brow—it is as if he said, “For what end, all this -turmoil and effort, merely to live? But do you know if life -is worth while on such terms?” Questions like these the -pioneer must cast far from him, and for the very good reason -that if they were tolerated, new communities might never become -settled. Scepticism is an expensive luxury possible only -to men in cities living off the fruit of others’ toil. Certainly -America, up to the end of the reconstruction period following -the Civil War, had little practical opportunity and less native -impulse for the cultivation of this tolerant attitude towards -ultimate values, an atmosphere which is a talisman that a true -intellectual life is flourishing.</p> - -<p>Consider the terrible hardness of the pioneer’s physical life. -I can think of no better description of it than in one of Sherwood -Anderson’s stories, “Godliness,” in his book, “Winesburg, -Ohio.” He is writing of the Bentley brothers just before -the Civil War: “They clung to old traditions and worked -like driven animals. They lived as practically all of the -farming people of the time lived. In the spring and through -most of the winter the highways leading into the town of -Winesburg were a sea of mud. The four young men of the -family worked hard all day in the fields, they ate heavily of -coarse, greasy food, and at night slept like tired beasts on beds -of straw. Into their lives came little that was not coarse and -brutal, and outwardly they were themselves coarse and brutal.” -Naturally, this intense concentration upon work is not the -whole of the picture; there was gaiety and often there was -romance in the early days of pioneering, it ran like a coloured -thread through all the story of our <i xml:lang="de" lang="de">Drang nach Westen</i>. But -on the whole the period from our confederation into a Union -until the expanding industrial era following the Civil War—roughly -the century from 1783 to 1883—was a period in which -the cardinal command was, “Be active, be bold, and above all, -work.” In that century we subdued and populated a continent. -There was no time for the distractions of art or the -amenities of literature.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_138">138</span></p> - -<p>To be sure, a short-range perspective seems to belie this last -generalization. The colonial times and the first part of the -19th century witnessed a valid and momentous literary and -intellectual efflorescence, and it was then we contributed many -names to the biography of greatness. Yet it was a culture -centred almost wholly in New England and wholly East of -the Alleghanies; it had its vitality because it was not self-conscious, -it was frankly derivative from England and Europe, -it made no pretensions to being intrinsically American. The -great current of our national life went irresistibly along, -ploughing, and tilling, and cutting down the trees and brush, -making roads and bridges as it filled the valleys and the plains. -That was the real America, a mighty river of life, compared -with which, for instance, Emerson and the Transcendentalists -seemed a mere backwater—not a stagnant or brackish one to -be sure, often a pool of quietude in which the stars, like Emerson’s -sentences, might be reflected. But the real America -was still in the heart of the pioneer. And in one sense, it -still is to-day.</p> - -<p>The “real America,” I say, because I mean the America of -mind and attitude, the inner truth, not the outer actuality. -That outer actuality has made the fact of the pioneer almost -grotesque. The frontier is closed; the nation is the most -prosperous among the harassed ones of the earth; there is no -need for the old perpetual preoccupation with material existence. -In spite of trade depressions and wars and their aftermaths, -we have conquered that problem. But we have not -conquered ourselves. We must still go on in the old terms, as -if the purpose of making money in order to make more money -were as important as the purpose of raising bread in order -to support life. The facts have changed, but we have not -changed, only deflected our interests. Where the pioneer -cleared a wilderness, the modern financier subdues a forest of -competitors. He puts the same amount of energy and essentially -the same quality of thought into his task to-day, although -the practical consequences can hardly be described as identical.</p> - -<p>And what have been those practical consequences? As the -industrial revolution expanded, coincidently with the filling up -of the country, the surplus began to grow. That surplus was<span class="pagenum" id="Page_139">139</span> -expended not towards the enrichment of our life—if one omit -the perfunctory bequests for education—but towards the most -obvious of unnecessary luxuries, the grandiose maintenance -of our women. The daughters of pioneer mothers found -themselves without a real job, often, indeed, the chief instrument -for advertising their husbands’ incomes. For years the -Victorian conception of women as ornaments dominated what -we were pleased to call our “better elements”—those years, -to put it brutally, which coincided with that early prosperity -that made the conception possible. If the leisure of the landed -gentry class of colonial times had been other than a direct -importation, if there had ever been a genuine <i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">salon</i> in our -cultural history, or if our early moneyed aristocracy had ever -felt itself really secure from the constant challenge of immigrant -newcomers, this surplus might have gone towards the -deepening and widening of what we could have felt to be an -indigenous tradition. Or if, indeed, the Cavalier traditions -of the South (the only offshoot of the Renaissance in America) -had not been drained of all vitality by the Civil War and its -economic and intellectual consequences, this surplus might -have enhanced the more gracious aspects of those traditions. -None of these possibilities existed; and when prosperity smiled -on us we were embarrassed. We were parvenus—even to this -day the comic series, “Bringing Up Father,” has a native -tang. We know exactly how Mr. Jiggs feels when Mrs. Jiggs -drags him away to a concert and makes him dress for a stiff, -formal dinner, when all his heart desires is to smoke his pipe -and play poker with Dinty and the boys. Indeed, this series, -which appears regularly in all the newspapers controlled by -Mr. Hearst, will repay the social historian all the attention he -gives it. It symbolises better than most of us appreciate the -normal relationship of American men and women to cultural -and intellectual values. Its very grotesqueness and vulgarity -are revealing.</p> - -<p>In no country as in the United States have the tragic consequences -of the lack of any common concept of the good life -been so strikingly exemplified, and in no country has the break -with those common concepts been so sharp. After all, when -other colonies have been founded, when other peoples have<span class="pagenum" id="Page_140">140</span> -roved from the homeland and settled in distant parts, they have -carried with them more than mere scraps of tradition. Oftenest -they have carried the most precious human asset of all, a -heritage of common feeling, which enabled them to cling to -the substance of the old forms even while they adapted them -to the new conditions of life. But with us the repudiation of -the old heritages was complete; we deliberately sought a new -way of life, for in the circumstances under which we came into -national being, breaking with the past was synonymous with -casting off oppression. The hopefulness, the eagerness, the -enthusiasm of that conscious attempt to adjudge all things -afresh found its classic expression in the eloquent if vague. -Declaration of Independence, not even the abstract phraseology -of which could hide the revolutionary fervour beneath. -Yet a few short years and that early high mood of adventure -had almost evaporated, and men were distracted from the -former vision by the prospect of limitless economic expansion, -both for the individual and the nation as a whole. The Declaration -symbolized only a short interlude in the pioneer spirit -which brought us here and then led us forth to conquer the -riches nature, with her fine contempt of human values, so -generously spread before us. The end of the revolutionary -mood came as soon as the signing of the Constitution by the -States, that admirable working compromise in government -which made no attempt to underscore democracy, as we understand -it to-day, but rather to hold it in proper check and -balance. Free, then, of any common heritage or tradition -which might question his values, free, also, of the troublesome -idealism of the older revolutionary mood, the ordinary man -could go forth into the wilderness with singleness of purpose. -He could be, as he still is to-day, the pioneer <i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">toujours</i>.</p> - -<p>Now when his success in his half-chosen rôle made it unnecessary -for him to play it, it was precisely the lack of a -common concept of the good life which made it impossible for -him to be anything else. It is not that Americans make money -because they love to do so, but because there is nothing else -to do; oddly enough, it is not even that the possessive instincts -are especially strong with us (I think the French, for instance, -are naturally more avaricious than we), but that we have no<span class="pagenum" id="Page_141">141</span> -notion of a definite type of life for which a small income is -enough, and no notion of any type of life from which work has -been consciously eliminated. Never in any national sense -having had leisure, as individuals we do not know what to do -with it when good fortune gives it to us. Unlike a real game, -we must go on playing <em>our</em> game even after we have won.</p> - -<p>But if the successful pioneer did not know what to do with -his own leisure, he had naïve faith in the capacity of his -women to know what to do with theirs. With the chivalric -sentimentality that often accompanies the prosperity of the -primitive, the pioneer determined that his good luck should -bestow upon his wife and sisters and mother and aunts a gift, -the possession of which slightly embarrassed himself. He -gave them leisure exactly as the typical business man of to-day -gives them a blank check signed with his name. It -disposed of them, kept them out of his world, and salved his -conscience—like a check to charity. Unluckily for him, his -mother, his wife, his sisters, and his aunts were of his own -blood and breeding; they were the daughters of pioneers like -himself, and the daughters of mothers who had contributed -share and share alike to those foundations which had made -his success possible. Although a few developed latent qualities -of parasitism, the majority were strangely discontented -(strangely, that is, from his point of view) with the job of -mere Victorian ornament. What more natural under the circumstances -than that the unimportant things of life—art, -music, religion, literature, the intellectual life—should be -handed over to them to keep them busy and contented, while -he confined himself to the real man’s job of making money -and getting on in the world? Was it not a happy and sensible -adaptation of function?</p> - -<p>Happy or not, it was exactly what took place. To an extent -almost incomprehensible to the peoples of older cultures, the -things of the mind and the spirit have been given over, in -America, into the almost exclusive custody of women. This -has been true certainly of art, certainly of music, certainly of -education. The spinster school-marm has settled in the -impressionable, adolescent minds of boys the conviction that -the cultural interests are largely an affair of the other sex;<span class="pagenum" id="Page_142">142</span> -the intellectual life can have no connection with native gaiety, -with sexual curiosity, with play, with creative dreaming, or -with adventure. These more genuine impulses, he is made to -feel, are not merely distinguishable from the intellectual life, -but actually at war with it. In my own day at Harvard the -Westerners in my class looked with considerable suspicion -upon those who specialized in literature, the classics, or philosophy—a -man’s education should be science, economics, engineering. -Only “sissies,” I was informed, took courses in -poetry out in that virile West. And to this day for a boy to -be taught to play the piano, for example, is regarded as -“queer,” whereas for a girl to be so taught is entirely in the -nature of things. That is, natural aptitude has nothing to -do with it; some interests are proper for women, others for -men. Of course there are exceptions enough to make even -the boldest hesitate at generalizations, yet assuredly the contempt, -as measured in the only terms we thoroughly understand, -money, with which male teachers, male professors (secretly), -male ministers, and male artists are universally held -should convince the most prejudiced that, speaking broadly, -this generalization is in substance correct.</p> - -<p>In fact, when we try to survey the currents of our entire -national life, to assess these vagrant winds of doctrine free -from the ingenuousness that our own academic experience or -training may give us, the more shall we perceive that the -dichotomy between the cultural and intellectual life of men -and women in this country has been carried farther than anywhere -else in the world. We need only recall the older -women’s clubs of the comic papers—in truth, the actual -women’s clubs of to-day as revealed by small-town newspaper -reports of their meetings—the now deliquescent Browning -Clubs, the Chautauquas, the church festivals, the rural normal -schools for teachers, the women’s magazines, the countless -national organizations for improving, elevating, uplifting this, -that, or the other. One shudders slightly and turns to the -impeccable style, the slightly tired and sensuous irony of -Anatole France (not yet censored, if we read him in French) -for relief. Or if we are so fortunate as to be “regular” -Americans instead of unhappy intellectuals educated beyond<span class="pagenum" id="Page_143">143</span> -our environment, we go gratefully back to our work at the -office. Beside the stilted artificiality of this world of higher -ethical values the business world, where men haggle, cheat, and -steal with whole-hearted devotion is at least real. And it is -this world, the world of making money, in which alone the -American man can feel thoroughly at home. If the French -romanticists of the 18th century invented the phrase <i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">la femme -mécomprise</i>, a modern Gallic visitor would be tempted to observe -that in this 20th century the United States was the -land of <i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">l’homme mécompris</i>.</p> - -<p>These, then, are the cruder historical forces that have led -directly to the present remarkable situation, a situation, of -course, which I attempt to depict only in its larger outlines. -For the surface of the contemporary social structure shows us -suffrage, the new insights into the world of industry which the -war gave so many women for the first time, the widening of -professional opportunity, co-education, and, in the life which -perhaps those of us who have contributed to this volume know -best, a genuine intellectual camaraderie. Nevertheless, I believe -the underlying thesis cannot be successfully challenged. -Where men and women in America to-day share their intellectual -life on terms of equality and perfect understanding, -closer examination reveals that the phenomenon is not -a sharing but a capitulation. The men have been feminized.</p> - -<p>Thus far through this essay I have by implication rather -than direct statement contrasted genuine interest in intellectual -things with the kind of intellectual life led by women. Let me -say now that no intention is less mine than to contribute to -the old controversy concerning the respective intellectual capacities -of the two sexes. If I use the adjective “masculine” -to denote a more valid type of intellectual impulse than is expressed -by the adjective “feminine,” it is not to belittle the -quality of the second impulse; it is a matter of definition. -Further, the relative degree of “masculine” and “feminine” -traits possessed by an individual are almost as much the result -of acquired training as of native inheritance. The young, independent -college girl of to-day is in fact more likely to possess -“masculine” intellectual habits than is the average<span class="pagenum" id="Page_144">144</span> -Y.M.C.A. director. I use the adjectives to express broad, -general characteristics as they are commonly understood.</p> - -<p>For a direct examination of the intellectual life of women—which, -I repeat, is practically the intellectual life of the -nation—in the United States shows the necessity of terms being -defined more sharply. Interest in intellectual things is -first, last, and all the time <em>disinterested</em>; it is the love of truth, -if not exclusively for its own sake, at least without fear of -consequences, in fact with precious little thought about consequences. -This does not mean that such exercise of the -native disposition to think, such slaking of the natural metaphysical -curiosity in all of us, is not a process enwrapped—as -truly as the disposition to make love or to get angry—with -an emotional aura of its own, a passion as distinctive as any -other. It merely means that the occasions which stimulate this -innate intellectual disposition are of a different sort than those -which stimulate our other dispositions. An imaginative picture -of one’s enlarged social self will arouse our instincts of -ambition or a desire to found a family, whereas curiosity or -wonder about the mystery of life, the meaning of death, the -ultimate nature of God (objects of desire as truly as other -objects) will arouse our intellectual disposition. These occasions, -objects, hypotheses are of necessity without moral significance. -The values inherent in them are the values of satisfied -contemplation and not of practical result. Their immediate -utility—although their ultimate, by the paradox that is -constantly making mere common sense inadequate, may be -very great—is only subjective. In this sense, they seem wayward -and masculine; and, cardinal sin of all, useless.</p> - -<p>Perhaps the meaning of the “feminine” approach to the -intellectual life may be made somewhat clearer by this preliminary -definition. The basic assumption of such an approach -is that ideas are measured for their value by terms -outside the ideas themselves, or, as Mrs. Mary Austin recently -said in a magazine article, by “her [woman’s] deep -sense of social applicability as the test of value.” Fundamentally, -in a word, the intellectual life is an instrument of moral -reform; the real test of ideas lies in their utilitarian success.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_145">145</span> -Hence it is hardly surprising that the intellectual life, as I -have defined it, of women in America turns out on examination -not to be an intellectual life at all, but sociological activity. -The best of modern women thinkers in the United States—and -there are many—are oftenest technical experts, keen to -apply knowledge and skill to the formulation of a technique -for the better solution of problems <em>the answers to which are -already assumed</em>. The question of fundamental ends is seldom -if ever raised: for example, the desirability of the modern -family, the desirability of children glowing with health, the -desirability of monogamy are not challenged. They are assumed -as ends desirable in themselves, and what women usually -understand by the intellectual life is the application of -modern scientific methods to a sort of enlarged and subtler -course in domestic science.</p> - -<p>This attitude of contempt for mere intellectual values has -of course been strengthened by the native pioneer suspicion -of all thought that does not issue immediately in successful -action. The remarkable growth of pragmatism, and its sturdy -offspring instrumentalism, where ideas become but the lowly -handmaidens of “getting on,” has been possible to the extent -to which we see it to-day precisely because the intellectual -atmosphere has been surcharged with this feminized utilitarianism. -We are deeply uncomfortable before introspection, -contemplation, or scrupulous adherence to logical sequence. -Women do not hesitate to call these activities cold, impersonal, -indirect—I believe they have a phrase for them, “the poobah -tradition of learning.” With us the concept of the intellect -as a soulless machine operating in a rather clammy void has -acquired the force of folklore because we have so much wished -to strip it of warmth and colour. We have wanted to discredit -it in itself; we have respected it only for what it could -do. If its operations lead to better sanitation, better milk -for babies, and larger bridges over which, in Matthew Arnold’s -phrase, we might cross more rapidly from one dismal, illiberal -city to another dismal, illiberal city, then those operations have -been justified. That the life of the mind might have an emotional -drive, a sting or vibrancy of its own, constituting as -valuable a contribution to human happiness as, say, the satisfied<span class="pagenum" id="Page_146">146</span> -marital felicity of the bacteria-less suburbanite in his -concrete villa has been incomprehensible. Every science must -be an <em>applied</em> science, the intellect must be <em>applied</em> intellect -before we thoroughly understand it. We have created an -environment in which the intellectual impulses must become -fundamentally social in quality and mood, whereas the truth -of the matter is that these impulses, like the religious impulse, -in their pristine spontaneity are basically individualistic and -capricious rather than disciplined.</p> - -<p>But such individualism in thought, unless mellowed by contact -with institutions that assume and cherish it and thus can, -without patronizing, correct its wildnesses, inevitably turns -into eccentricity. And such, unfortunately, has too often been -the history of American intellectuals. The institutional structure -that might sustain them and keep them on the main -track of the humanistic tradition has been too fragile and -too slight. The university and college life, the educational -institutions, even the discipline of scholarship, as other essays -in this volume show us, have been of very little assistance. -Even the church has provoked recalcitrance rather than any -real reorientation of religious viewpoint, and our atheists—recall -Ingersoll—have ordinarily been quite conventional in -their intellectual outlook. With educated Englishmen, for example, -whatever their religious, economic, or political views, -there has been a certain common tradition or point of departure -and understanding, i.e., the classics. Mr. Balfour can -speak the same language as Mr. Bertrand Russell, even when -he is a member of a government that puts Mr. Russell in gaol -for his political opposition to the late war. But it really is a -strain on the imagination to picture Mr. Denby quoting Hume -to refute Mr. Weeks, or Vice-President Coolidge engaging in -an epistemological controversy with Postmaster-General Hays. -There is no intellectual background common to President -Harding and Convict Debs or to any one person and possibly -as many as a hundred others—there are only common social -or geographical backgrounds, in which the absence of a real -community of interests is pathetically emphasized by grotesque -emphasis upon fraternal solidarity, as when Mr. Harding discovered -that he and his chauffeur belonged to the same lodge,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_147">147</span> -regarding this purely fortuitous fact as a symbol of the healing -power of the Fathers and of American Democracy!</p> - -<p>In such an atmosphere of shadowy spiritual relationships, -where the thinness of contact of mind with mind is childishly -disguised under the banner of good fellowship, it might be -expected that the intellectual life must be led not only with -that degree of individualistic isolation which is naturally necessary -for its existence, but likewise in a hostile and unintelligent -environment of almost enforced “difference” from the -general social type. Such an atmosphere will become as infested -with cranks, fanatics, mushroom religious enthusiasts, -moral prigs with new schemes of perfectability, inventors of -perpetual motion, illiterate novelists, and oratorical cretins, as -a swamp with mosquitoes. They seem to breed almost overnight; -we have no standard to which the wise and the foolish -may equally repair, no criterion by which spontaneously to -appraise them and thus, by robbing them of the breath of -their life, recognition, reduce their numbers. On the contrary, -we welcome them all with a kind of Jamesian gusto, as if -every fool, like every citizen, must have his right to vote. It -is a kind of intellectual enfranchisement that produces the -same sort of leadership which, in the political field of complete -suffrage, we suffer under from Washington and our various -State capitals. Our intellectual life, when we judge it -objectively on the side of vigour and diversity, too often seems -like a democracy of mountebanks.</p> - -<p>Yet when we turn from the more naïve and popular experiments -for finding expression for the baulked disposition to -think, the more sophisticated <i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">jeunesse dorée</i> of our cultural -life are equally crippled and sterile. They suffer not so much -from being thought and being “queer”—in fact, inwardly -deeply uncomfortable at not being successful business men, -they are scrupulously conventional in manner and appearance—but -from what Professor Santayana has called, with his -usual felicity, “the genteel tradition.” It is a blight that -falls on the just and the unjust; like George Bernard Shaw, -they are tolerant before the caprices of the mind, and intolerant -before the caprices of the body. They acquire their -disability from the essentially American (and essentially feminine)<span class="pagenum" id="Page_148">148</span> -timorousness before life itself; they seem to want to -confine, as do all good husbands and providers, adventure to -mental adventure and tragedy to an error in ratiocination. -They will discant generously about liberty of opinion—although, -strictly speaking, <em>opinion</em> is always free; all that is -restricted is the right to put it into words—yet seem singularly -silent concerning liberty of action. If this were a mere -temperamental defect, it would of course have no importance. -But it cuts much deeper. Thought, like mist, arises from -the earth, and to it must eventually return, if it is not to be -dissipated into the ether. The genteel tradition, which has -stolen from the intellectual life its own proper possessions, -gaiety and laughter, has left it sour and <i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">déraciné</i>. It has lost -its earthy roots, its sensuous fulness, its bodily <i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">mise-en-scène</i>. -One has the feeling, when one talks to our correct intellectuals, -that they are somehow brittle and might be cracked with a pun, -a low story, or an animal grotesquerie as an eggshell might be -cracked. Yet whatever else thought may be in itself, surely -we know that it has a biological history and an animal setting; -it can reach its own proper dignity and effectiveness -only when it functions in some kind of rational relationship -with the more clamorous instincts of the body. The adjustment -must be one of harmony and welcome; real thinkers do -not make this ascetic divorce between the passions and the -intellect, the emotions and the reason, which is the central -characteristic of the genteel tradition. Thought is nourished -by the soil it feeds on, and in America to-day that soil is -choked with the feckless weeds of correctness. Our sanitary -perfection, our material organization of goods, our muffling of -emotion, our deprecation of curiosity, our fear of idle adventure, -our horror of disease and death, our denial of suffering—what -kind of soil of life is that?</p> - -<p>Surely not an over-gracious or thrilling one; small wonder -that our intellectual plants wither in this carefully aseptic -sunlight.</p> - -<p>Nevertheless, though I was tempted to give the sub-title “A -Study in Sterility” to this essay, I do not believe that our -soil is wholly sterile. Beneath the surface barrenness stirs -a germinal energy that may yet push its way through the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_149">149</span> -weeds and the tin-cans of those who are afraid of life. If -the genteel tradition did not succumb to the broad challenge -of Whitman, his invitations have not been wholly rejected by -the second generation following him. The most hopeful thing -of intellectual promise in America to-day is the contempt of -the younger people for their elders; they are restless, uneasy, -disaffected. It is not a disciplined contempt; it is not yet -kindled by any real love of intellectual values—how could it -be? Yet it is a genuine and moving attempt to create a way -of life free from the bondage of an authority that has lost all -meaning, even to those who wield it. Some it drives in futile -and pathetic expatriotism from the country; others it makes -headstrong and reckless; many it forces underground, where, -much as in Russia before the revolution of 1905, the <em>intelligentsia</em> -meet their own kind and share the difficulties of their -common struggle against an environment that is out to destroy -them. But whatever its crudeness and headiness, it is a yeast -composed always of those who <em>will not</em> conform. The more -the pressure of standardization is applied to them the sharper -and keener—if often the wilder—becomes their rebellion -against it. Just now these non-conformists constitute a spiritual -fellowship which is disorganized and with few points of -contact. It may be ground out of existence, for history is -merciless and every humanistic interlude resembles a perilous -equipoise of barbaric forces. Only arrogance and self-complacency -give warrant for assuming that we may not be -facing a new kind of dark age. On the other hand, if the -more amiable and civilized of the generation now growing up -can somehow consolidate their scattered powers, what may -they not accomplish? For we have a vitality and nervous -alertness which, properly channelled and directed, might cut -through the rocks of stupidity with the precision and spaciousness -with which our mechanical inventions have seized on our -natural resources and turned them into material goods. Our -cup of life is full to the brim.</p> - -<p>I like to think that this cup will not all be poured upon -the sandy deltas of industrialism ... we have so much to -spare! Climb to the top of the Palisades and watch the great -city in the deepening dusk as light after light, and rows of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_150">150</span> -lights after rows, topped by towers of radiance at the end -of the island, shine through the shadows across the river. -Think, then, of the miles of rolling plains, fertile and dotted -with cities, stretching behind one to that other ocean which -washes a civilization that was old before we were born and -yet to-day gratefully accepts our pitiful doles to keep it from -starvation, of the millions of human aspirations and hopes -and youthful eagernesses contained in the great sprawling, uneasy -entity we call our country—must all the hidden beauty -and magic and laughter we know is ours be quenched because -we lack the courage to make it proud and defiant? Or walk -down the Avenue some late October morning when the sun -sparkles in a clear and electric air such as can be found nowhere -else in the world. The flashing beauty of form, the -rising step of confident animalism, the quick smile of fertile -minds—must all these things, too, be reduced to a drab uniformity -because we lack the courage to proclaim their sheer -physical loveliness? Has not the magic of America been hidden -under a fog of ugliness by those who never really loved -it, who never knew our natural gaiety and high spirits and -eagerness for knowledge? They have the upper hand now—but -who would dare to prophesy that they can keep it?</p> - -<p>Perhaps this is only a day-dream, but surely one can hope -that the America of our natural affections rather than the present -one of enforced dull standardization may some day snap -the shackles of those who to-day keep it a spiritual prison. -And as surely will it be the rebellious and disaffected who accomplish -the miracle, if it is ever accomplished. Because at -bottom their revolt, unlike the aggressions of the standardizers, -is founded not on hate of what they cannot understand, but -on love of what they wish all to share.</p> - -<p class="right"> -<span class="smcap">Harold E. Stearns</span> -</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div id="toclink_151" class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_151">151</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="SCIENCE">SCIENCE</h2> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="smcap1">The</span> scientific work of our countrymen has probably -evoked less scepticism on the part of foreign judges than -their achievements in other departments of cultural activity. -There is one obvious reason for this difference. When our -letters, our art, our music are criticized with disdainfully faint -commendation, it is because they have failed to attain the -higher reaches of creative effort. Supreme accomplishment in -art certainly presupposes a graduated series of lesser strivings, -yet from what might be called the consumer’s angle, mediocrity -is worthless and incapable of giving inspiration to genius. But -in science it is otherwise. Here every bit of sound work—however -commonplace—counts as a contribution to the stock -of knowledge; and, what is more, on labours of this lesser order -the superior mind is frequently dependent for its own -syntheses. A combination of intelligence, technical efficiency, -and application may not by itself suffice to read the riddles -of the universe; but, to change the metaphor, it may well provide -the foundation for the epoch-makers’ structure. So while -it is derogatory to American literature to be considered a mere -reflection of English letters, it is no reflection on American -scientists that they have gone to Europe to acquire that craftsmanship -which is an indispensable prerequisite to fruitful -research. And when we find Alexander von Humboldt praising -in conversation with Silliman the geographical results of Maury -and Frémont, there is no reason to suspect him of perfunctory -politeness to a transatlantic visitor; the veteran scholar might -well rejoice in the ever widening application of methods he -had himself aided in perfecting.</p> - -<p>Thus even seventy years ago and more the United States had -by honest, painstaking labour made worthwhile additions to -human knowledge and these contributions have naturally multiplied -a hundredfold with the lapse of years. Yet it would be<span class="pagenum" id="Page_152">152</span> -quite misleading to make it appear as if the total represented -merely a vast accumulation of uninspired routine jobs. Some -years ago, to be sure, an American writer rather sensationally -voiced his discontent with the paucity of celebrated <em>savants</em> -among our countrymen. But he forgot that in science fame -is a very inadequate index of merit. The precise contribution -made by one man’s individual ability is one of the most tantalizingly -difficult things to determine—so much so that scholars -are still debating in what measure Galileo’s predecessors -paved the way for his discoveries in dynamics. For a layman, -then, to appraise the relative significance of this or that intellectual -worthy on the basis of current gossip is rather absurd. -Certainly the lack of a popular reputation is a poor reason -for denying greatness to a contemporary or even near-contemporary -scientific thinker. Two remarkable instances at once -come to mind of Americans who have won the highest distinction -abroad yet remain unknown by name to many of their -most cultivated compatriots. Who has ever heard of Willard -Gibbs? Yet he was the recipient of the Copley medal, British -learning’s highest honour, and his phase rule is said to mark an -epoch in the progress of physical chemistry. Again, prior to -the Nobel prize award, who outside academic bowers had ever -heard of the crucial experiment by which a Chicago physicist -showed, to quote Poincaré, “that the physical procedures are -powerless to put in evidence absolute motion”? Michelson’s -name is linked with all the recent speculations on relativity, -and he shares with Einstein the fate of finding himself famous -one fine morning through the force of purely external circumstances.</p> - -<p>In even the briefest and most random enumeration of towering -native sons it is impossible to ignore the name of William -James. Here for once the suffrage of town and gown, of domestic -and alien judges, is unanimous. Naturally James can -never mean quite the same to the European world that he -means to us, because in the United States he is far more than a -great psychologist, philosopher, or literary man. Owing to our -peculiar spiritual history, he occupies in our milieu an altogether -unique position. His is the solitary example of an -American pre-eminent in a branch of science who at the same<span class="pagenum" id="Page_153">153</span> -time succeeded in deeply affecting the cultural life of a whole -generation. Further, he is probably the only one of our genuinely -original men to be thoroughly saturated with the essense -of old world civilization. On the other side of the Atlantic, -of course, neither of these characteristics would confer -a patent of distinction. Foreign judgment of James’s psychological -achievement was consequently not coloured by external -considerations, and it is all the more remarkable that -the “Principles of Psychology” was so widely and by -such competent critics acclaimed as a synthesis of the first -order.</p> - -<p>Without attempting to exhaust the roster of great names, I -must mention Simon Newcomb and his fellow-astronomer, -George W. Hill, both Copley medallists. Newcomb, in particular, -stood out as the foremost representative of his science -in this country, honoured here and abroad alike for his abstruse -original researches into the motion of the moon and -the planetary system and for his effective popularization. -Henry Augustus Rowland, the physicist, was another of our -outstanding men—one, incidentally, whose measure was taken -in Europe long before his greatness dawned upon his colleagues -at home. He is celebrated, among other things, for -perfecting an instrument of precision and for a new and more -accurate determination of the mechanical equivalent of heat. -Among geologists Grove Karl Gilbert, famous for his exploration -of Lake Bonneville—the major forerunner of Great Salt -Lake—and his investigations of mountain structure, stands -forth as one of our pre-eminent savants. Even those who, like -the present writer, enjoyed merely casual contact with that -grand old man could not fail to gain the impression that now -they knew what a great scientist looked like in the flesh and to -feel that such a one would be a fit member of any intellectual -galaxy anywhere.</p> - -<p>If from single individuals we turn to consider currents of -scientific thought, the United States again stands the trial with -flying colours. It can hardly be denied that in a number -of branches our countrymen are marching in the vanguard. -“Experimental biology,” said a German zoologist some time -before the War, “is pre-eminently an American science.”<span class="pagenum" id="Page_154">154</span> -Certainly one need merely glance at German or British manuals -to learn how deeply interpretations of basic evolutionary -phenomena have been affected by the work of Professor T. -H. Morgan and his followers. In psychology it is true that no -one wears the mantle of William James, but there is effective -advancement along a number of distinct lines. Thorndike’s -tests marked an era in the annals of animal psychology, supplanting -with a saner technique the slovenly work of earlier -investigators. Experimental investigation of mental phenomena -generally, of individual variability and behaviour in particular, -flourishes in a number of academic centres. In anthropology -the writings of Lewis H. Morgan have proved a -tremendous stimulus to sociological speculation the world over -and still retain their hold on many European thinkers. They -were not, in my opinion, the product of a great intellect and -the scheme of evolution traced by Morgan is doomed to abandonment. -Yet his theories have suggested a vast amount of -thought and to his lasting credit it must be said that he opened -up an entirely new and fruitful field of recondite research -through his painstaking accumulation and discussion of primitive -kinship terminologies.</p> - -<p>More recently the anthropological school headed by Professor -Boas has led to a transvaluation of theoretical values in -the study of cultural development, supplanting with a sounder -historical insight the cruder evolutionary speculation of the -past. Above all, its founder has succeeded in perfecting the -methodology of every division of the vast subject, and remains -probably the only anthropologist in the world who has both -directly and indirectly furthered ethnological, linguistic, somatological -and archæological investigation. Finally, the active -part played by pathologists like Dr. Simon Flexner in the experimental -study of disease is too well known to require more -than brief mention.</p> - -<p>Either in its individual or collective results, American research -is thus very far from being a negligible factor in the -scientific life of the world. Nevertheless, the medal has a reverse -side, and he would be a bold optimist who should sincerely -voice complete contentment either with the status of -science in the cultural polity of the nation or with the work<span class="pagenum" id="Page_155">155</span> -achieved by the average American investigator. Let us, then, -try to face the less flattering facts in the case.</p> - -<p>The fundamental difficulty can be briefly summarized by -applying the sociologist’s concept of maladjustment. American -science, notwithstanding its notable achievements, is not an organic -product of our soil; it is an epiphenomenon, a hothouse -growth. It is still the prerogative of a caste, not a treasure in -which the nation glories. We have at best only a nascent class -of cultivated laymen who relish scientific books requiring concentrated -thought or supplying large bodies of fact. This is -shown most clearly by the rarity of articles of this type even -in our serious magazines. Our physicians, lawyers, clergymen -and journalists—in short, our educated classes—do not -encourage the publication of reading-matter which is issued in -Europe as a profitable business venture. It is hard to conceive -of a book like Mach’s “Analyse der Empfindungen” -running through eight editions in the United States. Conversely, -it is not strange that hardly any of our first-rate men -find it an alluring task to seek an understanding with a larger -audience. Newcomb and James are of course remarkable exceptions, -but they <em>are</em> exceptions. Here again the contrast -with European conditions is glaring. Not to mention the -classic popularizers of the past, England, e.g., can boast even -to-day of such men as Pearson, Soddy, Joly, Hinks—all of -them competent or even distinguished in their professional -work yet at the same time skilful interpreters of their field to -a wider public. But for a healthy cultural life a rapport of -this sort between creator and appreciator is an indispensable -prerequisite, and it is not a whit less important in science than -in music or poetry.</p> - -<p>The estrangement of science from its social environment has -produced anomalies almost inconceivable in the riper civilizations -of the Old World. Either the scientist loses contact with -his surroundings or in the struggle for survival he adapts himself -by a surrender of his individuality, that is, by more or less -disingenuously parading as a lowbrow and representing himself -as a dispenser of worldly goods. It is quite true that, historically, -empirical knowledge linked with practical needs is -earlier than rational science; it is also true that applied and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_156">156</span> -pure science can be and have been mutual benefactors. This -lesson is an important one and in a country with a scholastic -tradition like Germany it was one that men like Mach and Ostwald -did well to emphasize. But in an age and country where -philosophers pique themselves on ignoring philosophical problems -and psychologists have become experts in advertising technique, -the emphasis ought surely to be in quite the opposite -direction, and that, even if one inclines in general to a utilitarian -point of view. For nothing is more certain than that a -penny-wise Gradgrind policy is a pound-foolish one. A friend -teaching in one of our engineering colleges tells me that owing -to the “practical” training received there the graduates are -indeed able to apply formulæ by rote but flounder helplessly -when confronted by a new situation, which drives them to seek -counsel with the despised and underpaid “theoretical” professor. -The plea for pure science offered by Rowland in 1883 -is not yet altogether antiquated in 1921: “To have the applications -of a science, the science itself must exist ... we have -taken the science of the Old World, and applied it to all our -uses, accepting it like the rain of heaven, without asking whence -it came, or even acknowledging the debt of gratitude we owe -to the great and unselfish workers who have given it to us.... -To a civilized nation of the present day, the applications of -science are a necessity, and our country has hitherto succeeded -in this line, only for the reason that there are certain countries -in the world where pure science has been and is cultivated, and -where the study of nature is considered a noble pursuit.”</p> - -<p>The Bœotian disdain for research as a desirable pursuit is -naturally reflected in the mediocre encouragement doled out -to investigators, who are obliged to do their work by hook or -by crook and to raise funds by the undignified cajolery of -wealthy patrons and a disingenuous <i xml:lang="la" lang="la">argumentum ad hominem</i>. -Heaven forbid that money be appropriated to attack a problem -which, in the opinion of the best experts, calls for solution; -effort must rather be diverted to please an ignorant benefactor -bent on establishing a pet theory or fired with the zeal to -astound the world by a sensational discovery.</p> - -<p>Another aspect of scientific life in the United States that -reflects the general cultural conditions is the stress placed on<span class="pagenum" id="Page_157">157</span> -organization and administration as opposed to individual effort. -It is quite true that for the prosecution of elaborate investigations -careful allotment of individual tasks contributory -to the general end is important and sometimes even indispensable. -But some of the greatest work in the history of science -has been achieved without regard for the principles of business -efficiency; and whatever advantage may accrue in the future -from administrative devices is negligible in comparison with -the creative thought of scientific men. These, and only these, -can lend value to the machinery of organization, which independently -of them must remain a soulless instrument. The -overweighting of efficiency schemes as compared to creative -personalities is only a symptom of a general maladjustment. -Intimately related with this feature is that cynical flouting of -intellectual values that appears in the customary attitude of -trustees and university presidents towards those who shed -lustre on our academic life. The professional pre-eminence -of a scientist may be admitted by the administrative officials -but it is regarded as irrelevant since the standard of values accepted -by them is only remotely, if at all, connected with originality -or learning.</p> - -<p>There are, of course, scientists to whom deference is paid -even by trustees, nay, by the wives of trustees; but it will be -usually found that they are men of independent means or social -prestige. It is, in other words, their wealth and position, not -their creative work, that raises them above their fellows. One -of the most lamentable results of this contempt for higher -values is the failure to provide for ample leisure that might be -devoted to research. The majority of our scientists, like those -abroad, gain a livelihood by teaching, but few foreign observers -fail to be shocked by the way the energies of their -American colleagues are frittered away on administrative -routine and elementary instruction till neither time nor strength -remains for the advancement of knowledge. But even this does -not tell the whole story, for we must remember that the -younger scientists are as a rule miserably underpaid and are -obliged to eke out a living by popular writing or lecturing, so -that research becomes a sheer impossibility. If Ostwald and -Cattell are right in associating the highest productivity with<span class="pagenum" id="Page_158">158</span> -the earlier years of maturity, the tragic effects of such conditions -as I have just described are manifest.</p> - -<p>In justice, however, mention must be made of a number of -institutions permitting scientific work without imposing any -obligation to teach or onerous administrative duties. The U. -S. Geological Survey, the Carnegie Institution, the Rockefeller -Institute may serve as examples. We must likewise remember -that different individuals react quite differently to the necessity -for teaching. Some of the most noted investigators—Rowland, -for instance—find a moderate amount of lecturing positively -stimulating. In a utopian republic of learning such individual -variations would be carefully considered in the allotment -of tasks. The association of the Lick Observatory with -the University of California seems to approximate to ideal conditions, -inasmuch as its highly trained astronomers are relieved -of all academic duties but enjoy the privilege of lecturing to -the students when the spirit moves them.</p> - -<p>To return to the main question, the maladjustment between -the specific scientific phase of our civilization and the general -cultural life produces certain effects even more serious than -those due to penury, administrative tyranny, and popular indifference, -for they are less potent and do not so readily evoke -defence-mechanisms on the victims’ part. There is, first of -all, a curtailment of potential scientific achievement through -the general deficiencies of the cultural environment.</p> - -<p>Much has been said by both propagandists and detractors -of German scholarship about the effects of intensive specialization. -But an important feature commonly ignored in this connection -is that in the country of its origin specialization is a -concomitant and successor of a liberal education. Whatever -strictures may be levelled at the traditional form of this preparatory -training—and I have seen it criticized as severely by -German writers as by any—the fact remains that the German -university student has a broad cultural background such as his -American counterpart too frequently lacks; and what is true -of Germany holds with minor qualifications for other European -countries.</p> - -<p>A trivial example will serve to illustrate the possible advantages -of a cultural foundation for very specialized research.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_159">159</span> -Music is notoriously one of the salient features of German -culture, not merely because Germany has produced great composers -but because of the wide appreciation and quite general -study of music. Artistically the knowledge of the piano or -violin acquired by the average child in the typical German -home may count for naught, yet in at least two branches of -inquiry it may assume importance. The psychological aspect -of acoustics is likely to attract and to be fruitfully cultivated -by those conversant with musical technique, and they alone -will be capable of grappling with the comparative problems -presented by the study of primitive music—problems that -would never occur to the average Anglo-Saxon field ethnologist, -yet to which the German would apply his knowledge as spontaneously -as he applies the multiplication table to a practical -matter of everyday purchase.</p> - -<p>As a matter of fact, all the phenomena of the universe are -interrelated and, accordingly, the most important advances may -be expected from a revelation of the less patent connections. -For this purpose a diversity of interests with corresponding -variety of information may be not only a favourable condition -but a prerequisite. Helmholtz may have made an indifferent -physician; but because he combined a medical practitioner’s -knowledge with that of a physicist he was enabled to devise the -ophthalmoscope. So it may be that not one out of ten thousand -men who might apply themselves to higher mathematics -would ever be able to advance mathematical theory, but it is -certainly true that the manipulatory skill acquired would stand -them in good stead not only in the exact sciences but in biology, -psychology, and anthropometry, in all of which the theory of -probability can be effectively applied to the phenomenon of -variability.</p> - -<p>I do not mean to assert that the average European student -is an Admirable Crichton utilizing with multidexterity the most -diverse methods of research and groups of fact. But I am -convinced that many European workers produce more valuable -work than equally able Americans for the sole reason that -the European’s social heritage provides him with agencies -ready-made for detecting correlations that must inevitably -elude a vision narrower because deprived of the same artificial<span class="pagenum" id="Page_160">160</span> -aid. The remedy lies in enriching the cultural atmosphere and -in insisting on a broad educational training over and above -that devoted to the specialist’s craftsmanship.</p> - -<p>Important, however, as variety of information and interests -doubtless are, one factor must take precedence in the scientist’s -equipment—the spirit in which he approaches his scientific -work as a whole. In this respect the point that would probably -strike most European or, at all events, Continental scientists -is the rarity in America of philosophical inquiries into -the foundations of one’s scientific position. The contrast with -German culture is of course sharp, and in many Teutonic -works the national bent for epistemological discussion is undoubtedly -carried to a point where it ceases to be palatable to -those not to the manner born. Yet this tendency has a salutary -effect in stimulating that contempt for mere authority -which is indispensable for scientific progress. What our average -American student should acquire above all is a stout faith -in the virtues of <em>reasoned nonconformism</em>, and in this phrase -adjective and noun are equally significant. On one hand, we -must condemn the blind deference with which too many of -our investigators accept the judgments of acknowledged greatness. -What can be more ridiculous, e.g., than to make dogmas -of the <i xml:lang="la" lang="la">obiter dicta</i> of a man like William James, the chief -lesson of whose life is a resentment of academic traditionalism? -Or, what shall we think of a celebrated biologist who decides -the problem of Lamarckianism by a careful weighing not of -arguments but of authorities? No one can approve of the -grim ferocity, reminiscent of the literary feuds of Alexander -Pope, with which German savants sometimes debate problems -of theoretic interest. Yet even such billingsgate as Dührring -levelled at Helmholtz is preferable to obsequious discipleship. -It testifies, at all events, to the glorious belief that in the -republic of learning fame and position count for naught, that -the most illustrious scientist shall not be free from the criticism -of the meanest <i xml:lang="de" lang="de">Privatdozent</i>, But the nonconformism should -be rational. It is infantile to cling to leading-strings but it is -no less childish to thrust out one’s tongue at doctrines that -happen to disagree with those of one’s own clique. Indeed, -frequently both forms of puerility are combined: it is easy to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_161">161</span> -sneer with James at Wundt or to assault the selectionists under -cover of De Vries’s mutationism. A mature thinker will forego -the short and easy but misleading road. Following Fechner, -he will be cautious in his belief but equally cautious in his disbelief.</p> - -<p>It is only such spiritual freedom that makes the insistence -on academic freedom a matter worth fighting for. After all, -what is the use of a man’s teaching what he pleases, if he quite -sincerely retails the current folk-lore? In one of the most remarkable -chapters of the “Mechanik” Ernst Mach points out -that the detriment to natural philosophy due to the political -power of the Church is easily exaggerated. Science was retarded -primarily not because scientists were driven by outward -compulsion to spread such and such views but because they uncritically -swallowed the cud of folk-belief. <i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">Voilà l’ennemi!</i> -In the insidious influence of group opinions, whether countenanced -by Church, State or a scientific hierarchy, lies the basic -peril. The philosophic habit of unremitting criticism of one’s -basic assumptions is naturally repugnant to a young and naïve -culture, and it cannot be expected to spring up spontaneously -and flower luxuriantly in science while other departments of -life fail to yield it nurture. Every phase of our civilization -must be saturated with that spirit of positive scepticism which -Goethe and Huxley taught before science can reap a full harvest -in her own field. But her votaries, looking back upon -the history of science, may well be emboldened to lead in the -battle, and if the pioneers in the movement should fail they -may well console themselves with Milton’s hero: “... and -that strife was not inglorious, though the event was dire!”</p> - -<p class="right"> -<span class="smcap">Robert H. Lowie</span> -</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div id="toclink_163" class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_163">163</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="PHILOSOPHY">PHILOSOPHY</h2> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="smcap1">Philosophy</span> is at once a product of civilization and a -stimulus to its development. It is the solvent in which -the inarticulate and conflicting aspirations of a people become -clarified and from which they derive directing force. Since, -however, philosophers are likely to clothe their thoughts in -highly technical language, there is need of a class of middle-men-interpreters -through whom philosophy penetrates the -masses. By American tradition, the philosophers have been -professors; the interpreters, clergymen. Professors are likely -to be deflected by the ideas embodied in the institutions with -which they associate themselves. The American college, in its -foundations, was designated a protector of orthodoxy and still -echoes what Santayana has so aptly called the “genteel tradition,” -the tradition that the teacher must defend the faith. -Some of the most liberal New England colleges even now demand -attendance at daily chapel and Sunday church. Less -than a quarter of a century ago, one could still find, among -major non-sectarian institutions, the clergyman-president, himself -a teacher, crowning the curriculum with a senior requirement, -Christian Evidences, in support of the Faith.</p> - -<p>The nineteenth century organized a vigorous war against this -genteel tradition. Not only were the attacks of rationalism -on dogma reinforced by the ever-mounting tide of scientific -discovery within our institutions of learning, but also the news -of these scientific discoveries began to stir the imagination of -the public, and to carry the conflict of science and theology -beyond the control of the church-college. The greatest leaven -was Darwin’s “Origin of Species,” of which two American -editions were announced as early as 1860, one year after its -publication in England. The dogma of science came publicly -to confront the dogma of theology. Howsoever conservative -the college, it had to yield to the new intellectual temper and -the capitulation was facilitated by the army of young professors<span class="pagenum" id="Page_164">164</span> -whom cheapened transportation and the rumour of -great achievements led to the universities of Germany.</p> - -<p>From the point of view of popular interest, the immediate -effects of these pilgrimages were not wholly advantageous to -philosophy. In losing something of their American provincialism, -these pilgrims also lost their hold on American interests. -The problems that they brought back were rooted in a -foreign soil and tradition. To students they appeared artificial -and barren displays of technical skill. Thus an academic -philosophy of professordom arose, the more lonely through the -loss of the ecclesiastical mediators of the earlier tradition. -But here and there American vitality showed through its foreign -clothes and gradually an assimilation took place, the more -easily, perhaps, since German idealism naturally sustains the -genteel tradition and thrives amid the modes of thought that -Emerson had developed independently and for which his literary -gifts had obtained a following.</p> - -<p>Wherever New England has constituted the skeletal muscles -of philosophic culture, its temper has remained unchanged. -Calvinism was brought to America because it suited this temper, -and the history of idealism in America is the history of -its preservation by adaptation to a changing environment of -ideas. Its marks are a sense of the presence of the Divine in -experience and a no less strong sense of inevitable evil. Jonathan -Edwards writes, “When we behold the light and brightness -of the sun, the golden edges of an evening cloud, or the -beauteous bow, we behold the adumbrations of His glory and -goodness; and in the blue sky, of his mildness and gentleness. -There are also many things wherein we may behold His awful -majesty: in the sun in his strength, in comets, in thunder, -with the lowering thunder-clouds, in ragged rocks and the -brows of mountains.” Emerson’s version is: “Nature is always -consistent, though she feigns to contravene her own -laws.... She arms and equips an animal to find it place -and living in the earth, and at the same time she arms and -equips another animal to destroy it. Space exists to divide -creatures; but by clothing the sides of a bird with a few -feathers she gives him a petty omnipresence.... Nature is -the incarnation of a thought, and turns to a thought again, as<span class="pagenum" id="Page_165">165</span> -ice becomes water and gas. Every moment instructs and -every object; for wisdom is infused into every form.” And -Royce’s: “When they told us in childhood that we could not -see God just <em>because</em> he was everywhere, just because his -omnipresence gave us no chance to discern him and to fix our -eyes upon him, they told us a deep truth in allegorical fashion.... -The Self is so little a thing merely guessed at as the -unknown source of experience, that already, in the very least -of daily experiences, you unconsciously know him as something -present.”</p> - -<p>In its darker aspect this temper gives us Edwards’s “Sinners -in the Hands of an Angry God,” whose choices we may -not fathom. But Emerson is not far behind: “Great men, -great nations, have not been boasters and buffoons, but perceivers -of the terror of life, and have manned themselves to -face it.... At Lisbon, an earthquake killed men like flies. -At Naples, three years ago, ten thousand persons were crushed -in a few minutes. Etc.... Providence has a wild, rough, -incalculable road to its end, and it is of no use to try to whitewash -its huge, mixed instrumentalities, or to dress up that terrific -benefactor in the clean shirt and white neckcloth of a student -of divinity.” For Royce, “the worst tragedy of the -world is the tragedy of the brute chance to which everything -spiritual seems to be subject amongst us—the tragedy of the -diabolical irrationality of so many among the foes of whatever -is significant.”</p> - -<p>Emersonian philosophy fails in two respects to satisfy the -demands of the puritanical temperament upon contemporary -thought. In building altars to the “Beautiful Necessity,” -it neglects to assimilate the discoveries of science, and it detaches -itself from the Christian tradition within which alone -this spirit feels at home. Both of these defects are met by the -greatest of American idealists, Professor Royce.</p> - -<p>In character and thought Royce is the great reconciler of -contradictions. Irrational in his affections, and at his best -in the society of children, he stands for the absolute authority -of reason; filled with indignation at wrong and injustice, he -explains the presence of evil as an essential condition for the -good; keenly critical and not optimistic as to the concrete characters<span class="pagenum" id="Page_166">166</span> -of men, he presents man as the image of God, a part of -the self-representative system through which the Divine nature -unfolds itself. Never was there a better illustration of -Pascal’s dictum that we use our reasons to support what we -already believe, not to attain conclusions. And never was -there greater self-deception as to the presence of this -process.</p> - -<p>What man not already convinced of an Absolute could find -in error the proof of a deeper self that knows in unity all truth? -Who else could accept the dilemma “<em>either</em> ... your real -world yonder is through and through a world of ideas, an outer -mind that you are more or less comprehending through your -experience, <em>or else</em>, in so far as it is real and outer, it is unknowable, -an inscrutable X, an absolute mystery”? Without -the congeniality of belief, where is the thrill in assimilating -self-consciousness as infinite to a greater Infinite, as the infinite -systems of even numbers, or of odd numbers, or an infinity -of other infinite series can be assimilated to the greater -infinity of the whole number series as proper parts? Yet -Royce has been able to clothe these doctrines with vast erudition -and flashes of quaint humour, helped out by a prolix and -somewhat desultory memory, and give them life.</p> - -<p>By virtue of the obscurantist logic inherent in this as in -other transcendental idealisms, there is a genuine attachment -to a certain aspect of Christianity. The identification of the -Absolute with the Logos of John in his “Spirit of Modern -Philosophy” and the frequent lapses into Scriptural language -are not mere tricks to inspire abstractions with the breath of -life. By such logic “selves” are never wholly distinct. If -we make classifications, they are all <i xml:lang="la" lang="la">secundum quid</i>. Absolute -ontological sundering is as mythical as the Snark. The -individual is essentially a member of a community of selves -that establishes duties for him under the demands of Loyalty. -This is the basis of Royce’s ethics. But the fellowship in -this community is also a participation in the “beloved community” -within which sin, atonement, and the dogma of -Pauline Christianity unfold themselves naturally in the guise -of social psychology. In such treatment of the “Problem -of Christianity” there is at most only a slight shifting of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_167">167</span> -emphasis from the somewhat too self-conscious individualism -of his earliest philosophy.</p> - -<p>Royce used to tell a story on himself that illustrates a reaction -of a part of the public to idealistic philosophy. At -the close of a lecture before a certain woman’s organization, -one of his auditors approached him with the words: “Oh, my -dear Professor Royce, I <em>did</em> enjoy your lectures <em>so</em> much! Of -course, I didn’t understand one word of it, but it was so evident -<em>you</em> understood it all, that it made it <em>very</em> enjoyable!” -The lady, though more frank in her confession, was probably -not intellectually inferior to a considerable portion of the idealist’s -public. James notes the fascination of hearing high things -talked about, even if one cannot understand. But time is, -alas, productive of comparative understanding, and it may be -with Royce, as with Emerson before him, that growth of understanding -contributes to narrowing the circle of his readers. -The imported mysteries of Eucken and Bergson offer newer -thrills, and a fuller sense of keeping up to date.</p> - -<p>If Royce’s philosophy of religion has not the success that -might have been anticipated among those seeking a freer religion, -it is probably, as Professor Hocking suggests, because -“idealism does not do the work of religious truth.” Royce -has no interest in churches or sects. Christ is for him little -more than a shadow. Prayer and worship find no place in -his discussion. The mantle of the genteel tradition must then -fall on other shoulders, probably those of Hocking himself. -His “Meaning of God in Human Experience” is an effort to -unite realism, mysticism, and idealism to establish Christianity -as “organically rooted in passion, fact, and institutional life.” -Where idealism has destroyed the fear of Hell, this new interpretation -“restores the sense of infinite hazard, a wrath to -come, a heavenly city to be gained or lost in the process of time -and by the use of our freedom”!</p> - -<p>In this philosophy, we ask, what has religion done for humanity -and how has it operated? Its effects appear in “the -basis of such certainties as we have, our self-respect, our belief -in human worth, our faith in the soul’s stability through all -catastrophes of physical nature, and in the integrity of history.” -But if we accept this “mass of actual deed, once and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_168">168</span> -for all accomplished under the assurance of historic religion” -and through the medium of religious dogma and practice, does -this guarantee the future importance of religion? Much has -been accomplished under the conception that the earth was -flat, but the conception is nevertheless not valid.</p> - -<p>It is too soon to estimate the depth of impression that this -philosophy will make on American culture. Professor Hocking -warns us against hastening to judge that the world is -becoming irreligious. He believes that the current distaste -for the language of orthodoxy may spring from the opposite -reason, that man is becoming potentially more religious. If -so, this fact may conspire with the American tradition of the -church-college to verify Professor Cohen’s assertion that “the -idealistic tradition still is and perhaps will long continue to be -the prevailing basis of philosophic instruction in America.” -But there are signs that point to an opposite conclusion and -the means of emancipation are at hand both in a change of -popular spirit and within philosophy itself.</p> - -<p>The economic and social conditions that scattered the more -adventurous of the New Englanders through the developing -West, and the tides of immigration of the 19th century, have -weakened the hold of the Calvinistic spirit. These events, and -scientific education, are producing a generation that can look -upon the beauties of nature, be moved to enjoyment, admiration, -and wonder by them without, on that account, feeling -themselves in the presence of a supernatural Divine principle. -Success in mastering nature has overcome the feeling of helplessness -in the presence of misfortune. It breeds optimists of -intelligence. To a cataclysm such as the San Francisco earthquake, -it replies with organized relief and reconstruction in -reinforced concrete. If pestilence appears, it seeks the germ, -an antitoxin, and sanitary measures. There are no longer -altars built to the Beautiful Necessity.</p> - -<p>Within philosophy, the most radical expression of this attitude -appears in the New Realism, and in the instrumentalism of -Dewey. In 1910, six of the younger American philosophers -issued in the <cite>Journal of Philosophy, Psychology and Scientific -Method</cite> “The Programme and First Platform of Six -Realists,” followed shortly by a co-operative volume of studies<span class="pagenum" id="Page_169">169</span> -to elaborate the doctrine. Their deepest bond of union is a -distaste for the romantic spirit and obscurantist logic of Absolute -Idealism. Hence their dominant idea is to cut at the -very foundations of this system, the theory of relations in general, -and the relation of idea and object in particular. Young -America is not fond of the subtleties of history, hence these -realists take their stand upon the “unimpeachable truth of -the accredited results of science” at a time when, by the irony -of history, science herself has begun to doubt.</p> - -<p>To thwart idealism, psychology must be rewritten. While -consciousness exists there is always the chance that our world -of facts may fade into subjective presentations. Seizing a -fruitful suggestion of James’, they introduce us to a world of -objects that exists quite independently of being known. The -relations of these objects are external to them and independent -of their character. Sometimes, however, there arise relations -between our organisms and other objects that can best be -described by asserting that these objects have entered into -our consciousness. How then can we fall into error? Only -as nature makes mistakes, by reacting in a way that brings -conflict with unnoted conditions. Perhaps the greatest contribution -of Realism as yet to American thought is the contribution -of some of its apostles to its implicit psychology, -already independently established as behaviourism, the most -vital movement in contemporary psychology.</p> - -<p>The highly technical form of the Six Realists’ co-operative -volume has kept their doctrine from any great reading public. -But in its critical echoes, the busy American finds a sympathetic -note in the assertion of the independent reality of the -objects with which he works and the world in which he has -to make his way. His also is practical faith in science, and -he is glad to escape an inevitable type of religion and moral -theory to be swallowed along with philosophy. Until the New -Realists, however, develop further implications of their theory, -or at least present congenial religious, moral, and social attitudes, -their philosophy has only the negative significance of -release. If it is going to take a deep hold on life, it must -also be creative, not replacing dogma by dogma, but elaborating -some new world vision. As yet it has told us little<span class="pagenum" id="Page_170">170</span> -more than that truth, goodness, and beauty are independent -realities, eternal subsistencies that await our discovery.</p> - -<p>Professor Perry has outlined a realistic morality. For him -a right action is any that conduces to goodness and whatever -fulfils an interest is good. But a good action is not necessarily -moral. Morality requires the fulfilment of the greatest possible -number of interests, under the given circumstances; the -highest good, if attainable, would be an action fulfilling all possible -interests. This doctrine, though intelligible, is hard to -apply in specific instances. In it realism dissolves into pragmatism, -and its significance can best be seen in connection with -that philosophy, where it has received fuller development and -concrete applications.</p> - -<p>Pragmatism obtained its initial impulse through a mind in -temper between the sturdy common sense of the New Realists -and the emotionalistic romanticism of the Idealists, or rather -comprehending both within itself. This mind is that of William -James, the last heir of the line of pure New England culture, -made cosmopolitan by travel and intellectual contacts. -Of Swedenborgian family, skilled alike in science and art, -James lived the mystical thrills of the unknown but could handle -them with the shrewdness of a Yankee trader. With -young America, his gaze is directed toward the future, and -with it, he is impatient of dogma and restraint. He is free -from conventions of thought and action with the freedom of -those who have lived them all in their ancestry and dare to face -realities without fear of social or intellectual <i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">faux pas</i>. With -such new-found freedom goes a vast craving for experience. -For him, the deepest realities are the personal experiences of -individual men.</p> - -<p>James’ greatest contribution is his “Psychology.” In it he -places himself in the stream of human experience, ruthlessly -cutting the gordian knots of psychological dogma and conventions. -The mind that he reports is the mind each of us sees -in himself. It is not so much a science of psychology as the -materials for such a science, a science in its descriptive stage, -constantly interrupted by shrewd homilies wherein habit appears -as the fly-wheel of society, or our many selves enlarge -the scope of sympathetic living. Nor is it congenial to this<span class="pagenum" id="Page_171">171</span> -adventurer in experience that his explorations should constrain -human nature within a scientist’s map. Not only must the -stream of consciousness flow between the boundaries of our -concepts, but also in the human will there is a point, be it -ever so small, where a “we,” too real ever to be comprehended -by science or philosophy, can dip down into the stream of -consciousness and delay some fleeting idea, be it only for the -twinkling of an eye, and thereby change the whole course and -significance of our overt action. Freedom must not unequivocally -surrender to scientific determinism, or chance to necessity.</p> - -<p>James is a Parsifal to whom the Grail is never quite revealed. -His pragmatism and radical empiricism are but methods -of exploration and no adventure is too puny or mean for -the quest. We must make our ideas clear and test them by the -revelation they produce. Thoughts that make no difference -to us in living are not real thoughts, but imaginings. The way -is always open and perhaps there is a guiding truth, a working -value, in the operations of even the deranged mind. We -must entertain the ecstatic visions of saints, the alleged communications -of spiritualists, mystical contacts with sources of -some higher power, and even the thought-systems of cranks, -that nothing be lost or untried. Not that we need share such -beliefs, but they are genuine experiences and who can foretell -where in experiences some fruitful vision may arise!</p> - -<p>As a psychologist, James knew that the significance of a -belief lies not so much in its content as in its power to direct -the energies it releases. His catholic interests are not equivalent -to uncritical credulity. Santayana, the wisest of his critics, -is right in his assertion that James never lost his agnosticism: -“He did not really believe; he merely believed in the right -of believing that you might be right if you believed.” As for -Pascal, the wager on immortality might be worth the making -for if one won there was the blessedness of Heaven, and if one -lost—at least there should have been a sustaining optimism -through the trials of this life. Communion with the infinite -might open new sources of power. If so, the power was there. -If not, no harm had been done by the trial. Yet there is no -evidence in James’ philosophy that he himself drew inspiration -from any of such sources.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_172">172</span></p> - -<p>If James has drawn to himself the greatest reading public -of all American philosophers, it is because in him each man -can find the sanction for himself. Without dogmatism or -pedantry, James is the voice of all individual human experiences. -In him, each man can find a sympathetic auditor, and -words vivid with the language of the street, encouraging his -endeavours or at least pointing out the significance of his experiences -for the great business of living. Sometimes James -listens to human confessions with a suppressed cry of pain and -recalls wistfully “A Certain Blindness in Human Beings,” or -asks “Is Life Worth Living?” Once with indignation at “the -delicate intellectualities and subtleties and scrupulosities” of -philosophy he confronts “the host of guileless thoroughfed -thinkers” with the radical realities of Morrison I. Swift, only -to partially retract a few pages later with the admission, for -him grudgingly given, that the Absolute may afford its believers -a certain comfort and is “in so far forth” true. We live -after all in an open universe, the lid is off and time relentlessly -operates for the production of novelties. No empiricist can -give a decision until the evidence is all in, and in the nature -of the case this can never happen.</p> - -<p>Such openness of interest forefends the possibility of James’ -founding a school of philosophy. It also renders all his -younger contemporaries in some measure his disciples. Popularly -he is the refuge of the mystics and heterodox, the spiritualists -and the cranks who seek the sanction of academic -scholarship and certified dignity. There are more things in -the philosophies of these who call him master than are dreamed -of in his philosophy. In academic philosophy there is a dual -descent of the James tradition. As a principle of negative -criticism, it may be turned into its opposite, as with Hocking, -who enunciates the extreme form of the pragmatic principle, -If a theory is not interesting, it is false—and utilizes it for -his realistic, mystic, idealistic absolutism. The philosophy of -Henri Bergson, that has been widely read in this country, -reinforces this mystical spiritual side, but American mysticism -has popularly tended to degenerate into the occultisms of -second-rate credulous minds.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_173">173</span></p> - -<p>On the other hand, for those in whom the conflict of science -and religion is settling itself on the side of science, the principle -of pragmatism lends itself to the interpretation originally intended -by Charles Peirce, the author of the term, as an experimentalism, -a search for verifiable hypotheses after the -manner of the sciences. But this side of the doctrine is the -one that has been developed by John Dewey.</p> - -<p>Professor Dewey is without question the leading American -philosopher, both from the thoroughness of his analyses and -the vigour of his appeal to the American public. In discarding -the Hegelian Idealism in which he was trained, he is thoroughly -aligned with the New America. In him science has wholly -won, and although of New England, Vermont, ancestry, there -remains not a trace of the New Englander’s romantic spiritual -longings for contact with a vast unknown. His dogmatic -faiths, and no man is without such faiths, relate to evolution, -democracy, and the all-decisive authority of experience.</p> - -<p>For Dewey, as for the Realists, psychology is the study of -human behaviour. For him mind is the instrument by which -we overcome obstacles and thinking takes place only when -action is checked. Hence in the conventional sense there are -no abstractions. Our concepts are instruments by which we -take hold of reality. If we need instruments to manufacture -instruments, or to facilitate their use, these instruments are -also concepts. We may call them abstract, but they are not -thereby removed from the realm of experienced fact. Since, -therefore, our real interest is not in things as they are in themselves, -but in what we can do with them, our judgments are -judgments of value, and value is determined by practice. Such -judgments imply an incomplete physical situation and look -toward its completion. But the will to believe is gone. There -is no shadow of James’ faith in the practicality of emotional -satisfactions, or in his voluntaristic psychology. Our “sensations -are not the elements out of which perceptions are -composed, constituted, or constructed; they are the finest, -most carefully discriminated objects of perception.” Early -critics, particularly among the realists, have accused Dewey -of subjectivism, but except in the sense that an individual<span class="pagenum" id="Page_174">174</span> -must be recognized as one term in the reaction to a situation, -and the realists themselves do this, there is no ground for the -charge.</p> - -<p>Such a philosophy as Dewey’s is nothing if it is not put to -work. And here is his greatest hold on American life. Like -most Americans, he has no sympathy for the lazy, and even -the over-reflective may suffer from the contamination of sloth; -the true American wants to see results, and here is a philosophy -in which results are the supreme end. Reform is, for America, -a sort of sport and this philosophy involves nothing but -reform. Metaphysical subtleties and visions leave the busy -man cold; here they are taboo.</p> - -<p>Professor Dewey puts his philosophy to work in the fields -of ethics and education. Perhaps his ethics is the least satisfactory, -howsoever promising its beginnings. Moral codes -become the expression of group-approval. But they easily -pass into tradition, get out of touch with fact, are superannuated. -The highest virtue is intelligence and with intelligence -one can recognize the uniqueness of every moral situation -and develop from it its own criteria of judgment. Progress -in morals consists in raising the general level of intelligence -and extending the group whose approvals are significant from -a social class to the nation, a notion of highest appeal to -Democracy, with its faith in the individual man. But with -Dewey the limit of group expansion is humanity, and this may -verge on dangerous (unfortunately) radicalism. Dewey’s -weapon against conventional ethics is two-edged. For the -intelligent man perhaps there is no better actual moral standard -than that springing from intelligent specific judgments, -but for the uneducated, it is only too easy to identify intelligence -with sentimental opinion and to let practice degenerate -into legislative repression.</p> - -<p>After all, judgments of practice do face incomplete situations -and the problem is not only to complete but also to determine -the manner in which the completion shall be brought -about. What men transform is not merely the world, but -themselves, and the ethics is incomplete without some further -consideration of such questions as what are human natures, -and what do we want them to become. But perhaps such<span class="pagenum" id="Page_175">175</span> -questions are too dangerously near metaphysics to have appealed -to Dewey’s powers of analysis. At any rate, the general -effectiveness of his ethics is weakened by his neglect of -attention to principles in some sense at least ultimate.</p> - -<p>In education Dewey’s philosophy has its most complete -vitality, for here he is dealing with concrete needs and the -means of satisfying them. The problem of education is to -integrate knowledge and life. He finds no joy in information -for information’s sake. Curiosity may be the gift of the -child, but it must be utilized to equip the man to hold his own -in a world of industrialism and democracy. Yet Dewey’s sympathies -are with spontaneity. He is a Rousseau with a new -methodology. Connected with the Laboratory School at Chicago -from 1896 to 1903, he has since followed with sympathetic -interest all radical experimentation from the methods of -Madame Montessori to those of the Gary Schools. The vast -erudition amassed in this field, and his careful and unprejudiced -study of children, has made him competent above all men to -speak critically of methods and results.</p> - -<p>In regard to education, he has given a fuller consideration -of the ends to be attained than in the case of ethics. The end -is seen as continued growth, springing from the existing conditions, -freeing activity, and flexible in its adaptation to circumstances. -The educational result is social efficiency and -culture. This efficiency does not, however, imply accepting -existing economic conditions as final, and its cultural aspect, -good citizenship, includes with the more specific positive virtues, -those characteristics that make a man a good companion. -Culture is a complete ripening of the personality. “What -is termed spiritual culture has usually been futile, with something -rotten about it, just because it has been conceived as a -thing which a man might have internally—and therefore exclusively.” -The antithesis between sacrificing oneself for -others, or others for oneself, is an unreal figment of the imagination, -a tragic product of certain spiritual and religious -thinking.</p> - -<p>Professor Dewey well understands the dangers that lurk -behind such terms as <em>social efficiency</em> and <em>good citizenship</em>. -To him sympathy is much more than a mere feeling: it is, as<span class="pagenum" id="Page_176">176</span> -he says it should be, “a cultivated imagination for what men -have in common and a rebellion at whatever unnecessarily -divides them.” But his very gift of clear vision, his penetration -of the shams of dogma, economic and social, leads him to treat -these things with scant respect. In consequence his fellow-philosophers, -the educators over whom his influence is profound, -and the public suspect him of radicalism. Only too -often, to avoid suspicion of themselves, they turn his doctrine -to the very uses that he condemns: industrial efficiency for -them becomes identical with business expedience; the school, a -trade school; culture, a detached æstheticism to be condemned; -and democracy, the privilege of thinking and acting like everybody -else.</p> - -<p>The greatest weakness of Dewey’s philosophy, and it is -serious, for Dewey as no other American philosopher grasps -principles through which American civilization might be transformed -for the better—lies in its lack of a metaphysics. Not, -of course, a transcendentalism or a religious mysticism, but -above all an interpretation of human nature. Emotionality -represents a phase of the behaviour process too real to deny, -yet it has no place in Dewey’s philosophy of man. Human -longings and aspirations are facts as real as the materials of -industry. Most men remain religious. Must they rest with -quack mystics or unintelligent dogmatists? What is religion -giving them that they crave? Is it a form of art, an attitude -toward the ideal, or some interpretation of the forces of nature -that they seek to grasp? Professor Dewey is himself a -lover of art, but what place has art in his philosophy? If -it is an instrument of education, what end does it serve, and -how is it to be utilized? The pragmatic ethics gives no guarantee -that the moral criteria developed by specific situations -will always be the same even for two men equally intelligent. -Perhaps, in spite of the paradox, there may be several best -solutions. If so, this fact has some significance rooted in -man’s nature and his relations to the world that philosophy -should disclose. Such supplementation need not change the -character of the results, but it might forefend them from misinterpretation -and abuse.</p> - -<p>With all its incompleteness, Dewey’s philosophy is undeniably<span class="pagenum" id="Page_177">177</span> -that of the America of to-day. What shall we say of the -future? No nation in the world has more abused its philosophies -than ours. The inspirational elements of our idealisms -have become the panderings of sentimentalists. The vitalizing -forces of our pragmatisms threaten to congeal into the dogmata -of cash-success. The war has intensified our national self-satisfaction. -We tend to condemn all vision as radical, hence -unsound, hence evil, hence to be put down. Philosophy thrives -in the atmosphere of the Bacchæ:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indentq">“What else is Wisdom? What of man’s endeavour</div> - <div class="verse indent4">Or God’s high grace, so lovely and so great?</div> - <div class="verse indent4">To stand from fear set free, to breathe and wait;</div> - <div class="verse indent4">To hold a hand uplifted over Hate;</div> - <div class="verse indent0">And shall not loveliness be loved for ever?”</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="in0">But what have we now of this atmosphere?</p> - -<p>At Christmas-time, the American Philosophical Association -devoted three sessions to the discussion of the Rôle of the -Philosopher in Modern Life. From report, opinion was divided -between those who would have him a social reformer, -to the exclusion of contemplative background, and those with -a greater sense of playing safe, who would have him turn to -history, of any sort, or contemplation quite detached from -social consequences. Let us hope these opinions are not to -be taken seriously. Our social reformers are not all like -Dewey, whose neglect of basic reflection is probably not as -great as the omission of such reflections from his published -works would indicate. Nor is an academic chair generally -suited to the specific contacts with life from which successful -reforms must be shaped. On the other hand, abstract contemplation -with the pedagogic reinforcements advocated, will confirm -the popular American sentiment against reflection, if it is -true, as Dewey asserts, that education must be an outgrowth -of existing conditions. Fortunately genius, if such there be -amongst us, will not submit to the opinions of the American -Philosophic Association. If philosophy can find freedom, perhaps -America can yet find philosophy.</p> - -<p class="right"> -<span class="smcap">Harold Chapman Brown</span> -</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div id="toclink_179" class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_179">179</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="THE_LITERARY_LIFE">THE LITERARY LIFE</h2> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap al"><span class="smcap1">Among</span> all the figures which, in Mrs. Wharton’s “The Age -of Innocence,” make up the pallid little social foreground, -the still more pallid middle distance, of the New York of forty -years ago, there is none more pallid than the figure of Ned -Winsett, the “man of letters untimely born in a world that -had no need of letters.” Winsett, we are told, “had published -one volume of brief and exquisite literary appreciations,” of -which one hundred and twenty copies had been sold, and had -then abandoned his calling and taken an obscure post on a -women’s weekly. “On the subject of <em>Hearth-fires</em> (as the -paper was called) he was inexhaustibly entertaining,” says Mrs. -Wharton; “but beneath his fun lurked the sterile bitterness of -the still young man who has tried and given up.” Sterile bitterness, -a bright futility, a beginning without a future: that -is the story of Ned Winsett.</p> - -<p>One feels, as one turns Mrs. Wharton’s pages, how symbolic -this is of the literary life in America. I shall say nothing -of the other arts, though the vital conditions of all the arts -have surely much in common; I shall say nothing of America -before the Civil War, for the America that New England dominated -was a different nation from ours. But what immediately -strikes one, as one surveys the history of our literature during -the last half century, is the singular impotence of its creative -spirit. That we have and have always had an abundance of -talent is, I think, no less evident: what I mean is that so little -of this talent succeeds in effectuating itself. Of how many -of our modern writers can it be said that their work reveals -a continuous growth, or indeed any growth, that they hold their -ground tenaciously and preserve their sap from one decade to -another? Where, to speak relatively, the characteristic evolution -of the European writer is one of an ever-increasing differentiation, -a progress toward the creation, the possession of a -world absolutely his own (the world of Shaw, the world of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_180">180</span> -Hardy, the world of Hamsun, of Gorky, of Anatole France), -the American writer, having struck out with his new note, -becomes—how often!—progressively less and less himself. -The blighted career, the arrested career, the diverted career -are, with us, the rule. The chronic state of our literature is -that of a youthful promise which is never redeemed.</p> - -<p>The great writer, the <i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">grand écrivain</i>, has at the best of times -appeared but once or twice in America: that is another matter. -I am speaking, as I say, of the last half century, and I -am speaking of the rank and file. There are those who will -deny this characterization of our literature, pointing to what -they consider the robust and wholesome corpus of our “normal” -fiction. But this fiction, in its way, precisely corroborates -my point. What is the quality of the spirit behind it? -How much does it contain of that creative element the character -of which consists in dominating life instead of being -dominated by it? Have these novelists of ours any world of -their own as distinguished from the world they observe and -reflect, the world they share with their neighbours? Is it a -personal vision that informs them, or a mob-vision? The -Danish writer, Johannes V. Jensen, has described their work -as “journalism under exceptionally fortunate conditions.” -Journalism, on the whole, it assuredly is, and the chief of these -fortunate conditions (fortunate for journalism!) has been the -general failure of the writers in question to establish and develop -themselves as individuals; as they have rendered unto -Cæsar what was intended for God, is it any wonder that Cæsar -has waxed so fat? “The unfortunate thing,” writes Mr. Montrose -J. Moses, “is that the American drama”—but the observation -is equally true of this fiction of ours—“has had many -brilliant promises which have finally thinned out and never -materialized.” And again: “The American dramatist has -always taken his logic second-hand; he has always allowed his -theatrical sense to be a slave to managerial circumstance.” The -two statements are complementary, and they apply, as I say, to -the whole of this “normal” literature of ours. Managerial -circumstance? Let us call it local patriotism, the spirit of the -times, the hunger of the public for this, that, or the other: -to some one of these demands, these promptings from without,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_181">181</span> -the “normal” American writer always allows himself to become -a slave. It is the fact, indeed, of his being a slave to -some demand from without that makes him “normal”—and -something else than an artist.</p> - -<p>The flourishing exterior of the main body of our contemporary -literature, in short, represents anything but the integrity -of an inner well-being. But even aside from this, one can -count on one’s two hands the American writers who are able -to carry on the development and unfolding of their individualities, -year in, year out, as every competent man of affairs -carries on his business. What fate overtakes the rest? Shall -I begin to run over some of those names, familiar to us all, -names that have signified so much promise and are lost in what -Gautier calls “the limbo where moan (in the company of -babes) still-born vocations, abortive attempts, larvæ of ideas -that have won neither wings nor shapes”? Shall I mention -the writers—but they are countless!—who have lapsed into -silence, or have involved themselves in barren eccentricities, -or have been turned into machines? The poets who, at the -very outset of their careers, find themselves extinguished like -so many candles? The novelists who have been unable to -grow up, and remain withered boys of seventeen? The critics -who find themselves overtaken in mid-career by a hardening -of the spiritual arteries? Our writers all but universally lack -the power of growth, the endurance that enables one to continue -to produce personal work after the freshness of youth -has gone. Weeds and wild flowers! Weeds without beauty -or fragrance, and wild flowers that cannot survive the heat of -the day.</p> - -<p>Such is the aspect of our contemporary literature; beside -that of almost any European country, it is indeed one long list -of spiritual casualties. For it is not that the talent is wanting, -but that somehow this talent fails to fulfil itself.</p> - -<p>This being so, how much one would like to assume, with -certain of our critics, that the American writer is a sort of -Samson bound with the brass fetters of the Philistines and -requiring only to have those fetters cast off in order to be able -to conquer the world! That, as I understand it, is the position -of Mr. Dreiser, who recently remarked of certain of our novelists:<span class="pagenum" id="Page_182">182</span> -“They succeeded in writing but one book before the -iron hand of convention took hold of them.” There is this -to be said for the argument, that if the American writer as a -type shows less resistance than the European writer it is plainly -because he has been insufficiently equipped, stimulated, nourished -by the society into which he has been born. In this sense -the American environment is answerable for the literature it -has produced. But what is significant is that the American -writer <em>does</em> show less resistance; as literature is nothing but the -expression of power, of the creative will, of “free will,” in -short, is it not more accurate to say, not that the “iron hand -of convention” takes hold of our writers, but that our writers -yield to the “iron hand of convention”? Samson had lost his -virility before the Philistines bound him; it was because he -had lost his virility that the Philistines were able to bind him. -The American writer who “goes wrong” is in a similar case. -“I have read,” says Mr. Dreiser, of Jack London, “several -short stories which proved what he could do. But he did not -feel that he cared for want and public indifference. Hence his -many excellent romances.” <em>He did not feel that he cared for -want and public indifference.</em> Even Mr. Dreiser, as we observe, -determinist that he is, admits a margin of free will, -for he represents Jack London as having made a choice. What -concerns us now, however, is not a theoretical but a practical -question, the fact, namely, that the American writer as a rule -is actuated not by faith but by fear, that he cannot meet the -obstacles of “want and public indifference” as the European -writer meets them, that he is, indeed, and as if by nature, a -journeyman and a hireling.</p> - -<p>As we see, then, the creative will in this country is a very -weak and sickly plant. Of the innumerable talents that are -always emerging about us there are few that come to any sort -of fruition: the rest wither early; they are transformed into -those neuroses that flourish on our soil as orchids flourish in -the green jungle. The sense of this failure is written all over -our literature. Do we not know what depths of disappointment -underlay the cynicism of Mark Twain and Henry Adams -and Ambrose Bierce? Have we failed to recognize, in the -surly contempt with which the author of “The Story of a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_183">183</span> -Country Town” habitually speaks of writers and writing, the -unconscious cry of sour grapes of a man whose creative life -was arrested in youth? Are we unaware of the bitterness with -which, in certain letters of his later years, Jack London -regretted the miscarriage of his gift? There is no denying -that for half a century the American writer as a type has gone -down in defeat.</p> - -<p>Now why is this so? Why does the American writer, relatively -speaking, show less resistance than the European writer? -Plainly, as I have just said, because he has been insufficiently -equipped, stimulated, nourished by the society into which he -has been born. If our creative spirits are unable to grow -and mature, it is a sign that there is something wanting in the -soil from which they spring and in the conditions that surround -them. Is it not, for that matter, a sign of some more general -failure in our life?</p> - -<p>“At the present moment,” wrote Mr. Chesterton in one of -his early essays (“The Fallacy of the Young Nation”), -struck by the curious anæmia of those few artists of ours who -have succeeded in developing themselves, usually by escaping -from the American environment; “at the present moment the -matter which America has very seriously to consider is not -how near it is to its birth and beginning, but how near it -may be to its end.... The English colonies have produced -no great artists, and that fact may prove that they are still -full of silent possibilities and reserve force. But America -has produced great artists and that fact most certainly means -that she is full of a fine futility and the end of all things. -Whatever the American men of genius are, they are not young -gods making a young world. Is the art of Whistler a brave, -barbaric art, happy and headlong? Does Mr. Henry James -infect us with the spirit of a school-boy? No, the colonies -have not spoken, and they are safe. Their silence may be -the silence of the unborn. But out of America has come a -sweet and startling cry, as unmistakable as the cry of a dying -man.” That there is truth behind this, that the soil of our -society is at least arid and impoverished, is indicated by the -testimony of our own poets; one has only to consider what -George Cabot Lodge wrote in 1904, in one of his letters: “We<span class="pagenum" id="Page_184">184</span> -are a dying race, as every race must be of which the men are, -as men and not accumulators, third-rate”; one has only to -consider the writings of Messrs. Frost, Robinson, and Masters, -in whose presentation of our life, in the West as well as in -the East, the individual as a spiritual unit invariably suffers -defeat. Fifty years ago J. A. Froude, on a visit to this country, -wrote to one of his friends: “From what I see of the -Eastern states I do not anticipate any very great things as -likely to come out of the Americans.... They are generous -with their money, have much tenderness and quiet good humour; -but the Anglo-Saxon power is running to seed and I -don’t think will revive.” When we consider the general colourlessness -and insipidity of our latter-day life (faithfully -reflected in the novels of Howells and his successors), the -absence from it of profound passions and intense convictions, -of any representative individuals who can be compared in spiritual -force with Emerson, Thoreau, and so many of their contemporaries, -its uniformity and its uniform tepidity, then the -familiar saying, “Our age has been an age of management, -not of ideas or of men,” assumes indeed a very sinister import. -I go back to the poet Lodge’s letters. “Was there ever,” he -writes, “such an anomaly as the American man? In practical -affairs his cynicism, energy, and capacity are simply stupefying, -and in every other respect he is a sentimental idiot possessing -neither the interest, the capacity, nor the desire for -even the most elementary processes of independent thought.... -His wife finds him so sexually inapt that she refuses to -bear him children and so drivelling in every way except as a -money-getter that she compels him to expend his energies solely -in that direction while she leads a discontented, sterile, stunted -life....” Is this to be denied? And does it not in part -explain that extraordinary lovelessness of the American scene -which has bred the note of a universal resentment in so much -of our contemporary fiction? As well expect figs from thistles -as any considerable number of men from such a soil who are -robust enough to prefer spiritual to material victories and who -are capable of achieving them.</p> - -<p>It is unnecessary to go back to Taine in order to realize -that here we have a matrix as unpropitious as possible for<span class="pagenum" id="Page_185">185</span> -literature and art. If our writers wither early, if they are too -generally pliant, passive, acquiescent, anæmic, how much is -this not due to the heritage of pioneering, with its burden -of isolation, nervous strain, excessive work and all the racial -habits that these have engendered?</p> - -<p>Certainly, for example, if there is anything that counts in -the formation of the creative spirit it is that long infancy to -which John Fiske, rightly or wrongly, attributed the emergence -of man from the lower species. In the childhood of almost -every great writer one finds this protracted incubation, this -slow stretch of years in which the unresisting organism opens -itself to the influences of life. It was so with Hawthorne, it -was so with Whitman in the pastoral America of a century -ago: they were able to mature, these brooding spirits, because -they had given themselves for so long to life before they -began to react upon it. That is the old-world childhood still, -in a measure; how different it is from the modern American -childhood may be seen if one compares, for example, the first -book (“Boyhood”) of “Pelle the Conqueror” with any of -those innumerable tales in which our novelists show us that -in order to succeed in life one cannot be up and doing too -soon. The whole temper of our society, if one is to judge -from these documents, is to hustle the American out of his -childhood, teaching him at no age at all how to repel life and -get the best of it and build up the defences behind which he is -going to fight for his place in the sun. Who can deny that -this racial habit succeeds in its unconscious aim, which is to -produce sharp-witted men of business? But could anything -be deadlier to the poet, the artist, the writer?</p> - -<p>Everything in such an environment, it goes without saying, -tends to repress the creative and to stimulate the competitive -impulses. A certain Irish poet has observed that all he ever -learned of poetry he got from talking with peasants along the -road. Whitman might have said almost as much, even of -New York, the New York of seventy years ago. But what -nourishment do they offer the receptive spirit to-day, the -harassed, inhibited mob of our fellow-countrymen, eaten up -with the “itch of ill-advised activity,” what encouragement to -become anything but an automaton like themselves? And<span class="pagenum" id="Page_186">186</span> -what direction, in such a society, does the instinct of emulation -receive, that powerful instinct of adolescence? A certain -visitor of Whitman’s has described him as living in a house -“as cheerless as an ash-barrel,” a house indeed “like that in -which a very destitute mechanic” might have lived. Is it not -symbolic, that picture, of the esteem in which our democracy -holds the poet? If to-day the man of many dollars is no -longer the hero of the editorial page and the baccalaureate -address, still, or rather more than ever, it is the “aggressive” -type that overshadows every corner of our civilization; the -intellectual man who has gone his own way and refused to -flatter the majority was never less the hero or even the subject -of intelligent interest; at best ignored, at worst (and usually) -pointed out as a crank, he is only a “warning” to youth, -which is exceedingly susceptible in these matters. But how -can one begin to enumerate the elements in our society that -contribute to form a selection constantly working against the -survival of the creative type? By cutting off the sources that -nourish it, by lending prestige to the acquisitive and destroying -the glamour of the creative career, everything in America -conspires to divert the spirit from its natural course, seizing -upon the instincts of youth and turning them into a single -narrow channel.</p> - -<p>Here, of course, I touch upon the main fact of American -history. That traditional drag, if one may so express it, in -the direction of the practical, which has been the law of our -civilization, would alone explain why our literature and art -have never been more than half-hearted. To abandon the -unpopular and unremunerative career of painting for the useful -and lucrative career of invention must have seemed natural -and inevitable to Robert Fulton and Samuel Morse. So strong -is this racial compulsion, so feeble is the hold which Americans -have upon ultimate values, that one can scarcely find to-day a -scientist or a scholar who, for the sake of science or scholarship, -will refuse an opportunity to become the money-gathering president -of some insignificant university. Thus our intellectual -life has always been ancillary to the life of business and organization: -have we forgotten that the good Washington Irving -himself, the father of American letters, thought it by no means<span class="pagenum" id="Page_187">187</span> -beneath his dignity to serve as a sort of glorified press-agent -for John Jacob Astor?</p> - -<p>It is certainly true that none of these unfavourable factors -of American life could have had such a baleful effect upon our -literature if there had been others to counteract them. An -aristocratic tradition, if we had ever had it, would have kept -open among us the right of way of the free individual, would -have preserved the claims of mere living. “It is curious to observe,” -writes Nietzsche in one of his letters, “how any one -who soon leaves the traditional highway in order to travel on -his own proper path always has more or less the sense of being -an exile, a condemned criminal, a fugitive from mankind.” -If that is true in the old world, where society is so much more -complex and offers the individual so much more latitude, how -few could ever have had the strength in a society like ours, -which has always placed such an enormous premium on conformity, -to become and to remain themselves? Is it fanciful -indeed to see in the famous “remorse” of Poe the traces left -by this dereliction of the tribal law upon the unconscious mind -of an artist of unique force and courage? Similarly, a tradition -of voluntary poverty would have provided us with an escape -from the importunities of bourgeois custom. But aside -from the fact that even so simple a principle as this depends -largely for its life on precedent (Whitman and the painter -Ryder are almost alone among latter-day Americans in having -discovered it for themselves), aside from the fact that to secede -from the bourgeois system is, in America, to subject oneself to -peculiar penalties (did it ever occur to Mark Twain that he -<em>could</em> be honourably poor?)—aside from all this, poverty in -the new world is by no means the same thing as poverty in the -old: one has only to think of Charles Lamb and all the riches -that London freely gave him, all the public resources he had -at his disposal, to appreciate the difference. With us poverty -means in the end an almost inevitable intellectual starvation. -Consider such a plaint as Sidney Lanier’s: “I could never describe -to you” (he writes to Bayard Taylor) “what a mere -drought and famine my life has been, as regards that multitude -of matters which I fancy one absorbs when one is in an -atmosphere of art, or when one is in conversational relationship<span class="pagenum" id="Page_188">188</span> -with men of letters, with travellers, with persons who have -either seen, or written, or done large things. Perhaps you -know that, with us of the younger generation in the South -since the war, pretty much the whole of life has been merely -not dying.” That is what poverty means in America, poverty -and isolation, for Lanier, whose talent, as we can see to-day, -was hopelessly crippled by it, was mistaken if he supposed -that there was anything peculiar to the South in that plight of -his: it has been the plight of the sensitive man everywhere in -America and at all times. Add to poverty the want of a society -devoted to intellectual things and we have such a fate as -Herman Melville’s in New York. “What he lacked,” wrote -Mr. Frank Jewett Mather the other day, explaining the singular -evaporation of Melville’s talent, “was possibly only health -and nerve, but perhaps even more, companionship of a friendly, -critical, understanding sort. In London, where he must have -been hounded out of his corner, I can imagine Melville carrying -the reflective vein to literary completion.” Truly Samuel -Butler was right when he jotted down the following observation -in his note-book: “America will have her geniuses, as -every other country has, in fact she has already had one in -Walt Whitman, but I do not think America is a good place in -which to be a genius. A genius can never expect to have a -good time anywhere, if he is a genuine article, but America is -about the last place in which life will be endurable at all for -an inspired writer of any kind.”</p> - -<p>To such circumstances as these, I say, the weakness of our -literary life is due. If we had lacked nothing else indeed, the -lack of great leaders, of a strong and self-respecting literary -guild, even of an enlightened publishing system would have -sufficed to account for much of it. To consider the last point -first: in the philosophy of American publishing, popularity has -been regarded not only as a practical advantage but as a virtue -as well. Thanks to the peculiar character of our democracy, -our publishers have been able to persuade themselves -that a book which fails to appeal to the ordinary citizen cannot -be good on other grounds. Thus, if we had had to depend -on the established system, the present revival in our letters, -tentative as it is, would have been still more sadly handicapped.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_189">189</span> -The history of Mr. Dreiser’s “Sister Carrie” is -enough to suggest what may well have been the fate of many -an incipient author less persistent than he. It is certain, in -any case, that many another, at a critical moment, has drifted -away from literature because of the lack in our publishing -world of those opportunities for a semi-creative hack-work -which have provided countless European writers with a foothold -and even a guideway. The Grub Street of London and -Paris is a purgatory, but as long as it exists, with its humble -instrumentalities, translating, editing, reviewing, one can at -least survive until one has either lost or found oneself: it -scarcely needs to be pointed out that the American magazine, -with its mechanical exactions, which levy such a terrible toll -upon one’s individuality, is anything but an advantageous substitute. -Till one has found oneself, the less one is subjected to -such powerful, such essentially depolarizing influences, the better; -the most mediocre institutions, if they enable one at the -same time to maintain one’s contact with literature and to keep -body and soul together, are as life is to death beside them. How -many English writers owe their ultimate salvation to such -trivial agencies as <cite>T. P.’s Weekly</cite>? In America, where -nothing of the kind has existed until lately, or nothing adequate -to the number of those who might have benefitted by it, -the literary aspirant is lost unless his powers mature at once.</p> - -<p>But the lack of great leaders, of a strong and self-respecting -literary guild (the one results from the other)—is not this -our chief misfortune? In the best of circumstances, and considering -all the devils that beset the creative spirit, a strong -impulse is scarcely enough to carry one through: one must -feel not only that one is doing what one wishes to do but that -what one is doing <em>matters</em>. If dozens of American writers -have fallen by the wayside because they have met with insuperable -obstacles, dozens of others have fallen, with all their -gifts, because they have lost interest in their work, because -they have ceased to “see the necessity” of it. This is just -the point where the presence of a leader, of a local tradition, -a school, a guild makes all the difference. “With the masters -I converse,” writes Gauguin in his journal. “Their example -fortifies me. When I am tempted to falter I blush before<span class="pagenum" id="Page_190">190</span> -them.” If that could have been true of Gauguin, the “Wolf,” -who walked by himself as few have walked, what shall we say -of other men whose artistic integrity, whose faith in themselves, -is exposed every day to the corroding influences of a -third-rate civilization? It would be all very well if literature -were merely a mode of “having a good time;” I am speaking -of those, the real artists, who, with Nietzsche, make a distinction -(illusory perhaps) between “happiness” and “work,” -and I say that these men have always fed on the thought of -greatness and on the propinquity of greatness. It was not -for nothing that Turgeniev bore in his memory, as a talisman, -the image of Pushkin; that Gorky, having seen Tolstoy once, -sitting among the boulders on the seashore, felt everything -in him blending in one happy thought, “I am not an -orphan on the earth, so long as this man lives on it.” The -presence of such men immeasurably raises the morale of the -literary life: that is what Chekhov meant when he said, “I -am afraid of Tolstoy’s death,” and is it not true that the whole -contemporary literature of England has drawn virtue from -Thomas Hardy? The sense that one is <em>working in a great line</em>: -this, more than anything else perhaps, renews one’s confidence -in the “quaint mania of passing one’s life wearing oneself out -over words,” as Flaubert called it, in the still greater folly of -pursuing one’s ego when everything in life combines to punish -one for doing so. The successful pursuit of the ego is what -makes literature; this requires not only a certain inner intensity -but a certain courage, and it is doubtful whether, in any -nation, any considerable number of men can summon up that -courage and maintain it unless they have <em>seen the thing done</em>. -The very notion that such a life is either possible or desirable, -the notion that such a life exists even, can hardly occur to the -rank and file: some individual has to start the ball rolling, -some individual of extraordinary force and audacity, and where -is that individual to be found in our modern American literature? -Whitman is the unique instance, for Henry James, with -all his admirable conscience, was at once an exile and a man -of singularly low vitality; and Whitman was not only essentially -of an earlier generation, he was an invalid who folded -his hands in mid-career.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_191">191</span></p> - -<p>Of those others what can we say, those others whose gifts -have fitted them to be our leaders? Mr. Howells once observed -of the American drama of the last few decades that -“mainly it has been gay as our prevalent mood is, mainly it -has been honest, as our habit is, in cases where we believe we -can afford it.” In this gently ironical pleasantry one seems to -discern the true spirit of modern American letters. But it was -Howells himself who, in order to arrive at the doctrine that -“the more smiling aspects of life are the more American,” deliberately, -as he has told us, and professed realist that he was, -averted his eyes from the darker side of life. And Mark Twain -suppressed his real beliefs about man and the universe. And -Henry Adams refused to sponsor in public the novels that revealed -what he considered to be the truth about American society. -Thus spake Zarathustra: “There is no harsher misfortune -in all the fate of man than when the mighty ones of -earth are not also the most excellent.” At its very headwaters, -as we see, this modern literature of ours has failed to flow -clear: the creative impulse in these men, richly endowed as -they were, was checked and compromised by too many other -impulses, social and commercial. If one is to blame anything -for this it is the immense insecurity of our life, which is due -to its chaotic nature; for one is not entitled to expect greatness -even of those who have the greatest gifts, and of these -men Henry Adams was alone secure; of Howells and Mark -Twain, Westerners as they were, it may be said that they were -obliged to compromise, consciously or unconsciously, in order -to gain a foothold in the only corner of the country where men -could exist as writers at all. But if these men were unable -to establish their independence (one has only to recall the notorious -Gorky dinner in order to perceive the full ignominy of -their position), what must one expect to find in the rank and -file? Great men form a sort of wind shield behind which the -rest of their profession are able to build up their own defences; -they establish a right of way for the others; they command a -respect for their profession, they arouse in the public a concern -for it, an interest in it, from which the others benefit. As -things are, the literary guild in America is not respected, nor -does it respect itself. In “My Literary Passions” Howells,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_192">192</span> -after saying that his early reading gave him no standing among -other boys, observes: “I have since found that literature gives -one no more certain station in the world of men’s activities, -either idle or useful. We literary folk try to believe that it -does, but that is all nonsense. At every period of life among -boys or men we are accepted when they are at leisure and -want to be amused, and at best we are tolerated rather than -accepted.” Pathetic? Pusillanimous? Abject? Pathetic, I -suppose. Imagine Maxim Gorky or Knut Hamsun or Bernard -Shaw “trying to believe” that literature gives him a certain -station in the world of men’s activities, conceiving for a moment -that any activity could exceed his in dignity! Howells, -we observe, conscientious craftsman as he was, instinctively -shared, in regard to the significance of his vocation, the feeling -of our pragmatic philosophers, who have been obliged to -justify the intellectual life by showing how useful it is—not to -mention Mr. R. W. Chambers, who has remarked that writers -“are not held in excessive esteem by really busy people, the -general idea being—which is usually true—that literature is a -godsend to those unfitted for real work.” After this one can -easily understand why our novelists take such pains to be mistaken -for business men and succeed so admirably in their effort. -One can easily understand why Jack London preferred -the glory of his model ranch and his hygienic pigsties to the -approval of his artistic conscience.</p> - -<p>So much for the conditions, or at least a few of them, that -have prevented our literature from getting its head above -water. If America is littered with extinct talents, the halt, the -maimed and the blind, it is for reasons with which we are all -too familiar; and we to whom the creative life is nothing less -than the principle of human movement, and its welfare the true -sign of human health, look upon this wreckage of everything -that is most precious to society and ask ourselves what our -fathers meant when they extolled the progress of our civilization. -But let us look facts in the face. Mr. Sinclair Lewis -asserts that we are in the midst of a revival and that we are -too humble in supposing that our contemporary literature is -inferior to that of England. That we are in the midst of a -revival I have no doubt, but it is the sustained career that<span class="pagenum" id="Page_193">193</span> -makes a literature; without the evidence of this we can hope -much but we can affirm nothing. What we can see is that, -with all its hope, the morale of the literary profession in this -country is just what its antecedents have made it. I am reminded -of the observation of a friend who has reason to know, -that the Catholic Church in America, great as it is in numbers -and organization, still depends on the old world for its models, -its task-masters and its inspiration; for the American priest, -as a rule, does not feel the vocation as the European feels it. -I am reminded of the American labour movement which, prosperous -as it is in comparison with the labour movements of -Europe, is unparalleled for the feebleness of its representatives. -I am reminded of certain brief experiences in the American -university world which have led me to believe that the professors -who radiate a genuine light and warmth are far more -likely to be Russians, Germans, Englishmen, Irishmen, Dutchmen, -Swedes and Finns than the children of ’76. That old -hostility of the pioneers to the special career still operates to -prevent in the American mind the powerful, concentrated pursuit -of any non-utilitarian way of life: meanwhile everything -else in our society tends to check the growth of the spirit and -to shatter the confidence of the individual in himself. Considered -with reference to its higher manifestations, life itself has -been thus far, in modern America, a failure. Of this the -failure of our literature is merely emblematic.</p> - -<p>Mr. Mencken, who shares this belief, urges that the only -hope of a change for the better lies in the development of a -native aristocracy that will stand between the writer and the -public, supporting him, appreciating him, forming as it were -a <i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">cordon sanitaire</i> between the individual and the mob. That -no change can come without the development of an aristocracy -of some sort, some nucleus of the more gifted, energetic and -determined, one can hardly doubt. But how can one expect -the emergence of an aristocracy outside of the creative class, -and devoted to its welfare, unless and until the creative class -itself reveals the sort of pride that can alone attract its ministrations? -“The notion that a people can run itself and its -affairs anonymously is now well known to be the silliest of absurdities.” -Thus William James, in defence of the aristocratic<span class="pagenum" id="Page_194">194</span> -principle; and what he says is as applicable to literature as to -every other department of social life. But he continues: -“Mankind does nothing save through initiatives on the part -of inventors, great and small, and imitation by the rest of us—these -are the sole factors alive in human progress. Individuals -of genius show the way, and set the patterns, which common -people then adopt and follow.” In other words, as I understand -it, and so far as literature is concerned, the burden of -proof lies on the writer himself—which brings one back to a -truism: it is not for the public or any aristocratic minority -within the public to understand the writer, it is for the writer -to create the taste by which he is understood. Is it not by -this indeed (in a measure, at least) that we recognize the -creator?</p> - -<p>Certainly if our contemporary literature is not respected, if -it has not been able to rally to its support the sensitive public -that already exists in this country, it is partly because this -literature has not respected itself. That there has been every -reason for it makes no difference; that it has begun to respect -itself again makes no difference either, for when a people has -lost confidence in its literature, and has had grounds for losing -confidence in it, one cannot be surprised if it insists a little cynically -upon being “shown.” The public supported Mark -Twain and Howells and the men of their generation, it admired -them for what was admirable in them, but it was aware, -if only unconsciously, that there was a difference between them -and the men of the generation before them; and in consequence -of this the whole stock of American literature fell. But those -who insist in our day that America prefers European writers -to its own, because America is still a colony of Europe, cannot -ignore the significant fact that at a time when America was -still more truly colonial than it is now American writers had -all the prestige in this country that European writers have at -present; and it is not entirely because at that time the country -was more homogeneous. Poe and Thoreau found little support -in the generation of which I speak, as Whitman found -little support in the generation that followed it. On the other -hand, there were no European writers (and it was an age of -great writers in Europe) who were held in higher esteem in<span class="pagenum" id="Page_195">195</span> -this country than Hawthorne, Emerson, Motley, and one or -two others almost equally distinguished, as well from a European -as from an American point of view; there were few, if -any, European writers, in fact, who were esteemed in this -country as highly as they. How can one explain it? How can -one explain why, at a time when America, in every other department -of life, was more distinctly colonial than it is now, -American literature commanded the full respect of Americans, -while to-day, when the colonial tradition is vanishing all about -us, it so little commands their respect that they go after any -strange god from England? The problem is not a simple one, -but among the many explanations of it one can hardly deny -that there were in that period a number of writers of unusual -power, who made the most (who were able to make the most) -of their power, who followed their artistic conscience (who -were able to follow it) and who by this fact built up a public -confidence in themselves and in the literature they represented. -Does it matter at all whether to-day we enjoy these writers or -not? They were men of spiritual force, three or four of them: -that is the important point. If the emerging writers of our -epoch find themselves handicapped by the scepticism of the -public, which has ceased to believe that any good thing can -come out of Nazareth, let them remember not only that they -are themselves for the most part in the formative stage, but -that they have to live down the recent past of their profession.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile, what constitutes a literature is the spiritual force -of the individuals who compose it. If our literature is ever to -be regenerated, therefore, it can only be through the development -of a sense of “free will” (and of the responsibility that -this entails) on the part of our writers themselves. To be, to -feel oneself, a “victim” is in itself not to be an artist, for it -is the nature of the artist to live, not in the world of which he -is an effect, but in the world of which he is the cause, the world -of his own creation. For this reason, the pessimistic determinism -of the present age is, from the point of view of literature, -of a piece with the optimistic determinism of the age that -is passing. What this pessimistic determinism reveals, however, -is a <em>consciousness of the situation</em>: to that extent it represents -a gain, and one may even say that to be conscious of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_196">196</span> -the situation is half the battle. If we owed nothing else to Mr. -Dreiser, for instance, we should owe him enough for the tragic -sense of the waste and futility of American life, as we know -it, which his books communicate. It remains true that in so -far as we resent this life it is a sign of our own weakness, of -the harm not only that our civilization has done us but that -we have permitted it to do us, of our own imperfectly realized -freedom; for to the creative spirit in its free state the external -world is merely an impersonal point of departure. Thus it is -certain that as long as the American writer shares what James -Bryce calls the “mass fatalism” of the American people, our -literature will remain the sterile, supine, and inferior phenomenon -which, on the whole, it is.</p> - -<p>“What we want,” wrote Henry Adams in 1862 to his brother -Charles, “is a <em>school</em>. We want a national set of young men -like ourselves or better, to start new influences not only in politics, -but in literature, in law, in society, and throughout the -whole social organism of the country—a national school of our -own generation. And that is what America has no power to -create.... It’s all random, insulated work, for special and -temporary and personal purposes. And we have no means, -power or hope of combined action for any unselfish end.” -<em>That is what America has no power to create.</em> But can it be -said that any nation has ever created a school? Here we have -the perfect illustration of that mass fatalism of which I have -spoken, and Henry Adams himself, in his passivity, is the type -of it. Secure as he was, uniquely secure, why did he refuse -to accept the responsibility of those novels in which he expressed -the contempt of a powerful and cultivated mind for -the meanness, the baseness, the vulgarity of the guiding element -in American society? In the darkest and most chaotic -hours of our spiritual history the individual has possessed a -measure of free will only to renounce it: if Henry Adams had -merely signed his work and accepted the consequences of it, he -might by that very fact have become the founder, the centre, -of the school that he desired. But it is true that in that generation -the impulses of youth were, with an extraordinary -unanimity, focused upon a single end, the exploitation of the -continent; the material opportunities that American life offered<span class="pagenum" id="Page_197">197</span> -were too great and too all-engrossing, and it is unlikely that -any considerable minority could have been rallied for any non-utilitarian -cause. Sixty years later this school remains, and -quite particularly as regards our literature, the one thing necessary; -the reforestation of our spiritual territory depends on -it. And in more than one sense the times are favourable. The -closing of the frontier seems to promise for this country an intenser -life than it has known before; a large element of the -younger generation, estranged from the present order, exists -in a state of ferment that renders it highly susceptible to new -ideas; the country literally swarms with half-artists, as one -may call them, men and women, that is to say, who have ceased -to conform to the law of the tribe but who have not accepted -the discipline of their own individual spirits. “What I chiefly -desire for you,” wrote Ibsen to Brandes at the outset of his -career, “is a genuine, full-blooded egoism, which shall force -you for a time to regard what concerns you yourself as the -only thing of any consequence, and everything else as non-existent.... -There is no way in which you can benefit society -more than by coining the metal you have in yourself.” -The second half of this rather blunt counsel of perfection is -implied in the first, and it connotes a world of things merely -to name which would be to throw into relief the essential infantility -of the American writer as we know the type. By -what prodigies of alert self-adaptation, of discriminating self-scrutiny, -of conscious effort does the creative will come into -its own! As for us, weak as too many of us are, ignorant, isolated, -all too easily satisfied, and scarcely as yet immune from -the solicitations of the mob, we still have this advantage, that -an age of reaction is an age that stirs the few into a consciousness -of themselves.</p> - -<p class="right"> -<span class="smcap">Van Wyck Brooks</span> -</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div id="toclink_199" class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_199">199</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="MUSIC">MUSIC</h2> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="smcap1">We</span> spend more money upon music than does any other -nation on earth; some of our orchestras, notably those -of Boston, Chicago, and Philadelphia, are worthy to rank -among the world’s best; in the Metropolitan Opera House we -give performances of grand opera that for consistent excellence -of playing, singing, and <i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">mise-en-scène</i> are surpassed probably -nowhere. Yet there has never been a successful opera -by an American offered at that opera house, and the number -of viable American orchestral works is small enough to be -counted almost upon one’s fingers. We squander millions -every year upon an art that we cannot produce.</p> - -<p>There are apologists for the American composer who will -say that we do produce it, but that it is strangled at birth. -According to their stock argument, there are numberless greatly -gifted native composers whose works never get a hearing, (a) -because Americans are prejudiced against American music and -in favour of foreign music, and (b) because the foreigners -who largely control the musical situation in this country jealously -refuse to allow American works to be performed. This -would be impressive if it were consistent or true. As far as -concerns the Jealous Foreigner myth—he does not dominate -the musical situation—I have never noticed that the average -European in this country is deficient either in self-interest or -tact. He is generally anxious, if only for diplomatic reasons, -to find American music that is worth singing or playing. Even -when he fails to find any that is worth performing, he often -performs some that isn’t, in order to satisfy local pride. Moreover, -Americans are no more prejudiced against American musicians -than they are against other kinds. As a matter of fact, -if intensive boosting campaigns produced creative artists, the -American composer during the past decade should have expanded -like a hot-house strawberry. We have had prize contests -of all kinds, offering substantial sums for everything from<span class="pagenum" id="Page_200">200</span> -grand operas to string quartettes, we have had societies formed -to publish his chamber-music scores; publishers have rushed to -print his smaller works; we have had concerts of American -compositions; we have had all-American festivals. Meanwhile -the American composer has, with a few lonely exceptions, obstinately -refused to produce anything above the level of what -it would be flattering to call mediocrity.</p> - -<p>No. If he is not heard oftener in concert halls and upon recital -platforms, it is because he is not good enough. There is, -in the music of even the second-rate Continental composers, a -surety of touch, a quality of evident confidence in their material -and ease in its handling that is rarely present in the work -of Americans. Most American symphonic and chamber music -lacks structure and clarity. The workmanship is faulty, the -utterance stammers and halts. Listening to an average American -symphonic poem, you get the impression that the composer -was so amazed and delighted at being able to write a -symphonic poem at all that the fact that it might be a dull -one seemed of minor importance to him. When he isn’t -being almost entirely formless he is generally safely conventional, -preferring to stick to what a statesman would call the -Ways of the Fathers rather than risk some structural innovation -what might or might not be effective. Tschaikovsky’s -variation of the traditional sequence of movements in the -<cite>Pathétique</cite> symphony, for example—ending with the slow -movement instead of the march—would scandalize and terrify -the average American.</p> - -<p>This feebleness and uncertainty in the handling of material -makes American music sound more sterile and commonplace -than it really is. The American composer never seems certain -just what, if anything, he wants to say. His themes, his fundamental -ideas, are often of real significance, but he has no -control over that very essence of the language of music, mood. -He lacks taste. The fact that an American composition may -begin in a genuinely impressive mood is no guarantee at all that -inside of twenty-four bars it may not fall into the most appalling -banalities. We start with lyric beauty and finish in -stickiness. The curse of bathos is upon us. We lack staying -power. Just as so many American dramatists can write two<span class="pagenum" id="Page_201">201</span> -good acts of a three-act play, so many American novelists can -write superb opening chapters, so do American composers devise -eloquent opening themes. But we all fail when it comes -to development. The train is laid, the match is applied, and -the spectators crowd back in delighted terror amid tremendous -hissings and sputterings. But when the awaited detonation -comes, it is too often only a pop.</p> - -<p>Such failure to make adequate use of his ideas is partially -attributable to the American musician’s pathetically inadequate -technical equipment. Generally speaking, he doesn’t know -his business. He has been unable, or hasn’t bothered, to learn -his trade. Imagine if you can a successful dramatist who can -neither read nor write, but has to dictate his plays, or a painter -who can only draw the outlines of his pictures, hiring some one -else to lay in the colours, and you have something analogous to -many an American “composer” whose music is taken seriously -by Americans, and who cannot write out a playable piano part, -arrange a song for choral performance, or transcribe a hymn -tune for a string quartette. Such elementary work he has to -have done for him, whenever it is necessary, by some hack. -This, to say nothing of the more advanced branches of musical -science, like counterpoint, fugue, orchestration. Though it is -risky to generalize, it is probably safe to say that among Americans -who write music, the man who can construct a respectable -fugue or canon or score a piece for full orchestra is decidedly -the exception. In Europe, of course, any man who did not -have these technical resources at his fingertips would have to -be a Moussorgsky to be taken seriously as a composer at all.</p> - -<p>It is not entirely the American’s fault that he is so ill-equipped. -Much of his comparative musical illiteracy, true, -is the result of his own laziness and his traditional American -contempt for theory and passion for results. On the other -hand, the young American who honestly desires a good theoretical -training in music must either undertake the expensive -adventure of journeying to one of the few cities that contain -a first-class conservatory, or the equally expensive one of going -to Europe. If he can do neither, he must to a great extent -educate himself. Some kinds of training it is nearly impossible -for him to obtain here at any price. Orchestration, for instance,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_202">202</span> -a tremendously complex and difficult science, can be -mastered only by the time-honoured trial and error method, -i.e., by writing out scores and hearing them played. How is -our young American to manage this? Granted that there is -a symphony orchestra near him, how can he get his scores -played? The conductor cannot be blamed for refusing. He -is hired to play the works of masters, not to try out the apprentice -efforts of unskilled aspirants. What we need so badly -here are not more first-class orchestras, but more second-rate -ones, small-town orchestras that could afford to give the tyro -a chance.</p> - -<p>Because of their lack of technical skill many composers in -this country never venture into the broader fields of composition -at all. As a class, we write short piano and violin pieces, -or songs. We write them because we do earnestly desire to -write something and because they do not demand the technical -resourcefulness and sustained inspiration that we lack. Parenthetically, -I don’t for a moment mean to imply that clumsy -workmanship and sterility are unknown in Europe, that we are -all mediocrities and they are all <i xml:lang="de" lang="de">Uebermenschen</i>. As a matter -of fact, we have to-day probably much more creative musical -talent, if less brains, than Europe; but, talent for talent, the -European is infinitely better trained. This, at least in part, -because he respects theory and has a desire for technical proficiency -that we almost totally lack. Then too, the European -has some cultural background. There is a curious lack of inter-communication -among the arts in this country. The painter -seems to feel that literature has nothing direct to give him, the -writer, that music and painting are not in his line, and the musician—decidedly -the worst of the three in this respect—that -his own art has no connection with anything.</p> - -<p>The American composer’s most complete failure is intellectual. -The fact that he writes music seldom warrants the assumption -that he has the artist’s point of view at all. He is -likely to be a much less interesting person than one’s iceman. -Ten to one, he never visits a picture gallery or a sculpture exhibition, -his taste in the theatre is probably that of the tired -business man, and what little reading he does is likely to be -confined to trade papers, <cite>Snappy Stories</cite>, and best-sellers. He<span class="pagenum" id="Page_203">203</span> -takes no interest in politics, economics, or sociology, either national -or international (how could they possibly concern him?), -and probably cannot discuss even music with pleasure or profit -to anybody.</p> - -<p>The natural inference that might be drawn from this diatribe—that -the composing of music in this country is confined exclusively -to the idiot classes—is not strictly true. Plenty of -American musicians are intelligent and cultured men as well; -but that is not America’s fault. She is just as cordial to the -stupid ones. And the widespread impotence and technical -sloppiness of American music is the inevitable result of the -American attitude toward music and to the anomalous position -the art occupies in this country.</p> - -<p>Let me be platitudinous in the interest of clarity and point -out what we so often forget: that our nation, unlike most of -the others, is not a race as well. We have common wellsprings -of thought, but—and this is significant and ominous—none of -feeling. Sheer environment may teach people to think alike -within a generation; but it takes centuries of common emotional -experiences to make them feel alike. Any average American, -even of the National-Security-League-one-hundred-per-centum -variety, may have in his veins the blood of English, -French, Italian, and Russian ancestors, and there is no saying -that his emotional nature is going to find many heart-beats in -common with some equally average neighbour, whose ancestry -may be, say, Irish, Danish, and Hungarian. What national -spirit we have has been determined, first, by the fact that the -ancestors of every one of us, whether they came here twenty -years ago or two hundred, were pioneers. Every one of them -left a civilization whose cultural background had been established -for centuries, to come to a land where the problem of -mere existence was of prime importance. Again, many of them -were religious fanatics. In the life of the pioneer there was -little room for art of any sort, and least for music. What he -demanded of music, when he had time to spare for it, was that -above all things it distract him from the fatigue and worry of -everyday life, either by amusing him or by furnishing a sentimental -reminder of old ways. To the Puritan, music, both for -its own sake and as entertainment, was anathema. As sensuous<span class="pagenum" id="Page_204">204</span> -beauty it was popish, and as entertainment it was worldly -pleasure, and therefore wicked. To be tolerated at all, it must -be practical, i.e., perform some moral service by being a hymn -tune. And what the American pioneer and the American Puritan -asked a few generations back, the average American asks -to-day whenever he is confronted with any work of art: Does -it point a moral? If not, will it help me to kill time without -boring me?</p> - -<p>Instruction, release, or amusement: that, in general, is all -we want of art. The American’s favourite picture is one that -tells a story, or shows the features of some famous person, or -the topography of some historic spot. Fantastic pictures he -likes, because they show him people and places far removed -from his own rather tedious environment, but they must be a -gaudy, literal, solid sort of fantasy—Maxfield Parrish rather -than Aubrey Beardsley. If he can’t have these, he wants -pretty girls or comics. Purely decorative or frankly meaningless -pictures—Hokusai and Whistler (except, of course, the -portraits of Carlyle and his mother)—do not exist for him. -Sculpture—which he does not understand—is probably his favourite -art-form, for it is tangible, three-dimensionable, stable. -He doesn’t mind poetry, for it, too, gives him release. He likes -novels, especially “glad” ones or mystery stories. He even -tolerates realism if, as in “Main Street,” it gives him release -by showing him a set of consistently contemptible and uncultured -characters to whom even he must feel superior. His -architecture he likes either ornate to imbecility or utilitarian -to hideousness.</p> - -<p>In other words, the typical American goes to an art-work -either frankly to have his senses tickled or for the sake of a -definite thing that it says or a series of extraneous images or -thoughts that it evokes—never for the <i xml:lang="de" lang="de">Ding an sich</i>. Of pure -æsthetic emotion he exhibits very little. To him, beauty is -emphatically not its own excuse for being. He does not want -it for its own sake, and distrusts and fears it when it appears -before him unclothed in moral lessons or associated ideas. In -such a civilization music can occupy but a very unimportant -place. For music is, morally or intellectually, the most meaningless -of arts: it teaches no lesson, it offers no definite escape<span class="pagenum" id="Page_205">205</span> -from life to the literal-minded, and aside from the primitive -and obvious associations of patriotic airs and “mother” songs, -it evokes no associated images or ideas. To love music you -must be willing to enjoy beauty pretty largely for its own sake, -without asking it to mean anything definite in words or pictures. -This the American hates to do. Since he cannot be edified, -he refuses to be stirred. There is nothing left for him, -therefore, in music, except such enjoyment as he can get out -of a pretty tune or an infectious rhythm.</p> - -<p>And that, despite our admirable symphony orchestras and -our two superb permanent opera companies (all run at a loss, -by the way), is about all that music means to the average -American—amusement. He simply does not see how an art -that doesn’t teach him anything, that is a shameless assault -upon his emotions (he makes no distinction between emotions -and senses), can possibly play any significant part in his life. -So, as a nation, he does what he generally does in other matters -of art, delegates its serious cultivation to women.</p> - -<p>Women constitute ninety per cent. of those who support -music in this country. It is women who attend song and instrumental -recitals; it is women who force reluctant husbands -and fathers to subscribe for opera seats and symphony concerts; -the National Federation of Musical Clubs, which works -throughout the country to foster the appreciation of music, is -composed entirely of women; at least two-thirds of the choral -organizations in the United States contain women’s voices only. -It is no disparagement of their activities to say that such a -state of affairs is unhealthy. This well-nigh complete feminization -of music is bad for it. After all, art, to be alive, must -like any other living thing be the result of collaboration. -Women have undertaken to be the moral guardians of the race, -and no one can deny that they guard, upon the whole, as well -as men could; but their guardianship is a bit too zealous at -times, and their predominance in our musical life aggravates -our already exaggerated tendency to demand that art be edifying. -One of the conditions of the opera contest conducted -by the National Federation in 1914 was that the libretto must -contain nothing immoral or suggestive (I paraphrase). Now -music is, after all, an adult occupation, and it might be assumed<span class="pagenum" id="Page_206">206</span> -that a composer competent to write an opera score might have -taste and intelligence enough not to be vulgar—for, surely, vulgarity -was all they wanted to guard against. If the clause -were to be interpreted literally, it would bar the librettos of -<cite xml:lang="de" lang="de">Tristan</cite>, <cite xml:lang="de" lang="de">Walküre</cite>, <cite>Carmen</cite>, <cite xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">Pelléas et Mélisande</cite>, and <cite xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">L’Amore -dei Tre Re</cite>—a supposition quite too unthinkable. The feminine -influence helps to increase the insularity of our musicians. -Women are more chauvinistic in art matters—if possible—than -men, and among the women’s clubs that are trying to encourage -the American composer there is a tendency to insist rather -that he be American than that he be a composer. Since it is -women who support our recitals and concerts it is they who -must assume responsibility for our excessive cult of the performer. -This land is certainly the happy hunting-ground of the -virtuoso, be he singer, player, or conductor. What he chooses to -sing, play, or conduct is comparatively unimportant to us. Our -audiences seem to gather not so much to listen as to look; or if -they do listen, it is to the voice or the instrument rather than -to the music. The announcement, “Farrar in <em>Carmen</em>” will -pack the Metropolitan to the doors; but if the bill be changed, -and <em>Zaza</em> be substituted at the last moment, who cares? -Indeed the ticket agencies, knowing what people really attend -opera for, frankly advertise “tickets for Farrar to-night.” -Rachmaninoff is a great pianist, and Rachmaninoff playing an -all-Chopin programme could fill Carnegie Hall at any time. -But Rachmaninoff playing a programme of Czerny’s “Exercises -for the Beginner” could fill it just as well. Announce an -all-Chopin programme without naming the pianist, and see how -much of an audience you draw. The people who go to hear -Galli-Curci sing the shadow-song from <cite>Dinora</cite> do not go to hear -music at all. They go as they would go to see Bird Millman -walk a slack wire; they go to hear a woman prove that, given -a phenomenal development of the vocal cords, she can, after -years of practice, perform scales and trills <i xml:lang="it" lang="it">in altissimo</i> very -nearly as well as the union flute-player who furnishes her obligato. -All this is to a certain extent true elsewhere, of course. -It is natural that if one person can sing or play better than -another, audiences should prefer to hear him rather than another. -But this worship of the performance rather than the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_207">207</span> -thing performed, this blind adoration of skill for its own sake, -is cultivated in America to a degree that is quite unparalleled.</p> - -<p>Many American cities and large towns hold annual musical -festivals, lasting from two days to a week or more, and these -are often mentioned as evidence of the existence of a genuine -musical culture among us. Are they? What happens at them? -For one thing, the local choral society performs a cantata or -oratorio. This is more than likely to be either <cite>The Messiah</cite> or -<cite>Elijah</cite>, works which through long association have taken on -less the character of musical compositions than of devotional -exercises. Edification again. Soloists are engaged, as expensive -and famous as the local budget allows, and these give recitals -during the remaining sessions of the festival. The -audiences come largely to see these marvels rather than to -hear music, for after the annual spree of culture is over they -return home contentedly enough to another year void of any -music whatever. Hearing a little music is better than hearing -none, but the test of genuine culture is whether or not it is an -integral part of life rather than a vacation from it. By this -test the annual festival would seem to exert about as much permanent -cultural influence as a clambake.</p> - -<p>The total unconsciousness on the part of his fellow-countrymen -that art is related to life, a sense of futility and unreality, -is what makes the lot of the musician in America a hard one, -and is responsible for his failure as an artist. If people get -the kind of government they deserve, they most certainly get -the kind of art they demand; and if, comparatively speaking, -there is no American composer, it is because America doesn’t -want him, doesn’t see where he fits in.</p> - -<p>Suppose most American music is trivial and superficial? -How many Americans would know the difference if it were -profound? The composer here lives in an atmosphere that is, -at the worst, good-natured contempt. Contempt, mind you, -not for himself—that wouldn’t matter—but for his very art. -In the minds of many of his compatriots it ranks only as an -entertainment and a diversion, slightly above embroidery and -unthinkably below baseball. At best, what he gets is unintelligent -admiration, not as an artist, but as a freak. Blind Tom, -the negro pianist, is still a remembered and admired figure in<span class="pagenum" id="Page_208">208</span> -American musical history; and Blind Tom was an idiot. To -an American, the process of musical composition is a mysterious -and incomprehensible trick—like sword-swallowing or -levitation—and as such he admires it; but he does not respect -it. He cannot understand how any normal he-man can spend -his life thinking up tunes and putting them down on paper. -Tunes are pleasant things, of course, especially when they -make your feet go or take you back to the days when you went -straw-riding; but as for taking them seriously, and calling it -work—man’s work—to think them up ... any one who -thinks that can be dismissed as a crank.</p> - -<p>If the crank could make money, it might be different. -The respect accorded to artists in our country is pretty sharply -graded in accordance with their earning power. Novelists and -playwrights come first, since literature and the stage are known -to furnish a “good living.” Sculptors have a certain standing, -on account of the rumoured prices paid for statues and public -memorials, though scenario writers are beginning to rank -higher. Painters are eyed with a certain suspicion, though -there is always the comfortable belief that the painter probably -pursues a prosperous career of advertising art on the side. -But poets and composers are decidedly men not to be taken -seriously. This system of evaluation is not quite as crass as -it sounds. America has so long been the land of opportunity, -we have so long gloried in her supremacy as the place to make -a living, that we have an instinctive conviction that if a man -is really doing a good job he must inevitably make money at -it. Only, poetry and music have the bad luck to be arts wherein -a man may be both great and successful and still be unable -to look the landlord in the eye. Since such trades are so -unprofitable, we argue, those who pursue them are presumably -incompetent. The one class of composer whom the American -does take seriously is the writer of musical comedy and popular -songs, not only because he can make money, but because -he provides honest, understandable entertainment for man and -beast. That, perhaps, is why our light music is the best of its -kind in the world.</p> - -<p>The self-styled music-lover in this country too often brings -little more genuine comprehension to music. He is likely to be<span class="pagenum" id="Page_209">209</span> -a highbrow (defined as a person educated beyond his intelligence), -with all the mental obtuseness and snobbishness of his -class. He divides music into “popular”—meaning light—and -“classical”—meaning pretentious. Now there is good -music and bad, and the composer’s pretensions have little to do -with the case. Compare, for example, the first-act finale of -Victor Herbert’s <cite xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">Mlle. Modiste</cite> with such vulgar rubbish as -<cite xml:lang="it" lang="it">Donna è mobile</cite>. Yet because the latter is sung by tenors, -at the Metropolitan, the highbrow solemnly catalogues it as -“classical,” abolishing the work of Herbert, Berlin, and Kern, -three greatly gifted men, with the adjective “popular.” In -general, he is the faithful guardian of the Puritan tradition, -always sniffing the air for a definite “message” or moral, seeking -sermons in tones, books in running arpeggios. It never -occurs to him that just as words are the language of intellect, -so is music the language of emotion, that its whole excuse for -existence is its perfection in saying what lies just beyond and -above words, and that if you can reduce a composer’s message -to words, you automatically render it meaningless.</p> - -<p>Music criticism in America is amazingly good in the cities. -The system under which the critics must work, however, -whereby they are supposed to “cover” everything (in New -York this theoretically entails making some sort of critical -comment upon every one of three or four hundred events in a -single season) is so impossible that much of their work is inevitably -scamped and perfunctory. Elsewhere throughout the -country criticism is handed over to reporters, who generally -avoid trouble by approving of everything. There is a tendency -toward the double standard—holding the stranger strictly to -account, especially the foreigner, and being “nice” to the -native—that produces demoralizing results.</p> - -<p>Of real musical journalism we have none. There is <cite>The -Musical Quarterly</cite>, good of its kind, but rather ponderous and -making no pretence to timeliness. The monthlies are chiefly -for the teacher. The weeklies are in general frankly “shop” -organs, devoted to the activities of the performer and filled -with his advertisements, portraits, and press notices. There -is no medium for the exchange of contemporary thought, for -the discussion of topics having a non-professional cultural interest.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_210">210</span> -Music publishing here is an industry, conducted like -any other industry. The Continental type of publisher, who -is a scholar and a musician, and a gentleman who is conscious -of a duty to music as well as to the stockholders, is almost -unknown here. To our publishers music is a commodity, to -be bought cheap and sold dear, and most of them will publish -anything that looks profitable, regardless of its quality. Their -typographical standards are higher than those anywhere in the -world, except Germany.</p> - -<p>So the American composer in America works more or less in -a vacuum. He is out of things, and he knows it. If he attempts -to say something, through his art, that will be intelligible -to his countrymen, he is baffled by the realization that -his countrymen don’t understand his language. This particular -difficulty, this sense of inarticulateness, probably weighed -less heavily upon the last two generations of American composers; -for they were, most of them, virtually German composers. -In their time a thorough technical education in music -was so nearly unobtainable here that it was simpler to go -abroad for it. So, from Paine to MacDowell, they went to -Germany. There they learned their trade, and at least learned -it thoroughly; but they learned to write, not only music, but -German music. To them, German music was music. Their -songs were <i xml:lang="de" lang="de">Lieder</i>; their symphonies and overtures were little -sinister sons of Beethoven, Raff, and Brahms. So completely -Teutonized did our musical speech become that we still find -it hard to believe that French music, Spanish music, Russian -music is anything but an imperfect translation from the German. -A few went to Paris and learned to write with a French -accent. MacDowell was, and remains, our best: a first-rank -composer, who died before his work was done. His earlier -music was all written, performed, and published in Germany, -and it is as <i xml:lang="de" lang="de">echt Deutsch</i> as that of Raff, his master. Not until -he approached middle life did he evolve a musical idiom that -was wholly of MacDowell, the American. Most of the rest -came back to spend their days fashioning good, honest, square-toed -<i xml:lang="de" lang="de">Kapellmeistermusik</i> that had about as much genuine relation -to their America as the Declaration of Independence has -to ours. They might feel this lack of contact, but at least<span class="pagenum" id="Page_211">211</span> -they had the consolation of knowing that there were people -in the world to whom what they said was at least intelligible.</p> - -<p>The American of the present generation has no such consolation. -He has probably not been trained abroad. He wants to -write music, and being human, he wants it understood. But -the minute he tries to express himself he betrays the fact that -he does not know what he wants to express. Any significant -work of art is inevitably based on the artist’s relation and reaction -to life. But the American composer’s relation to the -common life is unreal. His activities strike his fellows as unimportant -and slightly irrational. He can’t lay his finger upon -the great, throbbing, common pulse of America because for -him there is none. So he tries this, that, and the other, hoping -by luck to stumble upon the thing he wants to say. He tries -desperately to be American. Knowing that the great national -schools of music in other countries are based upon folksong, he -tries to find the American folksong, so as to base his music -upon that. He utilizes Negro tunes, and when they fail to -strike the common chord he devises themes based upon Indian -melodies. What he fails to see is that the folksongs of Europe -express the common <em>racial</em> emotions of a nation, not its geographical -accidents. When a Frenchman hears <em>Malbrouck</em> he -is moved by what moved generations of long-dead Frenchmen; -when a Russian hears <em>Dubinushka</em> he is stirred by what has -stirred Russians for centuries. But even if some melody did -stir the pulse of Geronimo, the mere fact that he was a former -resident of my country is no proof that it is going to stir -mine. If you insist that Negro music is the proper basis for -an American school of composition, try telling a Southerner -that when he hears <cite>Swing Low, Sweet Chariot</cite>, he is hearkening -to the voices of his ancestors!</p> - -<p>A curious symptom of this feeling of disinheritance is the -tendency of so many Americans to write what might be called -the music of escape, music that far from attempting to affirm -the composer’s relation to his day and age is a deliberate attempt -to liberate himself by evoking alien and exotic moods -and atmosphere. The publishers’ catalogues are full of Arab -meditations, Persian dances, Hindu serenades, and countless -similar attempts to get “anywhere out of the world.” The<span class="pagenum" id="Page_212">212</span> -best work of Charles Griffes, whose untimely death last year -robbed us of a true creative talent, was his symphonic poem, -“The Pleasure Dome of Kubla Khan,” and his settings of -Chinese and Japanese lyrics in Oriental rhythms and timbres. -Not that the mere choice of subject is important; it is the actual -mood and idiom of so much of this music that is significant -evidence of the impulse to give up and forget America, -to create a dream-world wherein one can find refuge from the -land of chewing gum and victrolas.</p> - -<p>These same victrolas, by the way, with their cousin, the -player-piano, which so outrage the sensibilities of many a musician -of the elder day, are a very real force in helping to -civilize this country musically. The American is by no means -as unmusical as he thinks he is. His indifference to art is only -the result of his purely industrial civilization, and his tendency -to mix morals with æsthetics is a habit of thought engendered -by his ancestry. The Puritan tradition makes him fearful -and suspicious of any sort of sensuous or emotional response, -but it has not rendered him incapable of it. Catch him off his -guard, get him away from the fear of being bored, and he is -far from insensitive to music. He buys victrola records because -he is a hero-worshipper, because he wants to hear the -expensive Caruso and Kreisler and McCormack; but inevitably -he is bound to take some notice of what they play and sing, -and to recognize it when he hears it again. In spite of himself -he begins to acquire a rudimentary sort of musical background. -He begins by buying jazz rolls for his player-piano, -and is likely in the long run, if only out of curiosity, to progress -from “blues” to Chopin, via Moszkovski and Grainger.</p> - -<p>But the greatest present-day force for good, musically, in this -country, is the large motion-picture house. Music has always -been a necessary accompaniment to motion pictures, in order -to compensate for the uncanny silence in which these photographic -wraiths unfold their dramas. Starting with a modest -ensemble of piano and glass crash, the motion-picture orchestra -has gradually increased in size and quality, the pipe organ has -been introduced to augment and alternate it, so that the larger -houses to-day can boast a musical equipment that is amazingly -good. A few years ago S. L. Rothafel devised a glorified type<span class="pagenum" id="Page_213">213</span> -of entertainment that was a sort of combination picture-show -and “pop” concert. He built a theatre, the Rialto, especially -to house it, containing a stage that was little more than a picture -frame, a large pipe organ, and an orchestra platform large -enough to hold seventy or eighty players. He recruited a permanent -orchestra large enough to play symphonic works, and -put Hugo Riesenfeld, an excellent violinist and conductor, who -had been trained under Arthur Nikisch, in charge of the performances. -These, besides the usual film presentations, comprised -vocal and instrumental solos and detached numbers by -the orchestra. All the music played at these entertainments -was good—in what is known in this country as “classical.” -Riesenfeld devised a running accompaniment to the films, assembled -from the best orchestral music obtainable—a sort of -synthetic symphonic poem that fitted the mood and action of -the film presented, and was, of course, much too good for it.</p> - -<p>This new entertainment form was instantly successful, and -is rapidly becoming the standard offering at all the larger picture -houses. It is a significant step in our musical life, for it is -the first entirely successful attempt in this country to adapt -art to popular wants. At last the average man is going of -his own accord into a public hall and hearing music—real music—and -discovering that he likes it. The picture house allows -him to pretend that he is going solely to see the films, and -needn’t listen unless he wants to. He finds that “classical” -music is not nearly so boresome as many of its admirers. -Freed from the highbrow’s condescension, unconscious of uplift, -he listens and responds to music like the prelude to <cite xml:lang="de" lang="de">Tristan</cite>, -the <cite xml:lang="de" lang="de">Walkürenritt</cite>, the <cite>New World</cite> symphony, Tschaikovsky’s -<cite>Fourth</cite>, and the <cite>Eroica</cite>. Theodore Thomas rendered no -more valuable service to music in America than have Samuel -Rothafel and Hugo Riesenfeld.</p> - -<p>We are still far from utopia, however. In one of his essays -upon communal art Henry Caro-Delvaille speaks of “the true -Mediterranean <i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">esprit</i>, the viable art philosophy of the French -race, which is essentially plastic, accepting and delineating life, -free alike from dogmatism and mysticism.” Try to frame a -sentence like that about America. Try to make any generalization -about the American spirit without using “liberty,” “free<span class="pagenum" id="Page_214">214</span> -institutions,” “resourcefulness,” “opportunity,” or other politico-economic -terms, if you would know what confronts the -American artist, above all the American musician, when he -attempts to become articulate to his countrymen. We simply -have no common æsthetic emotions. No wonder our music -flounders and stammers, and trails off into incoherence!</p> - -<p>Wagner wrote <cite xml:lang="de" lang="de">Die Meistersinger</cite> in a deliberate effort to -express the German artistic creed; Verdi wrote consciously as -an Italian; Glinka founded an entire school of composers whose -sole aim was to express Russia. Such a task is beyond the -American. The others were spokesmen for a race: he has -no race to speak for, and the moment he pretends that he has, -and tries to speak for it, he becomes conscious and futile. To -speak of American music, in any ethnic sense, is naïve; you -might as well speak of Baptist music. No. The American -must accept his lot. There is but one audience he can write -for, and that is himself. John Smith, American composer, -dare not say: “I write to express America.” He can only -say: “I write to express John Smith. I accept my life because, -after all, it is mine, and I interpret my life because it -is the only life I know.” And because John Smith is an -American, and because somewhere, remote and inarticulate, -there must be an American soul, then perhaps, if he does -honest work and is true to himself, he may succeed in saying -something that is of America, and of nowhere else, and that -other Americans will hear and understand.</p> - -<p class="right"> -<span class="smcap">Deems Taylor</span> -</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div id="toclink_215" class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_215">215</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="POETRY">POETRY</h2> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="smcap1">There</span> are many fashions, among contemporary critics, -of regarding American poetry, each of them perhaps of -equal helpfulness, since each is one facet of an imaginable -whole. There is the view of Mr. John Middleton Murry, -an English critic, that it depends perhaps a shade too much -on narrative or dramatic interest, on bizarrerie (if I may very -freely elaborate his notion) or, in general, on a kind of sensationalism, -a use of superficially intriguing elements which are -not specifically the right—or at all events the best—elements -of poetry. There is the view of Mr. Louis Untermeyer, one of -the ablest of our own critics and also one of the most versatile -of our parodists and poets, that our contemporary poetry is -good in measure as it comes in the direct line from Whitman: -good, that is to say, when it is the voice of the poet who accepts, -accepts joyously and largely, even loosely, this new -world environment, these new customs, social and industrial, -above all, it may be, the new sense of freedom which he might, -if pressed, trace back to Karl Marx on one hand and Sigmund -Freud on the other. There is again the view of Miss Amy -Lowell that our poetry is good, or tends to be, precisely in -proportion as it represents an outgrowing, by the poet, of his -acute awareness of a social or ethical “here and now,” and the -attainment of a relatively pure pre-occupation with beauty—the -sense of freedom here exercising itself principally, if not -altogether, with regard to literary tradition, especially the English: -once more, I dilate the view to make it the more broadly -representative. And there is, finally, the view of the conservative, -by no means silent even in this era, that what is good -in contemporary American poetry is what is for the moment -least conspicuous—the traditional, seen as it appears inevitably -in America to be seen, as something graceful, sentimental, -rightly ethical, gently idealistic.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_216">216</span></p> - -<p>What will be fairly obvious is that if we follow a little way -any particular one of these critics, we shall find him attempting -to urge our poetry in a particular direction, a direction -which he prefers to any other direction, and analysing its -origins in such a way, if he analyses at all, as to make plausible -its (postulated) growth in that direction. This is the natural, -even perhaps the best thing, for a participant critic to do—it -contributes, certainly, an interest and an energy. But if in -some freak of disinterestedness, we wish if for only a moment -to see American poetry with no concern save that of inordinate -and intelligent curiosity, then it is to all of these views that -we must turn, rather than to any one, and to the obverse of -each, as well as to the face. For if one thing is apparent to-day -in a study of American letters, it is that we must heroically -resist any temptation to simplify, to look in only one direction -for origins or in only one direction for growth. Despite our -national motto, American civilization is not so much one in -many as many in one. We have not, as England has and as -France has, a single literary heart; our literary capitals and -countries are many, each with its own vigorous people, its own -self-interest, its own virtues and provincialisms. We may attribute -this to the mere matter of our size, and the consequent -geographical sequestration of this or that group—that is -no doubt a factor, but of equal importance is the fact that -in a new country, of rapid and chaotic material growth, -we must inevitably have, according to the locality, marked -variations in the rapidity of growth of the vague thing we call -civilization. Chicago is younger than Boston, older than San -Francisco. And what applies to the large unit applies also -to the small—if the country in general has not yet reached -anything remotely like a cultural homogeneity (as far, that is, -as we ever in viewing a great nation expect such a thing) neither -has any section of it, nor any city of it. It is no longer possible, -if indeed it ever was, to regard a section like New England, -for example, as a definite environmental factor, say “y,” -and to conclude, as some critics are so fond of doing, that any -poet who matures there will inevitably be representable as -“yp.” This is among the commonest and falsest of false -simplifications. Our critics, frantically determined to find an<span class="pagenum" id="Page_217">217</span> -American poetry that is autochthonous, will see rocky pastures, -mountains and birches in the poetry of a New Englander, -or skyscrapers in the poetry of a New Yorker, or stockyards -in the poetry of a Chicagoan, as easily as a conjurer takes -a rabbit from a hat.</p> - -<p>What refuge we have from a critical basis so naïve is in -assuming from the outset, toward contemporary American -poetry, an attitude guardedly pluralistic—we begin by observing -merely that American poetry is certainly, at the moment, -if quantitative production and public interest are any measure, -extraordinarily healthy and vigorous. We are accustomed to -hearing it called a renaissance. The term is admissible if we -carefully exclude, in using it, any implication of a revival of -classicism. What we mean by it is simply that the moment is -one of quite remarkable energy, productiveness, range, colour, -and anarchy. What we do not mean by it is that we can trace -with accuracy where this outburst comes from. The origins of -the thing are obscure. It was audible in 1914—Mr. Edwin -Arlington Robinson and Mr. Ezra Pound were audible before -that; it burst into full chorus in 1915; and ever since there -has been, with an occasional dying fall, a lusty corybantic -cacophony. Just where this amazing procession started nobody -clearly knows. Mr. Untermeyer would have us believe that -Walt Whitman was, as it were, the organizer of it, Miss Monroe -tries to persuade us that it was <cite>Poetry: a Magazine of -Verse</cite>, But the facts, I think, wave aside either postulate. -If one thing is remarkable it is that in this spate of poetry the -influence of Walt Whitman—an influence, one would suppose, -as toxic for the young as Swinburne—is so inconsiderable: if -another is even more remarkable, it is that in all this chorus -one so seldom hears a voice of which any previous American -voice was the clear prototype. We have had, of course, our -voices—of the sort, I mean, rich enough in character to make -imitation an easy and tempting thing. Longfellow, Lowell, -Bryant, Sill, Lanier are not in this regard considerable,—but -what of Poe, whose influence we have seen in French poetry -on Baudelaire, and in contemporary English poetry on Mr. -Walter de la Mare? No trace of him is discoverable, unless -perhaps we find the ghostliest of his shadows now and then<span class="pagenum" id="Page_218">218</span> -across the work of Mr. John Gould Fletcher, or Mr. Maxwell -Bodenheim, or Mr. Wallace Stevens, a shadow cast, in all -these cases, amid much else, from a technical and colouristic -standpoint, which would have filled Poe with alarm. And -there is another American poet, perhaps as great as Poe, perhaps -greater (as he in turn is perhaps greater than Whitman—as -poet, though not as personality)—Emily Dickinson. Of -that quietist and mystic, who walked with tranquillity midway -between Blake and Emerson, making of her wilful imperfections -a kind of perfectionism, why do we hear so little? -Do we catch now and again the fleetingest glimpse of her in -the early work of Mr. Robert Frost? If so, it is certainly -nowhere else. Yet it would be hard to prove that she has no -right to a place with Poe and Whitman, or indeed among the -best poets in the language.</p> - -<p>But nowhere in America can we find, for contemporary -poetry, any clear precursive signal. Little as it may comfort -our fuglemen of the autochthonous, we must, I think, look to -Europe for its origins. This is not, as some imagine, a disgrace—it -would be a melancholy thing, of course, if we merely -imitated the European, without alteration. But Browning -would hardly recognize himself, even if he cared to, in the -“Domesday Book” of Mr. Edgar Lee Masters, Mallarmé and -Rimbaud would find Mr. Fletcher a mirror with an odd trick -of distortion, Laforgue would have to look twice at Mr. T. S. -Eliot’s “Prufrock” (for all its Hamletism), M. Paul Fort -would scarcely feel at home in Miss Amy Lowell’s “Can -Grande’s Castle,” Mr. Thomas Hardy and the ghost of Tennyson -would not quarrel much for the possession of Mr. Robinson’s -work, nor Mr. Chesterton and the author of “The -Ingoldsby Legends” for the lively sonorities of Mr. Vachel -Lindsay. In such cases we have not so much “influence” as -fertilization. It is something of Mr. Masters that “The Ring -and the Book” reveals to Mr. Masters: something of Miss -Lowell to which M. Paul Fort offers her the key. Was it a -calamity for Baudelaire that he lived only by a transfusion of -blood from an American? Is Becquer the less Becquer or -Spanish for having fed upon the “Buch der Lieder”?... -Culture is bartered, nowadays, at open frontiers, and if to-day<span class="pagenum" id="Page_219">219</span> -a new theme, chord, or colour-scheme is French, German, or -American, to-morrow it is international.</p> - -<p>If we differ in this respect from any other country it is only -that we are freer to exploit, really exhaust, the new, because -we hold, less than any other, to any classical traditions: for -traditions our poets seldom look back further than the 19th -century. We have the courage, often indistinguishable from -folly, of our lack of convictions. Thus it comes about that as -America is the melting-pot for races, so she is in a fair way -to become a melting-pot for cultures: we have the energy, the -curiosity, the intelligence, above all the lack of affiliations with -the past, which admirably adapt us to a task—so precisely -demanding complete self-surrender—of æsthetic experiment. -Ignorance has some compensations—I mean, of course, a partial -ignorance. If Mr. Lindsay had been brought up exclusively -on Aristotle, Plato, Æschylus, and Euripides, and had -been taken out of the shadow of the church by Voltaire and -Darwin, perhaps he would not have been so “free” to experiment -with the “higher vaudeville.” It will be observed that -this is an odd kind of “freedom,” for it amounts in some ways -to little more than the “freedom” of the prison. For if too -severe a training in the classics unfits one somewhat for bold -experiment, too little of it is as likely, on the other hand, to -leave one with an æsthetic perceptiveness, a sensibility, in -short, relatively rudimentary.</p> - -<p>This, then, is something of the cultural <i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">mise en scène</i> for our -contemporary poetry. We have repeated waves of European -suggestion breaking Westward over our continent, foaming -rather more in Chicago than in New York; and we have our -lusty young company of swimmers, confident that they are -strong enough to ride these waves farther than any one in -Europe rode them and with a more native grace. What is -most conspicuously American in most of these swimmers is -the fact that they rely not so much on skill and long training -as on sheer energy, vitality, and confidence. They rely, indeed, -in most cases, on a kind of exuberance or superabundance. -Do we not feel this in the work of Mr. Edgar Lee -Masters—does he not try, in these many full books of his, -where the good is so inextricably enmeshed with the bad, simply<span class="pagenum" id="Page_220">220</span> -to beat us down as under a cataract? “Domesday Book” -is, rather, an avalanche. He never knows what to exclude, -where to stop. Miss Lowell, Mr. Fletcher, Mr. Carl Sandburg, -and Mr. Lindsay are not far behind him, either—they -are all copious. I do not mean to imply that this is a bad -thing, at the moment—at the moment I am not sure that this -sheer exuberance is not, for us, the very <em>best</em> thing. Energy -is the first requisite of a “renaissance,” and supplies its material, -or, in another light, its richness of colour. Not the beginning, -but the end, of a renaissance is in refinement; and -I think we are certainly within bounds in postulating that the -last five years have given us at the least a superb beginning, -and enough more than that, perhaps, to make one wonder -whether we have not already cast Poe and Whitman, Sidney -Lanier, and Emily Dickinson, our strange little quartette, into -a shadow.</p> - -<p>All that our wonder can hope for is at best a very speculative -answer. If parallels were not so dangerous, we might -look with encouragement at that spangled rhetorical torrent -which we call Elizabethan literature. Ben Jonson did not consider -Shakespeare much of an artist, nor did Milton, and classicists -ever since have followed them in that opinion. If one -can be the greatest of poets and yet not much of an artist, we -may here keep clear of the quarrel: what we get at is the fact -that Shakespeare and the other Elizabethans participated in a -literary movement which, like ours, began in energy, violence, -and extravagance, was at its best excessively rhetorical and -given to unpruned copiousness, and perished as it refined. -Will a future generation see us in a somewhat similar light—will -it like us for our vitality, for the reckless adventurousness -of our literature, our extravagances, and forgive us, if it does -not precisely enjoy as something with a foreign flavour, our -artistic innocence? That is conceivable, certainly. Yet the -view <em>is</em> speculative and we dare not take it too seriously. For -if we have kept hopefully and intelligently abreast of the -contemporary we have kept, none the less, our own very sufficient -aloofness, our own tactilism and awareness, in the light -of which we are bound to have our own scepticisms and self-distrust. -I do not mean that we would perhaps prefer something<span class="pagenum" id="Page_221">221</span> -more classical or severe than “Spoon River Anthology” -or “The Congo” or the colour symphonies of Mr. Fletcher, -merely on the ground that it is the intrinsically classical and -severe which we most desire. What we seem to see in contemporary -American poetry is a transition from the more to -the less exuberant, from the less to the more severe; and what -we most <em>desire</em> to see is the attainment of <em>that point</em>, in this -transition, which will give us our parallel to the Shakespearean, -if we may hope for anything even approximately so high; a -point of equipoise.</p> - -<p>This hope gives us a convenient vantage from which to -survey the situation, if we also keep in mind our perception of -American cultural heterogeneity and the rashness of any attempt -to generalize about it. The most exact but least diverting -method would be the merely enumerative, the mere roll-call -which would put before us Mr. Edwin Arlington Robinson -and Mr. Ezra Pound as the two of our poets whose public -literary activities extend farthest back, and after them the -group who made themselves known in the interval between -1914 and 1920: Mr. Robert Frost, Mr. Fletcher, Mr. Masters, -Mr. Sandburg, Miss Lowell, Mr. Lindsay, Mr. Alfred Kreymborg, -Mr. Maxwell Bodenheim, Mr. Wallace Stevens, “H. D.,” -Mr. T. S. Eliot, and Miss Sara Teasdale. These poets, with -few exceptions, have little enough in common—nothing, perhaps, -save the fact that they were all a good deal actuated at -the outset by a disgust with the dead level of sentimentality -and prettiness and moralism to which American poetry had -fallen between 1890 and 1910. From that point they diverge -like so many radii. One cannot say, as Miss Lowell has tried -to persuade us, that they have all followed one radius, and -that the differences between them are occasioned by the fact -that some have gone farther than others. We may, for convenience, -classify them, if we do not attach too much importance -to the bounds of our classes. We may say that Mr. -Robinson, Mr. Frost, and Mr. Masters bring back to our -poetry a strong sense of reality; that Mr. Fletcher, Mr. Pound, -Miss Lowell, “H. D.,” and Mr. Bodenheim bring to it a sharpened -consciousness of colour; that Mr. Eliot, Mr. Kreymborg, -and Mr. Stevens bring to it a refinement of psychological<span class="pagenum" id="Page_222">222</span> -subtlety; Mr. Sandburg, a grim sense of social responsibility; -Mr. Lindsay, a rhythmic abandon mixed with evangelism; Miss -Teasdale, a grace. The range here indicated is extraordinary. -The existence side by side in one generation and in one country -of such poets as Mr. Masters and Mr. Fletcher, or Mr. -Eliot and Miss Lowell, is anomalous. Clearly we are past -that time when a nation will have at a given moment a single -direct literary current. There is as yet no sign that to any -one of these groups will fall anything like undivided sway. -Mr. Frost’s “North of Boston” and Mr. Fletcher’s “Irradiations” -came out in the same year; “Spoon River Anthology” -and the first “Imagist Anthology”; Mr. Robinson’s “Lancelot” -and Mr. Bodenheim’s “Advice.” And what gulfs even -between members of any one of our arbitrary “classes”! Mr. -Frost’s actualism is seldom far from the dramatic or lyric, -that of Mr. Masters seldom far from the physiological. Mr. -Masters is bitter-minded, tediously explanatory, and his passionate -enquiries fall upon life like so many heavy blows; -his delvings appear morbid as well as searching. Mr. Frost -is gentle, whether in irony, humour, or sense of pain: if it is -the pathos of decay which most moves him, he sees it, none -the less, at dewfall and moonrise, in a dark tree, a birdsong. -The inflections of the human voice, as he hears them, are as -tender as in the hearing of Mr. Masters they are harsh. And -can Mr. Robinson be thought a commensal of either? His -again is a prolonged enquiry into the why of human behaviour, -but how bared of colour, how muffled with reserves and dimmed -with reticence! Here, indeed, is a step toward romanticism. -For Mr. Robinson, though a realist in the sense that his preoccupation -is with motive, turns down the light in the presence -of his protagonist that in the gloom he may take on the air -of something larger and more mysterious than the garishly -actual. Gleams convey the dimensions—hints suggest a depth. -We are not always too precisely aware of what is going on in -this twilight of uncertainties, but Mr. Robinson seems to whisper -that the implications are tremendous. Not least, moreover, -of these implications are the moral—the mirror that Mr. -Robinson holds up to nature gives us back the true, no doubt, -but increasingly in his later work (as in “Merlin” and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_223">223</span> -“Lancelot,” particularly the latter) with a slight trick of refraction -that makes of the true the exemplary.</p> - -<p>We cross a chasm, from these sombre psycho-realists, to the -colourists. To these, one finds, what is human in behaviour or -motive is of importance only in so far as it affords colour or -offers possibilities of pattern. Mr. Fletcher is the most brilliant -of this group, and the most “uncontrolled”: his colourism, -at its best, is a pure, an astonishingly absolute thing. The -“human” element he wisely leaves alone—it baffles and escapes -him. One is aware that this kaleidoscopic whirl of colour -is “wrung out” of Mr. Fletcher, that it conveys what is for -him an intense personal drama, but this does not make his -work “human.” The note of “personal drama” is more complete -in the poetry of “H. D.,” but this too is, in the last analysis, -a nearly pure colourism, as static and fragmentary, however, -as Mr. Fletcher’s is dynamic. Mr. Bodenheim is more -detached, cooler, has a more conscious eye for correspondences -between colour and mood: perhaps we should call him a symbolist. -Even here, however, the “human,” the whim of tenderness, -the psychological gleam, are swerved so that they may fall -into a fantastic design. Miss Lowell, finally, more conscious, -deliberate and energetic than any of these, brilliantly versatile, -utterly detached, while she “sees” more of the objective world -(and has farther-ranging interests), sees it more completely -than any of them simply as raw colour or incipient pattern. -If the literary pulse is here often feverishly high, the empathic -and sympathetic temperature is as often absolute zero.</p> - -<p>Mr. Pound shares with Miss Lowell this immersion in the -“literary”—he is intensely aware of the literary past, rifles it -for odds and ends of colour, atmosphere, and attitude, is perpetually -adding bright new bits, from such sources, to his -Joseph’s coat: but if a traditionalist in this, a curio-hunter, -he is an experimentalist in prosody; he has come far from the -sentimental literary affectedness of his early work and at his -best has written lyrics of a singular beauty and transparent -clarity. The psychological factor has from time to time intrigued -him, moreover, and we see him as a kind of link between -the colourists and such poets as Mr. T. S. Eliot, Mr. -Alfred Kreymborg, and Mr. Wallace Stevens. These poets<span class="pagenum" id="Page_224">224</span> -are alike in achieving, by a kind of alchemy, the lyric in terms -of the analytic: introspection is made to shine, to the subtly -seen is given a delicate air of false simplicity. Mr. Stevens -is closest to the colourists. His drift has been away from the -analytic and towards the mere capture of a “tone.” Mr. -Kreymborg is a melodist and a mathematician. He takes a -pleasure in making of his poems and plays charming diagrams -of the emotions. Mr. Eliot has more of an eye for the sharp -dramatic gesture, more of an ear for the trenchant dramatic -phrase—he looks now at Laforgue, now at John Webster. His -technical skill is remarkable, his perception of effect is precise, -his range narrow, perhaps increasingly narrow.</p> - -<p>Even so rapid and superficial a survey cannot but impress -us with the essential anarchy of this poetic community. Lawlessness -has seemed at times to be the prevailing note; no -poetic principle has remained unchallenged, and we have only -to look in the less prosperous suburbs and corners of this city -to see to what lengths the bolder rebels, whether of the -“Others” group or elsewhere, have gone. Ugliness and shapelessness -have had their adherents among those whom æsthetic -fatigue had rendered momentarily insensitive to the well-shaped; -the fragmentary has had its adherents among those -whom cynicism had rendered incapable of any service, too -prolonged, to one idea. But the fetichists of the ugly and the -fragmentary have exerted, none the less, a wholesome and -fructifying influence. Whatever we feel about the ephemerality -of the specifically ugly or fragmentary, we cannot escape -a feeling that these, almost as importantly as the new realism -or the new colourism, have enlarged what we might term the -general “poetic consciousness” of the time. If there was a -moment when the vogue of the disordered seemed to threaten, -or predict, a widespread and rapid poetic decadence, that moment -is safely past. The tendency is now in the other direction, -and not the least interesting sign is the fact that many -of the former apostles of the disordered are to-day experimenting -with the things they yesterday despised—rhyme, metre, -and the architecture of theme.</p> - -<p>We have our affections, in all this, for the fragmentary and -ugly as for the abrupt small hideousness—oddly akin to virility—of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_225">225</span> -gargoyles. We have our affections, too, for the rawest -of our very raw realisms—for the maddest of our colourisms, -the most idiosyncratic subtleties of our first introspectionists. -Do we hesitate a little to ask something more of any of the -poets whom we thus designate? What we fear is that in -attempting to give us our something more, they will give us -something less. What we want more of, what we see our -contemporary poets as for the most part sadly deficient in, is -“art.” What we are afraid they will lose, if we urge them in -this direction, is their young sharp brilliance. Urge them, -however, we must. What our poets need most to learn is -that poetry is not merely a matter of outpouring, of confession. -It must be serious: it must be, if simple in appearance, none the -less highly wrought: it must be packed. It must be beautifully -elaborate rather than elaborately beautiful. It must be -detached from dogma—we must keep it away from the all too -prevalent lecture platform.</p> - -<p>What we should like to see, in short, is a fusion, of the extraordinary -range of poetic virtues with which our contemporary -poets confront us, into one poetic consciousness. Do we -cavil too much in assuming that no one of our poets offers us -quite enough? Should we rather take comfort in the hope -that many of their individual “personalities” are vivid enough -to offset their onesidedness, and in that way to have a considerable -guarantee of survival? We have mentioned that possibility -before, and certainly it cannot be flatly dismissed. But -I think it cannot be contested that many of these poets already -feel, themselves, a sharper responsibility, a need for a greater -comprehensiveness, for a finer and richer tactile equipment, -a steadier view of what it is that constitutes beauty of form. -They are immeasurably distant from any dry, cold perfectionism, -however; and if we cheer them in taking the path that -leads thither, it is in the hope of seeing them reach the halfway -house rather than the summit. For to go all the way is to -arrive exhausted; to go half way is to arrive with vigour.... -That, however, is to interpose our own view and to lose our -detachment. We return to a reiteration of our conclusion that -American poetry is at the moment extraordinarily healthy. Its -virtues are the virtues of all good poetry, and they are sufficient<span class="pagenum" id="Page_226">226</span> -to persuade us that the future of English poetry lies as -much in America as in England. Its faults are the faults of -a culture that is immature. But again, we reiterate that we -have here many cultures, and if some are immature, some -are not. Let those who are too prone to diagnose us culturally -from “Spoon River Anthology” or “Smoke and Steel” keep -in mind also Mr. Robinson’s “Merlin” and Mr. Frost’s -“North of Boston”; Mr. Fletcher’s “Goblins and Pagodas” -and Miss Lowell’s “Can Grande’s Castle.”</p> - -<p class="right"> -<span class="smcap">Conrad Aiken</span> -</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div id="toclink_227" class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_227">227</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="ART">ART</h2> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="smcap1">The</span> problem of American Art is unlike that of any other -country of the present or the past. We have not here -the racial and historical foundation on which, until now, every -art has been built and so our striving (it is far too soon to speak -of success or failure) must be judged from another standpoint -than the one to be taken in viewing an art that originates with -its people or is directly transmitted from an older race. Egypt -and ancient Mexico furnish examples of the first case, Italy -and France of the second. When the latter countries were -colonized by the Greeks, Phœnicians and others, they received -a culture which could take on fresh vigour when grasped by -a new race.</p> - -<p>We did not start as a new race, but as Europeans possessing -the same intellectual heritage as the men who stayed in the -parent countries. Our problem was not one of receiving the -ancient tradition from an invading or colonizing people who -brought with them an art already formed. Ourselves the invaders -and colonizers, our problem was to keep alive the ideas -that we had had in Europe, or to take over those of our new -home, or to evolve an art of our own.</p> - -<p>To begin with the second possibility, the question of our -relation to the ideas of the Indians may obviously be disposed -of very briefly. The tribes encountered by the early settlers -were in a state of savagery, and this fact, together with the -constant warfare between the two races, is a sufficient explanation -why we find no influence from the red men. Even where -the Europeans encountered culture of a very high order, as in -Mexico and Peru, the remoteness of the native ideas from those -of the invading race prevented for centuries a just appreciation -of the earliest and unquestionably the greatest art produced -in the Western Hemisphere. It is only in quite recent -years that we have realized its merit, and it is unlikely that -even our present-day interest in the exotic arts will bring about<span class="pagenum" id="Page_228">228</span> -any important influence from the Indians, although in regions -such as our Southwest and the parts of Mexico where “Americanizing” -has not yet killed their art-instinct, they are still -producing beautiful work.</p> - -<p>We have, of course, retained European ideals, but they have -been conditioned by circumstances and we have not kept pace -with Europe or even followed the course of the great art-movements -until they were almost or quite superseded abroad. -Our distance from the centres of ancient and modern culture -on one hand, and the needs of building up the new continent on -the other, combined to make our people lose interest in art, -which, indeed, had never found a propitious soil among our -British forebears. The case of literature is different. The -love of it is an abiding one with the Anglo-Saxon race, and as -Shakespeare and the Bible could be read in the frontier cabin -almost as well as in London or Dublin, there was not the loss -of knowledge of literature, the break in the production of it -that we find in the case of the plastic arts.</p> - -<p>It is easy to exaggerate on this score, however, forgetting that -the art-instinct accumulated in a race for centuries is not to -be lost by a period of neglect. When he goes to the museum, -the American recognizes the same masters as does the European, -but the smaller opportunity here to know the classic past -has the double effect of keeping art-lovers in America in a far -more reduced minority and at the same time of weakening the -authority of tradition.</p> - -<p>Not to speak of 17th or 18th century conditions, nor even of -those of the 19th century, one need only consider the America -of to-day to realize how little opportunity our people has to -know art. In all but a few cities, Americans can learn only -from reproductions and books, though even these are an immeasurably -safer guide than the bad original works which are -usually the first to arrive. When one thinks of the European -countryside and the numberless small towns of all the old countries -where there is no museum, one may be tempted to ask -whether art conditions are so very different there. But they -are different. There will be an old church, or some houses -of a good period, or some objects in the houses, or—on the -walls of the inn—some old prints handing on the tradition<span class="pagenum" id="Page_229">229</span> -of the great religious pictures (such things were made quite -commonly until recent times and have not entirely ceased to be -produced); a tradition of construction and of colour makes the -modern houses fit in quite acceptably with those of the past. -The centuries have built up a sense of fitness and beauty in -the making and wearing of costume; there will be some form -of folk-singing or other collective action of an artistic character, -and thus the exceptional individual, born with a strong -instinct toward art, has surroundings and a foundation that are -lacking here. A striking proof of the difference between the -two continents is the effect of the war on art-interest: whereas -in America public attention has been turned away from art to -a most marked degree, Europe is producing and buying art -with a fervour that can only be explained by the desire to get -back to essentials after the years in which people were deprived -of them.</p> - -<p>Another phenomenon to be noted at this point is the dominance -of women in American art-matters. It is unknown in -any other country. The vast majority of American men are -engrossed in the drive of work, their leisure goes to sport and -to the forms of entertainment that call for the smallest amount -of mental effort. The women, with their quicker sensibility -and their recognition of art as one of the things that mark the -higher orders of life, take over the furnishing of the home and -through this and the study that their greater leisure permits -them, exert a strong influence on the purchase of art-works -for private collections and even museums. The production -of the American painter and sculptor is also much affected as -a consequence, and in the direction of conventionality. I do -not claim that the level of art in America would be greatly -improved at present if it were the men instead of the women -who took the lead; perhaps, in view of the state of appreciation -in our people, it would be lowered; but I maintain that -the fact that art is so much in the hands of women and the -suspicion among men that it carries with it some implication -of effeminacy are among the indications of American immaturity -in art-appreciation. We cannot expect an art really -representative of America until there is a foundation of regard -for his work that the artist can build on. In the old civilizations<span class="pagenum" id="Page_230">230</span> -the artist was meeting an active demand on the part -of his people; in America, he has to seek desperately for a -living. Albrecht Dürer summed up the difference between the -two states of civilization when he wrote from Venice to a friend -in the young Germany of his day: “Oh, how I shall freeze for -this sun when I get home; here I am a gentleman, at home a -parasite.”</p> - -<p>It will seem to many that even such famous words should -not be repeated in a country where art is so often mentioned -in the papers, where museums are springing up in large numbers, -where unheard-of prices are paid for the work of famous -men, and where even those who take no interest in art will -accord it a sort of halo. But the very fact that it is relegated -to the class of Sunday things instead of entering into everyday -life shows that our colonial period—in the cultural sense -of the word—is not yet passed. This should not be looked on -as discouraging; it is natural that the formation of character -and ideas should require time and I shall endeavour to show -that the development is really a rapid and healthy one. The -mistake Americans are most prone to, that of imagining the -country to have reached a mature character and a valid expression, -shows their eagerness to advance, and explains their -readiness to tear down or to build up.</p> - -<p>In the presence of such a spirit, one must see the mistakes -of conservatism or of ignorance in due perspective. However -trying to those who suffer from them at the time, they cannot -fatally warp the growth that is going on. For years we retained -a tariff that obstructed the coming into the country of -works of art. That is a thing of the past, and as one of the -reasons used to defend it was that it protected American artists -against the foreigner, so, with the abolition of the tariff, there -has been more of a tendency to judge works of art for their -own qualities, without question of their nationality and without -the puerile idea of nurturing the American product by -keeping out work from abroad. How far this mistake had -gone may be judged from the fact that in a certain city of our -Far West a group of painters made a protest against the attention -given by a newspaper to an exhibition sent out from New -York, raising no question of the quality of the work, but merely<span class="pagenum" id="Page_231">231</span> -demanding that local men be spoken of when art was discussed -in the paper—which promptly acquiesced, and removed the -critic from his position. The case may seem an extreme one, -yet it illustrates the attitude of many of our collectors and even -our museum authorities who, in the name of Americanism, -are “helping to fame many, the sight of whose painting is a -miseducation,” to use a phrase that Mr. Berenson has applied -to another matter.</p> - -<p>There is no question to-day but that America must evolve -along the lines of contemporary thought throughout the civilized -world. There will be a local tang to our art. Certain -enthusiasms and characteristics, as we develop them, may give -emphasis to special phases of our production, but there is no -longer the possibility of an isolated, autochthonic growth, such -as seemed to be forecast up to about the time of the Revolution. -The 18th century in America with its beautiful architecture, -its fine craftsmen, and its painting, is only less far from -the America of to-day than is the art of the Indians. We still -put up buildings and make furniture in what is called the -Colonial style, but so do we follow the even more remote -Mission style of architecture in our Western States, and attempt -to use Indian designs in decoration. The usual fate of -attempted continuings of a bygone style overtakes all these -efforts. Our materials are different, our needs are different, -our time is different. A glance at two houses, as one speeds -by in an automobile, tells us which is the real Colonial architecture, -which the imitation. At the Jumel Mansion in New -York it is easy to see which are the old parts, which the -restorations, although enough time has passed since the latter -were made to weather them to the tone of the original -places.</p> - -<p>In painting, the change that occurred after we became a -republic is even more unmistakable. The English School underwent -considerable modification when its representatives here -began to work for themselves. Where Reynolds, Gainsborough, -and Lawrence were consulting the old masters with such -studious solicitude, Sir Joshua especially pursuing his enquiry -into the processes of Titian, men like Copley and Blackburn -were thrown back on such technical resources as they could<span class="pagenum" id="Page_232">232</span> -find here and had to depend for progress on tightening their -hold on character. Copley has the true note of the primitive -in the intensity with which he studies his people, and must be -reckoned with portraitists of almost the highest order.</p> - -<p>What a change in the next generation! The more independent -we are politically the more we come out of the isolation -that gave us quiet and freedom to build up the admirable -style of pre-Revolutionary days. And then there was so much -to be done in getting our new institutions to work and our new -land under cultivation, there was so much money to be made -and so much to import from Europe. It is significant that the -best painter of the period is John Vanderlyn, who had been -sent to Paris to study under Ingres. Fine artist that Vanderlyn -was, and informed by a greater tradition than Copley -knew, he never reached the impressiveness of the latter.</p> - -<p>I shall not attempt to describe at any length the various -steps by which we rose from the artistic poverty which was -ours in the earlier decades of the 19th century. My purpose -is not to write even a short history of American art, but to -enquire into its character and accomplishment. The test of -these is evidently not what each period or school meant to the -American artists before or after it, but how it compares with -the rest of the world’s art at its time. The thought occurs to -one forcibly on hearing of the wildly exaggerated esteem—whether -measured by words or by money—in which the more -celebrated of American artists are held; one asks oneself how -the given work would be considered in Europe by competent -men. Few indeed are the reputations that will stand the test; -and we do not need to go abroad to apply it, for the galleries -of our large cities supply ample opportunity for the comparison.</p> - -<p>Beginning with the landscape artists who are the earliest of -the modern Americans to be looked on as our possible contribution -to art, one’s most impersonal observation is that in -point of time, they, like their successors in this country, follow -the Europeans of the school to which they belong by something -like a generation. Now, art-ideas moved very rapidly in -the 19th century, and—however mechanical an indication it -may appear at first sight—it is almost a sure condemnation of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_233">233</span> -a European painter to find him in one period trying to work -with the formula of the generation before him. In America -this test does not apply so well, for we must allow for the -effect of distance and compare the American with his immediate -contemporaries abroad only in proportion to the advance -of time—which is to say in proportion to the convenience of -travel to Europe and the possibility of seeing contemporary -work here.</p> - -<p>Thus when we consider that Inness, Wyant, and Martin -were born about a generation after the Barbizon men and very -nearly at the time of the French Impressionists, we shall not -say that it was to the latter school that the Americans should -have belonged. Whereas the European followers of Corot -and Rousseau were merely <i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">retardataires</i> who had not the intellectual -power to seize on the ideas of their own day, the Americans -could feel a little of the joy of discoverers through having -themselves worked out some of the ideas of naturalism in their -evolution from the earlier landscape painting in this country. -And so if they add nothing to what the Frenchmen had done -already—with an incomparably greater tradition to uphold -them—our trio of nature-lovers expressed genuine sentiment, -and Homer Martin pushed on to a quality of painting that -often places him within hailing distance of the classic line -which, in France, kept out of the swamps of sentimentality -that engulfed the followers of Wyant and Inness here.</p> - -<p>The cases of Winslow Homer and Albert P. Ryder have an -interest aside from the actual works of the two painters. They -are doubtless the strongest Americans of their time—and the -ones who owe the least to Europe. It must be men of such -a breed who will make real American art when we are ready -to produce it. In any case their work must rank among our -permanently valuable achievements: Homer’s for the renewal -of the sturdy self-reliance that we noted in Copley, Ryder’s for -the really noble design he so often obtained and for the grand -and moving fidelity to a vision.</p> - -<p>If their independence is so valuable a factor in both men’s -work, there is also to be noted the heavy price that each paid -for having been reared in a provincial school. With a boldness -of character that recalls Courbet, Winslow Homer fails<span class="pagenum" id="Page_234">234</span> -utterly to hold a place in art analogous to that of the French -realist, because all the power and ability that went into his -work were unequal to compensating for his lack of the knowledge -of form, of structure, of optical effect that Ingres and -Delacroix, among others, furnished ready to the hand of -Courbet. Thus Homer’s painting goes on throughout his lifetime -quite innocent of any real concern with the central problems -of European picture-making and owes most of its strength -to the second-rate quality of illustration. One hesitates to say -that Ryder would have gone farther had he been born in -France, yet the fact of his labouring for ten or fifteen years on -many a small canvas, the very limited number of his works -which has resulted from the difficulty he had in saying the -thing that was in him, are marks of a bad training. His range -is not a wide one, but the deep beauty he infused into his pictures -is one of our chief reasons for confidence in the art-instinct -that lies dormant in our people.</p> - -<p>None of the men in the next group we must consider, the -artists who enter fully into European painting, have the foundation -of talent that Ryder had. Whistler is, of course, the -painter to whom most Americans pin their faith in searching -among their compatriots for an essential figure in 19th-century -art. But take the first opportunity to see him with the great -Frenchmen of his time: beside Degas his drawing is of a sickly -weakness but slightly relieved by his sense of rhythm in line -and form; beside Manet his colour and painting seem even -more etiolated, and to save one’s feeling for him from utter -demolition one hastens to the usual American refuge of the -sentiment and—in the etchings—to the Yankee excellence of -the craftsmanship. The nocturnes really do have a felicity in -their rendering of the poetry of the night that would make us -regret their loss, and when the unhappy Whistlerian school -has been forgotten (an artist must take <em>some</em> responsibility for -his followers) we shall have more satisfaction in the butterfly -that Whistler knew himself to be, since he adopted it as his -signature. It is merit of no such slightness that we love in -Ryder, and yet when we reach Chase and Sargent we find even -less of basic talent, for which their immersion in the current -of European painting could have furnished a finely tempered<span class="pagenum" id="Page_235">235</span> -instrument of expression. Both men show the natural bent -for painting that is often a valuable asset and often—as in -their case—a source of danger. They do not enrich our annals -by any great works, but they do the country an immense service -when they cause its students and collectors to take one of -the final steps in the direction of the live tradition of Europe. -They never appreciated what was greatest among their contemporaries, -and failing to have this grasp of the creative impulse -and of the new principles that were at work in Paris, -they offered clever manipulations of the material as a substitute. -Feeling the insufficience of this, Sargent has tried the -grave style of the early Italians in his decorations at the Public -Library in Boston. But his Biblical personages get him no -nearer to the essentials of art than the society people of whom -he has done so many likenesses. In Boston, it is Chavannes -who shows which is the great tradition of the period and how -it accords with the classic past. Sargent is perhaps most -American in his unreadiness to perceive the immense things -that Europe, modern and ancient, had to offer him.</p> - -<p>Even so, with Chase and Sargent we find ourselves far -nearer the period when American artists shall partake in art-ideas -during their moment of full fertility. Our Impressionists -are only a decade or two behind the Frenchman, and while one -must not slip into a too easy trick of rating talent by the time -of its appearance, one cannot fail to be struck by the fact that -John H. Twachtman and J. Alden Weir approached the quality -of their French preceptors with far greater closeness than -that with which the Inness-Wyant group followed the Barbizon -men. Much as there is of charm and sound pictorial -knowledge in Twachtman’s work and Weir’s, one feels that -they are not yet deep enough in the great tradition to go -on to an art of their own creation, and we have to content -ourselves with giving them a place among the Impressionists of -secondary rank.</p> - -<p>An interesting case among the Americans who made the serious -study of European art that began soon after the middle -of the 19th century, is that of John La Farge. We know the -history of his seeking, his copying, his associations, speculations, -and travels. All his life he is the man from the new<span class="pagenum" id="Page_236">236</span> -country asking the dead and the living representatives of the -classic tradition for help. How little we see of the man himself -in the mosaic of charming things that make up his art. -Winslow Homer exists as a personality, ill-educated and crude, -but affirmative and arresting. La Farge disappears in the -smoke of the incense that he burns before the various shrines -to which his eclecticism led him.</p> - -<p>If not to be admired as a great artist, he was a man of great -gifts and a genuine appreciator of the masters. Therefore, he -is not to be confused for a moment with the ignoble <i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">pasticheurs</i> -who achieve office and honours in the anæmic institutions with -which we imitate the academies and salons of Europe. These -are among the youthful errors I mentioned on an earlier page—depressing -enough when one sees the acres of “decorative” -abominations which fill our state-houses, courts, and libraries, -but in reality of no great importance as a detriment to our -culture. Like the soldiers’ monuments, the dead architecture, -the tasteless manufactured articles of common use, they sink -so far below any level of art that the public is scarcely affected -by them. Only the persons trained in schools to admire the -painting of a Mr. E. H. Blashfield or the sculpture of a Mr. -Daniel C. French ever try to think of them as beautiful; the -rest of the public takes them on faith as something that goes -with the building, like the “frescoed” cupids to be found in -the halls of apartment houses or the tin cupolas and minarets -on the roof. The popular magazine-illustrators, poor as they -are, have more power to mislead than our quasi-official nonentities.</p> - -<p>Between the pseudo-classic decorators and the frankly “lowbrow” -artists of the commercial publications, the posters, and -the advertisements, there is the large class of men whose work -is seen at the annual exhibitions, the dealers’ galleries, and the -American sections of the museums. They partake of the vice -of each of the other two classes: the easily learned formula for -their product being a more or less thorough schooling in some -style derived from the past, plus an optimistic or “red-blooded” -or else gently melancholy attitude toward the subject. -Velasquez has been the main victim of their caricature -in the later years, but a little Chinese, Florentine, Impressionist,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_237">237</span> -or even Cubist style will often be added to give a look of -“modernity” to the work. As long as there is a recognizable -proficiency in drawing and painting (it is of course only for the -cheaper trade that the picture has to be guaranteed as done by -hand), the erudite patron or museum trustee is assured of the -seriousness of the artist’s intentions, while to make the thing -take with the general buyer, the most important matter is -judgment as to the type of American girl, the virile male, or -the romantic or homely landscape that our public likes to live -with.</p> - -<p>The only excuse for mentioning such things in an essay on -American art is that they help to define it by contrast—for -these pictures are neither art nor American. The disease of -which they are an outward sign infects Europe almost as much -as it does our own country, and there is hardly a distinguishing -mark to tell whether the Salon picture was done in Madrid, -Berlin, or Indianapolis. A sentence from an eminent American -critic, Russell Sturgis, gives the key to the situation. He -said, “The power of abstract design is lost to the modern -world,—we must paint pictures or carve expressional groups -when we wish to adorn.” In the half generation that has -passed since these words were spoken, the French have proven -by several arts based entirely on abstract design that the power -for it was not lost to the world and that men still know the -difference between expression by form and colour and expression -by concrete ideas.</p> - -<p>Throughout this survey I have taken painting as the index -to the art-instinct of America, and as we glance again at even -our best painters we see that it is on concrete ideas that they -have built: on character in portraiture with Copley, on romantic -vision with Ryder, on observation of appearances with -Homer. Precisely the reason for Whistler’s great success -among his countrymen was the promise of release he afforded -by his reaching out for the design and colour of the Orient, -with which one associates also his spoken words, offering us -“harmonies” and “symphonies” in place of the art built on -intellectual elements that we had had before. The fact that -Whistler himself was not strong enough in his grasp of tradition, -or of a nature to achieve an important result along the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_238">238</span> -lines he pointed to, does not change the issue. We had begun -to be aware of the repression of instinct that was marking -American life. We had recognized that the satisfaction of the -senses, quite as much as intellectual pleasure, is to be demanded -of art. Puritan morality and Quaker drabness had -turned us away from any such conception, and when they took -notice of art at all, it was for its educational value, either to -inculcate religious or patriotic ideas, or for its connection with -the classic past.</p> - -<p>Add to this the utilitarian needs of a country that had to -build rapidly, caring for cheapness more than for permanence -(so little of the building, in fact, was intended to be permanent), -and one has an explanation of the absence of architectural -quality in the American houses of the last hundred years. -The characteristic of building in the time is seen in the lifeless -blocks of “brownstone fronts,” in the apartments that have so -little of the home about them that in the restlessness of his -search for a place to live satisfactorily, the American of the -cities has earned the name of the “van-dweller,”—one sees the -thing again in the abject monotony of farm-houses and country -residences. Their spirit, or lack of it, is continued in furniture -and decoration. One understands why Europe has been -the magic word for countless thousands of Americans. Perhaps -it was the palaces and museums that they set out to see -and that they told about on their return, but more impressive -to them—because more satisfying to their hunger for a beauty -near to their daily lives—was the sight of an Italian village -built with love for hillsides and with understanding of the forms -of the hill and of the type of construction that would suit it. -Or was it the cheeriness of the solid Dutch houses whose clear -reds and blacks look out so robustly through the green of the -trees that border the canals? The bright-coloured clothing -of the peasants became delightful to the traveller, even if -he still gave it a pitying smile when he saw it again on the -immigrant here; and the humble foreigner, anxious to fit in to -his new surroundings, hastened to tone down the vivacity of his -native costume to the colourlessness of the American farmer’s -or workman’s garb. In place of the gay pink or green stucco -of his cottage at home, the immigrant got more or less of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_239">239</span> -sanitary plumbing, higher wages, and other material benefits, -to recompense him for the life he had left behind.</p> - -<p>The life! That was the magic that Europe held for our -visitors. They might return to the big enterprises, the big -problems here, and feel that America was home because they -had a share in its growth, but their nostalgia for the old countries -continued to grow in the measure that they came to appreciate -the wisdom with which life was ordered there—as -they realized how the stable institutions, the old religions, festivals, -traditions, all the things that flower into art, had resisted -the terrific change that the industrial revolution had brought -into the 19th century. Behind all questions of the coming of -objects of art into this country or the appearance of new artists -or new schools here, lies this most pivotal matter of the elements -of art in American life. They need not be, they cannot -be the same as those in European life, but it is futile to think -of having an art here if we deny ourselves the ideas and feelings -of which art has been made—the joy and awe of life -that the Greek responded to in his marbles, the Italian in his -frescoes, the Spaniard, the Fleming, the Dutchman, and the -Frenchman in his canvases. Copying the externals of their -work without again living their lives can result only in academism—bad -sculpture and bad pictures.</p> - -<p>It was not as a protest against bad art, local or foreign, -that the International Exhibition of 1913 was organized, and -it is very solidly to the credit of our public that it did not regard -the event in that negative fashion—but as a positive thing, -a revelation of the later schools of European painting of which -it had been kept in ignorance by the will of the academies here -and abroad. The “Armory Show,” as it was called, drew -forth a storm of ridicule, but it also attracted such hundreds of -thousands of visitors as no current exhibition had ever gathered -in this country before. The first contact of our public -with the arts that have succeeded Impressionism—with the -painting of Cézanne, Redon, Gauguin, van Gogh, Matisse, the -Cubists, and others—was made at this epoch-marking show. -With the jeers that it received there were not a few hosannas, -and even the vast majority of visitors—doubtful as to the exact -value of the various exhibits, knew that qualities existed in<span class="pagenum" id="Page_240">240</span> -the new schools that had never been seen here and that were -needed. Some three hundred works went from the walls of -the Armory to form a vanguard for the far more important -purchases of modern art that have since been building up our -collections; so that at the moment of this writing an exhibition -can be opened at the Metropolitan Museum which, while representing -a mere fraction of the wealth of such pictures in -American possession, gives a superb idea of the great schools -of the later 19th century and the 20th century in France. It -is worthy of note that in its response to the great show of 1913 -and to the smaller ones that followed, America was only giving, -in a stronger form, the measure of a power of appreciation it -had shown before. Earlier examples of this are to be found -in the great collections of Barbizon and Impressionist pictures -here. A thing that should weigh against many a discouraging -feature of our art-conditions is the fact that an American -museum was the first in the world, and the only one during -the lifetime of Manet, to hang works by that master.</p> - -<p>Returning now to our own painting, one man in this country -resisted with complete success the test of an exhibition with -the greatest of recent painters from abroad. It was Mr. -Maurice B. Prendergast, who for thirty years had been joyously -labouring at an art which showed its derivation from -the best French painting of his day, its admirable acceptances -of the teaching of Cézanne (scarcely a name even in Europe -when Mr. Prendergast first studied him), and its humorous -and affectionate appreciation of the American scenes that the -artist had known from his youth. In original and logical -design, in brilliant colour that yet had the mellowness of a -splendid wine, he expresses the modern faith in the world we -see and makes it lovable. At last we welcome an art in accord -with the finest of the ancient-modern tradition, as European -critics have since declared; yet it remains American in provenance -and in the air of unconscious honesty that has always -been a characteristic of the good work of this country.</p> - -<p>The latest wave of influence to come over American art -has almost been the most far-reaching and invigorating. To -go further than this assertion, at least in the matter of individuals, -would be to forego the support of too large a part<span class="pagenum" id="Page_241">241</span> -of that body of opinion that I know to be behind my statements -throughout this essay. Art-matters must, in the final -analysis, be stated dogmatically, but I am unwilling to speak -of the schools now developing save in a general way, especially -as the most interesting men in them have still to reach a definitive -point in their evolution. They are abreast or nearly -abreast of the ideas of Europe, and there is an admirable vigour -in the work that some individuals are producing with those -ideas. But the changes brought about by the International -are still too recent for us to expect the most important results -from them for a number of years. The general condition here -has probably never been as good before.</p> - -<p>I have, till now, spoken only of the more traditional aspects -of art—the kind one finds in museums—and that last word -calls for at least a mention of the great wealth of art-objects -that are heaping up in our public collections, and in the private -galleries which so often come to the aid of the museums.</p> - -<p>There is, however, another phase of our subject that demands -comment, if only as a point of departure for the study -that will one day be given to the American art that is not yet -recognized by its public or its makers as one of our main expressions. -The steel bridges, the steel buildings, the newly -designed machines, and utensils of all kinds we are bringing -forth show an adaptation to function that is recognized as one -of the great elements of art. Perhaps the process has not yet -gone far enough for us to look on these things as fully developed -works of art, perhaps we shall still need some influence -from Europe to make us see the possibilities we have here, or -again, it may be in America that the impetus to creation along -such lines will be the stronger. At all events we may feel sure -that the study of the classics, ancient and modern, which is -spreading throughout the country has, in some men, reached -a point of saturation which permits the going on to new discovery, -and we may be confident of the ability of our artists to -make good use of their advantage.</p> - -<p class="right"> -<span class="smcap">Walter Pach</span> -</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div id="toclink_243" class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_243">243</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="THE_THEATRE">THE THEATRE</h2> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="smcap1">Of</span> the perceptible gradual improvement in the American -popular taste so far as the arts are concerned, the theatre -as we currently engage it offers, comparatively, the least evidence. -The best-selling E. Phillips Oppenheims, Robert W. -Chamberses, and Eleanor H. Porters of yesterday have given -considerable ground to Wharton and Bennett, to Hergesheimer -and Wells. The audiences in support of Stokowski, the Flonzaley -Quartette, the Philharmonic, the great piano and violin -virtuosos, and the recognized singers, are yearly augmented. -Fine painting and fine sculpture find an increasing sober appreciation. -The circulation of <cite>Munsey’s Magazine</cite> falls, and -that of the <cite>Atlantic Monthly</cite> rises. But the best play of an -American theatrical season, say a “Beyond the Horizon,” has -still to struggle for full breath, while across the street the receipts -of some “Ladies’ Night,” “Gold Diggers,” or “Bat,” -running on without end, mount to the half-million mark.</p> - -<p>If one speaks of the New York theatre as the American -theatre, one speaks with an exaggerated degree of critical charity, -for the New York theatre—so far as there is any taste in -the American theatre—is the native theatre at its fullest flower. -Persons insufficiently acquainted with the theatre have a fondness -for controverting this, but the bookkeeping departments -offer concrete testimony that, if good drama is supported at -all, it is supported in the metropolitan theatre, not in the -so-called “road” theatre. The New York theatre supports -an American playwright like Booth Tarkington when he does -his best in “Clarence,” where the road theatre supports him -only when he does his worst, as in “Mister Antonio.” The -New York theatre, these same financial records prove, supports -Shaw, O’Neill, Galsworthy, Bahr, and others of their -kind, at least in sufficient degree to permit them to pay their -way, where the theatre of Philadelphia, Boston, Cleveland, -Chicago, St. Louis, Baltimore, and Pittsburgh spells failure<span class="pagenum" id="Page_244">244</span> -for them. Save it be played by an actor or actress of great -popular favour, a first-rate piece of dramatic writing has to-day -hardly a chance for success outside of New York. These other -cities of America, though they are gradually reading better -books and patronizing better music and finer musicians, are -almost drama-deaf. “There is, in New York,” the experienced -Mr. William A. Brady has said to me, “an audience of at least -fifteen thousand for any really good play. That isn’t a large -audience; it won’t turn the play into a profitable theatrical -venture; but it is a damned sight larger audience than you’ll -be able to find in any other American city.” Let the native -sons of the cities thus cruelly maligned, before they emit their -habitual bellows of protest, consider, once they fared forth -from New York, the fate of nine-tenths of the first-rate plays -produced in the American theatre without the hocus-pocus of -fancy box-office “stars” during the last ten years.</p> - -<p>The theatrical taste of America at the present time, outside -of the metropolis, is demonstrated by the box-office returns -to be one that venerates the wall-motto <em>opera</em> of Mr. William -Hodge and the spectacular imbecilities of Mr. Richard Walton -Tully above the finest work of the best of its native dramatists -like O’Neill, and above the finest work of the best of the modern -Europeans. In the metropolis, an O’Neill’s “Beyond the -Horizon,” a Galsworthy’s “Justice,” a Shaw’s “Androcles,” -at least can live; sometimes, indeed, live and prosper. But -for one respectable piece of dramatic writing that succeeds outside -of New York, there are twenty that fail miserably. The -theatrical culture of the American countryside is in the main -of a piece with that of the French countryside, and to the nature -of the latter the statistics of the French provincial theatres -offer a brilliant and dismaying attestation. Save a good play -first obtain the endorsement of New York, it is to-day impossible -to get a paying audience for it in any American city of size -after the first curiosity-provoking performance. These audiences -buy, not good drama, but notoriety. Were all communication -with the city of New York suddenly to be cut off for -six months, the only theatrical ventures that could earn their -way outside would be the Ziegfeld “Follies,” the Winter Garden -shows, “Ben Hur,” and the hack dramatizations of the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_245">245</span> -trashier best-sellers like “Pollyanna” and “Daddy Longlegs.” -This is not postured for sensational effect. It is literally true. -So true, in fact, that there is to-day not a single producer in -the American theatre who can afford to, or who will, risk the -loss of a mere four weeks’ preliminary “road” trial of a first-class -play. If he cannot get a New York theatre for his production, -he places it in the storehouse temporarily until he -can obtain a metropolitan booking rather than hazard the financial -loss that, nine times in ten, is certain to come to him.</p> - -<p>More and more, the better producing managers—men like -Hopkins, William Harris, Jr., Ames, <i xml:lang="la" lang="la">et al.</i>—are coming to open -their plays in New York “cold,” that is, without the former -experimental performances in thitherward cities. And more -and more, they are coming to realize to their sorrow that, unless -New York supports these plays of the better sort, they can -look for no support elsewhere. Chicago, boasting of its hospitality -to sound artistic endeavour, spent thirty-five hundred -dollars on a drama by Eugene O’Neill in the same week that it -spent forty-five thousand dollars on Al Jolson’s Winter Garden -show. Boston, one of the first cities to rush frantically -forward with proofs of its old New England culture, has turned -into a prompt and disastrous failure every first-rate play presented -in its theatres without a widely advertised star actor -during the last five years, and at the same time has made a -fortune for the astute Mr. A. H. Woods, who, gauging its culture -accurately, has sent it “Up in Mabel’s Room,” “Getting -Gertie’s Garter,” and similar spicy boudoir and hay-mow -farces, together with Miss Theda Bara in “The Blue Flame.” -(It is no secret among the theatrical managers that the only -way to bring the culture of Boston to the box-office window is -through a campaign of raw advertising: the rawer the better. -Thus the Boston Sunday newspaper advertisements of “Up in -Mabel’s Room” were made to display a girl lying on a bed, -with the suggestive catch-lines, “10,000 Visitors Weekly” and -“Such a Funny Feeling.” Thus, the advertisements of another -exhibit presented a rear view of a nude female with the -title of the show, “Oh, Mommer,” printed across the ample -buttocks. Thus, the advertisements of a Winter Garden music -show, alluding to the runway used in these exhibitions, christened<span class="pagenum" id="Page_246">246</span> -it “The Bridge of Thighs.”) No play presented in -Philadelphia since “The Girl with the Whooping Cough” -(subsequently suppressed by the New York police authorities -on the ground of indecency) has been patronized to the extent -where it has been found necessary to call out the police reserves -to maintain order, as was the case when the play in point -was produced. Washington is a cultural wilderness; I have -personally attended the premières of ten highly meritorious -dramas in the national capital in the last six years and can -report accurately on the quality of the receptions accorded to -them. Washington would seem still to be what it was some -fifteen years or so ago when, upon the initial revelation of -Barrie’s “Peter Pan,” it essayed to boo it into permanent discard. -Baltimore, Detroit (save during the height of the war -prosperity when the poor bohicks, wops, and Greeks in the -automobile works found themselves suddenly able to buy theatre -seats regularly), Cleveland, St. Louis, San Francisco—the -story is the same. Honourable drama spells ruin; legs, -lewdness and sentimentality spell riches.</p> - -<p>In comparison with the taste of the great American cultural -prairie whereon these cities are situated, the city of New -York, as I have written, looms up an æsthetic Athens. In -New York, too, there is prosperity for bare knees, bed humours, -and “Peg o’ My Heart” bathos, but not alone for -these. Side by side with the audiences that crowd into the -leg shows, the couch farces, and the uplift sermons are audiences -of considerable bulk that make profitable the production -of such more estimable things as Shaw’s “Heartbreak House,” -O’Neill’s “Emperor Jones,” the plays of St. John Ervine and -Dunsany, of Tolstoy and Hauptmann, of Bahr and Benavente -and Guitry. True enough, in order to get to the theatres in -which certain of these plays are revealed, one is compelled to -travel in a taxicab several miles from Broadway—and at times -has to sit with the chauffeur in order to pilot him to far streets -and alleyways that are not within his sophisticated ken—but, -once one gets to the theatres, one finds them full, and -their audiences enthusiastic and responsive. The culture of -the American theatre—in so far as it exists—may be said, in -fact, to be an alleyway culture. Almost without exception in<span class="pagenum" id="Page_247">247</span> -the last dozen years and more have the best dramatists of -Europe and of our own country been driven up alleyways and -side-streets for their first American hearing. Up these dark -alleys and in these remote malls alone have they been able to -find a sufficient intelligence for their wares. Hervieu, Shaw, -Echegaray, Strindberg, Björnson, Dunsany, Masefield, Ervine, -Bergström, Chekhov, Andreyev, Benavente, O’Neill—these -and many others of eminence owe their New York introduction -to the side-street American who, in the majority of cases, -is found upon analysis to be of fifty per cent. foreign blood. -And what thus holds true of New York holds equally true in -most of the other cities. In most of such cities, that is, as have -arrived at a degree of theatrical polish sufficient to boast a little -playhouse up an ulterior mews.</p> - -<p>The more general American theatrical taste, reflected perhaps -most fairly in such things as the idiotic endorsements of -the Drama League and the various “white lists” of the different -religious organizations, is—for all the undeniable fact -that it seems gradually to be improving—still in the playing-blocks -and tin choo-choo-car stage. Satire, unless it be of the -most obvious sort and approach easily assimilable burlesque, -spells failure for a producer. A point of view that does not -effect a compromise with sentimentality spells failure for a -dramatist. Sex, save it be presented in terms of a seltzer-siphon, -“Abendstern,” or the <cite>Police Gazette</cite>, spells failure for -both. The leaders in the propagation of this low taste are not -the American managers and producers, as is commonly maintained, -but the American playwrights. During the seventeen -years of my active critical interest in the theatre, I have not -encountered a single honest piece of dramatic writing from an -American hand that could not get a hearing—and an intelligent -hearing—from one or another of these regularly abused managers -and producers. And during these years I have, by virtue -of my joint professional duties as critic and co-editor of a sympathetic -literary periodical, read perhaps nine-tenths of the -dramatic manuscripts which aspiring young America has confected. -This young America, loud in its inveighing against the -managers and producers, has in the space of time indicated -produced very, very little that was worth producing, and that<span class="pagenum" id="Page_248">248</span> -little has promptly found a market. A bad workman is always -indignant. But I know of no good American play that -either has not already been produced, or has not been bought -for future production. Any good play by an American will -find its producer readily enough. The first manager who read -“Beyond the Horizon” bought it immediately he laid the -manuscript down, and this, recall, was its professionally unknown -author’s first three-act play. The American theatre -has altered in this department; the last fifteen years have -wrought a tonic change.</p> - -<p>No, the fault is not with the managers and producers, but -with the playwrights. The latter, where they are not mere -parrots, are cowards. Young and old, new and experienced, -talented and talentless alike, they are in the mass so many -<cite>Saturday Evening Post</cite> souls, alone dreaming of and intent -upon achieving a sufficient financial gain to transmute the Ford -into a Rolls-Royce and the Hudson Bay seal collar into Russian -sable. A baby cannot be nourished and developed physically -upon water; a theatrical public, for all its potential willingness, -cannot be developed aesthetically upon a diet of snide -writing. In the American theatre of the present time there -are not more than two, or at most three, playwrights out -of all the hundreds, who retain in their hearts a determined -and uncorrupted purpose. Take away young O’Neill, and -give a bit of ground to Miss Rita Wellman (whose accomplishment -is still too vague for fixed appraisal), and there is next -to nothing left. Flashes of talent, yes, but only flashes. -Craven’s “Too Many Cooks” and “The First Year” are -observant, highly skilful depictions of the American scene, but -they are dramatic literature only in the degree that “Main -Street” and “This Side of Paradise” are literature. With -the extraordinary “Papa,” Miss Zoë Akins gave up and surrendered—at -least temporarily—to the box-office skull and -cross-bones. Until Tarkington proves that “Clarence” was -not a happy accident in the long and unbroken line of “Up -from Nowhere,” “Mister Antonio,” “The Country Cousin,” -“The Alan from Home,” “Cameo Kirby,” “Your Humble -Servant,” “Springtime,” “Getting a Polish,” “The Gibson -Upright,” and “Poldekin,” we shall have to hold up our decision<span class="pagenum" id="Page_249">249</span> -on him. George Ade, the great promise of authentic -American drama, is no more; he pulled in his oars, alas, in -mid-stream. Joseph Medill Patterson, an honest dramatist, -fell through the bridge while not yet half way across. The -rest? Well, the rest are the Augustus Thomases, left-overs -from the last generation, proficient technicians with empty -heads, or youngsters still dramatically wet behind the ears. -The rest of the rest? Ticket salesmen.</p> - -<p>In no civilized country in the world to-day is there among -playwrights so little fervour for sound drama as in the United -States. In England, they at least try, in a measure, to write -well; in Germany, to experiment bravely in new forms; in -France, to philosophize either seriously or lightly upon life -as they find it; in Russia, to treat soberly of problems physical -and spiritual; in Spain, to depict the Spanish heart and -conscience and atmosphere; in Ireland, to reflect the life and -thoughts, the humour and tragedy and encompassing aspirations, -of a people. And in the United States—what? In the -United States, with hardly more than two exceptions, there is -at the moment not a playwright who isn’t thinking of “success” -above honest work. Good and bad craftsmen alike, -they all think the same. Gold, silver, copper. And the result -is an endless procession of revamped crook plays, detective -plays, Cinderella plays, boudoir plays, bucolic plays: fodder -for doodles. The cowardice before the golden snake’s eye -spreads to the highest as well as to the lowest. Integrity is -thrown overboard as the ship is steered unswervingly into the -Golden Gate. The unquestionable talent of an Avery Hopwood—a -George M. Cohan—a George Bronson-Howard—is -deliberately self-corrupted.</p> - -<p>The American professional theatre is to-day at once the richest -theatre in the world, and the poorest. Financially, it -reaches to the stars; culturally, with exception so small as to -be negligible, it reaches to the drains. For both of these -reaches, the American newspaper stands largely responsible. -The American newspaper, in general, regards the theatre with -contempt. My early years, upon leaving the university, were -spent on the staff of one of them—the leading daily journal -of America, it was in those days—and I shall never forget its<span class="pagenum" id="Page_250">250</span> -attitude toward the theatre: cheap, hollow, debased. If a -play was produced by a manager who advertised extensively -in the paper, it was praised out of all reason. If a play was -produced by a manager who happened to be <i xml:lang="la" lang="la">persona non grata</i> -in the office, it was dismissed with a brief reportorial notice. -If a play was produced by a new and enterprising manager -on the night of another production in a theatre patronized by -fashionable audiences—the Empire, say—the former play, -however worthy an effort it might be, was let down with a stick -or two that there might be room to print the names of the -fashionables who were in the Empire seats. The surface of -things has changed somewhat since then, but the situation at -bottom is much the same. A talented young reviewer writes -honestly of a tawdry play in the <cite>Evening Sun</cite>; the producer -of the play, an office favourite, complains; and the young reviewer -is promptly discharged. A moving picture producer -takes half-page advertisements of his forthcoming <i xml:lang="la" lang="la">opus</i> in the -New York newspapers, and the screen exhibit, a piece of trash, -is hailed as a master work. Let a new drama by Gerhart -Hauptmann be presented in the Park Theatre to-night and -let Mr. John Barrymore also appear at eight-thirty in a play -by some obscure hack at the Empire, and there will not be a -single newspaper in the whole of New York City that will not -review the latter flashy affair at the expense of the former.</p> - -<p>It is not that the newspapers, in New York as elsewhere, are -dishonest—few of them are actually dishonest; it is that they -are suburban, shoddy, cheap. With only four exceptions that -I can think of, the American newspaper, wherever you find it, -treats the theatre as if it were of very much less importance -than baseball and of but a shade more importance than a rape -in Perth Amboy, New Jersey. Two columns are given freely -to the latest development in bootlegging in Harlem, and a begrudged -half-column to a play by John Galsworthy. A society -woman is accused by her husband of having been guilty of -adultery with a half-breed Indian, and the allotment is four -columns. On the same day, a Shakespearean production is -mounted by the most artistic producer in the American theatre, -and the allotment of space is two-thirds of a column. The -reply of the newspapers is, “Well, we give the public what it<span class="pagenum" id="Page_251">251</span> -wants! And it is more greatly interested in scandal than in -Shakespeare.” Have not then the theatrical managers the -right to reply in the same terms? And when they do, some of -them, disgustedly reply in the same terms, what is the hypocritical -appraisal of their offerings that the selfsame newspapers -vouchsafe to them? If the New York <cite>Times</cite> devotes three -columns to a dirty divorce case, I fail to see how it can with -justice or reason permit its theatrical reviewer indignantly to -denounce Mr. A. H. Woods in the same issue for devoting -three hours to a dirty farce.</p> - -<p>The American drama, like the American audience, lacks repose. -This is ever logically true of a new civilization. Time -must mellow the mind and heart before drama may achieve -depth and richness; time must mellow the mind and heart before -an audience may achieve the mood of calm deliberation. -Youth is a rare and precious attribute, but youth, for all its -fine courage and derring-do, is inclined to be superficial. Its -emotions and its reactions are respectively of and to the primary -colours; the pastels it is impatient of. The American -theatre, drama, and audience are the theatre, drama, and audience -of the metaphysical and emotional primary colours: substantial, -vivid, but all too obvious and glaring. I speak, of -course, generally. For there are a few notable exceptions to -the rule, and these exceptions portend in the American theatre -the first signs of the coming dawn. A producer like Arthur -Hopkins, perhaps the first American man of the theatre gifted -with a genuine passion for fine and beautiful things and the -talent with which to do—or at least try to do—them; a dramatist -like young O’Neill, permitting no compromise or equivoke -in the upward sweep of his dynamic imagination; an actor -like Arnold Daly and an actress like Margaret Anglin to -whom failure in the service of honest drama means absolutely -nothing—these are they who inspire our faith in the future. -Nor do they stand alone. Hume and Moeller, Jones, Peters, -Simonson and Bel-Geddes, Glaspell, Wellman and Pottle—such -youngsters, too, are dreaming their dreams, some of them, -true enough, still silly dreams, but yet dreams. And the -dreaming spreads, spreads....</p> - -<p>But in its slow and brave ascent, the American theatre is<span class="pagenum" id="Page_252">252</span> -still heavily retarded by the insular forces that, as in no other -theatre save the English, operate in the Republic. The fight -against outworn convention is a brave and bitter fight, but -victory still rests mainly on the banners of the Philistines. -The drama that dismisses sentimentality for truth, that seeks -to face squarely the tragedy and comedy of love and life, -that declines to pigeon-hole itself, and that hazards to view -the American scene with cosmopolitan eyes, is confronted at -every turn by the native Puritanism (as often shammed as -inborn), and by the native parochialism and hypocrisy. The -production that derides all stereotype—all the ridiculous and -mossy rubber-stamps—is in turn derided. The actor or -actress who essays to filter a rôle through the mind of a human -being instead of through the mind of a rouged marionette is -made mock of. Here, the playgoing public finds its leaders -in three-fourths of the newspaper reviewing chairs, chairs influenced, -directly or indirectly, by an intrinsic inexperience -and ignorance, or by an extrinsic suggestion of “policy.”</p> - -<p>The American theatre and drama have long suffered from -being slaves to the national hypocrisy. Only on rare occasions -have they been successful in casting off the shackles, and then -but momentarily. The pull against them is stubborn, strong. -Cracking the black snake across their backs are a hundred -padrones: newspapers trembling at the thought of offending -their advertisers, religious orders poking their noses into what -should not concern them, corrupt moral uplift organizations -and lecherous anti-vice societies itching for the gauds of publicity, -meddling college professors augmenting their humble -wage by writing twenty-dollar articles on subjects they know -nothing about for the Sunday supplements, ex-real estate reporters -and divorcée interviewers become “dramatic critics,” -notoriety seeking clergymen, snide producers trying to protect -their snide enterprises from the dangers of the invasion of -truth and beauty. Let a group of drama-loving and theatre-loving -young men, resourceful, skilful, and successful, come -upon the scene, as the Washington Square Players came, let -them bring flashes of authentic dramatic art into their native -theatre, and against them is promptly hurled the jealous irony -of the Old Guard that is dead, but never surrenders. Let<span class="pagenum" id="Page_253">253</span> -a young playwright like Zoë Akins write an admirable fantastic -comedy (“Papa”), and against her are brought all the -weapons of the morals-in-art mountebanks. Let a producer -like Hopkins break away from the mantel-leaning histrionism -and palm-pot investiture, and against him is brought up the -curt dismissal of freakishness.</p> - -<p>The native theatre, for all the fact that it is on the way, -is not yet ready for such things as demand a degree of civilization -for receptive and remunerative appreciation. The “Pegs -o’ My Heart” and “Pollyannas,” the “Turn to the Rights” -and “Lightnin’s” still make millions, while the bulk of finer -things languish and perish. I speak, remember, not of the -theatre of one city, but of the theatre of the land. This theatre, -considering it in so far as possible as a unit, is still not -much above the Midway Plaisance, the honk-a-tonk, the Sunday -School charade. That one, or maybe two, foreign national -theatres may not be much better is no apology. Such foreign -theatres—the French, say—are less national theatres than one-city -theatres, for Paris is France. But the American theatre -spreads from coast to coast. What it spreads, I have herein -tried to suggest.</p> - -<p class="right"> -<span class="smcap">George Jean Nathan</span> -</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div id="toclink_255" class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_255">255</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="ECONOMIC_OPINION">ECONOMIC OPINION</h2> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="smcap1">IF</span> there were conscious restriction upon the expression of -opinion in America, this essay would possess the pompous -certainty of an official document. Instead of threading its -hazardous way through a mass of confused thought, it would -record in formal terms acceptable utterance. In fact, the very -restrictions upon thought and speech, with the aid of scissors -and a license to speech, could easily be turned into a statement -of the reputable theory of the welfare of the community.</p> - -<p>Unluckily, however, American life has not been arranged to -make matters easy for the interpreter of economic opinion. -Every American is conscious of a right to his own opinion -about “why all of us taken together are as well off as we are” -and “why some of us are better off and others of us worse off -than the average of us.” Whether this privilege comes from -the Bill of Rights, the constitution of the United States, or his -Simian ancestry, he could not say; but he is fully assured that -it is “inalienable” and “indefeasible.” No restriction of -birth, breeding, position, or wealth limits his right to an -opinion or persuades him to esteem his more fortunate neighbour’s -more highly than his own. Nor do intellectual limitations -check the flow of words and of ideas. No one is examined -upon the growth of industrialism, the institutions which -make up the economic order, or the nature of an industrial -problem before he is allowed to speak. In fact, the idea that -a knowledge of the facts about the subject under discussion, or -of the principles to be applied to it, is essential to the right -to an opinion is a strange notion little understood here. Even -if occasionally some potentate attempts a mild restriction upon -the spoken or the written word, it checks only those who talk -directly and therefore clumsily. Its principal effect is through -provocation to add mightily to the volume of opinion.</p> - -<p>The result is a conglomerate mass of opinion that sprawls -through the known realm of economics and into regions uncharted.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_256">256</span> -The mighty men of finance spin a theory of national -welfare in terms of foreign concessions no more glibly than -the knights of the road in solemn convention solve with words -the riddle of unemployment. The newly enfranchised women -compete with the members of the Dynamite Club in proposals for -setting the industrial cosmos in order. Economic opinion bobs -up in the financial journals, “the labour press,” the periodicals -of the “learned” societies, and in all the “Christian” advocates. -It shows itself boldly in political speeches, in directors’ -reports, in public hearings, and in propagandist sheets. It -lurks craftily in editorials, moving pictures, drawing-room lectures, -poems, cartoons, and hymns. It ranges from the -sonorous apologies for the existing order voiced by the Aaron -Baal Professor of Christian Homiletics in the Midas Theological -Seminary to the staccato denunciation of what is by the -Sons of Martha Professor of Proletarian Tactics in the Karl -Marx College for Workers.</p> - -<p>A mere semblance of order is given to this heterogeneous mass -of opinion by the conditions which make it. A common system -of legal, business, and social usages is to be found the country -over. This has left its impress too firmly in the assumptions -which underlie thought to allow this material to be separate -bits from so many mental universes. The prevailing -scheme of economic life is so definitely established as to force -its imprint upon the opinion that moves about it. Acceptable -opinion is created in its likeness, and unacceptable opinion becomes -acceptable opinion when the negatives are skilfully extracted. -Protestants are concerned rather with eliminating the -“evils” of “capitalism” than with eradicating it root and -branch. Protestantism is rather a variant of orthodox doctrine -than an independent system of thought. Radical opinion that -is likely to pass the decent bounds of negation is kept small -in volume by a press which allows it little upon which to feed. -Accordingly, varied doctrines wear the semblance of unity.</p> - -<p>Such elements, however, do not free this adventure into -speculation from its perils. They merely make the hazards -mortal. In the paragraphs below the economic opinion in -America is recklessly resolved into four main classes. These -are the <i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">laissez-faire</i> opinion of the mid-19th century, the conventional<span class="pagenum" id="Page_257">257</span> -“case for capitalism,” the protestant demand for -“control,” and the academic insistence upon conscious “direction” -of industrial change. Radical opinion gets a competent -judgment elsewhere in this volume. Even in this bold outline -the opinions of small minorities are lost to sight, and views and -doctrines, seemingly alien to the authors who know their subtle -differences, are often blurred into a single picture. To avoid -the charge that the lion and the lamb have been pictured as -one, no names have been called. Here as elsewhere particulars -will rise up to curse their generalizations, and the whole will -be found to be entirely too scanty to be disbursed into its parts. -But the chance must be taken, and, after all, truth does not -reside in copy-book mottoes.</p> - -<h3>I</h3> - -<p>The current types of economic opinion in this country all -have a common origin. The men who express them are but -a scant generation or two removed from the country or the -small town. The opinions are so many variants of a stream -of thought which goes back to a mid-19th century America -of small towns and open country. This primitive economic -opinion was formed out of the dust of the ground in the likeness -of an exploitative America. The conditions which shaped -it might be set forth in two lines of a school history thus: First, -abundant natural resources; second, a scanty population; and -third, the principle of letting the individual alone.</p> - -<p>It was a chance at an economic opportunity which made -America of the 19th century the “land of promise.” The raw -materials of personal wealth were here in soil, stream, and mine. -The equipment necessary to the crude exploitative farming of -the time was easy to possess. Since there was an abundance, -the resources essential to a chance at a living were to be had -for the asking. One with enterprise enough to “go it alone” -lived upon what he himself and his wealth in wife and children -produced. He did not have to drive a shrewd bargain -for the sale of his labour nor purchase the wherewithal to be -fed and clothed in a market. There was no confusing scheme -of prices to break the connection between effort and reward;<span class="pagenum" id="Page_258">258</span> -opportunity and responsibility went hand in hand; success -or failure was of one’s own fashioning. Where nature does -most, man claims all; and in rural America men were quite -disposed to claim personal credit for nature’s accomplishments. -Since ample resources smothered even mediocre effort in plenty, -the voice of chronic failure which blamed circumstance, fate, -or “the system” was unheard. A freedom to have and to -hold economic resources plentiful enough to supply all was -the condition of material prosperity.</p> - -<p>Even when the lure of natural resources drew men from -agriculture to industrial exploitation conditions did not change -materially. The population of the new towns for a while kept -at least one foot upon the soil. When at last the city possessed -its people, aliens came out of Southeastern Europe to do the -“dirty work,” and the native born passed up into administrative, -clerical, or professional positions. The alternative of -farm employment and the rapid expansion of industry fixed -a rough minimum beneath which wages could not fall. The -expanding machine technique with large scale production by -quantity methods turned out an abundance of goods evidenced -alike in lower prices and in higher standards of living. The -“captains of industry” were regarded by the community as -the creators of the jobs which they dispensed and as the efficient -cause of the prosperity of the neighbourhood. The -trickle of immigration that swelled to a “stream” and rose -to a “tide” is an eloquent testimonial of the time paid by the -peasantry of Europe to the success of the American system of -letting the individual alone in his business.</p> - -<p>These conditions brought forth the lay economic theory -acceptable to the national community. Its precepts came from -experience, rather than from books; by intuition, rather than -by reason. The welfare of the individual and the wealth of -the nation were alike due to free institutions. In business -and industry the individual was to be free to do as he pleased -unless specifically forbidden by the State. The State was -powerless to interfere with the individual unless granted specific -“constitutional” authority to do so. Each knew what -he wanted and was able to take care of himself. The interests -of all were an aggregate of the interests of individuals. The<span class="pagenum" id="Page_259">259</span> -prevailing scheme of institutions was accepted as a part of -the immutable world of nature. Private property, if defended -at all, was good because it gave the individual security and -enabled him to enjoy the fruits of his own labour. The right -of contract, exercised in a market characterized by “higgling,” -gave one an occasional adventure beyond the horizon -of a household economy. If perchance the individual stumbled -into a bad bargain occasionally, so much the better. The -mistake was a useful exercise in the development of the cardinal -virtue of self-reliance. When the coming of industrialism -made contract the basis of all industrial relations, the older -justification was still used. Competition, with which it was -always associated, was regarded as the prime agency in the -organization of industry. It forced the elements of production -into order and exercised a moral restraint over them. Under -its régime men were rewarded in accordance with their deserts. -In general, it was true beyond peradventure that “opportunity” -knocked once “at every gate”; that there was “plenty -of room at the top”; that each built the ladder by which he -rose; and that even the humblest was “master of his -fate.”</p> - -<p>Out of such raw materials there was fashioned a body of -professional economic theory. In a sense it was an imported -product; for its earlier statement was that of English “classical” -economics. But in reality it was the return of an earlier -export, for accepted theory had been made from crude individualistic -notions which England had got from America. In -addition, at the hands of American economists it received a -far more elaborate and articulate statement than had been -given it overseas. These theorists used subtle analysis, ponderous -logic, and circumlocution; but their decorous processes -brought them to much the same conclusions that practical men -gained from their limited experiences. Its strength and its -acceptability were wholly due to the precision and verbiage -with which it reduced to formal terms the common-sense economics -of the day.</p> - -<p>In its terms the economic order is made up of individuals. -Each of these is actuated by the motive of self-interest. Each -has for disposal personal services, goods, or property rights.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_260">260</span> -Each must live upon goods and services purchased from others. -Each must compete with his fellows in the sale of his wares -and the purchase of his articles of livelihood. Because of the -competition of sellers the wages of labour, the profits of capital, -and the prices of goods cannot be forced to untoward -heights. Because of the competition of buyers they cannot be -driven too low. The equilibrium of this double competitive -process assures to each a return which represents the just value -of the service, the property right, or the good. Prices, by moving -up and down in response to changing conditions, stimulate -and retard consumption and production. Their very movement -constantly reallocates resources to the production of a -variety of goods and services in just the proportion which the -consumers demand. In this theory the institutions which -comprise the framework of the economic order are taken for -granted. It has no place for an interference by the State with -“private business.” It regards monopoly as a thing to be -abjured, whether appearing as a capitalistic combine or as a -union of workingmen. In the Eden of free enterprise the community’s -resources yield all they have and competition rewards -justly all the faithful who by serving themselves serve -society. It is small wonder that sermons were preached upon -“The Relation of Political Economy to Natural Theology.”</p> - -<h3>II</h3> - -<p>The conditions which made the economic opinion of the -America of small towns and open country are gone. With -their passing the older theories have been reshaped to new -purposes. There are no longer free economic opportunities -for all comers. Natural resources have been appropriated, and -the natural differences between men have been enhanced by -the artificial ones of ownership and inheritance. Wealth and -control have alike been stripped from the many and concentrated -in the few. The prevailing unit in business is the corporation. -Establishments have been gathered into industries, -and these have been articulated into a mighty industrial system, -with its established rights, its customary ways of doing -things, and its compulsions upon those who serve it. The<span class="pagenum" id="Page_261">261</span> -older personal relation of “master” and “servant” abides -only in indices of the records of the law courts. The contract -of employment is now between a “soulless” but “legal entity” -and a mere creature of flesh and blood. The more human individual, -the survival of a less mechanical age, no longer lives -upon the fruit of his individual toil. His welfare is pent in -between his wages and the prices which he must pay for his -necessities. Beyond this immediate bargain lies a mysterious -economic system filled with unknown causes which threaten -his income and even his employment. Those who possess have -come into succession to those who ventured. In short, free -enterprise has given way to an established system.</p> - -<p>These events have left their mark upon economic opinion. -It is altogether fitting that those who fell heir to the wealth -piled up by free enterprise should gain its outer defences of -theory and dialectic. So the older economics, with its logic -and its blessing, has come as a legacy to those who have. Its -newer statement, because of its well-known objective, may be -called “the case for capitalism.” In its revision the adventurous -militarism bent upon exploitation has given way to a -pacifistic defence of security, possession, and things as they -are.</p> - -<p>In outward form few changes were necessary to convert the -older theory of <i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">laissez-faire</i> into a presentable case for capitalism. -A more rigid and absolute statement of the classical -doctrine was almost enough. In its terms the economic order -is independent of other social arrangements. It is an automatic, -self-regulating mechanism. Over it there rules an immutable -and natural “law of supply and demand.” This -maintains just prices, prevents exploitation, adjusts production -and consumption to each other, secures the maximum of goods -and services from the resources at hand, and disburses incomes -in accordance with the merits of men and the verity of things. -So just and impartial is the operation of this law that interference -by the State amounts to meddlesome muddling. It -cannot override natural law; therefore it should not.</p> - -<p>It differs most from the older economics in the more explicit -statement of the function of institutions. The growing inequality -of income, of control, and of opportunity have presented<span class="pagenum" id="Page_262">262</span> -facts that have to be faced. But even here, instead -of contriving new defences, the advocates of capitalism have -refurbished the older ones. The thing that is finds its justification -in that which was. Property rights are to be preserved -intact, because private property is essential to personal opportunity; -just as if the propertyless did not exist and each was -to win his living from his own acres or his own shop. The -right of contract is not to be abridged, because the interests of -both parties are advanced by a bargain between equals; just -as if the corporate employer and the individual employé were -alike in their freedom, their capacity to wait, and their power -to shape the terms of the bargain. Prices are to be self-determined -in open market, because competition will best -reconcile the conflicting interests of buyers and sellers; just -as if there was no semblance of monopoly among producers, -no open price agreements, and no informal understandings. -Individual initiative is not to be abridged, because it creates -the wealth of the nation; just as if routine had no value for -efficiency and the masses of men still had discretion in economic -matters. The arrangements which make up the economic -order find their validity in the symbolic language of -ritual rather than in a prosaic recital of current fact.</p> - -<p>This defence crosses the frontier which separates the economic -from the political order only to appropriate the prestige -of democracy. Its real concern is the preservation of the -prevailing system wherein business controls industry for purposes -of profit. Its formal solicitation is lest “the form of -government” be changed. This concern finds expression in -veneration for the work of the “fathers” (rather young men, -by the way), not of machine technology and business enterprise, -but of “representative government” and of “constitutional -authority.” Its creed becomes propaganda, not for the -defence of business, the security of corporations, or the preservation -of managerial immunities, but for the defence of the -nation, the security of America, and the preservation of “constitutional” -rights. The newer economic arrangements are -masked behind political rights and given the values of the political -institutions which antedate them by many decades. In -short, the staunchest defenders of the prevailing economic system<span class="pagenum" id="Page_263">263</span> -believe that “their economic preferences are shared by -the constitution of the United States.”</p> - -<p>If we may borrow a term from its advocates, this body of -opinion must be pronounced “theoretical.” In their speech -a “theory” is a generalization which goes much further than -its particulars warrant. In that sense their conclusions are not -“practical.” The essential question with which this body of -opinion is concerned is whether the scheme of institutions -which focus upon profit-making make the members of the -community, severally and collectively, as well off as they -ought to be. It seems offhand that a realistic defence of the -prevailing order might be convincingly formulated. At any -rate, “the case for capitalism” is good enough to get into the -records. Instead, its advocates have confused their own pecuniary -success with the well-being of the community and have -argued that because profits have been made the system is good. -Like the classical economists they vindicate the system by -assumption.</p> - -<h3>III</h3> - -<p>In the wake of the new industrialism there has come an -economic opinion of protest. It is being gradually formulated -by professional men, by farmers, by trade unionists, and by the -younger business men who have escaped being “self-made.” -Its hesitating and confused statement is due to the disturbed -conditions out of which it comes. The varied interests of its -many authors prevents unity of words or of principles. Its -origin in the contact of minds steeped in the older individualism -with the arresting facts of the newer economic order explains -its current inarticulate expression. It can be set forth briefly -only by subordinating the reality of variety to the tendencies -which are clearly inherent within it.</p> - -<p>The objective of this newer opinion is a modification of the -prevailing order, rather than its overthrow. It is quite conscious -of defects in its arrangements and knows that its fruits -are not all good. It has never considered the question of the -efficiency or inefficiency of the system as a whole. The older -individualistic notions are strong enough to give an intuitive -belief that the theory of the control of industry by business for<span class="pagenum" id="Page_264">264</span> -profit is essentially sound. But it would eliminate the bad, -patch up the indifferent, and retain the good. It would set up -in the government an external authority which through regulation -and repression would make business interests serve the -community. Its faith is in private enterprise compelled by the -State to promote “public welfare.” Its detail can best be -suggested by typical illustrations.</p> - -<p>There is, first of all, the attitude of the protestants towards -freedom of contract. They accept the prevailing theory that -the relations of buyer and seller, employer and employé, owner -and agent, can safely be left to the free choice of all concerned. -But they point out that in practice the principle does not give -its assumed results. For, whereas the theory assumes the parties -to be equal in their power to determine the terms of the -contract, it is a matter of common knowledge that employers -and labourers occupy unequal bargaining positions. They -would leave relations to be determined by free bargaining; but, -as a preliminary, they would attempt to establish equality of -bargaining power. To that end they would have the contract -made by “collective bargaining” between employers and employés -“through representatives” chosen by each. Moreover, -they would use the State to better the position of the -weaker party. Thus legislation has been passed depriving -employers of their right of requiring employés, as a condition -of employment, not to remain members of labour unions. Although -the courts have found such legislation to be “an arbitrary -interference with the liberty of contract which no government -can justify in a free land,” its advocates will insist -that their aim has been only “to establish that equality in position -between the parties in which liberty of contract begins.”</p> - -<p>There is, in the next place, a growing opinion among the -protestants that the State is “a moral agent” and should -determine the rules under which business is to be carried on. -They point out that in business there are bad as well as good -conditions, that business men engage in proper as well as in -improper practices, and that some activities harm while others -help the community. In many instances the employer finds -it to his advantage to establish conditions which the interests -of the workers and of the consumers require. In others, the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_265">265</span> -elevation of standards waits upon the pleasure of the most -inconsiderate employer. The prohibition of child labour, the -shortening of the working day, and the payment of a minimum -wage may be advantageous alike to labourers and to the community; -yet these innovations involve an increase in cost and -cannot be made against the competition of the producer who -will not establish them. In such cases it is the duty of the -State to establish minimum conditions which must be met by -all employers. The imposition of such standards in no way -affects the system under which business is carried on; for -the competition of rival sellers can be just as acute and just -as considerate of the public, if all of them are forced to pay -their employés a living wage, as if they are all free to force -wages down to starvation. Upon this theory the State has established -uniform weights and measures, prohibited the use -of deleterious chemicals, stopped the sale of impure food, provided -compensation for the human wear and tear of industry, -and established minimum standards of safety, health, and -service.</p> - -<p>There is, finally, a growing opinion that in some industries -the profit-making motive must be superseded by some other. -In the railway industry it has been repeatedly shown that the -pecuniary interest of the management fails to coincide with -that of either the owners or of the shippers. Long ago the -determination of charges for service was put beyond the discretion -of the officials. Of late there has been an increasing -tendency to make accounts, services, expenditures, valuations, -and other matters meet standards of public service. When -this has been effected, as it will be, the officials of the roads -will become mere subordinates responsible to a public authority. -Then profit-making as a guide to administration will -have given way to an official judgment of results in terms of -established standards. Then it will be discovered that public -control formally rejected has been achieved by indirection. -But many times ere this American opinion has come by devious -paths to goals which its individualism has not allowed it to -regard as quite desirable.</p> - -<p>For the moment the medley of opinion here roughly characterized -as a demand for control is dominant. Its proponents<span class="pagenum" id="Page_266">266</span> -are almost as naïve as the advocates of capitalism in a belief -in the essential goodness of a mythical system of “free enterprise.” -They differ from them in placing greater emphasis -upon voluntary associations and in demanding that the State -from without compel business to serve the common good. -As yet they have formulated no consistent theory of economics -and no articulate programme for achieving their ends. Without -a clear understanding of the development of industry and -of the structure of the economic order, they are content to face -specific problems when they meet them. They are far from -ready to surrender an inherited belief in an individualistic -theory of the common good.</p> - -<h3>IV</h3> - -<p>The changes of the last four decades, which make up “The -Industrial Revolution in America,” have left their mark upon -the economics of the schools. If there was a time when the -thought of the professed economists was a thing apart from -the common sense of the age, it ended with the coming of industrialism. -Differ as it may in phrase, in method, and in -statement, the economics in solid and dull treatises reflects, as -it has always reflected, the opinions of the laity. If there -were agreement among the sorts of men who gather at ball -games and in smoking cars, the books on economics would all -read alike. But when the plumber differs from the banker -and the scrub woman refuses to take her ideas from the coupon -clipper, it is futile to expect mere economists to agree. To -some, the classical doctrine still serves as a sabbatical refuge -from modern problems. Others, who “specialize” in trusts, -tariffs, and labour are too busy being “scientific” to formulate -general opinions. Still others insist upon creating a new -economics concerned with the problem of directing industrial -development to appointed ends. Each of these schools has a -membership large enough to allow dissension within the ranks.</p> - -<p>The revolt against the classical economics began when it -encountered modern fact. Beyond the pale of doctrine taught -by certified theorists appeared studies upon corporations, international -trade, railway rates, craft unionism, and other matters<span class="pagenum" id="Page_267">267</span> -of the newer fact. For a time those who studied these -subjects were content to describe in superficial terms the results -of their observations. But as facts accumulated they provoked -generalizations at variance with the accepted principles -of the older competitive theory. At the same time the -rise of a newer history concerned with development rather -than chronology, a new ethics that recognized the existence -of a social order, and a new psychology that taught that the -content of men’s behaviour is poured in by the environment, -together made the foundations of the older economics very -insecure.</p> - -<p>For a time this protest found expression only in critical -work. The picture of an economic order as a self-regulating -mechanism, peopled with folk who could not but serve the -community in serving themselves became very unreal. The -complexity of industrialism made it hard to believe that the -individual had knowledge enough to choose best for himself. -The suspicion that frequently thought follows action made it -hard to continue to believe in man’s complete rationality. The -idea that incomes are different because opportunities are different -led to a questioning of the justice of the ratings of men -in the market. The unequal division of income made impossible -pecuniary calculations in which each man counted for -one and only for one. With these assumptions of 19th-century -economics passed “the economic man,” “the Crusoe economy,” -and the last of the divine theories, that of “enlightened -self-interest.” It was no longer possible to build a defence of -the existing order upon “the hedonistic conception of man” -as “a lightning calculator of pleasures and pains, who oscillates -like a homogeneous globule of desire of happiness under the -impulse of stimuli that shift him about the area, but leave -him inert.”</p> - -<p>The most immediate effect of this criticism was a change -in method. The older process of juggling economic laws out -of assumptions about human nature, human motives, and the -beneficence of competition lost prestige. It was evident that -if the system was to be appraised the facts must be had. Accordingly -a veritable multitude of facts, good, bad, and mostly -indifferent were treasured up. This process of garnering information<span class="pagenum" id="Page_268">268</span> -soon made it evident that the facts about the relationship -of industry to the welfare of the community were too -varied and too numerous to be separately catalogued. Since -only totals could be used, economics came to rely upon facts -presented in the quantitative language of statistics.</p> - -<p>But since facts are not possessed of the virtue of self-determination, -they did not yield an opinion which was very -relevant or very truthful. Their use was for the moment -nothing more than a substitution of the superstition of facts -for that of logic. The facts were of value, because when properly -interpreted they gave the story of what the economic -system had done. But without the aid of standards it was -impossible to determine whether it had worked well or ill, -whether it had much or little to give in return for the solicitous -concern about it. It was evident that modern industrialism -was developing without conscious guidance. As long as no -goal was fixed it was impossible to tell whether industrial development -was proceeding in the right direction. As long as we -were unmindful of the kind of society we wished ours to be, -we could not appraise its accomplishments. Without standards -all that could be said was that the system had worked as -well as it had worked and that we were as well off as we were -well off. The problem, therefore, became one of judging the -system on the basis of the facts by means of standards.</p> - -<p>Thus the newer economics has been of service in stating the -problem with which opinion must be concerned. The “prevailing” -economic order is one of many schemes of arrangements -for making industry serve the purposes of the community. -The system has been slowly evolved out of the institutions -of the past, is constantly being affected by circumstances, -and for the future is capable of conscious modification. -How well it has served its purpose cannot be attested by -an abstract argument proceeding from assumptions about human -nature and the cosmos. A judgment upon its relative -goodness or badness requires an appraisal of the facts in terms -of standards. These standards must be obtained from our -notions of the kind of society we want this to be. These notions -must proceed from a scientific study of the properties -of things and the needs of human beings. That judgment will<span class="pagenum" id="Page_269">269</span> -be one not of goodness or badness, but of the relative merits of -a very human scheme of arrangements compared with its -alternatives.</p> - -<p>The economists are reluctant to pass a judgment upon the -prevailing order. The relevant facts are too scanty and the -standards too inexact to warrant an appraisal of the virtues -and the vices of “capitalism.” They distrust the eulogies of -apologists because they do not square with the known facts. -They are not convinced by the reformers, because they fear -that they know as little about their own schemes as they do -about current arrangements. They insist that a general judgment -must be a progressive affair. The system will change -through gradual modification; the larger problem will be solved -by attention to an endless succession of minor problems. Each -of these must be met with the facts and with an ideal of what -our society should be. They have too little faith in the rationality -of the collect to believe that problems can be faced in -battalions or that a new order can emerge as a work of creation. -They have little fear for “the future of the nation,” if -only problems can be intelligently handled as they emerge. -Their attitude towards the present system is one, neither of -acceptance nor of rejection, but of doubt and of honest inquiry. -Their faith is neither in the existing order nor in a -hand-me-down substitute, but in a conscious direction of the -process of change.</p> - -<div class="tb">* * * * *</div> - -<p>This tedious narrative has failed entirely in its purpose, if -it has not revealed the strength and the weakness of economic -opinion in America. Its merits stand out boldly in the preceding -paragraphs; its defects are too striking to be concealed. -The reader has already been informed; but the writer must -inform himself. The essay, therefore, will close with an explicit -statement of some three of the more obvious characteristics.</p> - -<p>First, its most striking characteristic is its volume. In -quantity it contains enough verbal and intellectual ammunition -to justify or to wreck a dozen contradictory economic -orders. If, in an orderly way, opinion became judgment and -judgment ripened into the society of to-morrow, it would stand<span class="pagenum" id="Page_270">270</span> -condemned. For little of it has a practical consequence and -our ways of expression are very wasteful. But it also affords -a harmless outlet for the dangerous emotions aroused by the -wear and tear of everyday work in a humdrum universe. And, -if it is true that we are, all of us, Simians by lineage, this is by -far the most important function it serves.</p> - -<p>Second, it is grounded none too well in information and -principles. The ordinary mortal is busied with his own -affairs. He lacks the time, the patience, and the equipment -necessary to get at the facts about the material welfare of the -nation. In the most casual way he makes up his mind, using -for the purpose a few superficial facts, a number of prejudices, -and a bit of experience. He has little idea of where we are -in the course of social development, of the forces which have -brought us here, or of where we ought to be going. Since the -opinions of groups and of the nation are aggregates of individual -opinion, the ideas of those who have an intellectual right -to speak are not a large part of the compound.</p> - -<p>Third, despite its crudeness and variety, it possesses elements -of real value. Its very volume creates at least a statistical -probability that some of it is of high quality. The waste -of much of it gives the rest a real chance of expression in -social policy. The common features of industrialism are giving -to men something of a common experience out of which -there will come a more or less common-sense appreciation of -problems and of ideals. This will dictate the larger features -of a future social policy. The particularized opinion which -finds expression in the detailed formulation of programmes -must be left to the experts. The great masses of men must -learn that these problems are technical and must trust the -judgment of those who know. Despite the record of halting -development and of confused statement, the pages above indicate -that the economic opinion in America is coming slowly -to an appreciation of the factors upon which “the good life -for all” really rests.</p> - -<p>But enough. Opinion by being economic does not cease to -be opinion, and an essay about it is only more opinion.</p> - -<p class="right"> -<span class="smcap">Walton H. Hamilton</span> -</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div id="toclink_271" class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_271">271</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="RADICALISM">RADICALISM</h2> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="smcap1">The</span> first obstacle to an assessment of radicalism in America -is the difficulty of discovering precisely what American -radicalism is. According to his enemies, a radical is a person -whose opinions need not be considered and whose rights need -not be respected. As a people we do not wish to understand -him, or to deal with what he represents, but only to get him -out of sight. We deport him and imprison him. If he writes -a book, we keep it out of the schools and libraries. If he publishes -a paper, we debar it from the mails. If he makes a -speech, we drive him out of the hall and shoo him away from -the street-corner. If by hook or crook he multiplies himself -to considerable numbers, we expel his representatives from -legislative chambers, break up his parades, and disperse his -strikes with well-armed soldiery.</p> - -<p>These being the associations which cluster about the word, -it has naturally become less a definition than a weapon. Statisticians -in the Federal Trade Commission publish certain figures -dealing with the business of the packing-houses—a Senator -loudly calls these devoted civil servants “radicals,” and they -are allowed to resign. A labour leader, following the precedent -of federal law established for over a half a century, -espouses the eight-hour day, but because he has the bad taste -to do so in connection with the steel industry, he becomes a -“radical,” and is soundly berated in the press. If one were -to ask the typical American Legion member how he would -describe a radical—aside from the fact that a radical is a -person to be suppressed—he would probably answer that a -radical is (a) a pro-German, (b) a Russian or other foreigner, -(c) a person who sends bombs through the mail, (d) -a believer in free love, (e) a writer of free verse, (f) a painter -of cubist pictures, (g) a member of the I.W.W., (h) a Socialist, -(i) a Bolshevist, (j) a believer in labour unions and -an opponent of the open shop, and (k) any one who would<span class="pagenum" id="Page_272">272</span> -be looked upon with disapproval by a committee consisting of -Judge Gary, Archibald Stevenson, and Brander Matthews.</p> - -<p>There is scarcely more light to be had from the radicals -themselves. Any one who feels a natural distaste for the -censorious crowd of suppressors is likely to class himself with -the free spirits whom they oppose. To call oneself a radical -is in such circumstances a necessary accompaniment of self-respect. -The content of the radicalism is of minor importance. -There is an adventurous tendency to espouse anything -that is forbidden, and so to include among one’s affirmations -the most contradictory systems—such as Nietzscheanism and -Communism, Christianity of the mystical sort and rebellion. -And when these rebels really begin to think, the confusion is -increased. Each pours his whole ardour into some exclusive -creed, which makes him scorn other earnest souls who happen -to disagree about abstruse technical points. Among economic -radicals, terms like “counter-revolutionary” and “bourgeois” -are bandied about in a most unpleasant fashion. If, for instance, -you happen to believe that Socialism may be brought -about through the ballot rather than through the general strike, -numbers of radicals will believe you more dangerous than the -Czar himself; it is certain that when the time comes you will -be found fighting on the wrong side of the barricade. Creeds -have innumerable subdivisions, and on the exact acceptance -of the creed depends your eternal salvation. Calvinists, -Wesleyans, Lutherans, and the rest in their most exigent days -could not rival the logical hair-splitting which has lately taken -place among the sectarian economic dissenters, nor has any -religious quarrel ever surpassed in bitterness the dogmatic -dissidence with which the numerous schools of authoritarian -rebellion rebel against authority.</p> - -<p>There is a brilliant magazine published in New York which -takes pride in edging a little to the left of the leftmost radical, -wherever for the moment that may be. Its editor is a poet, -and he writes eloquently of the proletariat and the worker. -Not long ago I was speaking of this editor to an actual leader -of labour—a man who is a radical, and who also takes a daily -part in the workers’ struggles. “Yes,” he said, “he certainly<span class="pagenum" id="Page_273">273</span> -can write. He is one of the best writers living.” And he -went on wistfully, “If the labour movement only had a writer -like that!”</p> - -<p>There is another brilliant magazine published in New York -which takes exquisite pains to inform the reader that it is -radical. In precise columns of elegant type, Puritan in its -scorn of passion or sensation, it weekly derides the sentimental -liberal for ignorance of “fundamental economics.” Not long -ago it made the startling discovery that Socialists favour taking -natural resources out of private ownership. And its “fundamental -economics,” whenever they appear in language simple -enough for the common reader to understand, turn out to -be nothing more dangerous than that respectable and ancient -heresy, the single tax.</p> - -<p>Another method of definition is now in common use—a -method which seems easy because of its mechanical simplicity. -People are arranged in a row from left to right, according to -their attitude toward the existing order. At the extreme right -are the reactionaries, who want to restore the discarded. Next -to them are the conservatives, who wish to keep most of what -exists. At their elbow are the liberals, who are ready to examine -new ideas, but who are not eager or dogmatic about -change. And at the extreme left are the radicals, who want -to change nearly everything for something totally new. Such -an arrangement is a confusing misuse of words based on a misconception -of social forces. Society is not a car on a track, -along which it may move in either direction, or on which it may -stand still. Society is a complex, with many of the characteristics -of an organism. Its change is continuous, although -by no means constant. It passes through long periods of -quiescence, and comparatively brief periods of rapid mutation. -It may collect itself into a close order, or again become dispersed -into a nebula. There is much in its development that -is cyclical; it has yet undiscovered rhythms, and many vagaries. -The radical and the reactionary may be agreed on essentials; -they may both wish sudden change and closer organization. -The conservative may be liberal because he wishes to preserve -an order in which liberal virtues may exist. Or a liberal may<span class="pagenum" id="Page_274">274</span> -be so cribbed and confined by an unpleasant constriction of -social tissue that he becomes radical in his struggle for immediate -release. The terms are not of the same class and should -not be arranged in parallel columns.</p> - -<p>The dictionary definition is enlightening. “Radical—Going -to the root or origin; touching or acting upon what is essential -or fundamental; thorough.... <em>Radical reform</em>, a thorough -reform.... Hence Radical Reformer equals Radical” -(New English Dictionary). In this sense radicalism is an -historic American tradition. The revolt of the Colonies -against England and the formation of the Republic were, indeed, -far from the complete break with the past which the -schoolboy assumes them to have been, but what lives in the -minds of the American people is, nevertheless, not the series -of counterchecks which men like Hamilton and Madison wrote -into the Constitution, but rather the daring affirmations of -Jefferson which have a real kinship with the radical spirit of -the French Revolution. Talk of “inalienable rights” such -as life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness was genuine radical -talk; it searched out the bases of human relationship, proclaimed -them against authority, and sought to found on them a -system of government.</p> - -<p>So strongly has this conception seized the imagination of -Americans that it largely accounts for their almost instinctive -hostility to new kinds of political change. The roots of politics -have been uncovered, the change has in fact been made -once for all—so they reason. To admit that any new fundamental -alteration is necessary is to be disloyal to the historical -liberation. Because the conservative American believes himself -a complete democrat, because for him the “new order” -was achieved in 1776, he is intolerant of modern radicals. -Suggestions of new revolution touch him closely on his pride. -In this sense Jefferson has been less a spur to future generations -than an obstacle. If his fine frenzy about rights had -been less eloquently expressed, if it had not obscured in a -cloud of glory the true nature of the foundation of our government—a -highly practical compromise which embodied a few -moderate advances and many hesitancies—we should have a -different temper about change to-day. We should not assume<span class="pagenum" id="Page_275">275</span> -that all desirable fundamental modification of social and political -structure had been completed nearly a century and a -half ago.</p> - -<p>The greatest historic expression of American radicalism has -thus become the altar of the conservatives. To the unlettered -man it may seem strange that a Supreme Court of elderly -radicals will not allow Congress to forbid child-labour because -of their loyalty to an 18th-century limitation of the federal -government, presumably in the interest of freedom and humanity. -To workmen voting for the eight-hour day the language -of Jefferson did not seem hostile—they were struggling -to pursue happiness in a way that he must have approved. -And yet it is the sacred “right” of contract which deprived -them, as voters, of the right to legislate for shorter hours. -Workmen using their collective economic power to gain industrial -freedom are met by a shower of injunctive denials, based -chiefly on that same right of contract. In order to stay any -further liberation of the human body and spirit, judges and -officials and industrial barons have only to invoke the phrases -of freedom thrown out against an ancient despotism. They -have only to point out that freedom as defined abstractly over -a hundred years ago forbids practical freedom to-day. Frozen -radicalism of the past chills and destroys the new roots of -American life.</p> - -<p>Some appreciation of this state of affairs underlies the prevailing -tendency to believe that all new radicalism has a foreign -origin. It is, indeed, part of the best nationalistic tradition -to attribute subversive doctrines to foreigners. This is -the habit in every country. But in the United States the habit -is perhaps more deep-seated than elsewhere. Americans are -by definition free and equal; if then any one talks or acts as -if he were not free and equal, he must have been born somewhere -else. The American Government, being not a faulty -product of human growth, but a new creation sprung perfect -out of the ineffable minds of the Fathers, is unassailable; if -any one assails it, he cannot know it, and must be subjected -to courses in English and Civics (Americanization) until he -recognizes its perfection. Treason in this country is not simple -treason to a ruler, to a class, or to a system as elsewhere; it<span class="pagenum" id="Page_276">276</span> -is an act of sacrilege, by one uninitiated, upon a religious -mystery.</p> - -<p>Of course there are and have been Americans whose radicalism -is less crust and more meat. The spirit of Jefferson -still lives, after all, to confute the interpretation put upon his -words. And imported doctrine has actually had less to do with -most of the radical movements in America than has American -tradition itself. It is an easy step from the conception of political -liberty to the conception of economic liberty, and the -step has been made here as readily as in Europe. In a country -which for so long offered extraordinary opportunities to the -individual business man, it is only natural that economic liberty -should have been conceived as a means of protecting his -enterprise; and as a matter of fact our economic legislation for -many years has been sprinkled with victories of the small -business men and farmers over the interests which had already -become large enough to seem to them oppressive. The regulation -of the railroads, the succession of popular financial doctrines, -and the anti-trust legislation, were all initiated by the -interpretation of economic democracy naturally arising in the -vigorous class of the small entrepreneurs. With the slow weakening -of this class by its disintegration, on one hand into captains -and lieutenants of the great principalities of industry, -and on the other into permanently salaried or waged members -of the rank and file, comes a corresponding tendency to change -the prevailing conception of economic democracy. The radicalism -of workmen in the United States has often been no -less sweeping or assertive than the radicalism of workmen anywhere—witness -the I.W.W. Even violence in the labour -struggle has been practised chiefly by one hundred per cent. -Americans—the steel workers in Homestead in 1892 and the -West Virginia miners in Mingo County in 1921 were of old -American stock. And the moment the predominating group -in American thought and activity is composed of those who -expect to live by their daily work rather than of those who -expect to accumulate property, we are likely to see the rise of -an economic radicalism more akin to that which exists in -Europe, and one which, because of its sanction in our tradition, -will be twice as militant and convinced.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_277">277</span></p> - -<p>For, after all, economic radicalism arises neither from a -merely stupid desire for more material goods, nor from an intellectual -adherence to a particular formula of industrial organization. -It arises from a desire to be free, to achieve -dignity and independence. Poverty is distressful not so much -because of its physical hardships as because of its spiritual -bondage. To be poor because one chooses to be poor is less -annoying than to be moderately paid while the man who fixes -one’s wages rides in a Rolls-Royce. The most modest aspects -of the labour movement are attempts of the workmen to gain -some voice in determining the conditions under which they -must work—in other words, to extend democracy into industry. -And when the workman wakes up to the fact that industrial -policies are governed by a comparatively small class of -owners, and that the visible result of those policies seems to -be a large class of underemployed, undernourished, and under-housed -families on one hand, and a small class of abundantly -supplied families on the other, he feels that he is suffering an -indignity. You may challenge him to prove that any other -system would work better. You may argue that if all the -wealth of the rich were distributed equally, he would receive -but a trifle. Such reasoning will affect him little. If every -one must be miserable, he at least wants to share and exercise -whatever power exists to alter that misery. Kings have argued -that the people could rule no better than they, but that has not -prevented peoples from demanding representative government. -The American tradition is sure to be as subversive a motive -in industry as it has been in the State. The technical problem -of how industry may be better organized, important as it -is, is subordinate to this cry of the personality. Essentially, -this sort of radicalism arises from the instinct of the workman -to achieve an adult relationship to the industrial world.</p> - -<p>The impact of the war upon industry, and the reverberation -of its social results abroad, for some time stimulated this -latent feeling in American workmen. For the first time in -decades the competition of the unemployed and the immigrant -was virtually removed, and the wage-earner began to feel secure -enough to assert his personality. He was necessary to -the community in an immediate way. The policy of the government<span class="pagenum" id="Page_278">278</span> -was to recognize this fact, and to prevent an unduly -rapid increase in wages and in the power of organized labour -by compromising with it on certain simple issues like collective -bargaining and the eight-hour day. But larger aspirations -arose in the rank and file, and when the Russian Revolution -sent a word of emancipation around the world, they were ready -to listen. In spite of the crushing force of the whole ruling -propaganda machinery, which had been so successful in arousing -hatred against Germany, countless American workmen -sensed the approach of a new order as a result of the success -of the Bolsheviki. A secondary impulse of the same sort, felt -even more strongly in some quarters, arose from the Nottingham -programme of the British Labour Party. But affairs -moved slowly, hope was deferred, and at length the new spirit -lost much of its freshness and power. The very acrimoniousness -and volume of the controversy over what had or had not -been done in Russia wearied most people of the whole matter. -The many expected revolutions in other countries, which missed -fire so many times, caused disillusionment. The doctrinaire -and even religious adherents of the Russian Communists began -to make trouble for every radical organization in the country -by their quarrels and divisions. At length, the war being -over, the American labour movement itself began to display -a weakness in the face of renewed attack on the part of its -opponents, which showed how illusory had been many of its -recent gains and how seriously its morale had been injured.</p> - -<p>Economic radicalism never looked—on the surface—weaker -than it does in the United States to-day. On the strength of -statements by Mr. Gompers and some other leaders of the -trade unions, we are likely to assume that organized labour -will have nothing to do with it. The professed radicals themselves -have been weakened by dissensions and scattered by -persecution. Yet a brief survey of the formal groups which -now profess radical theories will indicate why the future of -American radicalism should not be assessed on the evidence of -their present low estate.</p> - -<p>The Socialist Party, even more than the Socialist Parties in -other countries, was placed by the war in a difficult situation.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_279">279</span> -With its roots not yet firmly in the soil, except in a few localities -and among diverse national elements, it was faced with -the necessity, in accordance with its principles and tradition, -of denouncing the entrance of the United States into hostilities. -But this decision could command no effective support from -the workers organized on the economic field, who under a -different leadership adopted a different attitude. Nor was the -party strong enough among any other element of the population -to make its decision respected. The only immediate -result of the gesture was therefore to place this unarmed little -force in the most exposed position possible, where it drew the -fire of all those who were nervously afraid the people would -not sanction the war. Socialism was not judged on the basis -of its economic tenets, but was condemned as disloyal and -pro-German; and the effect was to render the party even more -sectarian and unrepresentative than ever before. It had -adopted a position in which it could not expect recruits except -from moral heroes, and no nation nourishes a large proportion -of these. Such episodes make good legend, but they do not -lead to prompt victories. Even those who later have come to -believe that the Socialists were right about the war are likely -to express their belief in some other form than joining the -party.</p> - -<p>In this weakened condition, the Socialist Party after the war -developed internal fissures. Many bitter words have been -exchanged as to whether the “Left Wingers” were or were not -a majority of the party, whether they were or were not more -orthodox than those in control of the party machinery, and -whether, if they were more orthodox, their orthodoxy was wise. -At any rate, they broke away and formed two new parties of -their own, a fact which is the chief point of interest to one -who is more concerned with the larger issues of American -radicalism than with the minutiæ of Socialist politics. The -Communist Party and the Communist Labour Party, whatever -may have been the legitimacy of their gestation in the -bowels of Socialism, certainly found their reason for being -chiefly in logic which originated in Moscow and Berlin rather -than in the American situation. At once selected for persecution<span class="pagenum" id="Page_280">280</span> -by government officials, they burrowed underground, -doubtless followed by a band of spies at least as numerous as -they. From these subterranean regions have come rumours -of a fourth party—the United Communist, which swallowed -most of the Communist Labourites and some of the Communists. -At last accounts the Communists and the United -Communists were each attempting to prove the other counter-revolutionary -by reference to the latest documents from international -revolutionary headquarters.</p> - -<p>It is hazardous in the extreme for an outsider to speak of -the differences in doctrine among these groups. It is probably -fair to say, however, that the Communist parties are chiefly -distinguished by their total lack of interest in anything save -a complete revolution, because this is the only kind they believe -possible. They reject as “compromises” partial gains -of all sorts; piecemeal progress by evolutionary methods rather -offends them than otherwise. Their eyes are turned always -toward some future revolutionary situation; for this their organization -and their theories are being prepared. This being -the case, the validity of their position will be tested by the -event. If, as the milder Socialists believe, economic changes -may come gradually by process of growth and smaller shocks, -the Communists are likely to remain a nearly functionless -and tiny minority, even in the labour movement. If, as the -Communists believe, the present order in the normal course of -its development is destined to experience a sudden collapse -similar to that which occurred in Russia near the end of the -war, they will become the true prophets, and their mode of -thought and action will presumably have fitted them to assume -leadership.</p> - -<p>The Farmer-Labour Party is a recent growth far less doctrinaire -than either the Socialist or the Communist groups. -It has neither prophet nor Bible, but is based rather on the -principle of gathering certain categories of people together for -political action, trusting that as they become organized they -will work out their own programme in relation to the situation, -and that that programme will develop as time goes on. The -categories to which it appeals are chiefly the industrial workers -and the small farmers, who have in general common economic<span class="pagenum" id="Page_281">281</span> -interests as opposed to the large owners of land and -capital. It hopes that other elements in the population, realizing -that their major interests are much the same as those -of the unionists and the farmers, will join forces with them -to produce a majority. As an illustration of the operation of -such tactics, the Farmer-Labourites point to the success of the -Independent Labour Party of Great Britain, first in aiding the -foundation of the British Labour Party, and second in building -up for that party an increasingly coherent radical programme.</p> - -<p>In all these cases, however, not much confidence is placed in -the actual political machinery of elections. There is a widespread -scepticism about the ability to accomplish industrial -changes by the ballot, on account of experience with political -corruption, broken election promises, adverse court decisions, -and political buncombe in general. These parties are formed as -much for the purpose of propagating ideas and creating centres -of activity as for mobilizing votes. All radical parties lay -great stress on the industrial power of the organized labour -movement. This is not to say that they do not recognize the -importance of the State in industrial matters. All agree that -control of political machinery will in the long run be necessary, -if only to prevent it from checking the advance of the people -through the courts and police. But they also agree that control -of the State is not held and cannot be attained by political -machinery alone. The present influence of the proprietors -of industry on politics is due, they see, chiefly to economic -power, and the workers consequently must not neglect -the development of their own economic organization. The -Communists are completely hopeless of attaining results -through the present election machinery; the Socialists and -Farmer-Labourites believe it possible to secure a majority at -the polls, which may then execute its will, if the workers are -well enough organized for industrial action.</p> - -<p>Outwardly the most successful of the radical movements is -the least doctrinaire of all. It is unnecessary to repeat the -history and achievements of the Nonpartisan League—an attempt -on the part of organized farmers to use the machinery -of the State in order to gain economic independence from the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_282">282</span> -banking, milling, and packing interests. Other groups of -farmers have aimed at a similar result through co-operation, -with varying success.</p> - -<p>In the industrial labour movement proper there have been -numerous radical minorities. The most uncompromising of -these, as well as the most characteristically American, was the -Industrial Workers of the World, who aspired to build up a -consciously revolutionary body to rival the unions composing -the American Federation of Labour. This decline is due not -so much to suppression as to their previous failure to enlist the -continued support of the industrial workers themselves. Like -the Communists, the I.W.W. predicated their success on a revolutionary -situation, and lacking that situation they could not -build a labour movement on an abstract idea. Over long -periods not enough people are moved by a philosophy of salvation -to give staying power to such an organization in the -daily struggle with the employers. Other similar attempts, -such as the W.I.I.U., and the more recent One Big Union, -have encountered similar difficulties. They grow rapidly in -crises, but fail under the strain of continued performance.</p> - -<p>The failure of American radicals to build up a strong movement -is in part due, of course, to the natural difficulties of the -social and economic situation, but it is also due to the mental -traits which usually accompany remoteness from reality. This -is illustrated in the history of the I.W.W., if we accept William -Z. Foster’s acute analysis. The regular trade-union movement, -slowly evolving towards a goal but half consciously -realized, overcoming practical obstacles painfully and clumsily, -as such obstacles usually are overcome, was too halting for -these impatient radicals. They withdrew, and set up rival, -perfectionist unions, founded in uncompromising revolutionary -ardour. These organizations were often unable to serve the -rank and file in their practical difficulties, and consequently -could not supplant the historic labour movement. But they -did draw out of that movement many of its most sincere and -ardent spirits, thus depriving it of the ferment which was -necessary to its growth. The I.W.W., for their part, failing -to secure any large grip on reality, regressed into quarrels -about theory, suffered divisions of their social personality, and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_283">283</span> -at length—except in the far West—became little more than -economic anchorites. As Foster says, “The I.W.W. were -absolutely against results.”</p> - -<p>Too much of American radicalism has been diverted to -the easy emotional satisfaction which is substituted for the -arduous process of dealing with reality. We suffer a restriction -of the personality, we cry out against the oppressor, we -invent slogans and doctrines, we fill our minds with day dreams, -with intricate mechanisms of some imaginary revolution. At -the same time we withdraw from the actual next step. Here -is the trade-union movement, built up painfully for over a century, -a great army with many divisions which function every -day in the industrial struggle. How many radicals know it -in any detail? How many have paid the slightest attention to -the technique of its organization, or have devoted any time to -a working out of the smaller problems which must be worked -out before it can achieve this or that victory? Here are our -great industries, our complex systems of exchange. How many -radicals really know the technique of even the smallest section -of them? Radicals wish to reorganize the industrial system; -would they know how to organize a factory?</p> - -<p>If radicalism arises from the instinct for economic maturity, -then it can find its place in the world only by learning its function, -only by expressing its emotion in terms of the actual with -which it has to deal. A period of adolescence was to be expected, -but to prolong the characteristics of that period is to -invite futility. And as a matter of fact American radicalism -now exhibits a tendency to establish more contacts with reality. -Instead of withdrawing from established unions to start -a new and spotless labour movement, radicals are beginning -to visualize and to carry out the difficult but possible task of -improving the organization of the existing unions, and of charging -them with new energy and ideas. Unions which were -founded by radicals—such as the Amalgamated Clothing Workers -of America—are devoting their efforts not to talking of a -future revolution, but to organizing the workers more firmly -in the present, to establishing constitutional government in -industry through which tangible advances may be made and -safeguarded, and to improving the productivity of industry itself.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_284">284</span> -Engineers, encouraged by labour organizations, and in -some cases actually paid by them, are investigating the problem -of economic waste, and are demonstrating by line upon -line and precept upon precept how the chaos of competition, -industrial autocracy, and a controlling profit motive are reflected -in idle hours, low wages, high prices, and inferior products. -The co-operative movement is slowly providing a new -and more efficient machinery of distribution, while co-operative -banks are building up a reserve of credit for those who wish -to experiment with undertakings conducted for other purposes -than the profit of the proprietor. Such functional use of the -labour movement is more dangerous to the existing disorder -than volumes of phrases or a whole battalion of “natural -rights.”</p> - -<p>Extremists call such activities compromise. They are compromise -in the sense that any hypothesis must be changed to -fit the facts, but they involve no compromise with scientific -truth. The alchemist compromised when he gave up the -search for the philosopher’s stone and began to learn from the -elements. He surrendered a sterile dogma for a fruitful science. -In proportion as radicals learn how to put their emotions -to work, in proportion as they devise ways to function -in the world in which we live, will they make possible not only -unity among themselves, but a rapprochement with other -Americans. A man who believes there is no real possibility -of change short of complete revolution can unite with a man -who has no theory about the matter at all so long as they do -not discuss abstract doctrine, but concentrate upon the problem -of how to bring about a particular effect at a particular -time. The most radical theories, if expressed in terms of concrete -situations, will be accepted by those who are wary of -generalities, or do not understand them. The theories will be -tested in the fact. The operation of such a process may be -blocked by those who dogmatically oppose all experiment, but -in that case the forces of reason and of nature will be so clearly -on the side of the radical that there can be no doubt about -his ultimate fruitfulness.</p> - -<p class="right"> -<span class="smcap">George Soule</span> -</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div id="toclink_285" class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_285">285</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="THE_SMALL_TOWN">THE SMALL TOWN</h2> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap al"><span class="smcap1">America</span> is a nation of villagers, once remarked George -Bernard Shaw in a moment of his most exclusive scorn -for what he believed was our crude and naïve susceptibility to -the modes and moods, to say nothing of the manners, of the -professional patriots during that hectic period when Wilhelm -was training to become the woodman of Amerongen. Now -Shaw is the oracle of the Occident, and when he speaks there -is no docile dog this side of Adelphi Terrace presumptuous -enough to bark. At least there should not be; and in any -event, neither history nor H. G. Wells records any spirited -protest on America’s part to the Shavian accusation. It was -allowed to stand invulnerable and irrefutable. Of course, in -our hearts we know Shaw is right. We may for the moment -be signifying <i xml:lang="la" lang="la">rus in urbe</i>, but between you and me and the -chief copy-reader of the Marion (Ohio) <cite>Star</cite>, <i xml:lang="la" lang="la">in urbe</i> is a superfluous -detail.</p> - -<p>Show me a native New Yorker and I will show you something -as extinct as a bar-tender. There are no native New -Yorkers. All New Yorkers come from small towns and farms. -Ask Dad, ask the Sunday editor, ask the census-taker—they -know. And what is true of New York is true of Boston and -Chicago. The big men, the notable men of the big cities, hail -from the small towns, the Springfields, the Jacksons, the Jamestowns, -Georgetowns, Charlestowns—yes, and from the Elizabeths -and Charlottes—of the nation.</p> - -<p>Under the circumstances any back-to-the-land movement in -this country seems futile if not ridiculous. The land is still -confident and capable of taking care of itself. It needs no aid -from the city chaps and asks none. The Freudians are not -deceived for a moment over the basis of a return-to-the-farm -enterprise. They recognize it for what it is—a sentimental -complex superinduced by the nervous hysteria of the city. But -even the amazingly small proportion of the population that is<span class="pagenum" id="Page_286">286</span> -not Freudian refuses to become influenced by the cry of the -sentimentalists. Because it is keenly, though unpretentiously, -aware of the genuinely rural state of its culture and civilization.</p> - -<p>The civilization of America is predominantly the civilization -of the small town. The few libertarians and cosmopolites who -continue to profess to see a broader culture developing along -the Atlantic seaboard resent this fact, though they scarcely -deny it. They are too intelligent, too widened in vision to -deny it. They cannot watch the tremendous growth and -power and influence of secret societies, of chambers of commerce, -of boosters’ clubs, of the Ford car, of moving pictures, -of talking-machines, of evangelists, of nerve tonics, of the <cite>Saturday -Evening Post</cite>, of Browning societies, of circuses, of -church socials, of parades and pageants of every kind and -description, of family reunions, of pioneer picnics, of county -fairs, of firemen’s conventions without secretly acknowledging -it. And they know, if they have obtained a true perspective -of America, that there is no section of this vast political unit -that does not possess—and even frequently boast—these unmistakably -provincial signs and symbols.</p> - -<p>I do not mean to imply that such aspects make America an -unfit place in which to live. On the contrary, America’s very -possession of them brings colour and rugged picturesqueness, -if not a little pathos, to the individual with imagination sufficient -to find them. Mr. Dreiser found them and shed a triumphant -tear. “Dear, crude America” is to him a sweet and -melancholy reality. It is a reality that has been expressed with -a good deal of prophecy—and some profit—by the young novelists. -Small-town realism with a vengeance, rather than a joy, -has been the keynote of their remarkable success during the -past year. However, they pulled the pendulum of cultural life -too far in one direction. They failed, for the most part, of -appreciating the similarity of human nature in city as in country, -with the result that their triumph is ephemeral. Already -the reaction has set in. There are now going on in the work-rooms -of the novelists attempts to immortalize Riverside Drive, -Fifth Avenue, Beacon Street, Michigan Boulevard, and Pennsylvania -Avenue.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_287">287</span></p> - -<p>Unless they penetrate into the soul of these avenues, unless -they perceive that these avenues are not spiritually different -from Main Street, though they may be clothed in the -habiliments of metropolitan taste and fancy, they will fail to -symbolize correctly America. They will be writing merely for -money and controversial space in the literary supplements.</p> - -<p>For the soul of these avenues is a soul with an <em>i</em> substituted -for <em>u</em>. It is the soul of the land. It is a homely, wholesome -provincialism, typifying human nature as it is found -throughout the United States. We may herd in a large centre -of population, assume the superficialities of cosmopolitan culture -and genuinely believe ourselves devils of fellows. It takes -all the force of a prohibition law to make us realize that we are -more sinned against than sinning. Then are we confronted -sharply by the fact that the herd is appallingly inefficient and -inarticulate in a conflict with isolated individualism.</p> - -<p>The prohibition movement originated in farming communities -and villages where the evils of alcohol are ridiculously insignificant. -No self-respecting or neighbour-respecting villager -could afford to be known as a drinking man. His business or -his livelihood was at stake. Then why did he foster prohibition? -Why did he seek to fasten it upon the city resident -who, if he drank, did not lose apparently his own or his neighbour’s -respect? Chiefly because of his very isolation. Because -he was geographically deprived of the enjoyments which the -city man shared. I can well imagine a farmer in the long -sweating hours of harvest time or a small town storekeeper -forced to currying favour with his friends and neighbours 365 -days in a year, resolutely declaring that what he cannot have -the man in the city shall not have. The hatching of all kinds -of prohibitory plots can be traced to just such apparent injustices -of life. Dr. Freud would correctly explain it under the -heading of inferiority-complex.</p> - -<p>City men have marvelled at the remarkable organization of -the reformers. It is not so much organization, however, as it -is a national feeling perceived and expressed simultaneously. -Cities may conduct the most efficient propaganda against such -a feeling, they may assemble their largest voting strength to -assail it. All in vain. The country districts roll up the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_288">288</span> -majorities and the cities are left unmistakably high and dry.</p> - -<p>So it is with most of the laws and movements of America. -The rural sections have but to will them and they become -in due time established facts. An idea merely has to take -root in the mind of some socially oppressed individual. He -talks it over with his friends at lodge meeting or during an -informal hour at a board of trade meeting. He receives encouragement. -He imparts the idea to his wife, who carries it -to her literary club, where it is given further airing. It spreads -to the volunteer firemen’s clubrooms, to the grange picnics -and the church socials. It is discussed in the pulpits. Finally -it reaches the ears of the village and county politicians who, -impressed by its appeal to the moral force of the community, -decide after hours in the back room of the post-office or the -national bank to interest the congressman or assemblyman -from their district in its merits as a possible law upon the -statute books. The congressman and assemblyman, acutely -aware of the side on which their bread is buttered, agree to do -“everything within their power” to put the measure through. -Having the assistance of other congressmen and assemblymen, -most of whom are from rural districts, their tasks assuredly -are not difficult.</p> - -<p>Before the appearance of the automobile and the movie -upon the national horizon, the small town was chiefly characterized -by a distinctly rural and often melancholy peacefulness. -A gentle air of depression hung over it, destructive of the ambitious -spirit of youth and yet, by very reason of its existence, -influencing this spirit to seek adventure and livelihood in wider -fields. Amusements were few and far between. It was the day -of the quilting party, of the Sunday promenade in the cemetery, -of buggy-riding, of the ice-cream festival and the spelling -bee. The bucolic note was ever present.</p> - -<p>Such an environment, while joyous to the small boy, became -hopelessly dull and lifeless to the youth of vitality and imagination. -Restlessness with it tormented him day and night until -it grew into an obsession. Especially did he dislike Sunday, -its funereal quiet with stores closed and other possible avenues -of excitement and adventure forbidden. He began to cherish -dreams of a life strange and teeming in distant cities.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_289">289</span></p> - -<p>As he grew older and a measure of independence came to -him he fled, provided there was no business established by a -patient and hard-working ancestry which might lure him into -remaining home. And even that did not always attract him. -He was compelled to go by his very nature—a nature that desired -a change from the pall of confining and circumscribed -realism, the masks of respectability everywhere about him, the -ridiculous display of caste, that saw a rainbow of fulfilled ideals -over the hills, that demanded, in a word, romance.</p> - -<p>He, who did not feel this urge, departed because of lack of -business opportunities. Occasionally he returned disillusioned -and exhausted by the city and eager to re-establish himself in -a line of work which promised spiritual contentment. But -more often he stayed away, struggling with the crowd in the -city, returning home only for short vacation periods for rest -and reminiscence, to see his people and renew boyhood friendships. -At such times he was likely to be impressed by the -seeming prosperity of those boys he left behind, of the apparent -enjoyment they found in the narrow environment. The -thought may have occurred to him that the life of the small -town had undergone a marked change, that it had adopted -awkward, self-conscious urban airs.</p> - -<p>Suddenly he realizes that the automobile and the movie -and to some extent the topical magazine are mainly responsible -for the contrast. The motor-car has given the small town -man an ever-increasing contact with the city, with life at formerly -inaccessible resorts, with the country at large. And the -movie and the magazine have brought him news and pictures -of the outside world. He has patronized them and grown -wiser.</p> - -<p>The basis, the underlying motive, of all cultural life in the -small town is social. The intellectual never enters. It may -try to get in but the doors are usually barred. There is -practically no demand for the so-called intellectual magazines. -Therefore, they are seldom placed on sale. But few daily -papers outside of a radius of fifty miles are read. Plays which -have exclusive appeal to the imagination or the intellect are -presented to rows of empty seats. On the other hand, dramas -teeming with primitive emotions and the familiar devices of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_290">290</span> -hokum attract large audiences, provided the producing managers -care to abide by the present excessive transportation -rates. There is but little interest manifested in great world -movements, such as the economic upheaval in Eastern Europe. -Normalcy is, indeed, the watchword so far as intellectual development -is concerned.</p> - -<p>It is in the social atmosphere that the American village has -its real <i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">raison d’être</i>. Therein do we meet the characteristics -that have stamped themselves indelibly upon American life. -The thousand and one secret societies that flourish here have -particularly fertile soil in the small towns. Count all the loyal -legionaries of all the chapters of all the secret societies between -the Atlantic and Pacific oceans and you have a job suited only -to the most irrepressible statistician. And the most loyal live -in the small towns and villages of the United States. The -choice is not limited. There are societies enough to suit all -kinds of personalities and purses.</p> - -<p>The Knights of Pythias, the Knights of the Maccabees, the -Odd Fellows, the Elks, the Eagles, the Loyal Order of the -Moose, the Modern Woodmen, the Masons with their elaborate -subdivisions of Shriners and Knights Templar—all count -their membership throughout the nation. And the women, -jealous of their husbands’ loyalty to various and complex forms -of hocus-pocus, have organized auxiliary societies which, while -not maintaining the secrecy that veils the fraternal orders, -nevertheless build up a pretentious mystery intriguing to the -male mind.</p> - -<p>No town is a self-respecting town unless it can boast half -a dozen of these societies. They are the fabric of which the -basis of the social structure is built. They are the very essence -of America. They dot the national landscape. Every city, as -if to prove conclusively its provincial nature, displays one or -more temples devoted to the rituals of fraternal organization.</p> - -<p>Recently the South has revived the order of the Ku Klux -Klan which flourished after the Civil War as a means of improving -upon the orderly course of the law in dealing with the -Negro race. Here is the apotheosis of the secret society, with -its magnificent concealment of identity in a unique form of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_291">291</span> -dress, its pretensions to 100 per cent. Americanism, its blatant -proclamations of perpetuating the great and glorious traditions -of the republic. The Negro has already organized to offset -this propaganda. He knew that unless he could show secret -orders of imposing strength he had no right even to the questionable -heritage of habitation here. He would be outside the -spirit of the times. He owed it to America, to “dear, crude -America,” to organize lodges and secret societies; and he has -done so.</p> - -<p>Undoubtedly the secret society plays a large part in the -greatness of America. It has made the American class-conscious. -It has made him recognize his own importance, his -own right to the national distinction of good-fellowship. It -provides him temporary surcease from domestic and business -details, though there are countless numbers of men who join -these orders to make business details, so far as they affect -them, more significant.</p> - -<p>The amazing prevalence of conventions in America is an -outgrowth of the secret societies. Life to many 100 per cent. -Americans is just one lodge convention after another. Held -in a different city each year, a distinction that is industriously -competed for, the convention has become a fixed fact in American -cultural life. Here is the one occasion of the year when -the serious diddle-daddle is laid aside, and refuge and freedom -are sought in such amusements as the convention city can -offer. The secret order convention has inspired the assembly -of all kinds and descriptions of conventions—trade conventions, -religious conventions, educational conventions—until -there is no city in the land boasting a first-class hotel that does -not at one time or another during the year house delegates with -elaborate insignia and badges.</p> - -<p>Probably the first parade held in America was that of a -class-conscious fraternal organization eager to display its high -standard of membership as well as a unique resplendence in -elaborate regalia. The parade has continued an integral part -of American life ever since. There is something of the vigour, -the gusto and crudeness of America in a parade. It has come -to represent life here in all its curious phases.</p> - -<p>The parade had become an event of colourful significance<span class="pagenum" id="Page_292">292</span> -when P. T. Barnum organized the “greatest show on earth.” -He decided to glorify it—in his dictionary “to glorify” really -meant “to commercialize”—and once and for all time associate -it chiefly with the circus. He succeeded, mainly because -the residents of the villages were receptive to the idea. They -saw a bizarre relief from the monotony of existence. The -farmers rolled down from the hills in their lumber-wagons -and found an inarticulate joy, storekeepers closed shop and -experienced a tumultuous freedom from the petty bickerings -of trade, men and women renewed their youth, children were -suddenly thrown into a very ecstasy of delight. Thus, the -circus parade became part and parcel of American civilization.</p> - -<p>And the precious and unique spirit created by the circus -parade has been carried on in innumerable representations. -To-day America shelters parades of every conceivable enterprise. -Firemen have a day in every small town of the land on -which they joyously pull flower-laden hose-carts for the entertainment -of their fellow-citizens. Bearing such labels as -Alerts, Rescues and Champion Hook and Ladder No. 1, they -march proudly down Main Street—and the world goes hang. -The volunteer firemen’s organization is an institution peculiar -to the American small town,—an institution, too, that is not -without class-consciousness. The rough-and-ready, comparatively -illiterate young men form one group. The clerks, men -engaged in the professions and social favourites compose another. -This class is usually endowed by the wealthiest resident -of the town, and its gratitude is expressed usually by naming -the organization for the local Crœsus.</p> - -<p>The Elks parade, the Knights of Pythias parade, veterans -of various wars parade, the Shriners and Knights Templar -parade, prohibitionists parade, anti-prohibitionists parade, politicians -parade, women parade, babies parade—everybody -parades in America. Indeed, America can be divided into -two classes, those who parade and those who watch the parade. -The parade is indelibly identified with the small town. It is -also inalienably associated with the large city, composed, as it -is, of small-town men.</p> - -<p>There has lately taken place in the villages throughout -the country a new movement that has civic pride as its basis.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_293">293</span> -It is the formation of boosters’ clubs. Everybody is boosting -his home town, at least publicly, though in the privacy -of the front porch he may be justly depressed by its narrowness -of opportunity, its subservience to social snobbery, its -intellectual aridity. “Come to Our Town. Free Sites Furnished -for Factories,” read the signs along the railroad tracks. -“Boost Our Town” shout banners stretched across Main -Street.</p> - -<p>Is there not something vitally poignant in such a proud provincialism? -Is not America endeavouring to lift itself up by -its boot-straps, to make life more comfortable and interesting? -The groping, though crude, is commendable. It is badly directed -because there is no inspiration back of it, because its -organizers are only remotely aware how to make life here more -interesting. However, there is the effort and it is welcome.</p> - -<p>Perhaps, when the towns—and for that matter the cities—realize -that artistic sensitiveness is necessary to achieve comfort -and interest we shall have boosters who are as enthusiastic -on the front porch as in the board of trade meeting. When -will our towns take artistic advantage of their river-fronts? -The place for the most beautiful walk and drive and park presents -usually unsightly piers, factories and sheds. Railroad -tracks are often laid in the very heart of the town. For many -years the leading hotels in practically all of our towns and -cities were built in close proximity to the railroad station. In -seeking to save a traveller time and convenience hotel proprietors -subjected him to the bodily and mental discomforts -that are related to the vicinity of a railroad station. Of late -there is a marked tendency to erect hotels in quiet residential -streets away from the noise and confusion of shops and railroad -yards.</p> - -<p>The billboard menace, while diminishing, is still imposing. -It is to the everlasting shame of the towns and cities that in -an era of prohibitions no legislative effort has been made to -stop the evil of desecrating our finest streets with advertising -signs. Such commercial greed is inconceivable to the foreign -visitor. It is one of his first impressions, though he charitably -takes refuge in public in attributing it to the high tension of -our existence.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_294">294</span></p> - -<p>While the first symptoms of artistic appreciation are beginning -to be faintly discerned upon the American horizon, the -old and familiar phases of social life in the country are still -being observed. The picnic of first settlers, the family reunion, -the church supper, the sewing circle, the Browning society—all -have national expression. The introduction of such modern -industrial devices as the automobile has not affected them -in the least. It can truly be asserted that the flivver has even -added to their popularity. It has brought people of the country -districts into closer contact than ever before. It has given -a new prestige to the picnics and the reunions.</p> - -<p>What offers more rustic charm and simplicity than a family -reunion? Practically every family in the farming districts -that claims an ancestral residence in this country of more than -fifty years holds one annually. It is attended by the great -and the near-great from the cities, by the unaffected relatives -back home. Babies jostle great-grandparents. Large and -perspiring women bake for days the cakes and pies to be consumed. -The men of the house are foolishly helping in making -the rooms and the front lawn ready. At last the reunion is -at hand—a sentimental debauch, a grand gorging. Everybody -present feels the poignancy of age. But while the heart throbs -the stomach is working overtime. The law of compensation is -satisfied. “A good time was had by all” finds another expression -in the weekly paper, and the reunion becomes a -memory.</p> - -<p>At pioneer picnics one finds the family reunion on a larger -scale. The whole township and county has for the time become -related. It is the day of days, a sentimental tournament -with handshaking as the most popular pastime. Organized -in the rugged primitiveness of the early part of the 19th -century by men who were first to settle in the vicinity, the -pioneer picnic has been perpetuated, until to-day it is linked -inalterably with America’s development. It has weathered -the passing of the nation from an agricultural to a great industrial -commonwealth. It has stood the gaff of time. And so -it goes on for ever, a tradition of the small town and the farming -community. While it has been divested almost entirely -of its original purpose, it serves to bring the politicians in touch<span class="pagenum" id="Page_295">295</span> -with the “peepul.” Grandiloquent promises are made for a -day from the rostrum by a battalion of “Honourables”—and -forgotten both by the “Honourables” and the public intent -upon dancing and walking aimlessly about the grounds. The -politicians smile as they continue to preserve their heroic pose, -and the “peepul,” satisfied that all is well with the world, turn -to various gambling devices that operate under the hypocritical -eye of the sheriff and to the strange dances that have crept -up from the jungle, for it is a day filled with the eternal spirit -of youth. There is ingenuous appeal in the fair samples of -the yokelry present. There is a quiet force beneath the bovine -expressions of the boys. The soul of America—an America -glad to be alive—is being wonderfully and pathetically manifested. -No shams, no superficialities, no self-conscious sophistication -are met. Merely the sturdy quality of the true American -civilization, picturesque and haunting in its primitiveness.</p> - -<p>The county fair belongs in the same classification as the first-settler -picnic. It is the annual relaxation by farmers and -merchants from the tedious tasks of seeing and talking to the -same people day after day. It offers them a measure of -equality with the people in the city with their excursion boats, -their baseball games, their park sports. And they make the -most of their opportunity. They come to see and to be seen, -to risk a few dollars on a horse race, to admire the free exhibitions -in front of the side-shows, to watch with wide eyes the -acrobatic stunts before the grandstand; to hear the “Poet and -the Peasant” overture by the band, proud and serious in a -stand of its own.</p> - -<p>Three or four days given to such pleasures naturally bestow -a fine sense of illusion upon the visitors. They begin to believe -that life has been specially ordered for them. They see -through a glass lightly. They care not a whiff about the -crowded excitements of the city. They have something infinitely -more enjoyable than a professional baseball game or an -excursion ride down the river. They have days of endless -variety, of new adventures, of new thoughts. They, too, know -that America cannot go wrong so long as they continue to find -illusion. And they are correct. They may not suspect that<span class="pagenum" id="Page_296">296</span> -American culture is crude. They do know, however, that it -is dear. They should worry.</p> - -<p>Against such a background have the flavour and essence -of American life been compounded. Their influence has extended -in all directions, in all walks of industry. They have -left their impress upon the character of the country, upon the -mob and the individual. Sentimental attachment to the old -ties, to boyhood ideals and traditions remains potent though -a little concealed by the mask, be it affected or real, of sophistication. -It is the voice of a new land, of a vigorous and curious -nationalism that is being exerted. There obviously cannot -be among such a naturally healthy people a supercilious contempt -for sentiment. We may laugh a little haughtily at the -amazing susceptibility of folks to the extravagant eloquence -of itinerant evangelists. We may look on an “old home -week” with a touch of urban disdain. We may listen to the -band concert on a Saturday night in the Court House Square -with a studied indifference. We may assume an attractive -weariness in watching the promenaders on Main Street visit -one ice-cream emporium after another. But deep down in our -hearts is a feeling of invincible pride in the charming homeliness, -the youthful vitality, the fine simplicity, yes, and the -sweeping pathos of these aspects of small-town civilization.</p> - -<p class="right"> -<span class="smcap">Louis Raymond Reid</span> -</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div id="toclink_297" class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_297">297</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="HISTORY">HISTORY</h2> -</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry short"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indentq">“Nescire autem quid antea quam natus sis</div> - <div class="verse indent0">acciderit id est semper puerum esse.”</div> - </div> - <div class="attrib"><cite>Cicero.</cite></div> -</div> -</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry short"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">“History is bunk.”</div> - </div> - <div class="attrib"><cite>Henry Ford</cite></div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="smcap1">The</span> burghers of Holland, being (like the Chinese) inclined -towards a certain conservatism of both manners and -habits, continued the tradition of the “front parlour”—the -so-called “good-room”—well into the 20th century. -Every farmer had his “front parlour” filled with stuffy air, -stuffy furniture, and an engraving of the Eiffel Tower facing -the lithographic representation of a lady in mid-seas clinging -desperately to a somewhat ramshackle granite cross.</p> - -<p>But the custom was not restricted to the bucolic districts. -His late Majesty, William III (whose funeral was the most -useful event of his long life), had been married to an estimable -lady of Victorian proclivities, who loved a “tidy” and an -“antimacassar” better than life itself. An aristocracy, recruited -from the descendants of East India Directors and West -India sugar planters, followed the Royal Example. They -owned modest homes which the more imaginative Latin would -have called “Palazzi.” Most of the ground floor was taken -up by an immense “front parlour.” For the greater part of -the year it was kept under lock and key while the family clustered -around the oil lamp of the “back parlour” where they -lived in the happy cacophony of young daughters practising -Czerny and young sons trying to master the intricacies of -“paideuo—paideueis—paideuei.”</p> - -<p>As for the “front parlour” (which will form the main part -of my text), it was opened once or twice a twelve-month for -high family functions. A week beforehand, the cleaning -woman (who received six cents per hour in those blessed<span class="pagenum" id="Page_298">298</span> -Neanderthal days) would arrive with many mops and many -brooms. The covers would be removed from the antique furniture, -the frames of the pictures would be duly scrubbed. The -carpets were submitted to a process which resembled indoor -ploughing and for fully half an hour each afternoon the windows -were opened to the extent of three or four inches.</p> - -<p>Then came the day of the reception—the birthday party of -the grandfather—the betrothal of the young daughter. All -the relatives were there in their best silks and satins. The -guests were there in ditto. There was light and there was -music. There was enough food and drink to keep an entire -Chinese province from starving. Yet the party was a failure. -The old family portraits—excellent pieces by Rembrandt or -Terborch—looked down upon grandchildren whom they did -not know. The grandchildren, on the other hand, were quite -uncomfortable in the presence of this past glory. Sometimes, -when the guests had expressed a sincere admiration of these -works of art, they hired a hungry Ph.D. to write a critical essay -upon their collection for the benefit of the “Studio” or the -“Connoisseur.” Then they ordered a hundred copies, which -they sent to their friends that they might admire (and perhaps -envy) the ancient lineage of their neighbours. Thereafter, -darkness and denim covers and oblivion.</p> - -<p>The history of our great Republic suffers from a fate similar -to that of these heirlooms. It lives in the “front parlour” -of the national consciousness. It is brought out upon a few -grand occasions when it merely adds to the general discomfort -of the assisting multitude. For the rest of the time it lies -forgotten in the half dark of those Washington cellars which -for lack of National Archives serve as a receptacle for the -written record of our past.</p> - -<p>Our popular estimate of history and the value of a general -historical background was defined a few years ago by Henry -Ford. Mr. Ford, having made a dozen flivvers go where none -went before and having gained untold wealth out of the motor-car -industry, had been appointed an ex-officio and highly esteemed -member of our national Council of Wise Men. His -opinion was eagerly asked upon such subjects as child-raising, -irrigation, the future of the human race, and the plausibility<span class="pagenum" id="Page_299">299</span> -of the Einstein theory. During a now memorable trial the -subject of history came up for discussion, and Mr. Ford (if -we are to believe the newspaper accounts) delivered himself -of the heartfelt sentiment that “history is bunk.” A grateful -country sang Amen!</p> - -<p>When asked to elucidate this regrettable expression of dislike, -the average citizen will fall back upon reminiscences of -his early childhood and in terms both contrite and unflattering -he will thereupon describe the hours of misery which he has -spent reciting “dreary facts about useless kings,” winding up -with a wholesale denunciation of American history as something -dull beyond words.</p> - -<p>We cannot say much in favour of late Stuarts, Romanoffs, -and Wasa’s, but we confess to a sincere affection for the history -of these United States. It is true there are few women -in it and no little children. This, to us, seems an advantage. -“Famous women of history” usually meant “infamous trouble” -for their much perturbed contemporaries. As for the -ever-popular children motif, the little princes of the Tower -would have given a great deal had they been allowed to whitewash -part of Tom Sawyer’s famous fence, instead of waiting in -silken splendour for Uncle Richard’s murder squad.</p> - -<p>No, the trouble is not with the history of this land of endless -plains and a limitless sky. The difficulty lies with the -reader. He is the victim of an unfortunate circumstance. -The Muses did not reach these shores in the first-class cabin of -the <i>Aquitania</i>. They were almost held up at Ellis Island and -deported because they did not have the necessary fifty dollars. -They were allowed to sneak in after they had given a solemn -promise that they would try to become self-supporting and -would turn their white hands to something useful.</p> - -<p>Clio, our revered mistress, has tried hard to live up to this -vow. But she simply is not that sort of woman. An excellent -counsellor, the most charming and trusted of friends, she has -absolutely no gift for the practical sides of life. She was -forced to open a little gift-shop where she sold flags and bunting -and pictures of Pocahontas and Paul Revere. The venture -was not a success. A few people took pity on her and tried -to help. She was asked to recite poetry at patriotic gatherings<span class="pagenum" id="Page_300">300</span> -and do selections from the “Founding Fathers.” She did not -like this, being a person of shy and unassuming character. And -so she is back in the little shop. When last I saw her, she was -trying to learn the Russian alphabet. That is always a dangerous -sign.</p> - -<p>And now, lest we continue to jumble our metaphors, let us -state the case with no more prejudice than is strictly necessary.</p> - -<p>The earliest settlers of this country brought their history -with them. Little Snorri, son of Gudrid and Thorfinn Karlsefni, -playing amidst the vines of his father’s Labradorian garden, -undoubtedly listened to the selfsame sagas that were being -told at the court of good King Olaf Tryggvason in distant -Norway. The children of San Domingo shared the glories of -the Cid with the boys and girls who visited the schools of -Moukkadir’s ancient capital. And the long-suffering infants -of the early New England villages merely finished an historical -education that had begun at Scrooby and had been continued -at No. 21 of the <i xml:lang="de" lang="de">Kloksteeg</i> in Leyden.</p> - -<p>During the 17th century, the greater part of the Atlantic -coast became English. The Dutch and the French, the Spanish -and Swedish traditions disappeared. The history of the -British Kingdom became the universal history of the territory -situated between the thirtieth and the fiftieth degree of -latitude. Even the American Revolution was a quarrel between -two conflicting versions of certain identical principles -of history. Lord North and George Washington had learned -their lessons from the same text-book. His Lordship, of -course, never cut the pages that told of Runymede, and George -undoubtedly covered the printed sheets which told of the fate -of rebels with strange geometrical figures. But the historical -inheritance of the men who fought on the left bank of the Fish -Kill and those who surrendered on the right shore was a common -one, and Burgoyne and Gates might have spent a profitable -evening sharing a bottle of rum and complimenting each -other upon the glorious deeds of their respective but identical -ancestors.</p> - -<p>But during the ’twenties and ’thirties of the 19th century, the -men of the “old régime”—the founder and fighters of the -young Republic—descended into the grave and they took their<span class="pagenum" id="Page_301">301</span> -traditions, their hopes, and their beliefs with them. The curtain -rose upon a new time and upon a new people. The acquisition -of the Northwestern Territory in 1787 and the purchase -of Napoleon’s American real-estate in the year 1803 had -changed a little commonwealth of struggling Colonies into a -vast empire of endless plains and unlimited forests. It was -necessary to populate this new land. The history of the -Coast came to an end. The history of the Frontier began. -English traditions rarely crossed the Alleghanies. The long -struggle for representative government took on a new aspect in -a land where no king had ever set foot and where man was -sovereign by the good right of his own energy.</p> - -<p>It is true that the first fifty years of the last century witnessed -the arrival upon these shores of millions of men and -women from Europe who had enjoyed a grammar school education -in the land of their birth. But dukes do not emigrate. -Those sturdy fellows who risked the terrors and horrors of the -Atlantic in the leaky tubs of the early forties came to the -country of their future that they might forget the nightmare -of the past. That nightmare included the biography of Might -which was then the main feature of the European text-book. -They threw it overboard as soon as they were well outside of -the mouth of the Elbe or the Mersey. Settled upon the farms -of Michigan and Wisconsin, they sometimes taught their children -the songs of the old Fatherland but its history never. -After two generations, this migration—the greatest of all -“treks” since the 4th century—came to an end. Roads had -been made, canals had been dug, railroads had been constructed, -forests had been turned into pastures, the Indian was -gone, the buffalo was gone, free land was gone, cities had been -built, and the scene had been made ready for the final -apotheosis of all human accomplishment—civilization.</p> - -<p>The schoolmaster has ever followed in the wake of the full -dinner-pail. He now made his appearance and began to teach. -Considering the circumstances he did remarkably well. But -he too worked under a disadvantage. He was obliged to go -to New England for his learning and for his text-books. And -the historian of the Boston school, while industrious and patient, -was not entirely a fair witness. The recollection of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_302">302</span> -British red-coats drilling on the Common was still fresh in -the minds of many good citizens. The wickedness of George -III was more than a myth to those good men and women whose -own fathers had watched Major Pitcairn as he marched forth -to arrest Adams and Hancock. They sincerely hated their -former rulers, while they could not deny their love for the old -mother country. Hence there arose a conflict of grave consequence. -With one hand the New England chronicler twisted -the tail of the British lion. With the other he fed the creature -little bits of sugar.</p> - -<p>Again the scene changed. The little red school-house had -marched across the plains. It had followed the pioneer through -the passes of the Rocky Mountains. It had reached the shores -of the Pacific Ocean. The time of hacking and building and -frying with lard came to a definite end. The little red school-house -gave way for the academy of learning. College and University -arose wherever a thousand people happened to be together. -History became a part of the curriculum. The schoolmaster, -jack of all learned trades and master of many practical -pursuits, became extinct. The professional historian made -his appearance. And thereby hangs a sad tale which takes us -to the barren banks of the Spree.</p> - -<p>Ever since the Thirty Years War, Germany had been the -battlefield of Europe. The ambitions of the Napoleon who -was four feet tall and smooth shaven and the prospective ambitions -of the Napoleon who was five feet tall and who waxed -his moustachios, had given and were actually giving that country -very little rest. The intelligentsia of the defunct Holy Roman -Empire saw but a single road which could lead to salvation. -The old German State must be re-established and the -kings of Prussia must become heirs to the traditions of Charlemagne. -To prove this point it was necessary that the obedient -subjects of half a hundred little potentates be filled with certain -definite historical notions about the glorious past of Heinrich -the Fat and Konrad the Lean. The patient historical -camels of the Teutonic universities were driven into the heart -of <i xml:lang="pt" lang="pt">Historia Deserta</i> and brought back those stupendous bricks -of learning out of which the rulers of the land could build their -monuments to the glorious memory of the Ancestors.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_303">303</span></p> - -<p>Whatever their faults and however misguided the ambition -of these faithful beasts of burden, they knew how to work. -The whole world looked on with admiration. Here, at last, -in this country of scientific precision, history had been elevated -to the rank of a “<i xml:lang="de" lang="de">Wissenschaft</i>.” Carrying high their banners, -“For God, for Country, <i xml:lang="de" lang="de">und wie es eigentlich dagewesen</i>,” all -good historians went upon a crusade to save the Holy Land of -the Past from the Ignorance of the Present.</p> - -<p>That was in the blessed days when a first-class passage to -Hamburg and Bremen cost forty-six dollars and seventy-five -cents. Henry Adams and John Lothrop Motley were among -the first of the pilgrims. They drank a good deal of beer, listened -to many excellent concerts, and assisted, “privatissime -and gratis,” at the colloquia docta of many highly learned <i xml:lang="de" lang="de">Geheimräte</i>, -and departed before they had suffered serious damage. -Others did not fare as well. Three—four—five years they -spent in the company of the Carolingians and the Hohenstaufens. -After they had soaked themselves sufficiently in Ploetz -and Bernheim to survive the <i xml:lang="de" lang="de">Examen Rigorosum</i> of the <i xml:lang="de" lang="de">Hochgelehrte -Facultät</i>, they returned to their native shore to spread -the gospel of true <i xml:lang="de" lang="de">Wissenschaftlichkeit</i>.</p> - -<p>There was nothing typically American in this. It happened -to the students of every country of the globe.</p> - -<p>Of course, in making this point, we feel that we expose ourselves -to the accusation of a slight exaggeration. “How now,” -the industrious reader exclaims, “would you advocate a return -to the uncritical days of the Middle Ages?” To which we -answer, “By no means.” But history, like cooking or fiddling, -is primarily an art. It embellishes life. It broadens our tolerance. -It makes us patient of bores and fools. It is without -the slightest utilitarian value. A handbook of chemistry or -higher mathematics has a right to be dull. A history, never. -And the professional product of the Teutonic school resembled -those later-day divines who tried to console the dying by a -recital of the Hebrew verb <em>abhar</em>.</p> - -<p>This system of preaching the gospel of the past filled the -pulpits but it emptied the pews. The congregation went elsewhere -for its historical enlightenment. Those who were seriously -interested turned to the works of a few laymen (hardware<span class="pagenum" id="Page_304">304</span> -manufacturers, diplomats, coal-dealers, engineers) who -devoted their leisure hours to the writing of history, or imported -the necessary intellectual pabulum from abroad. Others -took to the movies and since those temples of democratic delight -do not open before the hour of noon, they spent the early -morning perusing the endless volumes of reminiscences, memoirs, -intimate biographies, and recollections which flood the -land with the energy of an intellectual <i xml:lang="la" lang="la">cloaca maxima</i>.</p> - -<p>But all this, let us state it once more, did not matter very -much. When all is peace and happiness—when the hospitals -are empty of patients—when the weather is fine and people are -dying at the usual rate—it matters little whether the world at -large takes a deep interest in the work of the Board of Health. -The public knows that somewhere, somehow, someway, there -exists a Board of Health composed of highly trained medical -experts. They also appreciate from past experiences that these -watchful gentlemen “know their job” and that no ordinary -microbe can hope to move from Warsaw to Chicago without -prompt interference on the part of the delousing squad. But -when an epidemic threatens the safety of the community, then -the public hastens to the nearest telephone booth—calls up the -Health Commissioners and follows their instructions with implicit -faith. It demands that these public servants shall spend -the days of undisturbed health to prepare for the hour of sickness -when there is no time for meditation and experiment.</p> - -<p>The public at large had a right to expect a similar service -from its historians. But unfortunately, when the crisis came, -the scientific historical machine collapsed completely.</p> - -<p>In Germany, the home country of the system of <i xml:lang="de" lang="de">historische -Wissenschaftlichkeit</i>, the historian became the barker outside -the Hohenzollern main tent, shouting himself hoarse for the -benefit of half-hearted fellow citizens and hostile neutrals, extolling -the ancestral Teutonic virtues until the whole world -turned away in disgust. In France, they arrange those things -better. Even the most unhealthy mess of nationalistic scraps -can be turned into a palatable dish by a competent cook of -the Parisian school. In England, the historian turned propagandist, -and for three years, the surprised citizens of Copenhagen, -Bern, and Madrid found their mail boxes cluttered with<span class="pagenum" id="Page_305">305</span> -mysterious bundles of state documents duly stamped, beautifully -illustrated, and presented (as the enclosed card showed) -with the compliments of Professor So-and-so of Such-and-such -College, Oxford, England. In Russia, a far-seeing government -had taken its measures many years before. Those historians -who had refused to be used as <i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">cheval de bataille</i> for the glory -of the house of Romanoff, were either botanising along the -banks of the Lena or had long since found a refuge in the universities -of Sofia and Geneva. I do not know what happened -in Japan, but I have a suspicion that it was the same thing, -the entire world over.</p> - -<p>The historian turned apologist. He was as useful as a doctor -who would show a partiality to the native streptococcus on -the grounds of loyalty to the land of his birth.</p> - -<p>What happened on this side of the ocean after the first three -years of “peace without victory” had given place to “force -to the uttermost” is too well known to demand repetition. -Long before the first American destroyer reached Plymouth, -the staunch old vessel of history had been <i xml:lang="de" lang="de">spurlos versenkt</i> in -the <i xml:lang="la" lang="la">mare clausum</i> of the Western hemisphere. Text-books were -recalled, rehashed, and revamped to suit the needs of the hour. -Long and most deservedly forgotten treatises were called back -to life and with the help of publishers’ blurbs and reviews by -members of the self-appointed guardians of national righteousness -they were sent forth to preach the gospel of domestic virtue. -Strange encyclopædias of current information were concocted -by volunteers from eager faculties. The public mind -was a blank. For a hundred years the little children had -learned to dislike history and grown-ups had revaluated this -indifference into actual hate. This situation had been created -to maintain on high the principles of scientific historical investigation. -Let popular interest perish as long as the Truth -stand firm. But in the hour of need, the guardians of the -Truth turned gendarmes, the doors of Clio’s temple were -closed, and the public was invited to watch the continuation of -the performance in the next moving-picture house. At Versailles -the curtain went down upon the ghastly performance.</p> - -<p>After the first outbreak of applause the enthusiasm waned. -Who had been responsible for this terrible tragedy? The supposed<span class="pagenum" id="Page_306">306</span> -authors were branded as enemies of mankind. Nations -tottered and ancient Empires crumbled to dust and were hastily -carried to the nearest historical scrapheap. The ambitious -monarch, who for thirty years had masqueraded as a second -Charlemagne, made his exit amidst properties borrowed from -the late King Louis Philippe. The gay young leader of the -Death Head Hussars developed into the amateur bicycle-repairer -of the island of Wieringen. International reputations -retailed at a price which could only be expressed in Soviet -rubles and Polish marks and no takers. The saviour of the -world became the invalid of the White House. But not a -word was said about those inconspicuous authors of very conspicuous -historical works who had been the henchmen of the -<cite xml:lang="de" lang="de">Oberste</cite> and <cite xml:lang="de" lang="de">Unterste Kriegsherren</cite>. They went back to the -archives to prepare the necessary post-mortem statements. -These are now being published at a price which fortunately -keeps them well out of reach of the former soldiers.</p> - -<p>In certain dramas and comedies of an older day it was customary -to interrupt the action while the Chorus of moralising -Villagers reviewed what had gone before and drew the necessary -conclusions. It is time for the “goat-singers” to make -their appearance.</p> - -<p>“Are you, O Author,” so they speak, “quite fair when -you pronounce these bitter words? Are we not all human—too -human? Is it reasonable to demand of our historians that -they shall possess such qualities of detached judgment as have -not been seen on this earth since the last of the Mighty Gods -departed from High Olympus? Has a historian no heart? Do -you expect him to stand by and discuss the virtues of vague -political questions, when all the world is doing its bit—while -his children are risking their lives for the safety of the common -land?”</p> - -<p>And when we are approached in this way, we find it difficult -to answer “no.” For we too are an animated compound of -prejudice and unreasonable preferences and even more unreasoning -dislikes, and we do not like to assume the rôle of -both judge and jury.</p> - -<p>The evidence, however, gives us no chance to decide otherwise. -What was done in the heat of battle—what was done<span class="pagenum" id="Page_307">307</span> -under the stress of great and sincere emotions—what was -written in the agony of a thousand fears—all that will be forgotten -within a few years. But enough will remain to convince -our grandchildren that the historian was among those most -guilty of creating that “state of mind” without which modern -warfare would be an impossibility.</p> - -<p>Here the music of the flutes grows silent. The Chorus steps -back and the main action of our little play continues. The -time is “the present” and the problem is “the future.” The -children who are now in the second grade will be called upon -to bear the burden of a very long period of reconstruction. -America, their home, has been compared to an exceedingly -powerful and influential woman who is not very popular but -who must not be offended on account of her eminent social -position. The folk who live along our international Main -Street are not very well disposed towards a neighbour who holds -all the mortgages and lives in the only house that has managed -to survive the recent catastrophe. It will not be an easy thing -to maintain the peace in the neurasthenic community of the -great post-war period. It has been suggested that the Ten -Commandments, when rightly applied, may help us through -the coming difficulties. We beg to suggest that a thorough -knowledge of the past will prove to be quite as useful as the -Decalogue. We do not make this statement hastily. Furthermore, -we qualify it by the observation that both History and -the Decalogue will be only two of a great many other remedies -that will have to be applied if the world is to be set free -from its present nightmare of poison gas and high-velocity -shells. But we insist that History be included. And we do -so upon the statement of a learned and famous colleague who -passed through a most disastrous war and yet managed to keep -a cool head. We mean Thucydides. In his foreword to the -History of the Peloponnesian War he wrote: “The absence of -romance in my history will, I fear, detract somewhat from -its interest; but if it be judged by those inquirers who desire -an exact knowledge of the past as an aid to the interpretation -of the future, which in the course of human things, must resemble, -if it does not reflect it, I shall be content.”</p> - -<p>When we measure out achievements in the light of this ancient<span class="pagenum" id="Page_308">308</span> -Greek ideal, we have accomplished very little indeed. An -enormous amount of work has been done and much of it is -excellent. The great wilderness of the past has been explored -with diligent care and the material lies, carefully classified, in -those literary museums which we call libraries. But the public -refuses to go in. No one has ever been able to convince -the man in the street that time employed upon historical reading -is not merely time wasted. He carries with him certain -hazy notions about a few names, Cæsar and Joan of Arc (since -the war) and Magna Charta and George Washington and Abraham -Lincoln. He remembers that Paul Revere took a ride, -but whither and for what purpose he neither knows nor cares -to investigate. The historical tie which binds him to the past -and which alone can make him understand his own position in -relation to the future, is non-existent. Upon special occasions -the multitude is given the benefit of a grand historical pyrotechnic -display, paid for by the local Chamber of Commerce, and -a few disjointed facts flash by amidst the fine roar of rockets -and the blaring of a brass band. But this sort of historical -evangelising has as little value as the slapstick vespers which -delight the congregation of Billy Sunday’s circus tent.</p> - -<p>We live in an age of patent medicines. The short-cut to -success is the modern <i xml:lang="la" lang="la">pons asinorum</i> which leads to happiness. -And remedies which are “guaranteed to cure” are advertised -down the highways and byways of our economic and social -world. But no such cure exists for the sad neglect of an historical -background. History can never be detached from life. It -will continue to reflect the current tendencies of our modern -world until that happy day when we shall discontinue the -pursuit of a non-essential greatness and devote our energies -towards the acquisition of those qualities of the spirit without -which human existence (at its best) resembles the proverbial -dog-kennel.</p> - -<p>For the coming of that day we must be as patient as Nature.</p> - -<p class="right"> -<span class="smcap">Hendrik Willem Van Loon</span> -</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div id="toclink_309" class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_309">309</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="SEX">SEX</h2> -</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indentq">“The sin I impute to each frustrate ghost</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Is the unlit lamp and the ungirt loin.”</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="smcap1">In</span> one of the popular plays of last season, a melodrama -toned up with snatches of satire and farce, the wife was -portrayed as a beaten dog heeling her master after he has -crushed her down across the table the better to rowel off her -nose. Not until the would-be mutilator was finally disposed -of by an untrammelled Mexican did the woman feel free to go -to her lover, and even then she took little or no satisfaction in -the venture. As for the lover, he had to be robbed of his pistol -by the husband and shot at, and then—the husband out of the -way—threatened by the bandit with the loss of the woman, before -he felt free to take her. The two New Englanders were -made happy in spite of themselves—and in accordance with -the traditions or conventions of the audience.</p> - -<p>To leave a husband for a lover is in theory un-American, -unless the husband gives a legal ground for divorce and the -divorce is secured. In several States cruelty is a legal ground, -and so the conjugal fidelity of the stage-heroine was perhaps -overdrawn. But the feeling that she was presumed to share -with the audience—that the initiative towards freedom in love -should not come from her—is a characteristic trait of American -morality. If your husband is unrestrainedly a brute or a -villain, you may leave him, in fact it behooves you to leave -him, but if he is merely a bore, or perhaps a man you like well -enough as a friend, but only as a friend, you must stay on -with him in an intimacy where boredom readily becomes aversion -and mere friendliness, disgust. The fact that you do not -love a person is no reason at all, in American opinion, for not -living as if you did.</p> - -<p>This opinion or attitude is explicit in American divorce law. -In none of the States is divorce granted either by mutual consent -or at the desire, the overt desire, of either person. In<span class="pagenum" id="Page_310">310</span> -fact collusion, as mutual consent is called, is accounted a -reason against granting divorce, and desire for divorce on the -part of one remains ineffectual until the other has been forced -into entertaining it. He or she must be given due ground. -Disinclination to intimacy is not of itself due ground. You -must express disinclination in a way so disagreeable that he -or she will want to get rid of you. The law sets a premium -on being hateful, declares indeed that in this case it is an indispensable -condition to not being miserable.</p> - -<p>The grotesqueness, from either a social or psychological -point of view, would be too obvious to emphasize, if the implications -of this attitude towards divorce were not so significant -of American attitudes at large towards sex—attitudes of repression -or deception. Of deception or camouflage towards -divorce there is one other conspicuous point I should like to -note. “Strictness of divorce” is commonly argued to be protection -of marriage for the sake of children, since brittle marriage -is destructive of the family life. It is safe to say that -from no contemporary discussion of divorce will this argument -be omitted; and it is equally safe to say that the rejoinder -that divorce laws should therefore discriminate between parents -and non-parents will, by the opponents of divorce, pass unheeded. -That this distinction should be so persistently ignored -is accountable only, it seems to me, on the ground of -emotional self-deception. What else but a covert emotional -attitude could make tenable the irrationality, and what else is -that attitude but that joy in mating is of negligible value, -that sex emotion, if not a necessary evil, is at any rate a -negligible good, deserving merely of what surplus of attention -may be available from the real business of life? Indifference -towards sex emotion is masked by concern for offspring.</p> - -<p>In France, we may note, this confusion between parenthood -and mating does not exist. The parental relation in both law -and custom is highly regulated, much more regulated than -among English-speaking peoples, but it is unlikely that it would -be argued in France that mating and parenthood were inseparable -concepts. Unlikely, because the French attitude towards -sex differs so radically from the Anglo-Saxon.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_311">311</span></p> - -<p>To the French, as to many of the Continental peoples of -Europe, sexual interest is normally to be kept stimulated, -neither covered over nor suppressed. And in this case stimulation -is seen to depend largely upon the factor of interrelation. -Sex-facts are to be related to other facts of life, not -rigidly or <i xml:lang="la" lang="la">a priori</i>, as in the American view that mating is inseparable -from parenthood, but fluently and realistically, as -life itself moves and finds expression. And sex-facts in European -opinion are to be interrelated in a philosophy of sex. -Failure to make these interrelations, together with the attitude -of suppression, seem to me to be the outstanding aspects of -the characteristically American attitude towards sex.</p> - -<p>There is no need in this post-Freudian day of dwelling upon -the effects of suppression of sex instinct or impulse. Suppression -leads, we are told, either to sublimation, in which case it -is diversion, rather than suppression, or it leads to perversion -or disease. Unfortunately sex-pathology in the United States -has been given little or no study, statistically. We have no -statistical data of health or disease in relation to the expression -or suppression of sex instinct, and no data on the extent or -the effects of homosexuality or of the direction of the sex impulses -towards self. Opinion therefore becomes merely a matter -of personal observation and conclusion, observation of individuals -or small groups. My own conclusion or guess in regard -to perversion in this country is that part of the commonly -observed spirit of isolation or antagonism between the sexes, -and part of the spirit of competition between individuals, are -associated with homosexual or masturbatory tendencies which -get expressed in varying degrees according to varying circumstances. -More particularly the lack of warmth in personal -intercourse which makes alike for American bad manners and, -in the more intellectual circles, for cheerlessness and aridity is -due, I think, to failure of one kind or another in sex relations. -I mean cultural failure, not merely individual failure.</p> - -<p>May not some such theory of sex failure account also for -that herd sense which is so familiar a part of Americanism, -and which is not incompatible with the type of self-seeking -or pseudo-individualism of which American individualism appears -to be an expression? It is a tenable hypothesis that<span class="pagenum" id="Page_312">312</span> -sexually isolated individuals become dependent upon the group -for stimulus, whether of emotion or will, whereas persons in -normal sex relations, although they may contribute to the group -or co-operate with it, remain comparatively independent of it, -finding stimulus in sex and its sublimations.</p> - -<p>If this theory is valid, we may expect to find a comparatively -large number of sex failures in those circles which are -characterized by what Everett Dean Martin has recently -called crowd behaviour, reform circles intolerant of other -mindedness and obsessed by belief in the paramountcy of their -own dogma.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza" xml:lang="fr" lang="fr"> - <div class="verse indentq">“<i>Leur printemps sans jeunesse exige des folies,</i></div> - <div class="verse indent0"><i>Leur sang brûlant leur dicte des propos amers,</i></div> - <div class="verse indent0"><i>L’émeute est un remède à la mélancolie,</i></div> - <div class="verse indent0"><i>Et nous aurions la paix si leurs yeux étaient clairs,</i></div> - <div class="verse indent0"><i>Ou leur femme jolie.</i>”</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="in0">Were a set of tests for sex failure or sex fulfilment applied to -the more outstanding propagandists of this country, likewise, -of course, for comparative purposes, to an adequate number -of non-propagandists, the results might be of considerable -significance. I recommend the undertaking to the National -Research Council in co-operation with some organization for -social hygiene.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile in what measure propagandism of various sorts -may be a perversion of sex or a sublimation remains speculative; -and in applying theory one should be thoroughly aware -that from the day of Sappho and before to the day of Elizabeth -Blackwell and after, even to the Russian Revolution, sex -failure of one kind or another, the kind considered at the time -most despicable, has commonly been imputed to persons or -groups disapproved of on other grounds or reprobated. Some -sublimation of sex in the United States there must be, of course, -not only, in propaganda movements, but in other expressions -of American culture, in American art and letters and science, -in philanthropy, in politics, finance, and business. By and -large, however, in all these cultural expressions does one see -any conspicuous measure of sex sublimation? Is not the concern -practical rather than devotional, a matter of getting<span class="pagenum" id="Page_313">313</span> -rather than giving, of self-advancement or family support -rather than of interest in ideas and their forms or in the values -of taste or of faith?</p> - -<p>Interest in impersonal subjects in general is not an American -trait. Personal concrete terms are the terms commonly -used. Americans, as we say, are not given to abstract thought -or philosophy. They are interested in facts as facts, not as -related to other facts. How expect of Americans, therefore, -that kind of curiosity about sex which leads to a philosophy of -sex? Sex curiosity in American life does not lead past curiosity -about isolated facts, and that means that it leads not to philosophy -but to gossip and pruriency. Not long ago I was talking -with a woman about a common acquaintance to whom I referred -as singularly free through sophistication and circumstance -to please any man she liked. “What do you mean? -Have you heard any scandal about her?” snapped out my -companion, not at all interested in the general reflection, but -avid of information about illicit affairs.</p> - -<p>Facts which are not held together through theory call for -labels. People who do not think in terms of relations are -likely to be insistent upon names. Labels or names for sex -disposition or acts are, as a matter of fact, very definite in the -American vernacular. “Engaged,” “attentive,” “devoted,” -“a married man,” “a man of family,” “a grass widow,” “a -<em>good</em> woman,” “a <em>bad</em> woman”—there is no end to such tags. -Again, intimacy between a man and a woman is referred definitely -to the act of consummation, a sex relation is strictly -classified according to whether or not it is physically consummated. -In this attitude towards sex boundaries or captions -may lie the explanation, incidentally, of what is a constant -puzzle to the European visitor—the freedom of social intercourse -allowed to the youth of opposite sexes. Since consummation -only constitutes sexual intimacy in American opinion, -and since consummation, it is assumed, is utterly out of the -question, why raise barriers between boys and girls? The -assumption that consummation is out of the question is, by and -large, correct, which is still another puzzle. To this some clue -may be found, I think, in our concluding discussion.</p> - -<p>Fondness for captions and for the sort of classification that<span class="pagenum" id="Page_314">314</span> -is so likely to paralyze perception of the finer distinctions -and to arrest thought, are natural enough in a child, learning -language and so pressed upon by the multiplicity of phenomena -that in self-protection he must make rough classifications -and remain unaware of much. The old who are dying to life -are also exclusive, and they, too, cling to formulas. Is American -culture in the matter of sex childish and immature, as -Americans imply when they refer to their “young country,” or -is the culture representative of the aged; are Americans born -old, as now and again a European critic asserts?</p> - -<p>Such terms of age are figurative, of course, unless we take -them in a historical sense, meaning either that a new culture -was developed in this country—or rather that there were fresh -developments of an old culture—or that an old culture was -introduced and maintained without significant change. This -is not the place to discuss the cultural aspects of Colonial -America, but it is important to bear in mind in any discussion -of merely contemporaneous sex attitudes in this country the -contributions of European, and more particularly, English -morality. Without recalling the traditions of early Christianity -or of English Puritanism, those attitudes of ignoring or -suppressing the satisfactions of the impulses of sex to which we -have referred were indeed incomprehensible and bewildering—mere -psychological interpretation seems inadequate. But -viewed as consequences of the sense of sin in connection with -sex, which was a legacy from Paul and his successors in English -Puritanism, interpretation is less difficult, and the American attitude -toward sex becomes comparatively intelligible—the attitude -seen in divorce and in the melodramas, and in the standardizing -of sex relations, in accordance with that most significant -of Pauline dogmas that marriage is the lesser of two evils, -that it is better to marry than to burn. Without the key of -Paul and of the obscenities of the early Christian Fathers how -explain the recent legislation in Virginia making it a crime -to pay attention to a married man or woman, or such a sermon -as was recently preached somewhere in the Middle West -urging a crusade against the practice of taking another man’s -wife in to dinner or dancing round dances? “At a dinner of -friends let every man take his own wife on his arm and walk<span class="pagenum" id="Page_315">315</span> -in to their seats side by side at the dinner table to the inspiring -music of ‘Onward Christian Soldiers,’” urged the minister. -As to dancing, whenever a man is seen to put his arm around -a woman who is not his wife, the band should cease playing. -I do not quote the words of the latter injunction, as they are -rather too indecent.</p> - -<p>Turning from the historical back to the psychological point -of view—in one of those circles of cause and effect that are -composed now of cultural inheritance or tradition, now of psychological -trend or disposition—the American case of sex, -whether a case of adolescence or of senescence, may be said to -present symptoms of arrested development. Together with -the non-realism of childish or senile formula, there is here the -kind of emotionalism which checks emotional vitality and -which is fed upon the sense of crisis; we may call it crisis-emotion. -Life at large, the sex life in particular, is presented -as a series of crises preceded and followed by a static condition, -and in these conventional times of crisis only, the times -when the labels are being attached, are the emotions aroused. -In the intervals, in the stretches between betrothal, marriage, -birth, christening, or divorce, there is little or no sense of -change—none of the emotions that correspond to changing relations -and are expressions of personal adjustment. The emotions -of crisis are statutory, pre-determined, conventionalized; -neither for oneself nor for others do they make any demands -upon imagination, or insight, or spiritual concern.</p> - -<p>Here in this psychology of crisis is the clue—before mentioned—to -an understanding of the freedom allowed our youth, -of “bundling,” as the Colonials termed it, or, in current phrase, -“petting.” In general, “keeping company” is accounted -one kind of a relationship, marriage, another—one characterized -by courtship without consummation, the other by consummation -without courtship. Between the two kinds of relationship -there is no transition, it is assumed, except by convention -or ritual. So inrooted is this social attitude that the -young cannot escape adopting it, at least the very young to -whom, at any rate, uncritical conservatism seems to be natural. -Indeed the taboo on unritualized consummation partakes -enough of the absolutism of the taboo, shall we say, on incest,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_316">316</span> -to preclude any risk of individual youthful experimentation -or venture across the boundary lines set by the Elders.</p> - -<p>Given these boundary lines, given a psychology of crisis, all -too readily the sex relations, in marriage or out, become stale, -flat, colourless, or of the nature of debauch, which is only another -aspect of crisis-psychology. Sex relations perforce become -limited to two conventions, marriage and prostitution. -Prostitute or wife, the conjugal or the disorderly house, these -are the alternatives. In formulaic crisis-psychology there may -be no other station of emotional experiment or range of emotional -expression.</p> - -<p>That a man should “sow his wild oats” before marriage, -and after marriage “settle down,” is becoming throughout the -country a somewhat archaic formula, at least in so far as wild -oats means exposure to venereal disease; but there has been -no change, so far as I am aware, in the attitude towards the -second part of the formula on settling down—in conjugal segregation. -The married are as obtrusively married as ever, and -their attitude towards persons of the opposite sex as dull and -forbidding. Few “happily married” women but refer incessantly -in their conversation to their husband’s opinion or stand; -and what devoted husband will fail to mention his wife in one -way or another as a notice of his immunity against the appeal -of sex in any degree by any other woman? Shortly after the -war, a certain American woman of my acquaintance who was -travelling in France found herself without money and in danger -of being put off her train before reaching Paris and her -banker’s. She found a fellow-countryman and told him her -predicament. He was quite willing to pay her fare; she was -an American and a woman, but she was informed firmly and -repeatedly that her knight was a married man, and besides, he -was travelling with his business partner. Soon after I heard -this anecdote I happened to repeat it to a Chicago lawyer who -promptly joined in the laugh over the American man’s timidity. -“Still, a married man travelling can’t be too prudent,” he finished -off.</p> - -<p>Circumspection towards women, in travel or elsewhere, or, -better still, indifference towards women, is the standardized -attitude of American husbands. In marriage, too, a relationship<span class="pagenum" id="Page_317">317</span> -of status rather than of attention to the fluctuations of -personality, indifference to psychical experience, is a not uncommon -marital trait. American men in general, as Europeans -have noted, are peculiarly indifferent to the psychology of -women. They are also peculiarly sentimental about women, -a trait quite consistent with indifference or ignorance, but one -which, in view of American prostitution and the persistent -exclusion of many women from equal opportunities for education -and for life, gives an ugly look of hypocrisy to the trumpeters -of American chivalry.</p> - -<p>And yet subject the American concept of chivalry to a little -scrutiny and the taunt, at least of hypocrisy, will miss the mark. -For the concept is, both actually and historically, a part of the -already noted classification of women as more or less sequestered, -on the one hand, and unsequestered or loose on the other, -as inexperienced and over-experienced or, more accurately, partially -over-experienced. In this classification the claims of -both classes of women are settled by men on an economic basis, -with a few sentimentalities about womanhood, pure or impure, -thrown in for good measure. The personality of the woman -a man feels that he is supporting, whether as wife or prostitute, -may, theoretically, be disregarded and, along with her personality, -her capacity for sexual response. Whether as a creature -of sin or as an object of chivalry, a woman becomes a depersonalized, -and, sexually, an unresponsive being.</p> - -<p>People sometimes forget this when they discuss the relations -between men and women in this country, and especially the -sexlessness or coldness of American women. They forget it in -arguing against the feminizing of education, the theatre, literature, -etc., meaning, not that women run the schools or are -market for the arts, but that immature, sexless women are in -these ways too much to the fore. In part at least it is thanks -to chivalry or to her “good and considerate husband” that -the American woman, the non-wage earner at least, does not -grow up, and that it is possible for so many women to marry -without having any but the social consequences of marriage in -mind. One surmises that there are numbers, very large numbers, -of American women, married as well as unmarried, who -have felt either no stirring of sex at all or at most only the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_318">318</span> -generalized sex stir of pre-adolescence. What proportion of -women marry “for a home” or to escape from a home, or a -job, and what proportion marry for love? After marriage, -with the advent of children, what of these proportions?</p> - -<p>Marriage for a home or for the sake of children, chivalry, -“consideration” for the wife, all these attitudes are matters -of status, not of personality, and to personality, not to status, -love must look, since love is an art, not a formula. It often -seems that in American culture, whether in marriage or out, -little or no place is open to this patient, ardent, and discerning -art, and that lovers are invariably put to flight. Even if they -make good their escape, their adventure is without social significance, -since it is perforce surreptitious. Only when adventurers -and artists in love are tolerated enough to be able to come -out from under cover, and to be at least allowed to live, if only -as variants from the commonplace, may they contribute of their -spirit or art to the general culture.</p> - -<p class="right"> -<span class="smcap">Elsie Clews Parsons</span> -</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div id="toclink_319" class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_319">319</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="THE_FAMILY">THE FAMILY</h2> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="smcap1">The</span> American family is the scapegoat of the nations. -Foreign critics visit us and report that children are forward -and incorrigible, that wives are pampered and extravagant, -and that husbands are henpecked and cultureless. Nor -is this the worst. It only skims the surface by comparison -with the strictures of home-grown criticism. Our domestic -arbiters of every school have a deeper fault to find: they see -the family as a crumbling institution, a swiftly falling bulwark. -Catholic pulpits call upon St. Joseph to save the ruins and -Puritan moralists invoke Will Carlton, believing in common -with most of our public guardians that only saints and sentimentalism -can help in such a crisis. Meanwhile the American -family shows the usual tenacity of form, beneath much superficial -change, uniting in various disguises the most ancient and -the newest modes of living. In American family life, if anywhere, -the Neolithic meets the modern and one needs to be -very rash or very wise to undertake the nice job of finding -out which is which. But one at least refuses to defeat one’s -normal curiosity by joining in the game of blind-man’s buff, -by means of which public opinion about the family secures a -maximum of activity along with a minimum of knowledge.</p> - -<p>A little science would be of great help. But popular opinion -does not encourage scientific probing of the family. In this -field, not honesty but evasion is held to be the best policy. -Rather than venture where taboo is so rife and the material so -sensitive, American science would much rather promote domestic -dyes and seedless oranges. It is true that we have the Federal -Census with its valuable though restrained statistics. But -even the census has always taken less interest in family status -and family composition, within the population, than in the -classification of property and occupation and the fascinating -game of “watching Tulsa grow.” In no country is the collection -of vital statistics so neglected and sporadic and the total<span class="pagenum" id="Page_320">320</span> -yield of grab-bag facts so unamenable to correlation. Through -the persistent effort of the Children’s Bureau, this situation -has been considerably improved during the past ten years; so -that now there exist the so-called “registration areas” where -births, marriages, and deaths are actually recorded. For the -country as a whole, these vital facts still go unregistered. The -prevailing sketchiness in the matter of vital statistics is in distinct -contrast to the energy and thoroughness with which -American political machinery manages to keep track of the -individual who has passed the age of twenty-one.</p> - -<p>One of the tendencies, statistically verified, of the native -family is its reduction in size. In the first place the circumference -of the family circle has grown definitely smaller -through the loss of those adventitious members, the maiden -aunt and the faithful servant. The average number of adult -females in the typical household is nowadays just one. The -odd women are out in the world on their own; they no longer -live “under the roofs” of their brothers-in-law. Miss Lulu -Bett is almost an anachronism in 1920. The faithful servant -has been replaced by the faithless one, who never by any -chance remains long enough to become a familial appendage, -or else she has not been replaced at all. Even “Grandma” -has begun to manifest symptoms of preferring to be on her -own. Thus the glory of the patriarchal household has visibly -departed, leaving only the biological minimum in its stead.</p> - -<p>In the dwindling of this ultimate group lies the crux of the -matter. The American grows less and less prolific, and panicky -theorists can already foresee a possible day when the last 100 -per cent. American Adam and the last 100 per cent. American -Eve will take their departure from our immigrationized stage. -It is providentially arranged—the maxim tells us—that the -trees shall not grow and grow until they pierce the heavens; -but is there any power on the job of preventing the progressive -decline of the original Anglo-Saxon stock even to the point of -final extinction? This is a poignant doubt in a country where -the Anglo-Saxon strain enjoys a prestige out of all proportion -to its population quota. The strain may derive what comfort -it can from the reflection that the exit of the Indian was probably -not due to birth control.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_321">321</span></p> - -<p>Still, birth control is not new. If it did not originate with -the Indians, it did at least with the Puritans. As the census -books and genealogy books show, every succeeding American -generation has manifested a tendency to reduce the birth-rate. -The new aspects of the situation are the acceleration of the -tendency and the propaganda for family limitation by artificial -methods. In the birth registration area, which includes twenty-three -States, the number of births for the year 1919 compared -with those for 1918 showed a slump of seven per cent. Also -the current assumption that children are more numerous on -farms, where they are an economic asset, than they are in -cities, where they became an economic handicap, has recently -received a startling correction through a survey made by the -Department of Agriculture. Among the surprises of the study, -says the report, was the small number of children in farm -homes:—“Child life is at a premium in rural districts.” The -farm is not the national child reserve it has been supposed to -be. As far as the salaried class is concerned, it has stood -out as the national pace-setter in family limitation. The editorial -writer of the New York <cite>Times</cite>, who may be trusted for -a fairly accurate statement of the standards of this group, -justifies its conduct thus: “Unless the brain-worker is willing -to disclass his children, to subject them to humiliation, he -must be willing to feed, clothe, and educate them during many -years. In such circumstances, to refuse parenthood is only -human.” It therefore remains for the manual worker, who -cannot obtain from his Church the same absolution that the -suburban resident can obtain from his <cite>Times</cite>, to produce the -bulk of the population. This, as a whole, is not yet stationary; -the recent census estimates an annual excess of births over -deaths throughout the United States amounting to about one -per cent. What will the next decade do with it?</p> - -<p>A peculiar feature of the American propaganda for birth -control is its specific advocacy of artificial methods. The defenders -of this cause have been compelled, it appears, to define -a position which would be self-evident in any society not -incorrigibly Puritan. People who regard celibacy as a state -of grace and celibacy within marriage as a supreme moral victory -are still growing, it would seem, on every bush. This<span class="pagenum" id="Page_322">322</span> -unwholesome belief must have its effect upon the birth control -methods of the married population. It is a matter of speculation -how many marriages succumb to its influence, especially -after the birth of a second or third child; but there is reason -to believe that the ascetic method is by no means uncommon. -You cannot hold up an ideal before people steadily for forty -years without expecting some of them to try to follow it. This -kind of rigorous negativism passes for morality in America and -finds its strongest devotees among the middle-aged and the -heads of families. Such people are greatly shocked at the wild -conduct of the young who are certainly out of bounds since the -war; but the most striking feature of the current wave of so-called -immorality is the exposure of the bankruptcy of ideals -among the older generation. There are thirty million families -in the United States; presumably there are at least sixty million -adults who have experimented with the sexual relationship -with the sanction of society. But experience has taught them -nothing if one may judge by the patented and soulless concepts -which still pass for sexual morality among people who are -surely old enough to have learned about life from living it.</p> - -<p>The population policies of the government are confined to -the supply through immigration. A few years ago, an American -president enunciated population policies of his own and -conducted an energetic though solitary campaign against “race -suicide.” But no faction rallied to his standard, no organization -rose up to speed his message. His bugle-call was politely -disregarded as the personal idiosyncrasy of a popular president -who happened to be the proud father of six children. -Mr. Roosevelt was evidently out of tune with his own generation, -as, no doubt, Mr. Washington was with his, for exactly -the opposite reason. But the more retiring nature of our first -president saved him from the egoistic error of regarding his -own familial situation as the only proper and desirable example. -The complete failure of Mr. Roosevelt’s crusade is significant. -There are clerical influences in America which actively fight -race suicide, but with these obscurantist allies the doughty -son of a Dutch Reform family had too little else in common. -Among the men of his own class he stirred not an echo. Is it -because the American husband is too uxorious or too indifferent?<span class="pagenum" id="Page_323">323</span> -I have heard a married man say, “It is too much to -expert of any woman;” and still another one explain, “The -Missis said it was my turn next and so we stopped with one.” -Or is there any explanation in the fact that the American -father tends more and more to spend his life in a salaried job -and has little land or business to bequeath? Whatever the -reason, the Business Man is in accord with the Club Woman -on the subject of birth control, in practice if not in theory.</p> - -<p>So far as relative distribution of income is concerned, the -families of the United States fare much as those in the industrial -countries of Europe. In 1910, the same relative inequality -of wealth and income existed in feudal Prussia and democratic -America. The richest fifth of the families in each -country claimed about half the income while the poorest two-thirds -of the families were thankful for about one-third. The -same law of economic relativity falls alike on the just American -and the unjust Prussian. But the American family, it -appears, is in every case two or three times better off than the -corresponding family in Prussia. You must multiply Herr -Stinnes by two to get a Judge Gary and the wealth of a Silesian -child labourer is only half that of a Georgia mill-child. This -economic advantage of our American rich and poor alike is -measured chiefly in dollars and marks and not in actual standards -of living. It is apparently difficult to get real standards -of living out into the open; otherwise the superior fortune of -American families of every estate might be less evident. Some -of us who may have visited middle-class Prussian people only -half as well off as ourselves probably did not commiserate the -poor things as they deserved. My hostess, I recall, had eight -hundred dollars a year on which she maintained an apartment -of two rooms, bath, and kitchen; kept a part-time maid; -bought two new suits’ a year; drove out in a hired carriage on -Sunday; and contributed generously to a society which stirred -up women to call themselves Frau instead of Fräulein. Any -“single woman” in an American city of equal size who could -have managed as much in those days on fifteen hundred a year -would certainly have deserved a thumping thrift-prize.... -And then there were all those poor little children in a Black -Forest village, who had to put up with rye bread six days in<span class="pagenum" id="Page_324">324</span> -the week and white bread only on Sundays. Transported to -America, they might have had package crackers every day and -ice-cream sandwiches on Sunday. One wonders whether the -larger income of the American family is not largely spent on -things of doubtful value and pinchbeck quality.</p> - -<p>According to theory, the income of the family normally belongs -to the man of the house. According to theory, he has -earned it or derived it from some lawful business enterprise. -“The head of the family ordinarily divides income between -himself and his various dependents in the proportion that he -deems best,” says Mr. Willford King. The American husband -has a peculiarly unblemished reputation as a provider—and -probably deserves it. Certainly few husbands in the world -are so thoughtful of their widows; they invest extensively in -life insurance but rarely in annuities against a period of retirement. -Trust Companies remind them through advertisements -every day to make their wills, and cemetery corporations nag -them incessantly to buy their graves. “Statistics show that -women outlive men!” says the promoter of America’s Burial -Park. “They show that the man who puts off the selection of -a burial place leaves the task to the widow in her grief. For -the man it is easy now—for the woman an ordeal then.” The -chivalry of the business man leads him to contrive all sorts -of financial mechanisms for his widow’s convenience and protection. -His will, like his insurance policy, is in her favour. -Unlike the European husband, he hates to leave the man’s -world of business and to spend his declining years in the society -of his wife. After he is dead, she is welcome to his all, -but so long as he lives he keeps business between them.</p> - -<p>Though in life and death a generous provider, he is not a -systematic one. Financial arrangements between husband -and wife are extremely casual. As the dowry hardly exists, -so a regular cash allowance is very rare. He loves to hold the -purse-strings and let her run the bills. This tendency is known -in the outside business world, and the American wife, therefore, -enjoys a command of credit which would amaze any -solvent foreign housekeeper. She has accounts on every hand. -She orders food by telephone or through the grocer’s boy -and “charges it.” The department store expects her to have<span class="pagenum" id="Page_325">325</span> -a charge account, and gives her better service if she does. For -instance, the self-supporting woman who is, for obvious reasons, -more inclined to pay as she goes, finds herself discriminated -against in the matter of returning or exchanging goods. In -numerous ways, the charge account has the inside track. This -would not seem strange if credit were limited to the richest -fraction. But that is not the case; almost every housewife in -the country has credit, from the Newport ladies to the miners’ -wives who “trade at the company store.” The only difference -is that, in the case of these two extremes—Newport and the -company store—longer credit than ususal seems to be the rule. -In the meantime, the preaching of thrift to the American -housewife goes on incessantly by apostles from a business -world which is largely organized on the assumption that she -does not possess it and which would be highly disconcerted if -she actually developed it. American business loves the housewife -for the same reason that it loves China—that is, for her -economic backwardness.</p> - -<p>The record of the American husband as a provider is not -uniform for all classes. In Congress it is now and then asserted -with appropriate oratory that there are no classes in -America. This is more or less true from the point of view of -a Cabin Creek vote-getter, who lives in a factitious political -world, where economic realities fail to penetrate; to him -middle-class and working-class are much the same since they -have equal rights not to “scratch the ticket.” But the economist -finds it convenient, as has been said, to classify the totality -of American families in definite income-groups corresponding -to the Prussian classes. As one descends the income scale -one finds that the American husband no longer fulfils his -reputation for being sole provider for his family. According -to Edgar Sydenstricker, “less than half of the wage-earners’ -families in the United States, whose heads are at work, have -been found to be supported by the earnings of the husband or -father.” The earnings of the mother and the children are a -necessary supplement to bring the family income up to the -subsistence level. Half the workingmen, who have dutifully -“founded” families, cannot support them. According to the -latest figures published, it costs $2,334 a year to keep a family<span class="pagenum" id="Page_326">326</span> -of five in New York. Have the young Lochinvars of the tenements -never heard of those appalling figures? Very likely they -have a premonition, if not an actual picture of the digits. In -any case they have their mothers to warn them. “Henry’s -brought it on himself,” said the janitress. “He had a right -not to get married. He had his mother to take care of him.” -If he had only chosen bachelorhood, he might have lived at -home in comfort and peace on his twenty-five a week. But -having chosen, or been chosen by, Mrs. Henry instead, it is -now up to the latter to go out office-cleaning or operating, -which she very extensively does. It is estimated that since -the war fully one-third of all American women in industry are -married.</p> - -<p>Going back up the scale to the middle-class wife, we find -new influences at work upon her situation. Custom has relaxed -its condemnation of the economically independent wife, -and perhaps it is just as well that it has done so. For this is -the class which has suffered the greatest comparative loss of -fortune, during the last fifteen years. “If all estimates cited -are correct,” writes Mr. Willford King, “it indicates that, since -1896, there has occurred a marked concentration of income in -the hands of the very rich; that the poor have relatively lost -but little; but that the middle class has been the principal sufferer.” -It is, then, through the sacrifices of our middle-class -families that our very richest families have been able to improve -their standard of living. The poor, of course, have had -no margin on which to practise such benevolence, but the generous -middle-class has given till it hurts. The deficit had to -be relieved, the only possible way being through the economic -utilization of the women. At first daughters became self-supporting, -while wives still tarried in the odour of domestic sanctity; -then wives came to be sporadically self-supporting. The -war, like peace still bearing hardest on the middle-class, enhanced -all this. Nine months after the armistice, fifty per -cent. more women were employed in industry than there were -in the year before the war.</p> - -<p>In America, we have no surplus women. The countries of -western Europe are each encumbered with a million or two, -and their existence is regarded as the source of acute social<span class="pagenum" id="Page_327">327</span> -problems. What shall be done with them is a matter of earnest -consideration and anxious statecraft. America has been spared -all this. She has also no surplus men—or none that anybody -has ever heard of. It is true that the population in 1910 consisted -of ninety-one millions, of whom forty-seven millions -were men and forty-four were women. There were three million -more men than women, but for some reason they were -not surplus or “odd” men and they have never been a “problem.” -The population figures for 1920,—one hundred and -five millions,—have not yet been divided by sexes, but the -chances are that there is still a man for every woman in the -country, and two men apiece for a great number of them. -However, no one seems to fear polyandry for America as -polygamy is now feared in Europe.</p> - -<p>The situation is exceptional in New England where the typical -European condition is duplicated. Beyond the Berkshire -Hills, all the surplus women of America are concentrated. In -the United States as a whole there are a hundred and five men -for each one hundred women, but in New England the balance -shifts suddenly to the other side. Within the present century, -a gradual increase has taken place in the masculine contingent -owing to immigration. But the chances of marriage have not -correspondingly improved, for matches are rarely made between -New England spinsters and Armenian weavers or Neapolitan -bootblacks.</p> - -<p>In America only the very rich and the very poor marry -early. Factory girls and heiresses are, as a rule, the youngest -brides. It is generally assumed that twenty-four for women -and twenty-nine for men are the usual ages for marriage the -country over. Custom varies enormously, of course, in so -polyglot a population. Now and then an Italian daughter acquires -a husband before the compulsory education law is -through with her. In such cases, however, there is apparently -a gentleman’s agreement between the truant officer and the -lady’s husband which solves the dilemma. At the opposite extreme -from these little working-class Juliets are the mature -brides of Boston. As the result of a survey covering the last -ten years, the registrar of marriage licenses discovered that -the women married between twenty-seven and thirty-three and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_328">328</span> -the men between thirty and forty. Boston’s average marriage -age for both sexes is over thirty. This does not represent an -inordinate advance upon the practice of the primitive Bostonians. -According to certain American genealogists, the -Puritans of the 17th century were in no great haste to wed—the -average age of the bride being twenty-one and of the -bridegroom twenty-five. The marriage age in the oldest American -city has moved up about ten years in a couple of centuries. -The change is usually ascribed to increasing economic -obstacles, and nobody questions its desirability. Provided that -celibacy is all that it seems to be, the public stands ready to -admire every further postponement of the marriage age as -evidence of an ever-growing self-control and the triumphant -march of civilization.</p> - -<p>In the majority of marriages, the American wife outlives -her husband. This is partly because he is several years older -than she and partly because she tends to be longer-lived than -he. Americans of the second and third generation are characterized -by great longevity,—the American woman of American -descent being the longest-lived human being on earth. -Consequently the survivors of marriage are more likely to be -widows than widowers. In the census of 1910, there were -about two million and a half widows of forty-five or over as -compared with about one million widowers of corresponding -age. Nor do they sit by the fire and knit as once upon a -time; they too must “hustle.” Among the working women -of the country are a million and a quarter who are more than -forty-five and who are probably to a very large extent—though -the census provides no data on the subject—economically -independent widows. As was said before, “Grandma” -too is on her own nowadays.</p> - -<p>The widow enjoys great honour in American public life, although -it usually turns out to be rather a spurious and -sentimental homage. Political orators easily grow tearful -over her misfortunes. For generations after the Civil War, -the Republican Party throve on a pension-system which gathered -in the youngest widow of the oldest veteran, and Tammany -has always understood how to profit from its ostentatious -alms-giving to widows and orphans. From my earliest childhood,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_329">329</span> -I can recollect how the town-beautifiers, who wanted to -take down the crazy board fences, were utterly routed by the -aldermen who said the widow’s cow must range and people -must therefore keep up their fences. Similarly, the Southern -States have never been able to put through adequate child -labour laws because the widow’s child had to be allowed to -earn in order to support his mother. All this sentimentalism -proved to be in time an excellent springboard for a genuine -economic reform—the widow’s pension systems of the several -states which would be more accurately described as children’s -pensions. The legislatures were in no position to resist an appeal -on behalf of the poor widow and so nicely narcotized were -they by their traditional tender-heartedness that they failed -to perceive the socialistic basis of this new kind of widow’s -pensions. Consequently America has achieved the curious -honour of leading in a socialistic innovation which European -States are now only just beginning to copy. Maternity insurance, -on the other hand, has made no headway in America -although adopted years and even decades ago in European -countries. With us the obstacle seems to be prudishness -rather than capitalism—it makes a legislator blush to hear -childbirth spoken of in public while it only makes him cry to -hear of widowhood.</p> - -<p>One aspect of widowhood is seldom touched upon and that -is its prevention. Aged widows, on the whole, in spite of their -soap-boxing and their wage-earning, are a very lonely race. -Why must they bring it on themselves by marrying men whose -expectation of life is so much less than theirs? And yet so -anxious are the marrying people to observe this conventional -disparity of age, that if the bride happens to be but by three -months the senior of the bridegroom, they conceal it henceforth -as a sort of family disgrace. Even if this convention -should prove to be immutable, is there nothing to be done -about the lesser longevity of the American male? There is a -life extension institute with an ex-president at the head but, as -far as I am aware, it has never enlisted the support of the -millions reported by the census as widows, who surely, if anybody, -should realize the importance of such a movement. It is -commonly assumed that the earlier demise of husbands is due<span class="pagenum" id="Page_330">330</span> -to the hazardous life they lead in business and in industry; but -domestic life is not without its hazards, and child-bearing is -an especially dangerous trade in the United States, which has -the highest maternal death-rate of seventeen civilized countries. -If American husbands were less philosophical about -the hardships of child-bed—the judgment of Eve and all that -sort of thing—and American wives were less philosophical -about burying their husbands—the Lord hath given and the -Lord hath taken away and so on—it might result in greater -health and happiness for all concerned.</p> - -<p>But the main trouble with American marriage, as all the -world knows, is that divorce so often separates the twain before -death has any chance to discriminate between them. The -growing prevalence of divorce is statistically set forth in a -series of census investigations. In 1890, there was one divorce -to every sixteen marriages; in 1900, there was one to -every twelve marriages; and in 1916, there was one to every -nine marriages. The number of marriages in proportion to -the population has also increased during the same period, -though not at a rate equal to that of divorce. But divorce, -being so much younger than marriage, has had more room to -grow from its first humble scared beginnings of fifty years ago. -Queen Victoria’s frown had a very discouraging effect on divorce -in America; and Mrs. Humphry Ward, studying the -question among us in the early 20th century, lent her personal -influence towards the arrest of the American evil. We also -have raised up on this side of the water our own apostles against -divorce, among whom Mr. Horace Greeley perhaps occupies -the first and most distinguished place. But in spite of all -heroic crusades, divorce has continued to grow. One even suspects -that the marked increase in the marriage rate is partly—perhaps -largely—due to the remarriage of the divorced. At -any rate, they constitute new and eligible material for marriage -which formerly was lacking.</p> - -<p>The true cause of the increase of divorce in America is not -easy to come by. Commissions and investigations have worried -the question to no profitable end, and have triumphantly -come out by the same door by which they went in. That seems -to be the test of a successful divorce inquiry; and no wonder,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_331">331</span> -for the real quest means a conflict with hypocrisy and prejudice, -fear and taboo, which only the intrepid spirit of a John -Milton or a Susan B. Anthony is able to sustain. The people -who want divorces and who can pay for them seem to be able -to get them nowadays, and since it is the truth only that suffers -the situation has grown more tolerable.</p> - -<p>In the meantime, there are popular impressions and assumptions -which do not tally with the known facts. It is assumed -that divorce is frequent in America because it is easy, and -that the logical way to reduce it would be to make it difficult. -Certain States of the West have lenient divorce laws but other -States have stringent laws, while South Carolina abolished divorce -entirely in 1878. On the whole, our laws are not so -lenient as those of Scandinavia, whose divorce rate is still far -behind that of the United States. Neither is divorce cheap in -America; it is enormously expensive. Therefore for the poor -it is practically inaccessible. The Domestic Relations Courts do -not grant divorce and the Legal Aid Societies will not touch it. -The wage-earning class, like the inhabitants of South Carolina, -just have to learn to get along without it. Then there is another -belief, hardly justified by the facts, that most divorced -wives get alimony. Among all the divorces granted in 1916, -alimony was not even asked for by 73 per cent. of the wives -and it was received altogether by less than 20 per cent. of them. -The statistics do not tell us whether the actual recipients of -alimony were the mothers of young children or whether they -were able-bodied ladies without offspring. The average American -divorce court could not be trusted to see any difference -between them.</p> - -<p>The war has naturally multiplied the actions for divorce in -every country. It was not for nothing that the British government -called the stipends paid to soldiers’ wives “separation -allowances.” The war-time conditions had a tendency to -unmake marriages as well as to make them. The momentary -spread of divorce has revived again the idea of a uniform divorce -law embodied in an amendment to the Federal Constitution. -As no reasonable law can possibly be hoped for, the -present state of confusion is infinitely to be preferred as affording -at least some choice of resources to the individual who<span class="pagenum" id="Page_332">332</span> -is seeking relief. If there were any tendency to take divorce -cases out of the hands of the lawyers, as has been done with -industrial accidents, and to put it into domestic relations courts -where it belongs; if there were the least possibility of curbing -the vested interest of the newspapers in divorce news; if there -were any dawning appreciation of the absurdity of penalizing -as connivance the most unanswerable reason for divorce, that -is, mutual consent; if there were any likelihood that the lying -and spying upon which divorce action must usually depend for -its success would be viewed as the grossest immorality in the -whole situation; if there were any hope whatever that a statesman -might rise up in Congress and, like Johan Castberg of -Norway, defend a legal measure which would help ordinary -men and women to speak the truth in their personal relationships—if -there were any prospect that any of these influences -would have any weight in the deliberations of Congress, one -might regard the possibilities of Federal action with a gleam -of hope. But since nothing of the kind can be expected, the -best that can happen in regard to divorce in the near future -is for Congress to leave it alone. There is a strong tradition -in the historical suffrage movement of America which favours -liberal divorce laws and which makes it improbable that a -reactionary measure could gain sufficient support from the -feminine electorate. Since the majority of those who seek -divorce in this country are women, it seems to put them logically -on the side of dissoluble marriage.</p> - -<p>Though home is a sacred word in America, it is a portable -affair. Migration is a national habit, handed down and still -retained from the days when each generation went out to break -new ground. The disasters of the Civil War sent Southern -families and New England families scurrying to the far West. -The development of the railway and express systems produced -as a by-product a type of family life that was necessarily -nomadic. The men of the railway “Brotherhoods” have -always been marrying men, and their families acquired the art -of living on wheels, as it were. Rich farmers of the Middle -West retire to spend their old age in a California cottage surrounded -by an orange grove—and the young farmers move to -the city. The American family travels on any and every excuse.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_333">333</span> -The neurotic pursuit of health has built up large communities -in Colorado, Arizona, and other points West. Whole -families “picked up,” as the saying goes, and set out for the -miraculous climate that was to save one of its members from -the dreaded tuberculosis—and then later had to move again -because somebody’s heart couldn’t stand the “altitude.” The -extreme examples of this nomadic habit are found among the -families of the very poor and the very rich, who have regular -seasonal migrations. The oyster canners and strawberry-pickers -have a mobility which is only equalled by that of the -Palm Beachers. And finally there is the curious practice of -New England which keeps boarders in the summer-time in -order that it may be boarded by Florida in the winter-time.</p> - -<p>By contrast with all this geographical instability, the stable -sway of convention and custom stands out impressively. With -each change of environment, family tradition became more -sacred. Unitarians who moved to Kansas were more zealous -in the faith than ever, and F.F.V.’s who settled in Texas were -fiercely and undyingly loyal to the memory of Pocahontas. -Families that were always losing their background, tried to -fixate in some form the ancestral prestige which threatened -always to evaporate. Organizations composed of the Sons -and Daughters of the Revolution, of the descendants of the -Pilgrims, of Civil War Veterans, of the Scions of the Confederacy, -and so on, sprang up and flourished on the abundant soil -of family pride. All of which means that pioneering brought -no spiritual independence or intellectual rebirth, and that new -conditions were anxiously reformulated under the sanction of -the old. Above all, sanction was important. That incredible -institution, the “society column” of the local newspaper, took -up the responsibility where the Past laid it down. Stereotyped -values of yesterday gave way to stereotyped values of to-day. -This was the commercial opportunity of a multitude of home -journals and women’s magazines which undertook—by means -of stories, pictures, and advertisements—to regiment the last -detail of home life. But the perforated patterns, the foods -“shot from guns,” and all the rest of the labour-saving ingenuities -which came pouring into the home and which were supposed -to mean emancipation for mothers and their families,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_334">334</span> -brought little of the real spirit of freedom in their wake. Our -materialistic civilization finds it hard to understand that liberty -is not achieved through time-saving devices but only -through the love of it.</p> - -<p>But the notorious spoiling of the American child—some one -says—is not that a proper cradle of liberty for the personality? -A spoilt child may be a nuisance, but if he is on the way towards -becoming a self-reliant, self-expressive adult, the -“American way” of bringing up children may have its peculiar -advantages. But a spoilt child is really a babyish child, -and by that token he is on the way towards becoming a childish -adult. Neither is his case disposed of simply by adjudging -him a nuisance; the consequence of his spoiling carry much -further than that. They are seen, for instance, in malnutrition -of the children of the American rich—a fact which has -but recently been discovered and which came as a great surprise -to the experts. “In Chicago,” one of them tells us, “it -was found that a group of foreign children near the stockyards -were only 17 per cent. underweight, while in the all-American -group near the University of Chicago they were 57 per cent. -below normal.” The same condition of things was found in a -select and expensive boarding school in the neighbourhood of -Boston. A pathetic commentary—is it not?—on a country -which leads the world in food-packing and food-profits, that -it should contain so many parents who, with all the resources -of the earth at their command, do not know how to feed their -own children. Surely, the famous American spoiling has -something to do with this. Whether it may not also be behind -the vast amount of mental disturbance in the population may -well be considered. The asylums are suddenly over-crowded. -The National Committee for Mental Hygiene suggests for our -consolation that this may be because the asylums are so much -more humane than they used to be and the families of the -sufferers are more willing than formerly to consign them to -institutions.</p> - -<p>It is the fashion to attribute all these mental tragedies to -the strain of business life and industry, and more recently to -war-shock. But if we are to accept the results of the latest -psychological research, the family must receive the lion’s share<span class="pagenum" id="Page_335">335</span> -of blame. The groundwork for fatal ruptures in the adult personality -is laid in childhood and in the home which produced -the victim. For many years the discussion of American nerves -has hinged on the hectic haste of business and industrial life, -on the noise and bustle and lack of repose in the national -atmosphere. But we have neglected to accuse the family to its -face of failing to protect the child against the cataclysms of -the future while it had the chance.</p> - -<p>The tremendous influence of the family on the individuals, -old and young, composing it is not merely a pious belief. We -are, alas, what our families make us. This is not a pleasant -thought to many individuals who have learned through bitter -experience to look on family relationships as a form of soul -imprisonment. Yet it seems to be an incontestable fact that -personality is first formed—or deformed—in the family constellation. -The home really does the job for which the school, -the press, the church, and the State later get the credit. It is -a smoothly articulated course from the cradle onward, however, -in which the subjugated parent produces a subjugated child, -not so much by the rod of discipline—which figures very -little in American family life—but by the more powerful and -pervasive force of habit and attitude. Parents allow themselves -to be a medium for transmitting the incessant pressure -of standards which allow no room for impulse and initiative; -they become the willing instrument of a public mania for -standardization which tries to make every human soul into the -image of a folded pattern. The babe is moulded in his cradle -into the man who will drop a sentimental tear, wear a white -carnation, and send a telegram on Mother’s Day—that travesty -of a family festival which shames affection and puts spontaneous -feeling to the blush.</p> - -<p>As the family itself grows smaller, this pressure of mechanistic -and conventional standards encroaches more closely upon -the child. A sizeable group of brothers and sisters create for -themselves a savage world which is their best protection against -the civilization that awaits them. But with one or two children, -or a widely scattered series, this natural protection is -lost. The youngster is prematurely assimilated to the adult -world of parents who are nowadays, owing to later marriage, not<span class="pagenum" id="Page_336">336</span> -even quite so young as formerly they were. It is a peculiarity -of parents, especially of mothers, that they never entertain a -modest doubt as to whether they might be the best of all possible -company for their children. And obviously the tired business -man cannot properly substitute in the evenings for a roistering, -shouting brother who never came into the world at -all; nor can all the concentrated care of the most devoted -mother take the place of the companionship and discipline -which children get from other children. These considerations -deserve more attention than they usually receive in connection -with the falling birth-rate. The figures mean that the environment -of the young child is being altered in a fundamental respect. -Parents of small families need to take effective steps -to counteract the loss. Practical things, like nursery schools, -would be a help. But, chiefly, if parents will insist on being -companions of their children, they need themselves to understand -and practise the art of common joy and happiness.</p> - -<p class="right"> -<span class="smcap">Katharine Anthony</span> -</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div id="toclink_337" class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_337">337</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="THE_ALIEN">THE ALIEN</h2> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="smcap1">The</span> immigrant alien has been discussed by the Anglo-Saxon -as though he were an Anglo-Saxon “problem.” He -has been discussed by labour as though he were a labour -“problem”; by interpreters of American institutions as though -man existed for institutions and for institutions which the class -interpreting them found advantageous to its class. Occasionally -the alien has been discussed from the point of view of the -alien and but rarely from the point of view of democracy. The -“problem” of the alien is largely a problem of setting our own -house in order. It is the “problem” of Americanizing America. -The outstanding fact of three centuries of immigration -is that the immigrant alien ceases to be an alien when economic -conditions are such as properly to assimilate him.</p> - -<p>There is something rather humorous about the way America -discusses “the alien.” For we are all aliens. And what is -less to our liking we are almost all descended from the peasant -classes of Europe. We are here because our forebears were -poor. They did not rule over there. They were oppressed; -they were often owned. And with but few exceptions they -came because of their poverty. For the rich rarely emigrate. -And in the 17th and 18th centuries there was probably a -smaller percentage of immigrants who could pass the literacy -test than there are to-day. Moreover, in the early days only -suffering could drive the poor of Europe from their poverty. -For the conditions of travel were hazardous. The death toll -from disease was very high. It required more fortitude to -cross the Atlantic and pass by the ring of settlers out onto the -unbroken frontier than it does to pass Ellis Island and the -exploiters round about it to-day.</p> - -<p>The immigration question has arisen because America, too, -has created a master class, a class which owns and employs and -rules. And the alien in America is faced by a class opinion, -born of the change which has come over America rather than<span class="pagenum" id="Page_338">338</span> -any change in the alien himself. America has changed. The -alien remains much the same. And the most significant phase -of the immigration problem is the way we treat the alien and -the hypocrisy of our discussion of the subject.</p> - -<p>Sociologists have given us a classification of the immigrant -alien. They speak of the “old immigration” and the “new -immigration.” The former is the immigration of the 17th and -18th and the first three-quarters of the 19th centuries. It was -English, Scotch, Irish, German, Scandinavian with a sprinkling -of French, Swiss, and other nationalities. From the beginning, -the preponderance was British. During the 18th century -there was a heavy Scotch inflow and during the first half -of the 19th a heavy Irish and German immigration. The Irish -came because of the famine of 1848, the Scotch in large part -because of the enclosure acts and the driving of the people from -the land to make way for deer preserves and grazing lands for -the British aristocracy. Most of the British immigration was -the result of oppressive land laws of one kind or another. The -population of Ireland was reduced from eight million to slightly -over four million in three-quarters of a century. The British -immigrant of the 17th century, like the recent Russian immigration, -was driven from home by economic oppression. Only -a handful came to escape religious oppression or to secure -political liberty. The cause of immigration has remained the -same from the beginning until now.</p> - -<p>The “old immigration” was from the North of Europe. -It was of Germanic stock. It was predominantly Protestant. -But the most important fact of all and the fact most usually -ignored is an economic fact. The early immigrant found a -broad continent awaiting him, peopled only by Indians. He -became a free man. He took up a homestead. He ceased to -belong to any one else. He built for himself. He paid no -rent, he took no orders, he kept what he produced, and was -inspired by hope and ambition to develop his powers. It was -economic, not political, freedom that distinguishes the “old -immigration” from the “new.”</p> - -<p>The “new immigration” is from Southern and Central Europe. -It is Latin and Slavic. It is largely Catholic. It, too, -is poor. It, too, is driven out by oppression, mostly economic<span class="pagenum" id="Page_339">339</span> -and for the most part landed. Almost every wave of immigration -has been in some way related to changes for the worse -in the landed systems of Europe. Wherever the poverty has -been the most distressing, there the impulse to move has been -the strongest. It has been the poverty of Europe that has -determined our immigration from the 17th century until now.</p> - -<p>The ethnic difference is secondary. So is the religious. -The fundamental fact that distinguishes the “old immigration” -from the “new” is economic. The “new immigration” -works for the “old.” It found the free land all taken up. -The public domain had passed into the hand of the Pacific -railroads, into great manorial estates. Land thieves had repeated -the acts of the British Parliament of the 18th century. -The Westward movement of peoples that had been going on -from the beginning of time came to an end when the pioneer -of the 80’s and 90’s found only the bad lands left for settlement. -That ended an era. It closed the land to settlement -and sent the immigrant to the city. The peasant of Europe -has become the miner and the mill worker. He left one kind -of serfdom to take up another. It is this that distinguishes -the “old immigrant” from the “new.” It is this that distinguishes -the old America from the America of to-day. And the -problem of immigration, like the problem of America, is the -re-establishment of economic democracy. The protective tariff -bred exotic industry. The employer wanted cheap labour. -The mine owners and mill owners combined with the steamship -companies to stimulate immigration. They sent agents -abroad. They brought in gangs from Southern and Central -Europe. They herded them in mining camps, in mill towns, -in the tenements. The closing of the public domain and the -rise of monopoly industry marks the turning point in immigration. -It marks the beginning of the immigration “problem.” -It is partly ethnic, but largely economic.</p> - -<p>The “new immigration” from Southern and Central Europe -began to increase in volume about 1890. It came from Southern -rather than Northern Italy, from Poland, Hungary, Bohemia, -Russia, the Balkans, and the Levant. There was a -sprinkling of Spanish and Portuguese immigrants. In 1914 -South and Central European immigration amounted to 683,000,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_340">340</span> -while the North European immigration was but 220,000. Of -the former 296,000 came from Italy, 123,000 from Poland, -45,000 from Russia, and 45,000 from Hungary. These figures -do not include Jewish immigrants, who numbered 138,000. Of -the North European immigrants 105,000 came from the British -Isles, 80,000 came from Germany, and 36,000 from the -Scandinavian countries.</p> - -<p>Of the 14,000,000 persons of foreign birth now in the -country, a very large percentage is of South and Central European -stock.</p> - -<p>We are accustomed to think of the old immigration and the -new immigration in terms of races and religions. And much -of the present-day hostility to immigration comes from the -inexplicable prejudice which has recently sprung up against -persons of differing races and religions. It is assumed that the -new immigration is poor and ignorant because it is ethnically -unfitted for anything different and that it prefers the tenement -and the mining camp to American standards of living and culture. -But the newly arrived immigrant goes to the mines and -the crowded city not from choice but from necessity. He lives -in colonies with his fellows largely because the employing -class prefers that he be segregated and has no interest in his -physical comfort or welfare. The alien has been a commodity, -not a human being; he has been far cheaper than a machine -because he provided his own capital cost and makes provision -for his own depreciation and decay. He has been bought in -the slums of Europe for his passage money and he can be left -to starve when bad times or industrial power throws him on -his own resources. The important difference between the “old -immigration” and the “new immigration” is not ethnic. It -is not religious. It is economic. The “old immigration” has -become the owning and employing class, while the “new immigration” -is the servile and dependent class. This is the real, -the important difference between the “old immigration” and -the “new.” The former owns the resources of America. The -economic division coincides roughly with the race division.</p> - -<p>When economic privilege becomes ascendant fear is born. It -is born of a subconscious realization on the part of the privileged -classes that their privileges rest on an unjust if not an<span class="pagenum" id="Page_341">341</span> -unstable foundation. Fear is the parent of hate, and back of -other explanations of the present demand for exclusion of the -alien is fear. It is fear that gave birth to the persecution -and ruthless official and semi-official activity first against all -aliens under the White Slave Act and similar laws, next against -the Germans, and later against the “reds.” An economic psychology -born of injustice explains our present attitude toward -the alien just as a different economic psychology explained our -attitude during the first two and a half centuries of our life -when it was the consuming desire of statesmen, real-estate speculators, -and exploiters to people the continent and develop our -industries and resources as rapidly as possible.</p> - -<p>The “immigration problem,” so called, has always been and -always will be an economic problem. There are many people -who feel that there is an inherent superiority in the Anglo-Saxon -race; that it has a better mind, greater virtue, and a -better reason for existence and expansion than any other race. -They insist there are eugenic reasons for excluding immigration -from South and Central Europe; they would preserve -America for people of Anglo-Saxon stock. As an immigration -official I presided over Ellis Island for five years. During this -time probably a million immigrants arrived at the port of New -York. They were for the most part poor. They had that in -common with the early immigrant. They had other qualities -in common. They were ambitious and filled with hope. They -were for the most part kindly and moved by the same human -and domestic virtues as other peoples. And it is to me an -open question whether the “new immigration,” if given a virgin -continent, and the hope and stimulus which springs from -such opportunity, would not develop the same qualities of mind -and of character that we assume to be the more or less exclusive -characteristics of the Anglo-Saxon race. There is also -reason for believing that the warmer temperament, the emotional -qualities, and the love of the arts that characterize the -South and Central European would produce a race blend, -under proper economic conditions, that would result in a better -race than one of pure Northern extraction. For it is to be -remembered that it was not political liberty, religious liberty, -or personal liberty that changed the early immigrant of Northern<span class="pagenum" id="Page_342">342</span> -Europe into the American of to-day. His qualities were -born of economic conditions, of a free continent, of land to be -had for the asking, of equal opportunity with his fellows to -make his life what he would have it to be. The old immigrant -recognized no master but himself. He was the equal of his -neighbours in every respect. He knew no inferiority complex -born of a servile relationship. It was this rather than our -constitutions and laws that made the American of the first -three centuries what he was. It was this alchemy that changed -the serf of Northern Europe into the self-reliant freeman of -America.</p> - -<p>The immigration problem was born when this early economic -opportunity came to an end. When the free land was -all gone, the immigrant had to work for somebody else. He -went to the mines and the city tenement not from the choice -but from necessity. He took the first job that offered. When -established he sent for his brother, his neighbour, or his friend. -He, too, went to the mining camp or the slum. Colonies appeared. -The alien became segregated. He lived by himself. -And he developed the qualities that would be developed by -any race under similar conditions. He, too, feared. He was -known as a Dago, Wop, Hunkie. To him government meant -a policeman, a health officer, and an immigration inspector—all -agencies to be feared. He slowly learned to unionize. He -came to understand group action. He found in his craft organization -the only protection against the employers, and in -the political boss the only protection against agencies that interfered -with his personal and domestic life. The immigrant -soon learned that our immigration laws were shaped by economic -motives. He learned that he was in danger of being -deported if he did not work. The menace which hangs over -the immigrant during his early years is the phrase “likely to -become a public charge.” And this alleged reason for deportation -covers a multitude of other excuses which can be used -as it is used—as a drag-net accusation. So the immigrant -feels and justly feels that what we want of him is to work, to -work for some one else, and to accept what is offered and be -content. For within the last few years the doctrine has become -accepted by him and by the nation as well that the alien<span class="pagenum" id="Page_343">343</span> -must not complain, he must not be an agitator, he must not -protest against the established industrial order or the place -which he occupies within it. This has heightened his fear complex. -It has tended to establish his inferiority relationship.</p> - -<p>Our legislative attitude toward the alien has mirrored the -economic conditions of the country. Up to about the middle -of the last century we had no restrictive laws of any kind. -America was free to all comers. We wanted population. -Western States pleaded for settlers. They drew them from the -East as they drew them from Europe. We were hospitable -to the oppressed. We opened our arms to revolutionary leaders. -We had no fears. Experience had shown that the poorest -of Europe, even the classified criminals of Europe, would -quickly Americanize themselves under the stimulus of new -opportunity in a virgin land where all men were potentially -equal. For generations there was fear that the American continent -could never be fully peopled.</p> - -<p>But the free lands were all gone about 1890. The Western -drift of peoples, which had been in movement since the earliest -times, came to an end. Population closed in on the Pacific. -Cities grew with unprecedented rapidity. Factories needed -men. Employers looked to Europe. They sent agents abroad -who employed them in gangs. Often they were used to displace -American-born workers. They were used to break up -labour organizations. The aliens were mixed to prevent them -organizing. Wages were temporarily at least forced down. -For some years our immigration policy was shaped by the -big industrials who combined with the steamship companies to -induce immigration.</p> - -<p>Organized labour began to protest. It, too, was moved by -economic motives. It secured the passage of the contract -labour law, which prevents the landing of any worker for whom -employment has been provided in advance by an employer. -Organized labour began to demand restrictive legislation to -protect its standard of living. But the country was not ready -for restrictive legislation. Congress instead adopted a selective -policy. We excluded paupers, the insane and diseased, -criminals, immoral persons, and those who were likely to become -a public charge. Later we extended the selective idea to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_344">344</span> -persons who did not believe in organized government, to -anarchists, and to persons of revolutionary beliefs. We now -exclude and deport for opinions as well as for physical and -mental conditions. The percentage of rejections under these -selective laws was not great. Of the 1,200,000 aliens who -came to the country in 1914 only one and one-third per cent. -were denied admission by the immigration authorities.</p> - -<p>The war stimulated the anti-alien feeling. It provided an -opportunity for crusades. The press aided the hue and cry. -In 1915 there was a nation-wide round-up of immoral cases. -Thousands of prostitutes, of procurers, and of persons guilty -of some personal irregularity were arrested all over the country. -Many of them were deported. The demand for restrictive -legislation was supported by many different groups. It -had the backing of organized labour, of the Southern States, -of many protestant organization and churches. It was strongly -supported in the West.</p> - -<p>The “literacy test,” which went into effect in 1917, requiring -of the alien an ability to read some language selected by him, -was the first restrictive measure enacted. Its purpose was to -check the South and Central European inflow. For in these -countries illiteracy is very high. It rises as high as sixty -and seventy per cent. in the Central European states. With -the test of literacy applied it was felt that the old immigration -from Northern Europe would reassert itself. Our industrial -needs would be supplied from Great Britain, from Germany -and from the Scandinavian countries. The same motive underlies -the recently enacted law which arbitrarily fixes the -number who may come in any one year from any one country -to three per cent. of the aliens already here from that country. -This will still further shift the immigration to the Northern -countries, and if continued as the permanent policy of the Government -will insure a predominant Anglo-Saxon-Germanic-Scandinavian -stock as the racial stock of America.</p> - -<p>Despite all of the Congressional concern over the alien and -the recent nation-wide movement for his Americanization, there -has never been any official concern for the alien, for his protection -from exploitation and abuse, or any attempt to work -out a policy of real Americanization. Not that the task is<span class="pagenum" id="Page_345">345</span> -impossible. Not that it is even experimental. Australia, -Brazil, and Canada have more or less well-developed agencies -for aiding the alien on landing, for protecting him until he is -able to protect himself, and for adjusting him as speedily as -possible to new conditions of life. In all of these countries -the aim of the government is to give the immigrant a stake -in the land, to bring about his permanent residence in the -country, and, if possible, to induce him to become a farmer -rather than an industrial worker. This has not been done by -agencies of distribution alone, but by conscious selection in the -country from which the immigrant comes, by grants of land -to those who are ready to take up land holdings, and by the -extension of credit from state agencies to enable the settlers -to stock and equip their farms. The policy of Brazil has -been so successful that many colonies of Northern Italians -have been induced to settle there who have become prosperous -and contented farmers. In other words, these countries have -consciously aimed to work out a continuing policy similar to -that which prevailed in this country up to about 1890 when -the immigrant drifted naturally to the land as a means of securing -the freedom from the exploiting class that had driven -him from Europe.</p> - -<p>It is not to be inferred that our policy of hands off the alien -after his landing has worked only evil. Viewed in the perspective -of two centuries, it has worked amazingly well. The -rapidity with which practically all immigrants rise in the world -in spite of the obstacles of poverty, illiteracy, and unfamiliarity -with our language is little short of a miracle. This is true of -the older generation as it is of the younger. It is most true -in the cities, least true in the mining camps and smaller industrial -centres about the steel mills and slaughter houses where -the tyranny of the employing class is most pronounced. For -the newcomer speedily acquires the wants of those with whom -he associates. He becomes dissatisfied with his shack. He -demands more and better food and clothes. He almost always -wants his children to have a schooling and to rise in the scale, -which to him means getting out of the hod-carrying, day-labour, -or even artisan class. And the next generation does rise. It -rises only less rapidly than did the early immigrant. It increases<span class="pagenum" id="Page_346">346</span> -its wants and demands. It finds the trades union a -weapon with which it can combat the employer who seeks to -bring about a confusion of tongues, a confusion of religion, -and a confusion of races as a means of maintaining the open -shop. As an evidence of this, the Amalgamated Clothing -Workers of America is almost exclusively Jewish, Italian, and -Latin in its membership. It is the most intelligent, the most -social-minded, and the most highly developed labour organization -in the country. The coal miners are largely men of foreign -birth. They, too, have adopted an advanced social programme. -The alien has found the trades union the most efficient -if not the only agency through which he can Americanize -himself. And in Americanizing himself he is merely doing -what the aliens of earlier centuries who preceded him have -done—he is seeking for economic freedom from a master class.</p> - -<p>America is a marvellous demonstration of the economic -foundations of all life. It is a demonstration of what happens -to men when economic opportunities call forth their resourcefulness -and latent ability on one hand and when the -State, on the other, keeps its hands off them in their personal -relationships. For the alien quickly adopts a higher standard -of culture as he rises in the industrial scale, while his morals, -whatever they may have been, quickly take on the colour of -his new environment, whatever that may be. And if all of -the elements which should enter into a consideration of the -subject were included, I am of the opinion it would be found -that the morals, the prevalence of vice and crime among the -alien population is substantially that of the economic class in -which he is found rather than the race from which he springs. -In other words, the alleged prevalence of crime among the alien -population is traceable to poverty and bad conditions of living -rather than to ethnic causes, and in so far as it exists it tends -disappear as the conditions which breed it pass away.</p> - -<p>Despite the fact that our hands-off policy of the past has -worked amazingly well, the time has come when it must be -changed. Not because of any change in the character of the -alien, but because of the change which has taken place in our -own internal life. Economic conditions make it impossible for -the alien, as it does for the native born, to become a farmer.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_347">347</span> -Exploiting agencies are making it difficult and often impossible -for the farmer to make a living. Land speculation has shot -up the price of farm land to prohibitive figures. The railroads -and middle men and banking agencies are putting the American -farmer into a semi-servile status. He is unable to market his -crop after it is produced or he markets it at a figure that ultimately -reduces him to bankruptcy. The immigration problem -remains an economic problem. It has become an American -problem. The policy we should adopt for Americanizing the -alien is a policy we should adopt for our own people as well, for -when economic opportunity came to an end for our own people, -it created not only an immigration problem, but a domestic -problem. The solution of one is the solution of the other.</p> - -<p>The alien will Americanize himself if he is given the opportunity -to do so. The bird of passage will cease to migrate -when he possesses a stake in the land of his adoption. The -best cure for Bolshevism is not deportation but a home, a farm, -a governmental policy of land settlement. A constructive immigration -policy and Americanization policy is one that will:</p> - -<p>1. Direct the alien as well as the native born to opportunities -of employment and especially to agencies that will enable -them to become home owners and farm owners;</p> - -<p>2. Provide government grants, as is done in Australia, Denmark, -and some of the South American countries, to which the -would-be farmer or home owner can go for financial assistance. -In Denmark and Australia any man who shows aptitude and -desire for farming and who is able to satisfy a local commission -of his abilities, can secure a small farm in a farm colony, fully -equipped for planting. The grant includes a house and barn, -some cattle and machinery, and sufficient capital to carry the -settler over the first season. The applicant must provide a -certain portion of the initial outlay himself. He is aided by -experts from the colony, he is advised as to what to plant and -how to care for his cattle. His produce is marketed co-operatively, -while much of the machinery is owned either by -the community or by co-operative agencies identified with the -community. The land is purchased in large tracts by the -State in advance of settlement to prevent speculation, while -settlers are required to develop their holdings. They may<span class="pagenum" id="Page_348">348</span> -not purchase for speculative purposes. The State of Denmark -has planted thousands of home-owning farmers in this way and -has all but ended farm tenancy in a generation’s time. The -farm tenant and farm labourer have become owners. A similar -policy has been developed in Australia, where millions of -dollars have been advanced by the State to settlers. In both -of these countries the land settlement colonies have been a -great success. There have been few failures and no losses to -the State.</p> - -<p>3. The savings of the alien should be used for the benefit -of the alien. Hundreds of millions of dollars leave this country -annually in the form of remittances. Much of it goes abroad -because of fear of American banks. Many millions more are -in hiding for the same reason. The deposits in the Postal -Savings banks are largely the deposits of the immigrant. They -are turned over to the National banks and find their way into -commercial activities. If these funds were mobilized in co-operative -banks, as is done all over Europe, or if the Government -would dedicate them to a revolving fund for aiding -persons to build homes, to buy farms, and to aid the alien with -credit, which he now has no means of securing; he would be -lured from the city to the land, he would become a home and -farm owner rather than an industrial worker, and would rapidly -develop those qualities of mind and character that are associated -in our minds with the early Anglo-Saxon settler but -which are rather the qualities which spring up of themselves -when the economic conditions encourage them.</p> - -<p>4. Our deportation laws are a disgrace to any country. -They are an adaptation of the fugitive slave laws. The offending -alien is subject to lynch law sanctioned by the State. He -is arrested on complaint by an inspector. He is then tried by -the man who arrests him. His friends and relatives are excluded -from the trial. The judge who made the arrest is often -the interpreter and the clerk who transcribes the testimony. -He also is his jailer. He can and does hold the alien incommunicado. -Often the alien scarcely knows why he has been -arrested. Often he does not understand the testimony. The -local findings have to be approved at Washington by the Department -of Labour. But the approval is by a clerk who, like<span class="pagenum" id="Page_349">349</span> -the inspector, often wants to make a record. The opportunity -for collusion with police, with crusaders, with employers, with -Chambers of Commerce, and with organization bent on “ridding -the country of disturbers” is manifest. Often men are -arrested, tried, convicted, and possibly placed on ships for their -home countries before their families are aware of what has -happened to them.</p> - -<p>The alien is denied every protection of our constitution. -The Bill of Rights does not apply to him. He has no presentment -before a Grand Jury, there is no jury trial, he rarely has -counsel, and he is often held incommunicado by the official -who has taken him into custody and who wants to justify his -arrest. The only recourse the alien has is the writ of habeas -corpus. But this is of practically no avail. For the courts -have held that if there is a scintilla of evidence on which the -inspector could act the court will not review the finding. And -a scintilla is any evidence at all. When to this is added the -fact that the charge “likely to become a public charge” has -come to cover almost any condition that might arise, and as -this charge is usually added to the others as a recourse on which -the inspector may fall back, the chance of relief in the court -is practically nil. Under the laws as they now exist the alien -is a man without a country. He has no protection from the -constitution and little protection under the laws. The alien -knows this. He feels that he is defenceless. American liberty -to him means the liberty of a policeman, a health or school -official, an immigration inspector, and agents of the department -of justice to invade his home, to seize his papers, to arrest -without warrant, to hold incommunicado, and to deport on a -charge that is often as foreign to the facts as anything could be.</p> - -<p>It is this more than anything else that has embittered the -alien towards America during the last few years. It is this -that makes him feel that he is not wanted here. It is this that -is sending hundreds of thousands back to Europe, many of them -among the best of the aliens and many of them worthy in -every way of our confidence and welcome.</p> - -<p>A proper immigration policy should be a national policy. -Not something for the alien alone but for our own people. -For the immigration problem is merely another form of the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_350">350</span> -domestic problem. When we are ready to settle the one we -will settle the other. A cross section of one branch of our -political State is a cross section of another. The alien of -to-day is not very different from the alien of yesterday. He -has the same instincts and desires as did those who came in -the <i>Mayflower</i>. Only those who came in the <i>Mayflower</i> made -their own laws and their own fortunes. Those who come to-day -have their laws made for them by the class that employs -them and they make their own fortunes only as those aliens -who came first permit them to do so.</p> - -<p class="right"> -<span class="smcap">Frederic C. Howe</span> -</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div id="toclink_351" class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_351">351</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="RACIAL_MINORITIES">RACIAL MINORITIES</h2> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>“... not to laugh at the actions of men, nor yet to deplore or -detest them, but simply to understand them.”—<cite>Spinoza.</cite></p> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="smcap1">In</span> America, the race-problem is not only without answer; -thus far it is even without formulation. In the face of ordinary -economic, political, and religious difficulties, people habitually -formulate creeds which give a kind of rhyme and reason -to their actions; but where inter-racial relations are concerned, -the leaders go pussy-footing all around the fundamental question, -while the emotions of the masses translate themselves -into action, and action back again into emotion, with less consideration -of means and ends than one expects of the maddest -bomb-thrower. Everybody has some notion of the millennial -aims of the Communist Party, the National Association of -Manufacturers, the W.C.T.U., the Holy Rollers; but what -are the Southerners getting at, when they educate the Negro, -and refuse him the ballot; what ultimate result does the North -expect from the granting of the franchise and the denial of -social equality? Do both the North and the South hope to -maintain a permanent racial division of the country’s population? -If so, are the Indians, the Jews and the Asiatics to be -classed with the Negroes, as unassimilable minorities? How -is the conduct of the American majority suited to this aim, -if it is an aim? How can permanent division be maintained, -except by permanent prejudice? What do the racial liberators, -ameliorators, uplifters, and general optimists think about it; -or do they think about it at all?</p> - -<p>From the moment of initial contact between the mass of -the American population and the country’s most important -racial minorities—the Indian, the Jew, the Oriental, and the -Negro—the self-congratulatory feelings of the majority have -always found a partial or complete counterpart everywhere -except among the slaves and the children of the slaves. The<span class="pagenum" id="Page_352">352</span> -long delay in the inception of All-Africanism in America, and -the groping uncertainty which still characterizes its manifestations, -are due in large part to the cultural youthfulness of -the American Negro. Biologically, the black race was matured -in Africa; culturally it had made considerable advances -there, before the days of the slave-trade. The process of enslavement -could not strip away the physical characteristics -of the race, but in all that has to do with cultural life and -social inheritance, the Negro was re-born naked in the new -world.</p> - -<p>When one compares the condition of the Negro with that -of the other three racial minorities at the moment of contact -with the miscellaneous white population, the Indian seems -closer to the Jew and the Oriental than to the slave. In a -general way, the condition of the Indian tribes resembled that -of the Negroes in Africa, but the Indians were left in possession -of most of the elements of savage culture and were -never entirely deprived of the means of maintaining themselves -in this stage of development. Needless to say, the Jews -and the Orientals were in still better case than the -Indians, for their imported cultural equipment was far more -elaborate and substantial, and their economic position much -better.</p> - -<p>The four racial minorities thus varied widely in the degree -of their self-sufficiency, and likewise, inversely, in the degree -of their need for absorption into the current of American life. -Quite obviously the Negro was least independent and most in -need of assimilation. However, the necessity of the alien group -has not been the only factor of importance in this matter of -assimilation. Each of the minorities has been from the beginning -subjected to the prejudice of the majority, and that group -which first lost all life of its own through contact with the -whites has been singled out for the maximum amount of -persecution.</p> - -<p>The standard explanation or excuse for race-prejudice is -the theory of the inequality of racial stocks. However, for -all their eagerness to bolster up a foregone conclusion, the -race-patriots have not been able to prove by any sort of evidence, -historical, biological, or psychological, that racial differences<span class="pagenum" id="Page_353">353</span> -are not simply indications of unlikeness, rather than -of inherent superiority or inferiority. The anthropologists -are pretty well agreed that physical differences divide mankind -into three major groups, European (including the Jews), -Mongoloid (including the American Indians), and Negroid; -but science has set no definite limit to the respective potentialities -of these groups. In other words, it has remained for race-prejudice -to assume an unproved inferiority, and to devise -all possible measures for making the life of the objectionable -races exactly what it would be, in the absence of interference, -if the assumed inferiority were real.</p> - -<p>To accept the term “race-prejudice” as accurately descriptive -of the feelings to which it is usually applied, is to assume -that these feelings originate in race-differences, if not in the -inequality of races. This, however, is still to be proved. -Race-differences are a factor of the situation wherever two -races are in contact, but it is a matter of common knowledge -that the members of two or more racial groups sometimes intermingle -on terms of greatest friendliness. To attribute -“race-prejudice” to race-difference, and to leave race-friendliness -entirely unexplained, is to blind oneself deliberately to -the existence of variable causes which alone can account for -the variable results that appear in the presence of racial -constants. Racial inequality of intelligence, if it actually -exists, is simply one of a number of ever-present race-differences, -and in all these differences taken together one can -find no adequate explanation of the variable phenomenon commonly -called “race-prejudice,” but so designated here only for -the sake of convenience.</p> - -<p>Any serious attempt to get at the non-racial causes of “race-prejudice” -in America would necessarily involve the comparison, -point by point, of economic, social, political, and intellectual -conditions in various localities in the United States -with corresponding local conditions in other countries where -the races here in conflict are more nearly at peace. In the -present state of knowledge, the racial theory of race-prejudice -is demonstrably inadequate, while the non-racial theory is an -hypothesis which can neither be proved nor disproved. Such -being the case, the haphazard speculations which follow are<span class="pagenum" id="Page_354">354</span> -not offered as a proof of this hypothesis, or as an explanation -of the existence of race-prejudice in America, but simply as a -stimulus to inquiry.</p> - -<p>Beginning with these speculations, it may be said that the -goods and opportunities of the material life, unlike those of the -intellectual life, are frequently incapable of division without -loss to the original possessor. On this account, competition -is likely to be particularly keen and vindictive where material -interests are given the foremost place. It is also perhaps -safe to say that the long preoccupation of the American majority -with the development of its material inheritance has -brought to the majority a heavy heritage of materialism. One -may hazard the statement that the prejudice of America’s native -white majority against the Negroes, the Indians, the Jews and -the Asiatics, is now and has always been in some sense attributable -and proportional to the majority’s fear of some action -on the part of the minority which might injure the material -interests of the majority, while the only race-differences which -have had any real importance are those superficial ones which -serve to make the members of the minorities recognizable at -sight. At any rate, an examination of some of the facts that -come most easily to hand shows an interesting coincidence -between the prejudice of the majority and the power of the -minority.</p> - -<p>Before the Civil War, the structure of Southern society was -bottomed on slavery, and the fear of any humanization of -the Negro which would make him appear worthy of emancipation -was strong enough to arouse any degree of prejudice, -and any amount of repression. The prejudice of the Southern -white populace as a whole reached its maximum intensity when -emancipation threatened to place the blacks in permanent political -and economic control of certain portions of the South. -Even to-day, fear of the political power of the Negroes, and -perhaps also the over-emphasized fear of black “outrages,” -still acts upon the white population as a unifying force; but -in spite of this fact, class-interests have become plainly visible. -When Black Republicanism had once been driven to cover, the -masters set about rebuilding their privileges upon the foundation -of Negro labour which is still their chief support. Only<span class="pagenum" id="Page_355">355</span> -a few Negroes have been able to compete directly for a share -in these privileges, and accordingly most of the fears of the -well-to-do people of the South are anticipatory rather than -immediate.</p> - -<p>With the “poor whites,” the case is altogether different. -Here there is no question of keeping the Negro in his place, -for ever since the Emancipation the place of the Negro has -been very much that of the poor white himself, at least in so -far as economic status is concerned. In the view of the white -labourer, the Negro rises too high the moment he becomes a -competitor for a job, and every Negro is potentially just that. -Accordingly, the prejudice of the poorer whites is bitter and -indiscriminate, and is certainly not tending to decrease with -the cityward drift of the Negro population.</p> - -<p>With the appearance of Negro workers in large numbers in -Northern industrial centres, race-prejudice has begun to manifest -itself strongly among the white workers. The Northern -masters have, however, shown little tendency to reproduce -the sentiments of their Southern peers, for in the North there -is no fear of political dominance by the blacks, and a supply -of cheap labour is as much appreciated as it is south of the -Line.</p> - -<p>In spite of the fact that the proportion of Negroes in the -total population of the United States has declined steadily from -15.7 per cent. in 1850 to 9.9 per cent. in 1920, the attitude of -both Northerners and Southerners is somewhat coloured by -the fear that the blacks will eventually overrun the country. -If prejudice had no other basis than this, there would perhaps -be no great difficulty in effecting its cure. As a matter of -course, immigration accounts in part for the increasing predominance -of the white population; but this hardly disposes -of the fact that throughout the South, during the years 1890–1910, -the percentage of native whites of native parentage advanced -in both urban and rural communities. Discussion of -comparative birth-rates also gives rise to numerous alarums -and excursions, but the figures scarcely justify the fears expressed. -Statistics show that, in spite of the best efforts of -the people who attempt to hold the black man down, and then -fear him all the more because he breeds too generously, the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_356">356</span> -improvement in the material condition of the Negro is operating -inevitably to check the process of multiplication.</p> - -<p>If the case of the Negro is complicated in the extreme, that -of the Indian is comparatively simple. Here race-prejudice -has always followed the frontier. As long as the Indian interfered -with the exploitation of the country, the pioneers feared -him, and disliked him cordially. Their feelings worked themselves -out in all manner of personal cruelty, as well as in a -process of wholesale expropriation, but as soon as the tribes -had been cooped up on reservations, the white man’s dislike -for the Indian began to cool off perceptibly. From the beginning, -the Indian interfered with expansion, not as an economic -competitor, but as a military enemy; when the dread -of him as a fighter disappeared, there was no new fear to take -its place. During the years 1910 to 1920 the Indian population -actually decreased 8.6 per cent.</p> - -<p>If the Indian has neither shared the privileges nor paid the -price of a generous participation in American life, the Jew -has certainly done both. In every important field of activity, -the members of this minority have proved themselves quite -able to compete with the native majority, and accordingly -the prejudice against them is not confined to any one social -class, but is concentrated rather in those regions where the -presence of Jews in considerable numbers predicates their -competitive contact with individuals of all classes. Although -as a member of one branch of the European racial family, -the Jew is by no means so definitely distinguished by physical -characteristics as are the members of the other minorities -here under discussion, it is nevertheless true that when the -Jew has been identified by his appearance, or has chosen to -identify himself, the anti-Semite takes on most of the airs of -superiority which characterize the manifestations of prejudice -towards the other minorities. Nevertheless, the ordinary run -of anti-Semitic talk contains frequent admissions of jealousy -and fear, and it is safe to say that one must look chiefly to -such emotions, as intensified by the rapid increase of the -Jewish population from 1,500,000 in 1906 to 3,300,000 in -1918, rather than to the heritage of European prejudice, for an -explanation of the growth of anti-Semitism in America. The<span class="pagenum" id="Page_357">357</span> -inclusion of anti-Semitism with the other types of race-prejudice -here under discussion follows naturally enough from -the fact that the Jew is thought of as primarily a Jew, whatever -the country of his origin may have been, while the Slav, -for instance, is popularly regarded as a Russian, a Pole, a Serb—a -<em>national</em> rather than a <em>racial</em> alien.</p> - -<p>Like the Jew, the Oriental has come into the United States -as a “foreigner,” as well as a member of an alien race. The -absence of this special disqualification has not particularly -benefitted the Negro and the Indian, but its presence in the -case of the Japanese has been of considerable service to the -agitators. The prevalent dislike and fear of the new Japan -as a world-power has naturally coloured the attitude of the -American majority toward the Japanese settlers in this country; -but this in itself hardly explains why the Californians, -who were burning Chinamen out of house and home in the -’seventies, are now centring their prejudice upon the Japanese -agriculturist. The fact is that since the passage of the Exclusion -Laws the Chinese population of the United States has -fallen off more than 40 per cent., and the importance of -Chinese competition has decreased accordingly, while on the -other hand the number of Japanese increased 53.9 per cent. -between 1910 and 1920, and the new competitors are showing -themselves more than a match for the white farmers. With a -frankness that neither Negrophobia nor anti-Semitism has -made us familiar with, many of the Californians have rested -their case against the Japanese on an economic foundation, and -have confessed that they are unable to compete with the -Japanese on even terms. As a matter of course, there is the -usual flow of talk about the inferiority of the alien race, but -the fear of competition, here so frankly admitted, would be -enough in itself to account for this new outbreak of “race-prejudice.”</p> - -<p>When one considers thus the course that prejudice has taken -in the case of the Negro, the Indian, the Jew, and the Oriental, -it begins to appear that this sentiment may wax and wane and -change about astonishingly in the presence of racial factors -that remain always the same. Such being the case, one is -led to wonder what the attitude of the native majority would<span class="pagenum" id="Page_358">358</span> -be, if the minorities were recognizable simply as groups, but -<em>not</em> as <em>racial</em> groups. In other words, what would be the -result if the racial factor were reduced simply to recognizability? -The question has a more than speculative interest.</p> - -<div class="tb">* * * * *</div> - -<p>If the causes of race-prejudice lie quite beyond the reach -of any simple explanation, the manifestation of this prejudice -on the part of the American majority are perhaps capable of -an analysis which will render the whole situation somewhat -more comprehensible. By and large, and with all due allowance -for exceptions, it may be said that, in its more familiar -manifestations, race-prejudice takes a direction exactly opposite -to that taken by prejudice against the ordinary immigrant -of European stock; in the former case, a conscious effort is -made to magnify the differences between the majority and the -minority, while in the latter, a vast amount of energy is expended -in the obliteration of these differences. Thus race-prejudice -aspires to preserve and even to increase that degree -of unlikeness which is its excuse for being, while alien-prejudice -works itself out of a job, by “Americanizing” the immigrant -and making him over into an unrecognizable member of the -majority. On one hand, enforced diversity remains as a -source of friction, while on the other, enforced uniformity is -demanded as the price of peace.</p> - -<p>Although no purpose can be served by cataloguing here -all the means employed in the South to keep the black man in -his place, a few examples may be cited, in order to show the -scope of these measures of repression. In the economic field, -there is a pronounced tendency to restrict Negro workers to -the humblest occupations, and in the agricultural areas the -system of peonage or debt-slavery is widely employed for the -purpose of attaching Negro families to the soil. Residence-districts -are regularly segregated, Jim Crow regulations are -everywhere in force, and inter-racial marriages are prohibited -by law in all the States of the South. The administration of -justice is in the hands of white judges and white juries, and -the Negro’s chances in such company are notoriously small. -In nearly one-fourth of the counties of the South, the population -is half, or more than half black, but the denial of the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_359">359</span> -ballot excludes the Negroes from local, State, and national -political activities. In religious organizations, segregation is -the invariable rule. Theatres and even public libraries are -regularly closed to the Negro, and in every State in the South -segregation in schools is prescribed by law. Some idea of -the significance of the latter provision may be drawn from -O. G. Ferguson’s study of white and Negro schools in Virginia. -In this comparatively progressive State, the general -rating of the white schools is 40.8, as against 22.3 for the -coloured schools, the latter figure being seven points lower -than the lowest general rating for any State in the Union.</p> - -<p>Such are some of the legal, extra-legal, and illegal manifestations -of that prejudice which finds its supreme expression in -the activities of the lynching-mob and the Ku Klux Klan. -There is still a considerable annual output of lynchings in this -country (in 1920 the victims numbered sixty-five, of whom fifty -were Negroes done to death in the South), but the casualty-list -for the South and for the country as a whole has decreased -steadily and markedly since 1889, and the proportion of Negro -victims who were accused of rape or attacks on women has also -decreased, from 31.8 per cent. in 1889–1893 to 19.8 per cent. -in 1914–1918.</p> - -<p>On the other hand, the Ku Klux Klan has now re-commenced -its ghost-walking activities under the command of an “Imperial -Wizard” who claims that he has already enlisted 100,000 -followers in the fight to maintain the “God-ordained” pre-eminence -of the Anglo-Saxon race in America. Other statements -from the lips of the Wizard seem to indicate that his -organization is not only anti-African, but anti-Semitic, anti-Catholic, -and anti-Bolshevik as well. Indeed, the bearers of -the fiery cross seem bent upon organizing an all-American hate -society, and the expansion of the Klan in the North is already -under way.</p> - -<p>However, the Klansmen might have succeeded in carrying -the war into the enemy’s country even without adding new -prejudices to their platform. There has always been some -feeling against the Negro in the North, and the war-time migration -of the blacks to Northern industrial centres certainly -has not resulted in any diminution of existing prejudice. The<span class="pagenum" id="Page_360">360</span> -National Urban League estimates that the recent exodus from -Dixie has produced a net increase of a quarter of a million in -the coloured population of twelve cities above the Line. This -movement has brought black and white workers into competition -in many industries where Negroes have hitherto been -entirely unknown, and frequently the relations between the -two groups have been anything but friendly. Since about half -the “internationals” affiliated with the American Federation -of Labour still refuse to accept Negro members, the unions -themselves are in no small part to blame for the use that employers -have made of Negro workers as strike-breakers.</p> - -<p>In twelve Northern and Western States there are laws on the -statute-books prohibiting marriage between whites and blacks. -Jim Crow regulations are not in force north of Maryland, but -in most of the cities there has been a continuous effort to maintain -residential segregation, and the practice of discrimination -in hotels and restaurants is the rule rather than the exception. -Lynchings are infrequent, but the great riots of Washington -and Chicago were not exactly indicative of good feeling between -the races. One situation which revealed a remarkable -similarity of temper between the North and the South was that -which arose in the army during the war. It is notorious that -Northerners in uniform fell in easily with the Southern spirit, -and gave all possible assistance in an energetic Jim-Crowing of -the Negroes of Michigan and the Negroes of Mississippi, from -the first day of their service right through to the last.</p> - -<p>The treatment of the Negro in literature and on the stage -also reveals an unconscious but all the more important -unanimity of opinion. It is true the North has produced no -Thomas Dixons, but it is also true that the gentle and unassuming -Uncle Tom of Northern song and story is none other -than the Uncle Remus whom the South loves so much. In -Boston, as in Baton Rouge, the Negro who is best liked is the -loyal, humble, and not too able mammie or uncle of the good -old days before the war. If an exception be made in the case -of Eugene O’Neill’s “Emperor Jones,” it may be said that -American literature has not yet cast a strong, upstanding black -man for any other rôle than that of beast and villain.</p> - -<p>And yet all these forms of discrimination and repression are<span class="pagenum" id="Page_361">361</span> -not fully expressive of the attitude of the white population. -The people of the South are fully sensible of the necessity -of keeping the Negro in his place; still they do not keep -him from attending school. Educational facilities, of a sort, -are provided, however reluctantly, and in half the States of -the South school attendance is even made compulsory by laws -(which may or may not be enforced). The schooling is not -of a kind that will fit the Negroes for the permanent and contented -occupancy of a servile position. Generally speaking, -the coloured children do not receive a vocational education that -will keep them in their place, but an old-style three-R training -that prepares for nothing but unrest. If unrest leads to -urbanization, the half-hearted education of the Negro perhaps -serves the interests of the new industrialists; but these industrial -employers are so few in number that their influence cannot -outweigh that of the planters who lose their peons, and the -poor whites who find the Negro with one grain of knowledge -a somewhat more dangerous competitor than the Negro with -none. Hence there is every reason to believe that if the white -South had rationalized this situation, the Negro would be as -ruthlessly excluded from the school as he now is from the -ballot-box. In fact, the education of the Negro seems quite -inconsistent with race-prejudice as it is generally preached -and practised in the South.</p> - -<p>In the North there is no discrimination in the schools, and -black children and white are put through the same mill. In -the industrial field, prejudice cannot effectually close to the -Negroes all those openings which are created by general economic -conditions, and in politics the Northern Negro also finds -some outlet for his energies.</p> - -<p>While it would be quite impossible to show that the existence -of these miscellaneous educational, industrial, and political -opportunities is due to any general desire upon the part of the -members of the white majority to minimize the differences between -themselves and the Negroes, it is certainly true that this -desire exists in a limited section of the white population. At -the present time, white friends of the Negro are actively engaged -in efforts to eliminate certain legal and illegal forms of -discrimination and persecution, and are giving financial support<span class="pagenum" id="Page_362">362</span> -to much of the religious work and most of the private -educational institutions among the blacks. The Inter-racial -Committee of the War Work Council of the Y.M.C.A. has -listed thirty-three social and economic agencies, and twenty-three -religious agencies, in which members of both races are -working co-operatively. It must be admitted, however, that -many, if not most, of the white participants in work of this -sort are affected by race-prejudice to the extent that they desire -simply to ameliorate the lowly condition of the Negro, without -altogether doing away with a certain wholesome degree of -racial segregation. For the complete elimination of the flavour -of condescension, one must usually seek out those extreme -socialist and syndicalist agitators who preach political or non-political -class-organization, as a substitute for the familiar -national and racial groupings.</p> - -<p>In the case of the American Indian, the prejudice and self-interest -of the white majority have placed the emphasis on -geographic rather than social segregation. Here the demand -of the whites has been for land rather than for labour, and -by consequence servility has never been regarded as a prime -virtue of Indian character.</p> - -<p>If the early white settlers had so desired, they of course -could have enslaved a considerable portion of the Indian population, -just as the Spaniards did, in regions farther to the -southward. However, the Americans chose to drive the Indians -inland, and to replace them in certain regions with -African tribesmen who in their native state had been perhaps -as war-like as the Indians themselves. Thus in the natural -course of events the African warrior was lost in the slave, while -the Indian chief continued to be the military opponent rather -than the economic servant of exploitation, and eventually -gained romantic interest by virtue of this fact. The nature -of this operation of debasement on one hand, and ennoblement -on the other, is plainly revealed in American literature. -The latter phase of the work is carried forward to-day with -great enthusiasm by the Camp Fire Girls and the Boy Scouts, -whose devotion to the romantic ideal of Indian life is nowhere -paralleled by a similar interest in African tribal lore.</p> - -<p>If the Indian has been glorified by remote admirers, he has<span class="pagenum" id="Page_363">363</span> -also been cordially disliked by some of his nearest neighbours, -and indeed the treatment he has received at the hands of the -Government seems to reflect the latter attitude rather than -the former. In theory, most of the Indian reservations are -still regarded as subject principalities, and the Indians confined -within their boundaries are almost entirely cut off from -the economic, social, and political life of the neighbouring -white communities. Many of the tribes still receive yearly -governmental grants of food, clothing, arms, and ammunition, -but these allowances only serve to maintain them in a condition -of dependence, without providing any means of exit from -it. In justice it should be said, however, that the Government -has declared an intention to make the Indian self-supporting, -and accordingly it restricts the grants, in principle, -to the old and the destitute. Several States have shown their -complete sympathy with the system of segregation by enacting -laws prohibiting the inter-marriage of Indians and whites.</p> - -<p>On the other hand, the mental and moral Americanization of -the red man has been undertaken by Protestant and Catholic -missions, and more recently by Government schools. The -agencies of the latter sort are especially systematic in their -work of depriving the Indian of most of the qualities for which -he has been glorified in romance, as well as those for which -he has been disliked by his neighbours. Many a Western town -enjoys several times each year the spectacle of Indian school-boys -in blue uniforms and Indian school-girls in pigtails and -pinafores, marching in military formation through its streets. -As long as these marchers are destined for a return to the -reservation, the townsmen can afford to look upon them with -mild curiosity. The time for a new adjustment of inter-racial -relations will not come until the procession turns towards the -white man’s job on the farm and in the factory—if it ever -does turn that way.</p> - -<p>Attention has already been called to the fact that the -Jewish immigrant normally marches from the dock directly -to the arena of economic competition. Accordingly his progress -is not likely to be at any time the object of mere curiosity. -On the other hand, the manifestations of prejudice against the -Jew have been less aggressive and much less systematic than<span class="pagenum" id="Page_364">364</span> -those repressive activities which affect the other minorities. -Where anti-Semitism is present in America, it seems to express -itself almost entirely in social discrimination, in the narrow -sense. On the other hand, economic, political, and educational -opportunities are opened to the Jews with a certain -amount of reluctance. A major exception to this rule of discrimination -must be made in the case of those socialists, syndicalists -and trade-unionists who have diligently sought the -support of the Jewish workers.</p> - -<p>The Chinaman has also some friends now among the people -who once regarded him as the blackest of villains. Indeed, -the Californian’s attitude toward the Orientals has in it an -element of unconscious irony which somewhat illuminates the -character of the race-problem. The average Easterner will -perhaps be surprised to learn that in Western eyes the Chinaman -is an inferior, of course, but nevertheless an honest man, -noted for square dealing and the prompt payment of his debts, -while the Jap is a tricky person whom one should never trust -on any account.</p> - -<p>In California the baiting of the Japanese is now almost -as much a part of political electioneering as is the abuse of -the Negro in the South. The Native Sons of the Golden West -and the American Legion have gone on record in determined -opposition to any expansion of Japanese interests in California, -while the Japanese Exclusion League is particularly -active in trouble-making propaganda. Economic discrimination -has taken statutory form in the Alien Land Laws of 1913 -and 1920; discriminatory legislation of the same general type -has been proposed in Texas and Oregon; a bill providing for -educational segregation has been presented for a second time -at Sacramento; Congress has been urged to replace the “gentlemen’s -agreement” with an absolute prohibition of Japanese -immigration; and there is even a demand for a constitutional -amendment which will deny citizenship to the American-born -children of aliens who are themselves ineligible for naturalization. -The method of legislation is perhaps preferable to the -method of force and violence, but if the previous history of -race-prejudice means anything, it means that force will be -resorted to if legislation fails. At bottom, the spirit of the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_365">365</span> -California Land Laws is more than a little like that of a -Georgia lynching; in the one case as in the other, the dominant -race attempts to maintain its position, not by a man-to-man -contest, with fair chances all around, but by depositing -itself bodily and <i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">en masse</i> on top of the subject people and -crushing them.</p> - -<p>If in the realm of individual conduct this sort of behaviour -works injury to the oppressor, as well as to the oppressed, it is -not otherwise where masses of men are concerned. Stephen -Graham, in his recent book, “The Soul of John Brown,” says -that “in America to-day, and especially in the South, there is -a hereditary taint left by slavery, and it is to be observed in -the descendants of the masters as much as in the descendants -of the slaves. It would be a mistake to think of this American -problem as exclusively a Negro problem.” Indeed, it is true -that in every case the race-problem is the problem of the -majority as well as of the minority, for the former can no -more escape the reaction of prejudice than the latter can escape -its direct effects.</p> - -<p>To-day the white South is still under the influence of a system -of life and thought that is far more enduring than the one -institution which gave it most complete expression. The -Emancipation abolished slavery, but it did not rid the master -of the idea that it is his right to live by the labour of the -slave. The black man is not yet relieved of the duty of supporting -a certain proportion of the white population in leisure; -nor does it appear that the leisured Southerner of to-day makes -a better use of his time than his ancestors did before him. -Indeed, an historian who judged the peoples chiefly by their -contribution to science and the arts would still be obliged to -condemn the white South, not for enslaving the Negro, but -for dissipating in the practices of a barren gentility the leisure -that Negro labour created, and still creates, so abundantly. -It is notorious also that in the South the airs of gentility have -been more widely broadcast among the white population than -the leisure necessary for their practice, with the result that -much honest work which could not be imposed upon the -black man has been passed on to posterity, and still remains -undone.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_366">366</span></p> - -<p>Any one who seeks to discover the cause of the mental -lethargy that has converted the leisure of the South so largely -into mere laziness must take some account of a factor that is -always present where race-prejudice exists. The race which -pretends to superiority may not always succeed in superimposing -itself economically upon the inferior group; and yet the -pride and self-satisfaction of the members of the “superior” -race will pretty surely make for indolence and the deadening -of the creative spirit. This will almost inevitably be true where -the superiority of the one race is acknowledged by the other, -and where no contest of wits is necessary for the maintenance -of the <i xml:lang="la" lang="la">status quo</i>. This is the condition that has always obtained, -and still obtains in most of the old slave territory. In -Dixie it is a career simply to go through life inside of a -white skin. However ignorant and worthless the white man -may be, it is still his privilege to proclaim on any street corner -that he is in all respects a finer creature than any one of several -million human beings whom he classes all together as -“good-for-nothin’ niggers.” If the mere statement of this -fact is not enough to bring warm applause from all the blacks -in the neighbourhood, the white man is often more than willing -to use fire and sword to demonstrate a superiority which -he seldom stoops to prove in any other fashion. Naturally this -feeling of God-given primacy tends to make its possessors indolent, -immune to new ideas of every sort, and quite willing -to apply “the short way with the nigger” to any one who -threatens the established order of the universe.</p> - -<p>It would be foolish indeed to suppose that the general intolerance, -bigotry, and backwardness which grow out of race-prejudice -have affected the South alone. The North and the -West have their prejudices too, their consciousness of a full-blooded -American superiority that does not have to be proved, -their lazy-mindedness, their righteous anger, their own short -way with what is new and strange. No sane man will attribute -the origin of all these evils to race-prejudice alone, but no -honest man will deny that the practice of discrimination against -the racial minorities has helped to infect the whole life and -thought of the country with a cocky and stupefying provincialism.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_367">367</span></p> - -<p>Perhaps the most interesting phase of the whole racial situation -in America is the attitude which the minorities themselves -have maintained in the presence of a dominant prejudice which -has constantly emphasized and magnified the differences between -the minorities and majority, and has even maintained -the spirit of condescension, and the principle of segregation -in such assimilative activities as education and Christian mission -work. One would naturally expect that such an attitude -on the part of the majority would stimulate a counter race-prejudice -in each of the minorities, which would render them -also intent upon the maintenance of differentiation.</p> - -<p>Although such a counter prejudice has existed from the beginning -among the Indians, the Jews, and the Asiatics, it is -only now beginning to take form among the Negroes. The -conditions of the contact between the black minority and the -white majority have thus been substantially different from -those which existed in the other cases, and the results of this -contact seem to justify the statement that, so long as it remains -<em>one-sided</em>, the strongest race-prejudice cannot prevent the cultural -and even the biological assimilation of one race to another. -In other words, prejudice defeats itself, in a measure, -just so long as one of the parties accepts an inferior position; -in fact, it becomes fully effective only when the despised group -denies its own inferiority, and throws the reproach back upon -those with whom it originated. Thus the new racial self-consciousness -of a small section of the Negro population gives -the prejudiced whites a full measure of the differentiation they -desire, coupled with an absolute denial of the inferiority which -is supposed to justify segregation.</p> - -<p>It has already been pointed out that the enslavement of -the Negroes deprived them of practically everything to which -racial pride might attach itself, and left them with no foundation -of their own on which to build. Thus they could make -no advances of any sort except in so far as they were permitted -to assimilate the culture of the white man. In the natural -course of events, the adoption of the English language came -first, and then shortly the Negro was granted such a share -in the white man’s heaven as he has never yet received of the -white man’s earth. As the only available means of self-expression,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_368">368</span> -religion took a tremendous hold upon the slaves, -and from that day to this, the black South has wailed its heart -out in appeals to the white man’s God for deliverance from the -white man’s burden. The Negro “spirituals” are not the -songs of African tribesmen, the chants of free warriors. Indeed, -the white man may claim full credit for the sadness that -darkens the Negro’s music, and put such words as these into -the mouth of the Lord:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Go down, Moses,</div> - <div class="verse indent4">Way down in Egyp’ lan’</div> - <div class="verse indent8">Tell ole Pharaoh</div> - <div class="verse indent8">Le’ ma people go!</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Israel was in Egyp’ lan’</div> - <div class="verse indent4">Oppres’ so hard dey could not stan’,</div> - <div class="verse indent8">Le’ ma people go!</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>When casual observers say that the black man is naturally -more religious than the white, they lose sight of the fact that -the number of church-members per thousand individuals in the -Negro population is about the same as the average for the -United States as a whole; and they forget also the more important -fact that the Negro has never had all he wanted of -anything except religion—and in segregated churches at that. -It is more true of the black men than of Engel’s proletarians, -that they have been put off for a very long time with checks -on the bank of Heaven.</p> - -<p>Emancipation and the Fourteenth Amendment seemed to -open the path to an earthly paradise; but this vision was soon -eclipsed by a second Civil War that resulted in a substantial -victory for the white South. Economic repression could not -be made entirely effective, however, and in the fifty-three years -from 1866 to 1919 the number of American Negro homeowners -increased from 12,000 to 600,000 and the number of -Negroes operating farms from 20,000 to 1,000,000. In 1910 -the Negro population still remained 72.6 per cent. rural, but -the cityward movement of the blacks during the years 1890 -to 1910 was more rapid than that of the whites. Education has -directly facilitated economic progress, and has resulted in an -increase of literacy among the Negroes from ten per cent. in -1866 to eighty per cent. in 1919. During the period 1900 to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_369">369</span> -1910, the <em>rate</em> of increase of literacy among the blacks was -much more rapid than that among the whites. Thus from the -day he was cut off from his own inheritance, the American -Negro has reached out eagerly for an alien substitute, until -to-day, in practically everything that has to do with culture, -he is not black but white—and artificially retarded.</p> - -<p>Since America has deprived the Negro of the opportunity to -grow up as an African, and at the same time has denied him -the right to grow up as a white man, it is not surprising that -a few daring spirits among the Negroes have been driven at -last to the conclusion that there is no hope for their race -except in an exodus from the white man’s culture and the -white man’s continent. The war did a great deal to prepare -the way for this new movement; the Negroes of America heard -much talk of democracy not meant for their ears; their list -of wrongs was lengthened, but at the same time their economic -power increased; and many of them learned for the first time -what it meant to fight back. Some of them armed themselves, -and began to talk of taking two lives for one when the lynching-mob -came. Then trouble broke in Chicago and Washington—and -the casualties were not all of one sort. Out of this welter -of unrest and rebellion new voices arose, some of them calling -upon the Negro workers to join forces with their white -brothers; some fierce and vengeful, as bitterly denunciatory -of socialism and syndicalism as of everything else that had -felt the touch of the white man’s hand; some intoxicated, -ecstatic with a new religion, preaching the glory of the black -race and the hope of the black exodus.</p> - -<p>With much travail, there finally came forth, as an embodiment -of the extreme of race-consciousness, an organization -called the Universal Negro Improvement Association and African -Communities League. This clan lays claim to a million -members in the United States, the West Indies, South America -and South Africa, and announces as its final object the establishment -of a black empire in Africa. Connected with the -U.N.I.A. are the Black Star Line, capitalized at $10,000,000, -and the Negro Factories Corporation, capitalized at $2,000,000. -Just what these astonishing figures mean in actual cash it is -impossible to say, but this much is certain: the Black Star Line<span class="pagenum" id="Page_370">370</span> -already owns three of the many vessels which—say the -prophets of the movement—will some day ply among the Negro -lands of the world.</p> - -<p>To cap the climax, the U.N.I.A. held in New York City -during the month of August, 1920, “the first International -Negro Convention,” which drew up a Negro Declaration of -Independence, adopted a national flag and a national anthem, -and elected “a Provisional President of Africa, a leader for -the American Negroes, and two leaders for the Negroes of -the West Indies, Central and South America.”</p> - -<p>The best testimony of the nature of this new movement is -to be found in an astonishing pamphlet called the “Universal -Negro Catechism,” and issued “by authority of the High -Executive Council of the Universal Negro Improvement Association.” -In this catechism one discovers such items as the -following, under the head of “Religious Knowledge”:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>Q. Did God make any group or race of men superior to another?</p> - -<p>A. No; He created all races equal, and of one blood, to dwell on all -the face of the earth.</p> - -<div class="tb">* * * * *</div> - -<p>Q. What is the colour of God?</p> - -<p>A. A spirit has neither colour, nor other natural parts, nor qualities.</p> - -<div class="tb">* * * * *</div> - -<p>Q. If ... you had to think or speak of the colour of God, how -would you describe it?</p> - -<p>A. As black; since we are created in His image and likeness.</p> - -<div class="tb">* * * * *</div> - -<p>Q. What did Jesus Christ teach as the essential principle of true -religion?</p> - -<p>A. The universal brotherhood of man growing out of the universal -Fatherhood of God.</p> - -<div class="tb">* * * * *</div> - -<p>Q. Who is responsible for the colour of the Ethiopians?</p> - -<p>A. The Creator; and what He has done cannot be changed. Read -Jeremiah 13:23.</p> - -<div class="tb">* * * * *</div> - -<p>Q. What prediction made in the 68th Psalm and the 31st Verse is -now being fulfilled?</p> - -<p>A. “Princes shall come out of Egypt, Ethiopia shall soon stretch -out her hands unto God.”</p> - -<div class="tb">* * * * *</div> - -<p>Q. What does this verse prove?</p> - -<p>A. That Negroes will set up their own government in Africa with -rulers of their own race.</p> - -<div class="tb">* * * * *</div> - -<p>Q. Will Negroes ever be given equal opportunity and treatment in -countries ruled by white men?</p> - -<p>A. No; they will enjoy the full rights of manhood and liberty only -when they establish their own nation and government in Africa.</p> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_371">371</span></p> - -<p>Perhaps enough has already been said to make it clear that -there exists in America no distinctive black culture which could -spontaneously give rise to such a movement as this. Culturally -the black man is American; biologically he is African. -It is solely and entirely the prejudice of the American majority -that has forced this group of Negroes to attempt to reconstruct -a cultural and sentimental connection that was destroyed -long ago. The task which faces the leaders of the new movement -is one of almost insurmountable difficulty, for in spite -of every sort of persecution, the general life and thought of -America are still far more easily accessible to the Negro than -is anything distinctively his own.</p> - -<p>The cultural shipwreck of the Negro on the American shore -has thus placed him more completely at the mercy of the -majority than the other minorities have ever been. In the -case of the Indians, the Jews, and the Orientals, the race-name -has not stood simply for an incomplete Americanism, but for -a positive cultural quality which has persisted in the face of -all misfortune. These races were provisioned, so to speak, for -a long siege, while the Negro had no choice but to eat out of -the white man’s hand, or starve.</p> - -<p>The reservation-system has reduced many of the Indian -tribes to a state of economic dependence, but it has also helped -to preserve their cultural autonomy. In most cases the isolated -communities on the reservations are distinctly Indian -communities. The non-material inheritance of the past has -come down to the present generation in a fairly complete form, -with the result that the Indian of to-day may usually take his -choice between Indian culture and white. Under these conditions -the labours of missionaries and educators have not been -phenomenally successful, as is witnessed by the fact that the -number of Protestant Christians per thousand Indians is still -only about one-seventh as large as that for the Negroes, while -the percentage of illiterates is much larger among the Indians. -However, school attendance is increasing at a more rapid rate -than among the whites, and the prospect is that the Government -schools will eventually deprive the country of all that is -attractive in Indian life.</p> - -<p>Toward the close of the 19th century, the Indian’s resentment<span class="pagenum" id="Page_372">372</span> -of the white man’s overbearing actions found expression -in a religious movement which originated in Nevada and spread -eastward till it numbered among its adherents nearly all the -natives between the Rocky Mountains and the Missouri River. -This messianic faith bore the name of a ceremonial connected -with it, the Ghost Dance, and was based upon a divine revelation -which promised the complete restoration of the Indian’s -inheritance. Such doctrines have, of course, been preached in -many forms and in many lands, but it is no great compliment -to the amiability of American civilization that the gospel of -deliverance has found so many followers among the Negroes, -the Indians, and the Jews who dwell within the borders of the -country.</p> - -<p>It does not seem likely that the Zionist version of this gospel -will produce any general exodus of the last-named minority -from this country, for in spite of prejudice, the Jews have been -able to make a large place for themselves in the United States. -Since the movements of the Jews have not been systematically -restricted, as those of the Negroes and the Indians have -been, the great concentration of the Jewish population in the -cities of the East would seem to be due in large measure to the -choice of the Jews themselves. At the present time they dominate -the clothing industry, the management of the theatre, and -the production of motion-pictures. Approximately one-tenth -of the trade-unionists in the United States are Jews, and the -adherence of a considerable number of Jews to the doctrines -of socialism and syndicalism has unquestionably been one of -the causes of prejudice against the race.</p> - -<p>In matters that pertain more directly to the intellectual life, -the Jews have exhibited every degree of eagerness for, and -opposition to, assimilation. There are among them many -schools for the teaching of the Hebrew language, and some -other schools—private and expensive ones—in which only non-Jewish, -“all-American” teachers are employed. Of the -seventy-eight Jewish periodicals published in the United States, -forty-eight are printed in English. In every Jewish centre, -Yiddish theatres have been established for the amusement of -the people; but Jewish managers, producers, actors, and playwrights -have also had a large part in the general dramatic<span class="pagenum" id="Page_373">373</span> -activities of the country. Finally, in the matter of religion, -the response of the Jews to Christian missionary work has -been very slight indeed, while, on the other hand, the number -of synagogue-members per thousand Jews is only about one-fourth -the general average of religious affiliation for the United -States as a whole. When one considers the fact that in some -fields the Jews have thus made advances in spite of opposition, -while in others they have refused opportunities offered to them, -it seems at least probable that the incompleteness of their -cultural assimilation is due as much to their own racial pride -as to the prejudice of the majority.</p> - -<p>Similarly in the case of the Orientals, the pride and self-sufficiency -of the minority has helped to preserve for it a measure -of cultural autonomy. In the absence of such a disposition -on the part of the Chinese, it would be difficult to account for -the fact that their native costume has not disappeared during -the thirty-nine years since the stoppage of immigration. San -Francisco’s Chinatown still remains very markedly Chinese -in dress largely because the Chinese themselves have chosen -to keep it so. The Japanese have taken much more kindly to -the conventional American costume, but one is hardly justified -in inferring from this that they are more desirous for general -assimilation. Indeed, one would expect the opposite to be -the case, for most of the Japanese in America had felt the -impress of the nationalistic revival in Japan before their departure -from that country. In a measure this accounts for the -fact that Japanese settlers have established a number of Buddhist -temples and Japanese-language schools in the United -States. However, figures furnished by the “Joint Committee -on Foreign Language Publications,” which represents a number -of Evangelical denominations, seem to indicate that the -Japanese in the United States are much more easily Christianized -than the Chinese, and are even less attached to Buddhism -than are the Jews to their native faith. In the nature of -things, the domestic practice of Shinto-worship among the -Japanese is incapable of statistical treatment.</p> - -<p>Thus the combination of all the internal and external forces -that affect the racial minorities in America has produced a -partial, but by no means a complete, remodelling of minority-life<span class="pagenum" id="Page_374">374</span> -in accordance with standards set by the majority. Prejudice -and counter-prejudice have not prevented this change, -and there is no accounting for the condition of the American -minorities to-day without due attention to the positive factor -of cultural assimilation, as well as to the negative factor of -prejudice.</p> - -<div class="tb">* * * * *</div> - -<p>Since it has already been implied that a greater or less assimilation -by the minorities of the culture of the majority is -inevitable, it is apparent that the relation of this assimilative -change to the biological fusion of the groups is a matter of -ultimate and absolute importance. Wherever friction exists -between racial groups, the mere mention of biological fusion is -likely to stir up so much fire and smoke that all facts are -completely lost to sight; and yet it is quite obvious that the -forces of attraction and repulsion which play upon the several -races in America have produced biological as well as cultural -results.</p> - -<p>The mulatto population of the United States is the physical -embodiment of a one-sided race-prejudice. By law, by custom, -even by the visitation of sudden and violent death, the -master-class of the South expresses a disapproval of relations -between white women and coloured men, which does not apply -in any forcible way to similar relations between white men -and coloured women. The white male is in fact the go-between -for the races. The Negroes have not the power, -and sometimes not even the will, to protect themselves against -his advances, and the result is that illegitimate mulatto children -in great numbers are born of Negro mothers and left to -share the lot of the coloured race.</p> - -<p>If the infusion of white blood were stopped entirely, the -proportion of mulattoes in the Negro race would nevertheless -go on increasing, since the children of a mulatto are usually -mulattoes, whether the other parent be mulatto or black. -There is, however, no reason for supposing that under such -conditions the proportion of mulattoes to blacks would increase -<em>more</em> rapidly in one geographic area than in another. The -fact is that during the period 1890 to 1910 the number of -mulattoes per 1,000 blacks <em>decreased</em> in the North from 390<span class="pagenum" id="Page_375">375</span> -to 363, and <em>increased</em> in the South from 159 to 252; the inference -as to white parenthood is obvious. During the same -period the black population of the entire United States increased -22.7 per cent., while the mulatto population increased -81.1 per cent. The mulatto group is thus growing far more -rapidly than either the black or the white, and the male white -population of the South is largely responsible for the present -expansion of this class, as well as for its historical origin.</p> - -<p>Thus the South couples a maximum of repression with a -maximum of racial intermixture; indeed, the one is naturally -and intimately associated with the other. The white population -as a whole employs all manner of devices to keep the -Negro in the social and economic status most favourable to -sexual promiscuity, and aggressive white males take full advantage -of the situation thus created.</p> - -<p>While it is not generally admitted in the South that the progressive -whitening of the black race is a natural result of the -maintenance of a system of slavery and subjection, the converse -of this proposition is stated and defended with all possible -ardour. That is to say, it is argued that any general improvement -in the condition of the Negro will increase the likelihood -of racial intermixture on a higher level, through inter-marriage. -The Southerners who put forth this argument know very well -that inter-marriage is not likely to take place in the presence -of strong race-prejudice, and they know, too, that the Negro -who most arouses their animosity is the “improved” Negro -who will not keep his place. They are unwilling to admit -that this increase in prejudice is due largely, if not wholly, -to the greater competitive strength of the improved Negro; -and likewise they prefer to disregard the fact that such a Negro -resents white prejudice keenly, and tends to exhibit on his own -part a counter prejudice which in itself acts as an additional -obstacle to inter-marriage.</p> - -<p>In the absence of such factors as Negro self-consciousness -and inter-racial competition, it would be difficult to account for -the extreme rarity of marriages between blacks and whites in -the Northern States. No comprehensive study of this subject -has been made, but an investigation conducted by Julius -Drachsler has shown that of all the marriages contracted by<span class="pagenum" id="Page_376">376</span> -Negroes in New York City during the years 1908 to 1912, only -0.93 per cent. were mixed. The same investigation revealed -the fact that Negro men contracted mixed marriages about four -times as frequently as Negro women.</p> - -<p>Marriages between whites and Indians have not been so -vigorously condemned by the American majority as those -between whites and Negroes, and the presumption is that the -former have been much more frequent. However, it appears -that no systematic investigation of Indian mixed marriages -has been made, and certainly no census previous to that of -1910 gives any data of value on the subject of mixed blood -among the Indians. The enumeration of 1910 showed that -56.5 per cent. of the Indians were full-blooded, 35.2 per cent. -were of mixed blood, and 8.4 per cent. were unclassified. Although -it is impossible to fix the responsibility as definitely -here as in the case of the Negro, it is obvious that an infusion -of white blood half again as great as that among the Negroes -cannot be accounted for in any large part by racial inter-marriages. -Without question, it is chiefly due to the same -sort of promiscuity that has been so common in the South, and -the present and potential checks upon the process of infusion -are similar to those already discussed.</p> - -<p>In the case of the Jews and the Asiatics, it seems that the -only figures available are those gathered by Drachsler. He -found that only 1.17 per cent. of the marriages contracted -by Jews in New York City during the years 1908 to 1912 were -classifiable as “mixed,” while the corresponding percentages -for the Chinese and the Japanese were 55.56 and 72.41 -respectively. The largeness of the figures in the case of Orientals -is accounted for in part by the fact that there are comparatively -few women of Mongolian race in New York City. -Besides this, it must be remembered that, whatever the degree -of their cultural assimilation, the Chinese and Japanese residents -of the metropolis are not sufficiently numerous to form -important competitive groups, while the Jews constitute one-quarter -of the entire population of the city. Does any one -doubt that the situation in regard to mixed marriages would be -partially reversed in San Francisco?</p> - -<p>When due allowance is made for special conditions,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_377">377</span> -Drachsler’s figures do not seem to run contrary to the general -proposition that an improvement in the economic and social -condition of one of the minorities, and a partial or complete -adoption by the minority of the culture of the majority, does -not necessarily prepare the way for racial fusion, but seems to -produce exactly the opposite effect by increasing the competitive -power of the minority, the majority’s fear of its rivals, and -the prejudice of each against the other.</p> - -<p>In spite of all that prejudice can do to prevent it, the economic, -social, and intellectual condition of the minorities is -becoming increasingly like that of the majority; and yet it is -not to be expected that as long as the minorities remain physically -recognizable this change will result in the elimination of -prejudice, nor is it likely that the cultural assimilation which -checks the process of racial intermixture through promiscuous -intercourse will result automatically in intermixture on a higher -level, and the consequent disappearance of the recognizability -of the minorities. Prejudice does not altogether prevent cultural -assimilation; cultural assimilation increases competitive -strength without eliminating recognizability; competitive -strength <em>plus</em> recognizability produces more prejudice; and so -on ... and so on.... Thus it seems probable that race-prejudice -will persist in America as long as the general economic, -social, political, and intellectual system which has nurtured -it endures. No direct attack upon the race-problem, as -such, can alter this system in any essential way.</p> - -<p>Is this conception sound, or not? It stands very high upon -a slim scaffolding of facts, put together in pure contrariness -after it had been stated that no adequate foundation for such -a structure could be found anywhere. But, after all, it is no -great matter what happens to the notion that race-prejudice -can be remedied only incidentally. If the conditions which -surround race-prejudice are only studied comparatively, this -notion and others like it will get all the attention they deserve.</p> - -<h3><i>RACE PROBLEMS</i></h3> - -<p>(The answers are merely by way of suggestion, but the questions -may prove to be worthy of serious attention.)</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_378">378</span></p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>Q. Has the inherent inferiority of any human race been established -by historical, biological or psychological evidence?</p> - -<p>A. No.</p> - -<div class="tb">* * * * *</div> - -<p>Q. Does the theory of the inequality of human races offer a satisfactory -explanation of the existence of race-prejudice?</p> - -<p>A. No.</p> - -<div class="tb">* * * * *</div> - -<p>Q. Do physical characteristics make the members of the several -races recognizable?</p> - -<p>A. Yes.</p> - -<div class="tb">* * * * *</div> - -<p>Q. Is race-prejudice inherent and inevitable, in the sense that it -always exists where two recognizably different races are in contact?</p> - -<p>A. No.</p> - -<div class="tb">* * * * *</div> - -<p>Q. How does it happen that in the presence of <em>racial</em> factors which -remain constant, race-prejudice exists in some localities, and is absent -in others?</p> - -<p>A. No satisfactory explanation of these local variations in inter-racial -feeling has yet been given; however, the existence of the variations -themselves would seem to indicate that the primary causes of race-prejudice -are <em>not racial</em> but <em>regional</em>.</p> - -<div class="tb">* * * * *</div> - -<p>Q. What study will lead most directly to an understanding of race-prejudice—that -of universal racial differences, or that of regional environmental -differences which are associated with the existence and non-existence -of racial prejudice?</p> - -<p>A. The latter.</p> - -<div class="tb">* * * * *</div> - -<p>Q. Does the systematic study of regional environmental differences in -the United States, in their relation to race-prejudice, yield any results -of importance?</p> - -<p>A. No such systematic study has ever been made; a casual glance -seems to reveal an interesting coincidence between race-prejudice and the -fear of competition.</p> - -<div class="tb">* * * * *</div> - -<p>Q. Is competition more likely to produce race-prejudice in the -United States than elsewhere?</p> - -<p>A. Because of the general preoccupation of the American people with -material affairs, <em>economic</em> competition is likely to produce unusually -sharp antagonisms.</p> - -<div class="tb">* * * * *</div> - -<p>Q. Does the coincidence between race-prejudice and the fear of competition -offer a complete explanation of the existence and strength of -race-prejudice in the United States?</p> - -<p>A. No; no such claim has been advanced.</p> - -<div class="tb">* * * * *</div> - -<p>Q. Is the assimilation by the minorities of the culture of the majority -taking place continuously, in spite of the prejudice of the majority and -the counter-prejudice of three of the minorities?</p> - -<p>A. Yes.</p> - -<div class="tb">* * * * *</div> - -<p>Q. Does this cultural assimilation make for better inter-racial feeling?</p> - -<p>A. Probably not, because as long as physical race-differences remain, -cultural assimilation increases the strength of the minority as a <em>recognizable</em> -competitive group, and hence it also increases the keenness of the -rivalry between the minorities and the majority.</p> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_379">379</span> -<p>Q. How can the recognizability of the minorities be eliminated?</p> - -<p>A. By blood-fusion with the majority.</p> - -<p>Q. How can blood-fusion come about if cultural assimilation increases -rivalry and prejudice?</p> - -<p>A. ............................... .</p> - -<p>Q. Is it then true that, as things stand, the future of inter-racial -relations in the United States depends upon the ratio between cultural -assimilation, which seems inevitable, and biological assimilation, which -seems unlikely?</p> - -<p>A. It so appears.</p> - -<p>Q. Does the race-problem in the United States then seem practically -insoluble as a separate problem?</p> - -<p>A. It does.</p> - -<p>Q. Has the race-problem ever been solved anywhere by direct attack -upon it as a <em>race</em> problem?</p> - -<p>A. Probably not.</p> - -<p>Q. Does not this conclusion involve a return to the assumption that -race-prejudice is inevitable wherever race-differences exist; and has this -not been emphatically denied?</p> - -<p>A. On the contrary, the implication is that race-prejudice is inevitable -where <em>race-prejudice</em> exists. The conclusion in regard to the United -States is based on the single assumption that the <em>non-racial</em> conditions -under which race-prejudice has arisen will remain practically unchanged.</p> - -<p>Q. Is it then conceivable that a complete alteration of non-racial -conditions—as, for instance, an economic revolution which would change -the whole meaning of the word “competition”—might entirely revise the -terms of the problem?</p> - -<p>A. It is barely conceivable—but this paper is not an accepted channel -for divine revelation.</p> -</div> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_380">380</span></p> -<p class="right"> -<span class="smcap">Geroid Tanquary Robinson</span> -</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div id="toclink_381" class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_381">381</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="ADVERTISING">ADVERTISING</h2> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap b"><span class="smcap1">Do</span> I understand you to say that you do not believe in advertising? -Indeed! Soon you will be telling me that you -do not believe in God. Though, to be sure, in so doing you -would be committing less of a crime against the tenets of modern -American civilization than in doubting the existence of a -power so great that overnight it can raise up in our midst gods, -kings, and other potentates, creating a world which for splendour -and opulence far surpasses our own poor mortal sphere—a -world in which every prospect pleases and only the reluctant -spender is vile.</p> - -<p>True, we can only catch a fleeting glimpse of its many marvels. -True, we have scarcely time to admire a millionth part -of the joys and magnificence of one before a new and greatly -improved universe floats across the horizon, and, from every -corner news-stand, smilingly bids us enter its portals. True, -I repeat, our inability to grasp or appreciate the full wonder -of these constantly arriving creations, yet even the narrow -limitations of our savage and untutored minds can hardly -prevent us from acclaiming a miracle we fail to understand.</p> - -<p>If it were only given me to live the life led by any one of -the fortunate creatures that dwell in these advertising worlds, -I should gladly renounce my home, my wife, and my evil ways -and become the super-snob of a mock creation. All day long -should I stand smartly clad in a perfectly fitting union-suit just -for the sport of keeping my obsequious butler waiting painfully -for me with my lounging-gown over his exhausted arm. On -other days I should be found sitting in mute adoration before -a bulging bowl of breakfast food, and, if any one should chance -to be listening at the keyhole, they might even catch me in the -act of repeating reverently and with an avid smile on my lips, -“I can never stir from the table until I have completely -crammed myself with Red-Blooded American Shucks,” adding -in a mysterious whisper, “To be had at all good grocers.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_382">382</span></p> - -<p>There would be other days of course, days when I should -ride in a motor of unrivalled power with companions of unrivalled -beauty, across canyons of unrivalled depth and mountains -of unrivalled height. Then would follow still other days, -the most perfect days of all, days when the snow-sheathed earth -cracks in the clutches of an appalling winter and only the lower -classes stir abroad. This would be the time that I should -select for removing the lounging gown from my butler’s arm -and bask in the glowing warmth of my perfect heater, with my -chair placed in such a position as to enable me to observe the -miserable plight of my neighbours across the way as they strive -pitifully to keep life in their bodies over the dying embers of -an anæmic fire. The sight of the sobbing baby and haggard -mother would only serve to intensify my satisfaction in having -been so fortunate and far-sighted as to have possessed myself of -a Kill Kold Liquid Heat Projector—That Keeps the Family -Snug.</p> - -<p>What days I should spend! Take the literary days, for -instance. Could anything be more edifying than to dip discriminatingly -into a six-inch bookshelf with the absolute assurance -that a few minutes spent thus each day in dipping would, -in due course of time, give me complete mastery of all the best -literature of the world—and incidentally gain for me a substantial -raise at the office? Nor could any of the literature -of the past ages equal my hidden library of books containing -Vital Secrets. In this room there would linger a never-failing -thrill. Here I should retreat to learn the secret of success, -the secret of salesmanship, the secret of vigour, the secret of -bull-dozing one’s boss, the secret of spell-binding, the secret of -personality and social charm, all bearing a material value measured -in dollars and cents. In time I should so seethe with -secrets that, unable to bear them any longer, I should break -down before my friends and give the whole game away.</p> - -<p>But why should I lacerate my heart in the contemplation of -happiness I shall never experience? Why should I dwell upon -the pipe-filling days, or the days when I should send for samples? -Why torture my mind with those exquisitely tailored -days when, with a tennis racket in one hand and a varsity crew -captain on my shoulder, I should parade across the good old<span class="pagenum" id="Page_383">383</span> -campus in a suit bereft of wrinkles and a hat that destroyed -the last shreds of restraint in all beholding women? No, I -can go no further.</p> - -<p>For when I consider the remarkable characters that so -charmingly infest my paradise never found, I cannot help asking -myself, “How do they get that way?” How do the men’s -legs grow so slim and long and their chins so smooth and -square? Why have the women always such perfect limbs and -such innocent but alluring smiles? Why are families always -happy and children always good? What miracle has banished -the petty irritations and deficiencies of life and smoothed out -the problems of living? How and why—is there an answer? -Can it all be laid at the door of advertising, or do we who -read, the great, sweltering mass of us, insist upon such things -and demand a world of artificial glamour and perfectly impossible -people? The crime is committed by collusion, I am -forced to conclude. Advertising, for the most part, makes -its appeal to all that is superficial and snobbish in us, and we -as a solid phalanx are only too glad to be appealed to in such -a manner.</p> - -<p>In only the most unscholarly way can I lay my reflections -before you, and the first one is this: advertising is America’s -crudest and most ruthless sport, religion, or profession, or -whatever you choose to call it. With an accurate stroke, but -with a perverted intent, it coddles and toys with all that is base -and gross in our physical and spiritual compositions. The -comforts and happiness it holds out to the reader are for ever -contrasted with the misery and misfortune of another. Thus, -if I ride in a certain make of motor, I have the satisfaction -of knowing that every one who rides in a motor of another -make is of a lower caste than myself and will certainly eat dust -for the rest of his life. There is a real joy in this knowledge. -Again, if I wear a certain advertised brand of underwear, I -have the pleasure of knowing that my fellow-men not so fortunately -clad are undoubtedly foolish swine who will eventually -die of sunstroke, after a life devoted entirely to sweating. -Here, too, is a joy of rare order. If I brush my teeth with -an advertised tooth paste, my satisfaction is enhanced by the -knowledge that all other persons who fail to use this particular<span class="pagenum" id="Page_384">384</span> -paste will in a very short time lose all of their teeth. In this -there is a savage, but authentic delight. Even if I select a -certain classic from my cherished six-inch bookshelf, I shall -have a buoyant feeling in knowing that all men, who, after the -fatigue of the day, take comfort in the latest murder or ball-game, -are of inferior intellect and will never succeed in the -world of business.</p> - -<p>This is one of the most successful weapons used in advertising, -and there is no denying that a great majority of people -take pleasure in being struck by it. It is a pleasure drawn -from the same source that feeds so many people’s sense of satisfaction -when they attend a funeral, or call on a sick friend, -or a friend in misfortune and disgrace. It was the same source -of inner satisfaction which made it possible for many loyal -citizens to bear not only with fortitude, but with bliss, the sorrows -of the late war. It is the instinct of self-preservation, -toned down to a spirit of complacent self-congratulation, and -it responds most readily to the appeal of selfishness and snobbery. -Advertising did not create this instinct, nor did it discover -it, but advertising uses it for its own ends. Who is to -blame, the reader or the advertiser, hardly enters in at this -point. The solid fact to take into consideration is that day -in and day out the susceptible public is being worked upon in -an unhealthy and neurotic manner which cannot fail to effect -harmful results.</p> - -<p>At this tragic moment I purpose briefly to digress to the -people who create advertisements, before returning to a consideration -of the effects of their creations.</p> - -<p>To begin with, let it never be forgotten that advertising is -a red-blooded, two-fisted occupation, engaged in for the most -part by upstanding Americans of the kiss-the-flag or knock-’em-down-and-drag-’em-out -variety. Yet years of contact with -the profession compel me for the sake of truth to temper this -remark by adding that it also contains, or rather confines, -within its mystic circle a group of reluctant and recalcitrant -“creatures that once were men,” who, moving through a phantasmagoria -of perverted idealism, flabby optimism, and unexamined -motives, either deaden their conscience in the twilight -of the “Ad. Men’s Club,” or else become so blindly embittered<span class="pagenum" id="Page_385">385</span> -or debauched that their usefulness is lost to all constructive -movements.</p> - -<p>Generally speaking, however, advertising is the graveyard -of literary aspiration in which the spirits of the defeated aspirants, -wielding a momentary power over a public that rejected -their efforts, blackjack it into buying the most amazing -assortment of purely useless and cheaply manufactured commodities -that has ever marked the decline of culture and common -sense. These men are either caught early after their -flight from college, or else recruited from the newspaper world. -Some—the most serious and determined—are products of correspondence -schools. Others are merely robust spirits whose -daily contact with their fellow-men does not give them sufficient -opportunity to disgorge themselves of the abundance of -misinformation that their imaginations manufacture in wholesale -quantities. This advertising brotherhood is composed of -a heterogeneous mass of humanity that is rapidly converted -into a narrow-minded wedge of fanatics. And this wedge is -continually boring into the pocketbook of the public and extracting -therefrom a goodly quantity of gold and silver. Have -you ever conversed with one of the more successful and important -members of this vast body? If so have you been able -to quit the conversation with an intelligent impression of its -subject-matter? For example: do you happen to know what -a visualizer is? If not, you would be completely at the mercy -of a true advertising exponent. Returning to my Edisonian -method of attack, do you happen to know by any chance what -a rough-out man is, or what is the meaning of dealer mortality, -quality appeal, class circulation, or institutional copy? Probably -not, for there is at bottom very little meaning to them; -nevertheless, they are terms that are sacred to a great number -of advertising men, and which, if unknown, would render -all intelligent communication with them quite impossible.</p> - -<p>If you should ever attend a session of these gentlemen in full -cry—and may God spare you this—you would return from it -with the impression that all was not well with the world. You -would have heard speeches on the idealism of meat-packing, -and other kindred subjects. The idealism would be transmitted -to you through the medium of a hireling of some large<span class="pagenum" id="Page_386">386</span> -packing organization, a live-wire, God-bless-you, hail-fellow -type. Assuming that you had been there, you would have witnessed -this large fellow with a virile exhalation of cigar-smoke, -heave himself from his chair; you would have observed a good-natured -smile play across his lips, and then you would have -suddenly been taken aback by the tenderly earnest and masterfully -restrained expression that transformed our buffoon into -a suffering martyr, as, flinging out his arms, he tragically exclaimed, -“Gentlemen, you little know the soul of the man who -has given the Dreadnought Ham to the world!” From this -moment on your sense of guilt would have increased by leaps -and bounds until at last you would have broken down completely -and agreed with everything the prophet said, as long -as he refrained from depriving you of an opportunity to make -it up to the god-like man who gave Dreadnought Hams to the -world.</p> - -<p>The orator would go on to tell you about the happiness -and sunlight that flood the slaughter-house in which Dreadnought -Hams are made. You would hear about the lovely, -whimsical old character, who, one day, when in the act of -polishing off a pig, stood in a position of suspended animation -with knife poised above the twitching ear of the unfortunate -swine, and seizing the hand of the owner as he -passed benevolently by, kissed it fervently and left on it a -tear of gratitude. Perhaps you would not hear that in the -ardour of loyal zeal this lovable old person practically cut the -pig to ribbons, thus saving it from a nervous collapse, nor -would you be permitted to hear a repetition of the imprecations -the old man muttered after the departing back of the owner, -for these things should not be heard,—in fact, they do not exist -in the world of advertising. Nothing would be said about the -red death of the pig, the control of the stock-raiser, the underpaying -of the workers, the daughter who visits home when -papa is out and the neighbours are not looking, the long years -of service and the short shrift of age, the rottenness and hypocrisy -of the whole business—no, nothing should be said -about such things. But to make up for the omission, you -would be told in honied words of the workers who lovingly -kiss each ham as it is reverently carried from the plant to receive<span class="pagenum" id="Page_387">387</span> -the patriarchal blessing of the owner before it is offered -up as a sacrifice to a grateful but greedy public. The whole -affair would suggest to you a sort of Passion Play in which -there was neither Judas nor Pilot, but just a great, big happy -family of ham producers.</p> - -<p>This speech, as I have said, would soon appear in the principal -papers of the country. It would be published in installments, -each one bearing its message of peace on earth, good-will -to men, and the public—always preferring Pollyanna to -Blue Beard—would be given an altogether false impression -of Dreadnought Hams, and the conditions under which they -were produced. But this particular speech would be only a -small part of the idealism you would be permitted to absorb. -There would also be a patriotic speech about Old Glory, which -would somehow become entangled with the necessity for creating -a wider demand for a certain brand of socks. There -would perhaps be a speech on the sacredness of the home, -linked cunningly with the ability of a certain type of talking-machine -to keep the family in at nights and thus make the -home even more sacred. There would be speeches without -end, and idealism without stint, and at last every one would -shake hands with every one else and the glorious occasion -would come to an end only to be repeated with renewed vigour -and replenished optimism on the following Friday.</p> - -<p>But the actual work of creating advertisements is seldom -done in this rarefied and rose-tinted atmosphere; it is done in -the more prosaic atmosphere of the advertising agency. (And -let it be said at once that although, even in the case of agencies -engaging in “Honest Advertising” campaigns, many such -firms indulge in the unscrupulous competitive practice of splitting -their regular commission with their clients in order to -keep and secure accounts, there are still honest advertising -agencies.)</p> - -<p>Now there are two important classes of workers in most -agencies—the copy-writer and the solicitor—the man who -writes the advertisements and the man who gets the business. -This latter class contains the wolves of advertising, the restless -stalkers through the forests of industry and the fields of trade. -They are leather-lunged and full-throated; death alone can<span class="pagenum" id="Page_388">388</span> -save their victims from hearing their stories out. Copywriters, -on the other hand, are really not bad at heart; sometimes -they even possess a small saving spark of humour, and -frequently they attempt to read something other than <cite>Printer’s -Ink</cite>. But the full-fledged solicitor is beyond all hope. Coming -in close touch with the client who usually is an industrialist, -capitalist, stand-patter, and high-tariff enthusiast, the solicitor -gradually becomes a small edition of the man he serves, and -reflects his ideas in an even more brutal and unenlightened -manner. In their minds there is no room for change, unless it -be change to a new kind of automobile they are advertising, for -new furniture, unless it be the collapsible table of their latest -client, for spring cleaning, unless thereby one is introduced to -the virtues of Germ-Destroying Soap. Things must remain as -they are and the leaders of commerce and industry must be -protected at all costs. To them there are no under-paid workers, -no social evil, no subsidized press, no restraint of free -speech, no insanitary plants, no child-labour, no infant mortality -due to an absence of maternity legislation, no good strikers, -and no questionable public utility corporations. Everything is -as it should be, and any one who attempts to effect a change is -a socialist, and that ends it all.</p> - -<p>Advertising is very largely controlled by men of this -type. Is it any wonder that it is of a reactionary and artificial -nature, and that any irresponsible promoter with money -to spend and an article to sell, will find a sympathetic and wily -minister to execute his plans for him, regardless of their effect -on the economic or social life of the nation?</p> - -<p>Turning, for the moment, from the people who create advertisements -to advertising as an institution, what is there to be -said for or against it? What is there to advance in justification -of its existence, or in favour of its suppression? Not -knowing on which side the devil’s advocate pleads his case, I -shall take the liberty of representing both sides, presenting as -impartially as possible the cases for the prosecution and defence -and allowing the reader to bring in the verdict in accordance -with the evidence.</p> - -<p>The first charge—that the low state of the press and the -magazine world is due solely to advertising—is not, I believe,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_389">389</span> -wholly fair. There is no use denying that advertising is responsible -for the limitation of free utterance and the nonexistence -of various independent and amusing publications. -However, assuming that advertising were utterly banished from -the face of the earth, would the murky atmosphere be cleared -thereby? Would the press become free and unafraid, and -would the ideal magazine at last draw breath in the full light -of day? I think not. Years before advertising had attained -the importance it now enjoys, public service corporations and -other powerful vested interests had found other and equally -effective methods of shaping the news and controlling editorial -policies. The fact remains however, and it is a sufficiently -black one, that advertising is responsible for much of -the corruption of our papers and other publications, as well as -for the absence of the type of periodicals that make for the -culture of a people and the enjoyment of good literature. -When a profiteering owner of a large department store can -succeed in keeping the fact of his conviction from appearing -in the news, while a number of smaller offenders are held up -as horrid examples, it is not difficult to decide whether or not -it pays to advertise. When any number of large but loosely -conducted corporations upon which the people and the nation -depend, can prevent from appearing in the press any information -concerning their mismanagement, inefficiency, and extravagance, -or any editorial advocating government control, one -does not have to ponder deeply to determine the efficacy of -advertising. When articles or stories dealing with the unholy -conditions existing in certain industries, or touching on the risks -of motoring, the dangers of eating canned goods, or the impossibility -of receiving a dollar’s value for a dollar spent in a -modern department store, are rejected by many publications, -regardless of their merit, one does not have to turn to the back -pages of the magazine in order to discover the names and products -of the advertisers paying for the space. Indeed, one of -the most regrettable features of advertising is that it makes -so many things possible for editors who will be good, and so -many things impossible for editors who are too honest and too -independent to tolerate dictation.</p> - -<p>Another charge against advertising is that it promotes and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_390">390</span> -encourages the production of a vast quantity of costly -articles many of which duplicate themselves, and that this -over-production of commodities, many of them of highly -questionable value, is injurious to the country and economically -unsound. This charge seems to be well founded -in fact, and illustrated only too convincingly in the list -of our daily purchases. Admitting that a certain amount of -competition creates a stimulating and healthy reaction, it still -seems hardly reasonable that a nation, to appear with a clean -face each morning, should require the services of a dozen -producers of safety razors, and several hundred producers of -soap, and that the producers of razors and soap should spend -millions of dollars each year in advertising in order to remind -people to wash and shave. Nor does it seem to be a well-balanced -system of production when such commodities as automobiles, -sewing machines, face powders, toilet accessories, food -products, wearing apparel, candy, paint, furniture, rugs, tonics, -machinery, and so on <i xml:lang="la" lang="la">ad infinitum</i> can exist in such lavish -abundance. With so many things of the same kind to choose -from, there is scarcely any reason to wonder that the purchasing -public becomes addle-brained and fickle. The over-production -of both the essentials and non-essentials of life is indubitably -stimulated by advertising, with the result that whenever -business depression threatens the country, much unnecessary -unemployment and hardship arises because of an over-burdened -market and an industrial world crowded with moribund -manufacturing plants. “Give me a strong enough motor and -I will make that table fly,” an aviator once remarked. It could -be said with equal truth, “Give me money enough to spend in -advertising and I will make any product sell.” Flying tables, -however, are not nearly so objectionable as a market glutted -with useless and over-priced wares, and an army of labour dependent -for its existence upon an artificially stimulated demand.</p> - -<p>The claim that advertising undermines the habits of thrift -of a nation requires no defence. Products are made to be sold -and it is the principal function of advertising to sell them regardless -of their merits or the requirements of the people. Men -and women purchase articles to-day that would have no place<span class="pagenum" id="Page_391">391</span> -in any socially and economically safe civilization. As long as -this condition continues, money will be drawn out of the savings -accounts of the many and deposited in the commercial -accounts of the few—a situation which hardly makes for happy -and healthy families.</p> - -<p>It has been asserted by many that advertising is injurious to -literary style. I am far from convinced that this charge is true. -In my belief it has been neither an injurious nor helpful influence. -If anything, it has forced a number of writers to say -a great deal in a few words, which is not in itself an undesirable -accomplishment. Nor do I believe that advertising has recruited -to its ranks a number of writers or potential writers -who might otherwise have given pearls of faith to the world. -However, if it has attracted any first-calibre writers, they have -only themselves to blame and there is still an opportunity for -them to scale the heights of literary eminence.</p> - -<p>The worst has been said of advertising, I feel, when we agree -that it has contributed to the corruption of the press, that it -does help to endanger the economic safety of the nation, and -that, to a great extent, it appeals to the public in a false and -unhealthy manner. These charges certainly are sufficiently -damaging. For the rest, let us admit that advertising is more -or less like all other businesses, subject to the same criticisms -and guilty of the same mistakes. Having admitted this, let us -assume the rôle of the attorney for the defence and see what -we can marshal in favour of our client.</p> - -<p>First of all, I submit the fact that advertising has kept many -artists alive—not that I am thoroughly convinced that artists -should be kept alive, any more than poets or any other un-American -breed; but for all that I appeal to your humanitarian -instincts when I offer this fact in support of advertising, -and I trust you will remember it when considering the -evidence.</p> - -<p>In the second place, advertising is largely responsible for -the remarkable strides we have taken in the art of typography. -If you will examine much of the literature produced by advertising, -you will find there many excellent examples of what can -be done with type. To-day no country in the world is producing -more artistic and authentic specimens of typography than<span class="pagenum" id="Page_392">392</span> -America, and this, I repeat, is largely due to the influence of -advertising.</p> - -<p>We can also advance as an argument in favour of advertising -that it has contributed materially to a greater use of the -tooth-brush and a more diligent application of soap. Advertising -has preached cleanliness, preached frantically, selfishly -and for its own ends, no doubt, but nevertheless it has preached -convincingly. It matters little what means are used to achieve -the end of cleanliness as long as the end is achieved. This, -advertising has helped to accomplish. The cleanliness of the -body and the cleanliness of the home as desirable virtues are -constantly being held up before the readers of papers and -magazines. As has been said, there are altogether too many -different makes of soap and other sanitary articles, but in this -case permit us to modify the statement by adding that it is -much better to have too many of such articles than too few. -This third point in favour of advertising is no small point to -consider. The profession cannot be wholly useless, if it has -helped to make teeth white, faces clean, bodies healthy, homes -fresh and sanitary, and people more concerned with their -bodies and the way they treat them.</p> - -<p>The fourth point in favour of advertising is that through the -medium of paid space in the papers and magazines certain -deserving movements have been able to reach a larger public -and thus recruit from it new and valuable members. This -example illustrates the value of advertising when applied to -worthy ends. In all fairness we are forced to conclude, that, -after all, there is much in advertising that is not totally -depraved.</p> - -<p>Now that we are about to rest the case, let us gaze once more -through the magic portals of the advertising world and refresh -our eyes with its beauty. On second glance we find there is -something strangely pathetic and wistfully human about this -World That Never Was. It is a world very much after our -own creation, peopled and arranged after our own yearnings -and desires. It is a world of well regulated bowels, cornless -feet, and unblemished complexions, a world of perfectly fitting -clothes, completely equipped kitchens, and always upright and -smiling husbands. To this world of splendid country homes,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_393">393</span> -humming motors, and agreeable companions, prisoners on our -own poor weary world of reality may escape for a while to -live a few short moments of unqualified comfort and happiness. -Even if they do return from their flight with pockets empty -and arms laden with a number of useless purchases, they have -had at least some small reward for their folly. They have -dwelt and sported with fascinating people in surroundings of -unsurpassed beauty. True, it is not such a world as Rembrandt -would have created, but he was a grim old realist, who, -when he wanted to paint a picture of a person cutting the nails, -selected for his model an old and unscrupulous woman, and -cast around her such an atmosphere of reality that one can -almost hear the snip of the scissors as it proceeds on its revolting -business. How much better it would be done in the advertising -world! Here we would be shown a young and beautiful -girl sitting gracefully before her mirror and displaying just -enough of her body to convince the beholder that she was -neither crippled nor chicken-breasted, and all day long for ever -and for ever she would sit thus smiling tenderly as she clipped -the pink little moon-flecked nails from her pink little pointed -fingers.</p> - -<p>Yes, I fear it is a world of our own creation. Only a few -persons would stand long before Rembrandt’s crude example, -while many would dwell with delight on the curves and allurements -of the maid in the advertising world. Of course one -might forget or never even discover what she was doing, and -assuming that one did, one would hardly dwell upon such an -unromantic occupation in connection with a creature so fair -and refined as this ideal young woman; but for all that, one -would at least have had the pleasure of contemplating her loveliness.</p> - -<p>So many of us are poor and ill-favoured in this world of -ours, so many girls are not honestly able to purchase more than -one frock or one hat a year, that the occasion of the purchase -takes on an importance far beyond the appreciation of the -average well-to-do person. It is fun, therefore, to dwell upon -the lines and features of a perfectly gowned woman and to -imagine that even though poor and ill-favoured, one might -possibly resemble in a modified way, the splendid model, if one<span class="pagenum" id="Page_394">394</span> -could only get an extra fifteen minutes off at lunch-time in -order to attend the bargain sale. There are some of us who -are so very poor that from a great distance we can enjoy without -hope of participation the glory and triumph of others. The -advertising world supplies us with just this sort of vicarious enjoyment, -and, like all other kinds of fiction, enables us to play -for a moment an altogether pleasing rôle in a world of high -adventure.</p> - -<p>Therefore let us not be too uncharitable to the advertising -world. While not forgetting its faults, let us also strive to remember -its virtues. Some things we cannot forgive it, some -things we would prefer to forget, but there are others which -require less toleration and fortitude to accept when once they -have been understood.</p> - -<p>As long as the printed word is utilized and goods are bought -and sold, there will be a place and a reason for advertising—not -advertising as we know it to-day, but of a saner and more -useful nature. He would be a doughty champion of the limitation -of free speech who would deny a man the right to tell -the world that he is the manufacturer of monkey-wrenches, -and that he has several thousands of these same wrenches on -hand, all of which he is extremely anxious to sell.</p> - -<p>Advertising, although a precocious child, is but in its infancy. -In spite of its rapid development and its robust constitution, it -has not yet advanced beyond the savage and bragging age. It -will appeal to our instincts of greed as quickly as to our instincts -of home-building. It will make friends with the snob -that is in us, as readily as it will avail itself of the companionship -of our desire to be generous and well-liked. It will frighten -and bulldoze us into all sorts of extravagant purchases with -the same singleness of purpose that it will plead with our self-respect -in urging us to live cleaner and better lives. It will use -our pride and vanity for its own ends as coolly as it will use our -good nature or community spirit. It will run through the whole -gamut of human emotions, selecting therefrom those best suited -to its immediate ends. Education alone will make the child -behave—not the education of the child so much as the education -of the reader.</p> - -<p>Advertising thrives to-day in the shadows created by big<span class="pagenum" id="Page_395">395</span> -business, and, as a consequence, if it would retain its master’s -favour it must justify his methods, and practise his evil ways. -Here it must be added that there are some honest advertising -agencies which refuse to accept the business of dishonest concerns. -It must also be added that there are some magazines -and newspapers which will refuse to accept unscrupulous advertisements. -These advertisements must be notoriously unscrupulous, -however, before they meet this fate. There are -even such creatures as honest manufacturers, but unfortunately -for the profession they too rarely advertise. As a whole, advertising -is committed to the ways of business, and as the ways -of business are seldom straight and narrow, advertising perforce -must follow a dubious path. We shall let it rest at that.</p> - -<p>We have made no attempt in this article to take up the subject -of out-door advertising. There is nothing to say about -this branch of the profession save that it is bad beyond expression, -and should be removed from sight with all possible haste. -In revolting against the sign-board, direct action assumes the -dignity of conservatism, and although I do not recommend an -immediate assault on all sign-boards, I should be delighted if -such an assault took place. Were I a judge sitting on the case -of a man apprehended in the act of destroying one of these eyesores, -I should give him the key to my private stock, and adjourn -the court for a week.</p> - -<p class="right"> -<span class="smcap">J. Thorne Smith</span> -</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div id="toclink_397" class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_397">397</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="BUSINESS">BUSINESS</h2> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="smcap1">Modern</span> business derives from three passions in this order, -namely: The passion for things, the passion for -personal grandeur and the passion for power. Things are multiplied -in use and possession when people exchange with each -other the products of specialized labour. Personal grandeur -may be realized in wealth. Gratification of the third passion -in this way is new. Only in recent times has business become -a means to great power, a kind of substitute for kingship, -wherein man may sate his love of conquest, practise private -vengeance, and gain dominion over people.</p> - -<p>These passions are feeble on the Oriental side of the world, -strong in parts of Europe, powerful in America. Hence the -character of American business. It is unique, wherein it is so, -not in principle but in degree of phenomena. For natural reasons -the large objects of business are most attainable in this -country. Yet this is not the essential difference. In the pursuit -of them there is a characteristic American manner, as to -which one may not unreasonably prefer a romantic explanation. -No white man lives on this continent who has not himself -or in his ancestry the will that makes desire overt and -dynamic, the solitary strength to push his dream across seas. -Islands had been peopled before by this kind of selection, -notably England; never a continent. A reckless, egoistic, experimental -spirit governs, betrays, and preserves us still.</p> - -<p>The elemental hunger for food, warmth, and refuge gives -no direct motive to business. People may live and reproduce -without business. Civilization of a sort may exist without its -offices. The settler who disappears into the wilderness with a -wife, a gun, a few tools, and some pairs of domestic beasts, -may create him an idyllic habitation, amid orchards and fields, -self-contained in rude plenty; but he is lost to business until -he produces a money crop, that is, a surplus of the fruits of -husbandry to exchange for fancy hardware, tea, window glass, -muslin, china, and luxuries.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_398">398</span></p> - -<p>The American wilderness swallowed up hundreds of thousands -of such hearth-bearers. Business was slow to touch -them. What they had to sell was bulky. The cost of transportation -was prohibitive. There were no highways, only -rivers, for traffic to go upon. Food was cheap, because the -earth in a simple way was bounteous; but the things for which -food could be exchanged were dear. This would naturally be -true in a new country, where craft industry must develop -slowly. It was true also for another reason, which was that -the Mother Country regarded the New World as a plantation -to be exploited for the benefit of its own trade and manufactures.</p> - -<p>Great Britain’s claim to proprietary interest in America having -been established against European rivals by the end of the -17th century, her struggle with the colonists began. The English -wanted (1) raw materials upon which to bestow their high -craft labour, (2) an exclusive market for the output of their -mills and factories, and (3) a monopoly of the carrying trade. -The colonists wanted industrial freedom. As long as they -held themselves to chimney-corner industries, making nails, -shoes, hats, and coarse cloth for their own use, there was no -quarrel. But when labour even in a small way began to devote -itself exclusively to handicraft, so that domestic manufactures -were offered for sale in competition with imported English -goods, that was business—and the British Parliament -voted measures to crush it. The weaving of cloth for sale was -forbidden, lest the colonists become independent of English -fabrics. So was the making of beaver hats; the English were -hatters. It was forbidden to set up an iron rolling-mill in -America, because the English required pig iron and wished to -work it themselves. To all these acts of Parliament the colonists -opposed subterfuge until they were strong enough to -be defiant. That impatience of legal restraints which is one -of the most obstinate traits of American business was then a -patriotic virtue.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile the New England trader had appeared—that -adorable, hymning, unconscious pirate who bought molasses -in the French West Indies, swapped it for rum at Salem, Mass., -traded the rum for Negroes on the African coast, exchanged the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_399">399</span> -Negroes for tobacco in Virginia, and sold the tobacco for -money in Europe, at a profit to be settled with God. This -trade brought a great deal of money to the colonies; and they -needed money almost more than anything else. Then the -British laid a ban on trade with the French West Indies, put -a tax upon coastwise traffic between the colonies; and decreed -that American tobacco should be exported nowhere but to -English ports, although—or because—tobacco prices were -higher everywhere else in Europe. The natural consequence -of this restrictive British legislation was to make American -business utterly lawless. As much as a third of it was notoriously -conducted in defiance of law. Smuggling both in domestic -and foreign trade became a folk custom. John Hancock, -the first signer of the Declaration of Independence, was -a celebrated smuggler.</p> - -<p>During the War of Independence domestic craft industry -was stimulated by necessity. But the means were crude and -the products imperfect; and when, after peace, British merchants -with an accumulation of goods on their hands began to -offer them for sale in the United States at low prices, hoping -to recover their new-world trade in competitive terms, the -infant industries cried out for protection. They got it. One -of the first acts of the American Congress was to erect a tariff -against foreign-made goods in order that the country might -become self-sufficing in manufactures. This was the beginning -of our protectionist policy.</p> - -<p>Fewer than four million unbusiness-like people coming into -free possession of that part of the North American continent -which is named America was a fabulous business event. We -cannot even now comprehend it. They had not the dimmest -notion of what it was they were possessed of, nor what it -meant economically. Geography ran out at the Mississippi. -The tide of Westward immigration was just beginning to break -over the crest of the Alleghany mountains.</p> - -<p>Over-seas trade grew rapidly, as there was always a surplus -of food and raw materials to be exchanged abroad for things -which American industry was unable to provide. Foreign -commerce was an important source of group-wealth and public -interest was much concerned with it. Besides, it was easier<span class="pagenum" id="Page_400">400</span> -to trade across seas than inland. Philadelphia until about -1835 was nearer London than Pittsburgh, not as the crow flies -but as freight moves. Domestic business, arising from the -internal exchange of goods, developed slowly, owing partly to -the wretched state of transportation and partly to the self-contained -nature of families and communities. The population -was more than nine-tenths rural; rural habits survived -even in the towns, where people kept cows and pigs, cured -their own meats, preserved their own fruits and vegetables, -and thought ready-made garments a shocking extravagance. -Business under these conditions performed a subservient function. -People’s relations with it were in large measure voluntary. -Its uses were more luxurious than vital. There was not -then, nor could any one at this time have imagined, that interdependence -of individuals, groups, communities, and geographical -sections which it is the blind aim of business increasingly -to promote, so that at length the case is reversed and people -are subservient to business.</p> - -<p>In Southern New Jersey you may see a farm, now prosperously -devoted to berry and fruit crops, on which, still in -good repair, are the cedar rail fences built by a farmer whose -contacts with business were six or eight trips a year over a -sand road to Trenton with surplus food to exchange for some -new tools, tea, coffee, and store luxuries. That old sand road -has become a cement pavement—a motor highway. Each -morning a New York baking corporation’s motor stops at the -farm-house and the driver hands in some fresh loaves. Presently -a butcher’s motor stops with fresh meat, then another -one with dry groceries, and yet another from a New York department -store with parcels containing ready-made garments, -stockings and shoes.</p> - -<p>Consider what these four motors symbolize.</p> - -<p>First is an automobile industry and a system for producing, -refining and distributing oil which together are worth as much -as the whole estimated wealth of America three generations -ago.</p> - -<p>Back of the bakery wagon what a vista! An incorporated -baking industry, mixing, kneading, roasting, and wrapping the -loaf in paraffine paper without touch of human hands, all by<span class="pagenum" id="Page_401">401</span> -automatic machinery. Beyond the Mississippi, in a country -undiscovered until 1804, the wheat fields that are ploughed, -sown, reaped by power-driven machinery. In Minnesota a -milling industry in which the miller has become an impersonal -flour trust. A railroad system that transports first the grain -and then the flour over vast distances at rates so low that the -cost of two or three thousand miles of transportation in the -loaf of bread delivered to the New Jersey farm-house is inexpressible.... -Back of the butcher’s motor is a meat-packing -industry concentrated at Chicago. It sends fresh meat a -thousand miles in iced cars and sells it to a New Jersey farmer -for a price at which he can better afford to buy it than to bother -about producing it for himself.... Back of the grocer’s -motor are the food products and canning industries. By means -of machinery they shred, peel, hull, macerate, roll, cook, cool, -and pack fruits, cereals, and vegetables in cartons and containers -which are made, labelled, and sealed by other automatic -machinery.... And back of the department store -motor are the garment-making, shoe-making, textile, and knitting -industries.</p> - -<p>If one link in all this ramified scheme of business breaks -there is chaos. If the State of New Jersey were suddenly cut -off from the offices of business for six months, a third of her -population might perish; not that the State is unable potentially -to sustain her own, but that the people have formed -habits of dependence upon others, as others depend upon them, -for the vital products of specialized labour.</p> - -<p>All this has happened in the life of one cedar rail fence. -You say that is only fifty or sixty years. Nevertheless it is literally -so. The system under which we live has been evolved -since 1860. The transformation was sudden. Never in the -world were the physical conditions of a nation’s life altered -so fast by economic means. Yet it did not happen for many -years. The work of unconscious preparation occupied three-quarters -of a century.</p> - -<p>Man acts upon his environment with hands, tools, and imagination; -and business requires above everything else the means -of cheap and rapid transportation. In all the major particulars -save one the founders were ill-equipped for their independent<span class="pagenum" id="Page_402">402</span> -attack upon the American environment. At the beginning -of the 19th century there were no roads, merely a few -trails fit only for horseback travel. There were no canals yet. -And the labour wherewith to perform heavy, monotonous tasks -was dear and scarce and largely self-employed. Though the -hands of the pioneer are restless they are not patiently industrious. -There was need of machinery such as had already -begun to revolutionize British industry, but the English jealously -protected their mechanical knowledge.</p> - -<p>There is a tradition that the Americans were marvellously -inventive with labour-saving devices. That is to be qualified. -Their special genius lay rather in the adaptation and enthusiastic -use of such devices. The introduction of them was not -resisted as in the older countries by labour unwilling to change -its habits and fearful of unemployment. This was an important -advantage.</p> - -<p>The American textile industry was founded by British artisans -who came to this country carrying contraband in their -heads, that is, the plans of weaving, spinning, and knitting -machines which the English guarded as carefully as military -secrets.... The pre-eminence of this country in the manufacture -and use of agricultural implements is set out in elementary -school-books as proof of American inventiveness; yet the -essential principles of the reaper were evolved in Great Britain -forty years before the appearance of the historic McCormick -reaper (1831) in this country, and threshing-machines were in -general use in England while primitive methods of flailing, -trampling, and dragging prevailed in America. As recently as -1850 the scythe and cradle reaped the American harvest and -there still existed the superstition that an iron plough poisoned -the soil and stimulated weeds. Of all the tools invented -or adopted the one which Americans were to make the most -prodigious use of was the railroad; yet the first locomotive was -brought from England in 1829, the embargo on machinery having -by this time been lifted—and it failed because it was too -heavy!</p> - -<p>Twenty years passed and still the possibilities of rail transportation -were unperceived, which is perhaps somewhat explained -by the fact that the one largest vested interest of that<span class="pagenum" id="Page_403">403</span> -time existed in canals. On the map of 1850 the railroads resemble -earthworms afraid to leave water and go inland. The -notion of a railroad was that it supplemented water transportation, -connecting lake, canal, and river routes, helping traffic -over the high places.</p> - -<p>But in the next ten years—1850 to 1860—destiny surrendered. -There was that rare coincidence of seed, weather, deep -ploughing, and mysterious sanction which the miracle requires. -The essential power of the American was suddenly liberated. -There was the discovery of gold in California. There was the -Crimean War, which created a high demand abroad for our -commodities. The telegraph put its indignities upon time and -space. The idea of a railroad as a tool of empire seized the -imagination. Railroads were deliriously constructed. The -map of 1860 shows a glistening steel web from the seaboard to -the Mississippi.</p> - -<p>The gigantesque was enthroned as the national fetich. Votive -offerings were mass, velocity, quantity. True cities began. -The spirit of Chicago was born. Bigness and be-damnedness. -In this decade the outlines of our economic development were -cast for good.</p> - -<p>In the exclusive perspective of business the Civil War is an -indistinct episode. It stimulated industry in the North, shattered -it in the South. The net result in a purely economic -sense is a matter of free opinion. The Morse telegraph code -probably created more wealth than the war directly destroyed. -Or the bitter sectional row over the route of the first transcontinental -railroad which postponed that project for ten years -possibly cost the country more than the struggle to preserve -the Union. But that is all forgotten.</p> - -<p>After 1860 the momentum of growth, notwithstanding the -war and two terrible panics, was cumulative. In the next fifty -years, down to 1910, we built half as much railroad mileage -as all the rest of the world. Population trebled. This fact -stands alone in the data of vital statistics. Yet even more remarkable -were the alterations of human activity. The number -of city dwellers increased 3½ times faster than the population; -the number of wage-earners, 2 times faster; clerks, salesmen, -and typists, 6½ times faster; banks, 7 times faster;<span class="pagenum" id="Page_404">404</span> -corporations, 6½ times faster; miners, 3 times faster; transportation-workers, -20 times faster, and the number of independent -farmers decreased. Wealth in this time increased -from about $500 to more than $1,500 <i xml:lang="la" lang="la">per capita</i>.</p> - -<p>If America in its present state of being had been revealed -to the imagination of any hard-headed economist in, say, 1850, -as a mirage or dream, he would have said: “There is in all -the world not enough labour and capital to do it.” He could -not have guessed how the power of both would be multiplied.</p> - -<p>First there was the enormous simple addition to the labour -supply in the form of immigration. Then the evolution of -machinery and time-saving methods incredibly increased the -productivity of labour per human unit. Thirdly, the application -of power to agriculture and the opening of all that virgin -country west of the Mississippi to bonanza-farming so greatly -increased the production of food per unit of rural labour that -at length it required only half the population to feed the whole. -The other half was free. Business and industry absorbed -it.</p> - -<p>Of what happened at the same time to capital, in which term -we include also credit, there could have been no prescience -at all. Even now when we think of building a railroad, a telephone -system, or an automobile factory the thought is that -it will take capital, as of course it will at first, but one should -consider also how anything that increases the velocity with -which goods are exchanged, or reduces the time in which a -given amount of business may be transacted, adds to the functioning -power of capital. To illustrate this: the merchant of -1850 did business very largely with his own capital unaided. -He was obliged to invest heavily in merchandise stocks. The -turn-over was slow. His margin of profit necessarily had to -be large. But with the development of transportation and -means of communication—the railroad, telegraph, and telephone—and -with the parallel growth of banking facilities, the -conditions of doing business were fundamentally changed. All -the time-factors were foreshortened.</p> - -<p>A merchant now has to lock up much less capital in merchandise, -since his stocks are easily and swiftly replenished.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_405">405</span> -The turn-over is much faster because people using suburban -railways and street-cars go oftener to shop. And not only is -it possible for these reasons to do a larger volume of business -with a given amount of capital, but the merchant now borrows -two-thirds, maybe three-quarters, of his capital at the bank -in the form of credit. The same is true of the manufacturer. -Formerly he locked up his capital, first in raw materials and -then in finished products to be sold in season as the demand -was; and there was great risk of loss in this way of matching -supply to an estimated demand. Now he sells his goods before -he makes them, borrows credit at the bank to buy his raw -materials, even to pay his labour through the processes of -manufacture, and when the customer pays on delivery of the -goods with credit which he also has borrowed at the bank, the -manufacturer settles with <em>his</em> bank and keeps the difference. -An exporter was formerly one who bought commodities with -his own money, loaded them on ship, sent them on chance to -a foreign market, and waited for his capital to come back -with a profit. Now he first sells the goods to a foreign customer -by cable, then buys them on credit, loads them on ship, -sells the bill of lading to a bank, uses the proceeds to pay for -the goods, and counts his profit. All large business now is -transacted in this way with phantom capital, called credit; -money is employed to settle differences only.</p> - -<p>The effect of this revolution of methods upon the morals -and manners of business was tremendous. It destroyed the -aristocracy of business by throwing the field open to men -without capital. Traders and brokers over-ran it. The man -doing business on borrowed capital could out-trade one doing -business on his own. The more he borrowed, the harder he -could trade. Salesmanship became a specialized, conscienceless -art. There was no rule but to take all the traffic would -bear: let the buyer look out. Dishonesty in business became -so gross that it had to be sublimated in the national sense of -humour. There are many still living who remember what -shopping was like even in the largest city stores when nobody -dreamed of paying the price first asked and counter-higgling -was a universal custom. Indeed, so ingrained it was that when -A. T. Stewart in New York announced the experiment of treating<span class="pagenum" id="Page_406">406</span> -all buyers alike on a one-price basis his ruin was predicted -by the whole merchant community.</p> - -<p>As credit both increases competition and enables a larger -business to be done on a small base of invested capital, the -margin of profit in business tends to fall. Under conditions -of intense rivalry among merchants and manufacturers operating -more and more with phantom capital the margin of -profit did fall until it was very thin indeed. This led to the -abasement of goods by adulteration and tricks of manufacture, -which became at length so great an evil that the government -had to interfere with pure-food acts and laws forbidding -wilful misrepresentation.</p> - -<p>There was a limit beyond which the cost of production could -not be reduced by degradation of quality. It was impossible -to control prices with competition so wild and spontaneous and -with cheapness the touchword of success. Therefore the wages -of business were low, and things apparently had come to an -impasse. Yet out of this chaos arose what now we know as -big business. The idea was simple—mass production of -standardized foods. The small, fierce units of business began -to be amalgamated. As society is integrated by steps—clan, -tribe, nation, State—so big business passed through mergers, -combines, and trusts toward the goal of monopoly.</p> - -<p>When a number of competing manufacturers unite to produce -standard commodities in quantity, much duplication of -effort is eliminated, time-saving methods are possible as not -before, the cost of production is reduced. There are other -advantages. They are stronger than they were separately, not -only as buyers of labour, raw materials, and transportation, -but as borrowers of capital. The individual or firm is the -customer of a bank. The corporation makes a partnership -with finance.</p> - -<p>Now a curious thing happens. The corporation with its -mass production restores the quality of goods. It is responsible -for its products and guarantees them by brands, labels and -trade-marks. Sugar and oatmeal come out of the anonymous -barrel behind the grocer’s counter and go into attractive cartons -on his shelf, bearing the name of the producer. Gloves,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_407">407</span> -shirts, stockings, cutlery, furniture, meat products, jams, -watches, fabrics, everything in fact becomes standardized by -name and price and is advertised by the producer directly to -the public over the retailer’s head, so that the small retailer is -no longer a merchant in the old sense but a grumbling commission-man. -Big business has delivered itself from the impasse; -it has recovered control of its profits; but now the retailer’s -margin of profit tends to become fixed. What does the -retailer do? He applies the same principle to the last act of -selling. Enter the chain-store. Obviously a corporation owning -a chain of several hundred stores and working, like the -manufacturer, with borrowed capital, is stronger than any one -retailer to bargain with the powerful producers, and as the -chain-store tends to displace the little retailer a balance is -restored between the business of production and the business -of retailing. Mass production is met by mass selling. The -consumer as the last subject may resort to legislation for his -protection.</p> - -<p>Big business could not have evolved in this way without -the aid of the railroads. Their dilemma was similar. Strife -and competition had ruined their profits. To begin with, nobody -knew what it cost to produce transportation. When a -new line was opened it made rates according to circumstances. -At points where it met water competition it charged very little, -sometimes less than the cost of its fuel, and at points where -there was no competition it charged all the traffic would stand. -Then as competitive railroad-building excessively increased the -high rates steadily fell. Once they got started people were -obsessed to make railroads. They made them for speculative -reasons, for feudal reasons, for political reasons, for any reason -at all. Two men might quarrel in Wall Street, and one would -build a thousand miles of railroad to spite the other—build it -with the proceeds of shares sold to the public or hypothecated -at the bank. Then there would be two roads to divide the -business of one. Railroads under these conditions were unscientifically -planned and over-built. The profit was rather -in the building than in the working of them. There was scandal -both ways. Quantities of fictitious capital were created<span class="pagenum" id="Page_408">408</span> -and sold to the public. And when a railroad was built it became -the plaything of its traffic manager, who conspired with -other traffic managers to sell favours to shippers and to invent -disastrous rate-wars in order to profit by the fall of shares -on the stock market.</p> - -<p>Rates could not be raised or held up, owing to the irresponsible -nature of the competition. Transportation is a commodity -that cannot be adulterated. How was the profit to be -restored in this field of business? Why, by the same method -as in industry. That is, by mass production.</p> - -<p>Some one discovered that once you got a loaded train out -of the terminal and rolling on the right-of-way it cost almost -nothing to keep it moving. There was no money in hauling -small lots of freight short distances at the highest rates that -could be charged; but there was profit in moving large quantities -of freight in full cars over long distances at very low -rates. At this the railroad people went mad over the long, -heavy haul. Here was industry seeking to concentrate itself -in fewer places for purposes of mass production; and here were -the railroads wanting masses of freight to move long distances. -Their problems coincided.</p> - -<p>Result: mass production gravitates to those far-apart long-haul -points to get the benefit of low rates, there is congestion -of industrial population at those points, industry at intermediate -points is penalized by higher freight rates, and the -railroads henceforth equip themselves with mass tonnage primarily -in view. You begin now to have steel towns, meat -towns, flour towns, textile towns, garment towns, and so on. -That interdependence of communities and geographical sections -which makes business is in full development.</p> - -<p>However, the second state of the railroad is worse than the -first. It is overwhelmed by the monster it has suckled. It is -at the mercy of a few big shippers, masters of mass production, -who bully it, extort lower and lower rates still, and at -length secret rebates, under threat of transferring their tonnage -to another railroad or in some cases of building their own -railroad, which now they are powerful enough to do. The railroad -yields; and whereas before only such industry as survived -at intermediate points was penalized by higher freight rates,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_409">409</span> -now all industry outside of big business is at a disadvantage, -since big business is receiving secret benefits from the railroads.</p> - -<p>There was no philosophy in any of this, not even a high -order of intelligence. The will of business is anarchistic; its -religion is fatalism. If let alone, it will seek its profit by any -means that serve and then view the consequences as acts of -Providence.</p> - -<p>It has been noted that big business, going in for mass production, -restored the honesty of goods. The motive was not -ethical. It paid. The public’s good will toward a brand or a -trade-mark was an asset that could be capitalized, sometimes -for more than plant and equipment, and the shares -representing such capitalization could be sold to the public on -the Stock Exchange. But what was gained for morality in the -honesty of goods was lost again in new forms of dishonesty. -Standard Oil products were always cheap and honest; its oil -was never watered. But the means by which the Standard Oil -Company gained its dangerous trade eminence were dishonest, -and the trust was dissolved for that reason by the United States -Supreme Court. It happens to be only the most notable instance. -There were and are still many others—combines and -trusts whose products are honest but whose tradeways are -either illegal or ethically repugnant.</p> - -<p>One cannot say that business is either honest or dishonest. -It is both. Evidence of permanent gain in a kind of intrinsic -commercial honesty is abundant. Wild-cat banking has disappeared. -A simple book entry between merchants is as good -as a promissory note. The integrity of merchandise now is a -trade custom. Vulgar misrepresentations have ceased save in -the slums of business. The practice of making open prices -to all buyers alike, wholesale and retail, is universal. It is -no longer possible to print railroad shares surreptitiously overnight -and flood the Stock Exchange with them the next morning, -as once happened in Erie. Nowhere is character more -esteemed than in business.</p> - -<p>And yet, in spite of all this and parallel with it, runs a bitter -feud between society and business. People are continually -acting upon big business through the agencies of government -to make it behave. What is the explanation?</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_410">410</span></p> - -<p>Well, in the first place, the improvement in commercial honesty -has been owing not so much to ethical enlightenment as -to internal necessity. Big business must do its work on credit; -there is no other way. Therefore credit is a sacred thing, to -be preserved by all means. Men know that unless they are -scrupulous in fulfilling their obligations toward it, the system -will collapse. As the use of credit increases the code of business -become more rigid. It must. One who breaks faith with -the code is not merely dishonest, man to man; he is an enemy -of credit.</p> - -<p>If a stock-market coterie of this day could print Erie shares -without notice and sell them the public would suffer of course -but Wall Street would suffer much more. Its own affairs -would fall into hopeless disorder. That kind of thing cannot -happen again. The code has been improved. You now may -be sure that anything you buy on the Stock Exchange has been -regularly issued and listed. No institution is more jealous of -the integrity of its transactions—transactions as such. Purchases -and sales involving millions are consummated with a nod -of the head and simple dishonesty is unknown. Nevertheless, -it is a notorious fact that the amount of money nowadays lost -on the Stock Exchange by the unwary public is vastly greater -than in Jay Gould’s time. There is, you see, an important difference -between formal and moral honesty.</p> - -<p>Secondly, business morality is a term without meaning. -There is no such thing. Business is neither moral nor immoral. -It represents man’s acquisitive instinct acting outside -of humanistic motives. Morals are personal and social. Business -is impersonal and unsocial.</p> - -<p>So far we come clear. Only now, what shall be said of the -man in business? He is not a race apart. He may be any of -us. How then shall we account for the fact that those evils -and tyrannies of big business with which the Congress, the -Interstate Commerce Commission, the Department of Justice, -the Federal Trade Board, and other agencies of the social will -keep open war are not inhibited at the head by an innate social -sense? Does the business man lose that sense? Or by -reason of the material in which he works does he become an -unsocial being? No. The answer is that the kind of business<span class="pagenum" id="Page_411">411</span> -we now are talking about is not conducted by men. It is -conducted by corporations.</p> - -<p>A thing of policy purely, with only legal responsibilities and -no personality, free from hope of heaven or fear of hell, the -corporation is both a perfect instrument for the impersonal -ends of business and a cave of refuge for the conscience. Business -by corporations is highly responsible in all that pertains -to business. Business by corporations is in all ethical respects -anonymous. A corporation does many things which no one of -its directors would do as an individual. The head of a corporation -says: “If it were my own business, I should handle this -labour problem very differently. But it isn’t. I am a trustee, -answerable to five thousand stockholders for the security of -their dividends.” Each of the five thousand stockholders says: -“It isn’t my business. I am merely one of a great number of -stockholders. What can I do about it?”</p> - -<p>Nobody is personally responsible.</p> - -<p>More than two-thirds of our national wealth is owned by -corporations. They control at some point every process of economic -life. Their power is so great that many have wondered -whether in time it might not overwhelm popular government. -Yet in all this realm of power there is nowhere that sense of -personal moral liability which is acknowledged between men -and without which civilized human relationships would become -utterly impossible. A corporation is like a State in this respect: -it cannot, if it would, make moral decisions. The right to do -that is not delegated by people to a State nor by stockholders -to a corporation. Both therefore are limited to material decisions.</p> - -<p>It is probably owing as much to the power-thirsty, law-baiting -temperament of the American in business as to the -magnitude of the work to be done that the use of the corporation, -like the use of labour-saving machinery, has been carried -further here than in any other country. Railroads naturally -were the first great corporations. The amount of capital required -to build a railroad is beyond the resources of any small -group of individuals; it must be gathered from a large number, -who become shareholders. The original railroads were subsidized -by the government with loans of money and enormous<span class="pagenum" id="Page_412">412</span> -grants of land. Industrial and trading corporations came -later. For a long time America was to all corporations a Garden -of Eden. They were encouraged, not precisely that they -were presumed to be innocent but because they were indispensable. -Then they ate of the Tree of Political Power and -the feud was on. When people began really to fear them -their roots were already very deep and touched nearly everything -that was solid. The sinister alliance between big business -and high finance was accomplished.</p> - -<p>One of the absurdities of the case was and is that any State -according to its own laws may grant corporation-charters -which carry rights of eminent domain in all other states. The -Standard Oil Company was once dissolved in Ohio. It took -out a new charter in New Jersey, and went on as before, even -in Ohio.</p> - -<p>Every attempt to reform their oppressive ways by law they -have resisted under the constitution as an attack upon the -rights of property. And there has always been much confusion -as to what the law was. In one case it was construed by -the United States Supreme Court to mean that bigness itself, -the mere power of evil, was illegal whether it had been exercised -or not; in another, that each instance must be treated -on its merits by a rule of reason, and, in still another, that the -potential power to restrain trade in a monopolistic manner -was not in itself illegal provided it had never been used.</p> - -<p>Nevertheless the doubt as to which should control the other—the -State the corporations or the corporations the State—has -been resolved. Gradually the authority of the State has -been asserted. The hand of the corporation in national politics -is branded. The Federal Government’s control over the -rates and practices of the railroads is complete; so likewise is -the control of many of the several separate States over the -rates and practices of public-utility corporations. Federal -authority over the tradeways of the great industrial and trading -corporations whose operations are either so large or so essential, -to economic life as to become clothed with public interest -is far advanced; and supervision of profits is beginning.</p> - -<p>Now what manner of profit and loss account may we write -with American business?</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_413">413</span></p> - -<p>Given to begin with an environment superb, it has made -wealth available to an aggregate extent hitherto unimaginable -in the world. But in doing this it has created a conscious, implacable -proletariat in revolt against private profit.</p> - -<p>In production it has brought about a marvellous economy of -human effort. At the same time it has created colossal forms -of social waste. It wastes the spirit by depriving the individual -of that sense of personal achievement, that feeling of -participation in the final result, which is the whole joy of -craftsmanship, so that the mind is bored and the heart is -seared. It wastes all things prodigally in the effort to create -new and extravagant wants, reserving its most dazzling rewards -for him that can make two glittering baubles to sell -where only one was sold before. It wastes the living machine -in recurring periods of frightful and unnecessary idleness.</p> - -<p>For the distribution of goods it has perfected a web of exchange, -so elaborate that the breaking of one strand is a disaster -and yet so trustworthy that we take its conveniences -every day for granted and never worry. But the adjustment -of supply to demand is so rude and uncontrolled that we -suffer periodic economic calamities, extreme trade depression, -and social distress, because there has been an over-production -of some things at a price-impasse between producer and consumer.</p> - -<p>In the field of finance and credit it has evolved a mechanism -of the highest dynamic intensity known; yet the speculative -abuse of credit is an unmitigated scandal, and nothing whatever -has been done to eliminate or diminish those alternations -of high and low prices, inflation and deflation, which produce -panics and perilous political disorder. On the contrary, business -continues fast in the antique superstition that such things -happen in obedience to inexorable laws.</p> - -<p>In the Great War American business amazed the world, itself -included. In 1914 the United States was a debtor nation, -owing Europe 3 billions of dollars. By the end of 1920 we -were the largest creditor nation on earth, other nations owing -us 15 billions. This means simply that in six years this country -produced in excess of its own needs and sent abroad commodities -amounting to 18 billions of dollars. In 1921, to the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_414">414</span> -naïve astonishment of business, the foreign demand for American -goods slumped because foreign countries had not the -means to go on buying at any such rate. The result was an -acute panic in prices here, trade prostration, unemployment, -and sounds of despair. The case was stated by leaders of -business and finance in these ominous terms: “America is -over-equipped. It has the capacity to produce more of everything -than it needs. Therefore unless we continuously sell our -surplus abroad, unless the American government will lend foreign -countries the credit with which to buy our excess production, -prosperity is shattered. Factories will shut up, fields will -lie fallow, labour will suffer for want of work. Moreover, we -are threatened with a deluge of foreign goods, for presently -the countries that owe us 18 billions of dollars will be trying -to pay us with commodities. If we open our markets to their -goods our own industries will be ruined. So we must have -high tariffs to protect American producers from the competition -of foreign merchandise.”</p> - -<p>Ruined by over-plenty!</p> - -<p>We are equipped to produce more of the goods that satisfy -human wants than we can use, our command over the labour -of foreign countries by reason of the debt they owe us is enormous, -and <em>business desponds</em>.</p> - -<p>Attend. To keep our prosperity we must sell away our -surplus, or if necessary give it away to foreign countries on -credit, and then protect ourselves against their efforts to repay -us! The simple absurdity of this proposition is self-evident. -We mention it only for what it signifies. And it signifies that -business is a blind, momentous sequence, with extravagant reflex -powers of accommodation and extension and almost no faculty -of original imagination.</p> - -<p>American business despairing at over-production and the -American Indian shivering on top of the Pennsylvania coalfields—these -are twin ironies.</p> - -<p>John Law’s Mississippi Bubble dream three centuries ago -was a phantasy of escape from the boredom of toil. The -bubble itself has been captured. That is the story of American -business. But who has escaped, save always a few at the -expense of many? There may be in fact no other way. Still,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_415">415</span> -the phantasy will not lie. And nobody knows for sure what -will happen when business is no longer a feudal-minded thing, -with rights and institutions apart, seeking its own profit as the -consummate end, and perceives itself in the light of a subordinate -human function, justified by service.</p> - -<p class="right"> -<span class="smcap">Garet Garrett</span> -</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div id="toclink_417" class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_417">417</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="ENGINEERING">ENGINEERING</h2> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap al"><span class="smcap1">American</span> engineering made its beginning almost immediately -after the end of the War for Independence. -The pursuits of the colonists under British domination -were mainly agricultural. Manufacturing was systematically -thwarted in order that the Colonies might become a market -for the finished goods of England. Objection to this form of -sabotage subsequently developed into one of the main causes -of the Revolutionary War. It was but natural, therefore, as -soon as the artificial restrictions imposed upon Colonial enterprise -were removed, for the new citizens of America to -devise machinery, build roads and canals, and plan cities.</p> - -<p>The early engineers who carried on this work were seldom -formally trained. They were little more than higher types of -artisans. It was only after thirty-odd years of discussion and -agitation that the first scientific schools were established in -this country—two in number. And it was only after the enactment -of the Morrill Act by Congress (1862) that formal -engineering training as we know it to-day was put on a firm -national basis. By 1870, 866 engineers had been graduated -from American technical schools and colleges. The real advent -of the typical American engineer, however, has only occurred -since 1870. At present he is being supplied to the industries -of the country at the rate of 5,000 a year.</p> - -<p>The coming of the formally trained technologist or scientist -of industry lagged somewhat behind the development of the -industrial revolution. This was particularly true in America. -Originally all attention was centered on the training of -so-called civil engineers, i.e., canal, bridge, road, dam and -building designers and constructors. The rapid rise of the mechanical -arts after the Civil War focused attention on the -training of engineers expert in manufacturing. To-day the -mechanical and electrical engineers are more numerous than -any other group and have far outstripped the civil engineers.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_418">418</span></p> - -<p>The original function of the engineer, especially in the first -days of his systematic training, was to deal scientifically with -purely mechanical problems. Thus the oft quoted definition -of the British Institution of Civil Engineers that “Engineering -is the art of directing the great sources of power in nature -for the use and convenience of man” reveals quite clearly -the legitimate field within which the engineer was supposed to -operate. He was to harness the untamed energies of nature. -That this conception was then sufficient, and that the careers -of most engineers were shaped accordingly, is hardly to be disputed. -Nor, judging from the achievement of American engineers -in the last fifty years, can it be contended that their -function was conceived in too narrow a light. Undoubtedly, -the problems of mechanical production, power-creation and -transmission, bridge and building construction, and railway -and marine transportation, during this period were largely material -ones, and the opportunities for their solution were especially -good. To these the engineers directed their attention. -Thanks to their training, technique, and accumulated experience, -they became more and more successful in solving them. -At the same time, their relative freedom of thought and action -with reference to technological problems brought them into -more or less coherent groups which, as time went on, began to -conceive a larger function for the engineer—service to society -as a whole rather than the solving of mere concrete, specific -difficulties.</p> - -<p>For while the material problems of production are undoubtedly -as important as ever, the present-day industrial system -has begun to reveal new problems which the engineer in America -has, to a limited extent, come to realize must be faced. -These new problems are not material in the old sense of the -word; they concern themselves with the control and administration -of the units of our producing system. Their nature is -psychological and economic.</p> - -<p>Certain groups in the American engineering profession have -become quite conscious that these deeper problems are not being -solved; at the same time they consider it a necessary duty -to help in their solution, inasmuch as the engineer, they feel, -is peculiarly fitted to see his way clearly through them. Thus<span class="pagenum" id="Page_419">419</span> -is being split off from the main body of old-line engineers, a -new wing not so much concerned with wringing power from -nature as with adjusting power to legitimate social needs. As -against the old engineer, concerned primarily with design and -construction, there is to be recognized the new engineer, concerned -mainly with industrial management.</p> - -<p>Unfortunately, however, a strict evaluation of the engineer’s -status with reference to the influence he may have on the solution -of these social and economic problems causes serious -doubts to arise regarding his ultimate possibilities in this field. -Despite his great value and recognized indispensability as a -technologist, expert in problems of materials and processes of -manufacture, he can at best but serve in an advisory capacity -on questions affecting the division of the national surplus or -the control of industry. Nevertheless, it is of fundamental -significance that the American engineering profession has of -late considerably widened the scope of the British Institution -of Civil Engineers’ definition of engineering, namely, to the -effect that “Engineering is the science of controlling the forces -and utilizing the materials of nature for the benefit of man <em>and -the art of organizing and of directing human activities in connection -therewith</em>.” The implications of this much broader -definition, if widely accepted, will bring the American engineers -sooner or later squarely before a fundamental issue.</p> - -<p>The ideal of service is profoundly inherent in the profession -of engineering. But so, also, is the ideal of creative work. -The achievements of engineering enterprise are easily visualized -and understood, and from them the engineer is wont to derive -a great deal of satisfaction. Recently, however, the exactions -of the modern complex economic system, in which the engineer -finds himself relatively unimportant compared with, say, the -financier, have contrived to rob him of this satisfaction. And -as his creative instincts have been thwarted, he has turned -upon business enterprise itself a sharp and inquiring eye. -From isolated criticisms of wastes and inefficiencies in industry, -for instance, he has not found it a long or difficult step to -the investigation of industry on a national basis for the purpose -of exposing technical and managerial shortcomings.</p> - -<p>It appears, however, that the majority of American engineers<span class="pagenum" id="Page_420">420</span> -to-day believe that their position as a class is such that -they can effectively maintain an impartial position when differences -which arise between large economic groups of society -such as those of the merchant, the manufacturer, the labourer, -the farmer, although these differences frequently lead to economic -waste and loss. At all events, it is on this basis that -attempts are being made to formulate a general policy for -engineers as a class to pursue. It is very doubtful, however, -whether a group such as the engineers, constituting the “indispensable -general staff of industry,” can long take an impartial -attitude towards two such conflicting forces as capital and -labour so long as they (the engineers) adhere to the ideal of -maximum service and efficiency. The pickets of the fence -may eventually prove unduly sharp.</p> - -<p>A minority group which believes otherwise has already organized -into an international federation of technicians affiliated -with the standard organized labour movement of America. -This group holds that the engineer is a wage-earner like all -other industrial workers, and that his economic welfare in many -instances is no better than that of ordinary wage-earners. -In addition, this group maintains that in the last analysis it is -flatly impossible for engineers to take an impartial attitude in -the struggle between capital and labour. Hence they advocate -the engineer affiliating with the organized labour movement -like other wage earners and, in times of crisis, throwing his influence -with the workers of industry.</p> - -<p>The organized labour movement of America has indicated -in clear terms its estimate of the American engineer’s true -value and opportunity. The American Federation of Labour -in 1919 issued the following statement:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>“To promote further the production of an adequate supply of the -world’s needs for use and higher standards of life, we urge that there -be established co-operation between the scientist of industry and the -representatives of the organized workers.”</p> -</div> - -<p>This conviction has also been expressed in the following -terms:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>“The trades-union movement of America understands fully the -necessity for adequate production of the necessities of life. American<span class="pagenum" id="Page_421">421</span> -labour understands, perhaps more fully than do American statesmen, -the needs of the world in this hour, and it is exerting every -effort to see that those needs are met with intelligence and with -promptness. The question of increased productivity is not a question -of putting upon the toilers a more severe strain; it is a question -of vast fundamental changes in the management of industry; a question -of the elimination of outworn policies; a question of the introduction -of the very best in machinery and methods of management.”</p> -</div> - -<p>The fundamental significance of these attitudes of the engineers -and the organized workers of the country will perhaps -be better understood when it is realized how indispensable the -engineers have become in the conduct of industrial affairs -to-day. While virtually the product of the last fifty years, -they have already fallen heir to one of the most strategic positions -in society. To them are entrusted the real “trade secrets” -of industry. Only they understand how far the intricate -material processes of manufacture are interdependent, and how -they can be kept in harmony. The engineers have the skill -and the understanding which is absolutely necessary for industrial -management. Without their guidance the present highly -complicated system of production would quickly tumble into -chaos.</p> - -<p>The ownership of industry has frequently been suggested -as the key to the true emancipation of the great mass of workers -of a nation. Leastwise many theoretical arguments on -the process of workers’ liberation have been premised on the -necessity of eventually liquidating the institution of private -property. How futile such a programme is without recognizing -the indispensable part which technical and managerial -skill plays in any system of production has been emphasized -again and again by individuals, notably in Russia and Italy, -where the experiment of securing production without the -assistance of adequate technical control has been tried. In -fact, the whole question of property control is secondary when -once the true value of engineering management is understood. -In so far as the American workers see this, and make it possible -for American engineers to co-operate with them in their -struggle for liberation, will they make the task of the worker -more easy and avoid the frequent recurrence of wasteful and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_422">422</span> -often tragic conflict. The burden, however, is equally upon -the shoulders of the engineer to meet labour half way in this -enterprise.</p> - -<p>It is very much to be doubted if most American engineers -really have a clear understanding of the position in which -they find themselves, beyond a general conception of their -apparent impartiality. The progressive economic concepts -and activities which have been outlined, while advanced by -representatives of national associations of engineers, are not -necessarily the reflection of the great mass of American engineers -to-day, over 200,000 strong. Nevertheless, it is fortunate -that an otherwise conservative and socially timid body -of individuals, such as the engineers frequently have been in -the past, should now find itself represented by a few spokesmen -at least who are able to promulgate clear statements on -fundamental issues. The rank and file of engineers have a -long road to travel before they will be in a position to command -adequate consideration for their basic ideals and purposes -as expressed in their new definition of engineering, and -as proposed by some of their leaders.</p> - -<p>It is, indeed, seriously to be doubted if many engineers -of America have really had the training to grasp the relation -of their position to the economic developments of to-day. -Conventional engineering education has been entirely too narrow -in its purpose. It has succeeded in turning out good -technical practitioners, not far-seeing economic statesmen. In -recent years many engineering schools have placed emphasis -on what has aptly been termed “The business features of engineering -practice.” This, while conceivably a good thing from -the standpoint of the limits within which engineering enterprise -must ordinarily function to-day, is bound to over-emphasize -the <i xml:lang="la" lang="la">status quo</i>, and so confine the vision of the engineer.</p> - -<p>Engineers in this country have frequently taken a sort of -pharisaic attitude on the desirability—offhand—of delegating -the entire running of things human to technical experts. While -such experts may usually have been quite successful in operating -engineering enterprises, it hardly follows that this necessarily -qualifies them for the wholesale conduct of the affairs of -society.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_423">423</span></p> - -<p>Yet the demand on the part of certain engineers for a more -fundamental participation in the conduct of the larger economic -and political affairs of society should be construed as -a healthy sign. It is an outgrowth of an intellectual unrest -among the profession, precipitated by the thwarting of a genuine -desire to build and serve. This unrest, in the absence of -a constructive outlet combined with the past failure of engineering -education to provide a real intellectual background, -has resulted from time to time in some amusing phenomena. -Thus not a few engineers have developed a sort of symbolism -or mysticism, expressed in the terminology of their profession, -with a view to building a new heaven and a new earth whose -directing head they propose to be. From this they derive a -peculiar satisfaction and perhaps temporary inspiration, and -incidentally they often seem to confound laymen who do not -understand the meaning of their terms. Instead of deriving -comfort from symbolic speculations and futurist engineering -diagrams, one would rather expect engineers to be realists, -especially in the larger affairs of their profession. The seriousness -with which the speculations concerning “space-binding” -and “time-binding” have been taken is an example of how -engineers with their present one-sided intellectual development -may seize upon metaphysical cobwebs for spiritual solace in -their predicament.</p> - -<p>Another aspect of the intellectual limitations of many American -engineers is revealed by some of the controversies which -engage the technical societies and the technical periodicals. -A notable and recurring instance is the debate concerning the -relative merits of steam and electrical operation of railways. -The real question which underlies replacing a going system -with one which is better but more costly in capital outlay is -primarily economic in nature. Consequently such a change is -contingent upon a revised distribution of the national surplus -rather than on the comparative merits of detail parts. This -fact seldom seems to get home to the engineers. They have -been arguing for the last fifteen years the relative advantages -of this or that detail, failing all the while to understand that -the best, in the large, from an engineering standpoint, can -be secured only when unrestricted, free enterprise has given<span class="pagenum" id="Page_424">424</span> -way to some form of enterprise regulated principally in the -interest of public service.</p> - -<p>The profession of engineering, especially in America, is still -young enough not to have become ridden with tradition and -convention. It has developed rapidly along essentially pragmatic -though perhaps narrow lines. Certainly it is not bound -and circumscribed by precedent and convention like the legal -profession, or even the medical profession. Above all, it derives -its inspiration from powerful physical realities, and this -constitutes its bulwark.</p> - -<p>What the profession really lacks are two fundamentals, absolutely -necessary for any group strategically located and -desirous of leadership in society. These are: (1) an intellectual -background based squarely upon a comprehensive study -of the economic and political institutions of society, their history, -growth, and function, together with a study of the larger -aspects of human behaviour and rights; and, (2) the development -of a facility for intelligent criticism, especially of engineering -and economic enterprises. A wholesome intellectual -background is necessary to interpret the new position and its -prerogatives which the application of science has created for -the engineer. A development of the critical faculty is desirable -in order to enable him to detect the blandishments of -cult, the temptations of formulas and systems expressed in -indefinable abstractions, and the pitfalls of the <i xml:lang="la" lang="la">status quo</i>.</p> - -<p>The responsibility for the American engineer’s function in -society rests largely upon the schools which train him. Engineering -education in America has done its task relatively well -considered from the simple technical point of view. Of late, -progressive engineering educators have stressed the necessity -for paying more attention to the humanistic studies in the engineering -curriculum. The beginning made in this respect is, -however, entirely too meagre to warrant much hope that -younger American engineers will soon acquire either that intellectual -background or genuine critical faculty which will -entitle them to a larger share of responsibility for the affairs -of men.</p> - -<p>The most hopeful sign in this direction is rather the fusion -of the engineers into a large federation of societies, with<span class="pagenum" id="Page_425">425</span> -service to the community, State, and Nation as their motto; -a growing tendency, collectively, at least, to investigate the -conduct of national industrial enterprises; and, finally, an attempt -at a rapprochement, in the interest of society, between -labour and the engineers. Ere long these developments will -reflect themselves in the schools of engineering, and then, it is -reasonable to expect, will the process of developing a truly -worthy class of industrial leaders in this country really make -its beginning. In America to-day no such leadership exists.</p> - -<p class="right"> -<span class="smcap">O. S. Beyer, Jr.</span> -</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div id="toclink_427" class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_427">427</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="NERVES">NERVES</h2> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="smcap1">Young</span> as America is, she is nevertheless old enough to -have known the time when there were no such things -as nerves. Our earliest settlers and colonists, our proverbially -hardy pioneers apparently managed to get along with a very -modest repertory of diseases. They died, if not from malnutrition -or exposure or from Indians, then from some old-fashioned, -heaven-sent seizure or sudden pain, not to mention -from “old age,” long a favourite diagnosis of a pious and -not too inquisitive school of medicine even where the patient’s -age had to be entered by the coroner as of forty or thereabouts. -As for the various forms of nervousness which belong -to our age of indulgence and luxury, they were unknown to -those sturdier times, and would undoubtedly have put their -unhappy victims under the quick suspicion of having had forbidden -converse with the Devil.</p> - -<p>If, nevertheless, we feel justified in assuming that this -golden age of health and disease probably hid beneath its tinsel -a good many of the nervous afflictions which had already -made the Middle Ages so interesting, we must bear in mind -that the pioneer neurotic of those days had at his command a -number of disguises and evasions to which his fellow-sufferer -of to-day can no longer have recourse. One of his favourite -expedients for concealing his neurotic maladjustment was to -take refuge in some form of religion or rather in some new -variation of religious belief or practice, for it is, of course, -not claimed here that religion itself can be exhaustively explained -as a manifestation of nervous maladjustment. But the -colonial period was an era when it was still good form, so -to speak, for a neurosis to express itself in some religious -peculiarity, and as this was a country without monasteries -(which had proved to be such a haven for the neurotically -afflicted during the Middle Ages), the neurotic was forced to -exhibit his neo-religionism in the open. Often he blossomed<span class="pagenum" id="Page_428">428</span> -forth in some new form of religious segregation, which allowed -him to compensate for his social defect and often gave him -positive advantages.</p> - -<p>The neurotic legacy which he thus bequeathed to the nation -can still be seen all around us to-day in the extraordinary -multiplicity of religious variations, not to say eccentricities, -which dot the theological heavens in America. For the neurotic -as a religion founder—or better, inventor—quickly gathered -similarly inclined adherents, formed a sect, and moved a -little further West, so that the country was rather plentifully -sown with strange creeds. He was thus freed from the criticism -which would have overtaken him in a more settled society -and his neurotic disguise remained undetected to a degree -no longer possible to-day. For if nowadays we still occasionally -encounter a brand-new and crassly individual religion all -registered and patented like any temperance elixir, we usually -discover that its prophet is either a defective or even an illiterate -person who has distorted some biblical text in favour of -a bizarre interpretation, or else a psychopathic individual who -already has highly systematized ideas of the delusioned type. -This class of neurotic has tended to disappear by somewhat -the same process through which the more flamboyant type of -hysteric such as flourished in the Middle Ages has gradually -succumbed to progressive exposure—an analogy to which I -refer with some diffidence in the face of one of the supreme -ironies of the 20th century, namely, the canonization of Joan -of Arc. But that lapse into the darkness of mediævalism is -probably to be explained as a by-product of the war mind.</p> - -<p>The other great loophole for the early American neurotic -was purely geographical. He could always move on. In view -of the tendency towards social avoidance so characteristic of -the neurotic, this was of inestimable advantage. It is, of -course, generally supposed that when the embryonic American -trekked Westward it was either in response to some external -pressure of political oppression or religious intolerance or to -the glad, free call of wider horizons and more alluring opportunities, -as was the case with the earliest colonists in their flight -from Europe. In both cases, however, the assumption may be -challenged as a sufficient explanation. For it is extremely<span class="pagenum" id="Page_429">429</span> -probable that a good many of these pioneers were, like Mr. -Cohan’s “Vagabond,” fugitives from their own thoughts quite -as much as from the tyranny of others. They felt an urge -within them that made a further abidance in their social environment -intolerable. This geographical flight of the neurotic -has always been the most natural and the most obvious, -checked though it is to-day to a large extent by the disappearance -of further virgin territory and the sophistication born -of the knowledge wrought by a world-wide intercommunication -which says that mankind is everywhere much the same, a truth -which can again be translated into an internal realization that -we cannot escape from ourselves.</p> - -<p>Certainly our pioneers have been too much romanticized. -The neurotic legacy which they bequeathed to us can plainly -be seen in many characteristics of our uncouth Westerners with -their alternate coldness towards visitors and their undignified -warmth towards the casual stranger who really cannot mean -anything to them. There is something wrong about man as a -social animal when he cannot live happily in a valley where -he sees more than the distant smoke of his neighbour’s chimney. -When at last the pressure of population forces him to -live socially his suspicion and distrust are likely to turn him -into a zealot and reformer and make possible the domination -in American life of such a sub-cultural type as Bryan or the -beatitudes of a State like Kansas. The favourite Western -exhortation to be able to look a man in the eye and tell him -to go to Hell is worthy of an anti-social community of ex-convicts, -and the maxim about minding your own business can -only be understood as a defence against the prevalent tendency -of everybody to mind his neighbour’s business. Thus the self-isolating -neurotic ends by revenging himself upon society by -making it intolerable.</p> - -<p>But this is to anticipate. It must be said that until after -the Civil War America remained singularly free from “nerves.” -This is perhaps largely due to the fact, as I have tried to show, -that they were not known as such. The only serious epidemic -was the witchcraft hunting of the 17th century. It is certainly -most charitable towards a religion which had so many other -repellent features to characterize this as an hysterical epidemic<span class="pagenum" id="Page_430">430</span> -and let it go at that, though it also freshly illustrates the time-worn -truth that intolerance does not seem to make its victims -any more tolerant in their turn. The passing of this epidemic -also marked the last irruption of State intolerance towards religion, -with the exception of later incidents in connection with -the Mormon Church, though it has rarely been understood that -especially in this country State tolerance of religion was compensated -for by individual and social intolerance in matters -that quite transcended the religious sphere. The vast importance -of this phenomenon in relation to our modern nervous -tension will be referred to again later on.</p> - -<p>The first typical manifestation of American nerves on an -imposing scale began to develop in the sixties and seventies of -the last century in the form of neurasthenia. Until then the -typical American, despite his religious obsessions and his social -deficiencies, had, to a large extent, remained externally minded, -a fact which is sufficiently attested by his contempt for the -arts and his glorification of his purely material achievements. -He had been on the make, an absorbing process while it lasts, -though rather dangerous in the long run because it never comes -to an end. Neurasthenia developed rapidly as soon as it had -been properly labelled, and claimed a notable number of victims -among our captains of industry and high-pressure men: -indeed, the number might easily lead to the perhaps rather -unkindly conclusion that business dishonesty, even though successful, -is likely to result in nervous breakdown in a generation -piously reared on the unimpeachable maxims of a Benjamin -Franklin or a Herbert Smiley. More fundamentally -it was, of course, the logical penalty for cultivating the purely -energetic side of man at the expense of his contemplative nature. -The philosophy of hurry and hustle had begun to totter.</p> - -<p>The discoverer, expounder, and popularizer of neurasthenia -was Doctor George M. Beard, under whose ægis neurasthenia -came to be known as “the American disease.” Dr. Beard -was a sound neurologist within the limits of his generation -of medicine, but with a dangerous gift of imagination. His -conception of neurasthenia was truly grandiose. According -to him this fascinating disease was endemic in the United -States and was the result of our peculiar social conditions. Its<span class="pagenum" id="Page_431">431</span> -cause, he claimed, was “modern civilization, which has these -five characteristics—steam power, the periodical press, the -telegraph, the sciences, the mental activity of women.” Among -the secondary and tertiary causes of neurasthenia or nervousness -he threw in such things as climate, the dryness of our -air and the extremes of heat and cold, civil and religious liberty, -our institutions as a whole, inebriety, and the general -indulgence of our appetites and passions. In a remarkable -chapter he also assigned as one of the causes of our nervousness -the remarkable beauty of American women, though he -does not clearly state whether this made only the men nervous -or the women as well. Such a diagnosis was to turn sociologist -with a vengeance and Doctor Beard lived up to his implications -by saying that the cure of neurasthenia would mean “to -solve the problem of sociology itself.”</p> - -<p>The inevitable result of such a broad and confident diagnosis -was to make of neurasthenia a kind of <i xml:lang="la" lang="la">omnium gatherum</i> of -all the ills of mankind less obvious than a broken leg. To -explain the affliction in terms of America rather than in terms -of the patient and his symptoms had about the value of a foreigner’s -book about America written on his home-bound -steamer after a six-weeks’ sojourn in this country. In fact, -the wildest diagnoses were made, and such perfectly well-defined -medical entities as tabes, arteriosclerosis, parathyroidism, -myasthenia, and incipient tumours of the brain were frequently -given the neurasthenic label. Various theories of -exhaustion and nervous strain were also advanced and the -attempt was made to feed and strengthen the nervous system -directly on the analogy of Professor Agassiz’s famous assumption -that the phosphates in fish could be directly absorbed as -material for brain-cells, a theory which did not account for -the fact that comparatively few intellectual giants have sprung -from fisher-folk. This naturally opened up a wide field for -quackery and ushered in the era of “nerve tonics” which are -still with us to-day. The craze for sanitariums also started at -about this time, and with every doctor having a little sanitarium -of his own the public was pretty well fleeced both by -its “medicine men” and its men of medicine.</p> - -<p>Of course no treatment could possibly be successful in curing<span class="pagenum" id="Page_432">432</span> -such a wide variety of diseases the very existence of many -of which was hidden from the physician under the blanket -term of neurasthenia; and in those cases where an actual neurasthenia -was present the treatment as developed by Beard -and his followers made only superficial progress. The S. Weir -Mitchell formula, for instance, with its emphasis upon quiet, -diet, and rest, remained, in the majority of cases, essentially -a treatment of symptoms rather than of causes. The tired -and over-wrought business man was given a pacifying vacation -from his dubious labours and was then promptly sent back -to them, like a dog to his vomit. The American woman, grown -nervous from being insufficiently occupied, was initiated into -a different form of doing nothing, whereat she felt much relieved -for a time. Neurasthenia was soon moving in a vicious -and ever-widening circle; the more it spread the more it had -to include and thus became less and less digested medically; -it played havoc especially among American women who exploited -their “nervousness” much as their European sisters -had exploited their “migraine” or their “vapours” in previous -generations. By the nineties, however, neurasthenia had run -its course as a fashionable affliction, other countries had succeeded -in surviving without erecting a quarantine against it, -and medical circles had begun to debate whether there was -such a thing as neurasthenia at all.</p> - -<p>But, despite the breakdown of neurasthenia and the sins -that were committed in its name, it would be a mistake to be -merely amused at Doctor Beard for the pretentiousness of his -concept or to criticize him too severely for being too much of -a medical popularizer. His insight was, after all, of considerable -value. For he realized, however imperfectly, that the -neuroses as a class are cultural diseases and that they cannot -be properly understood without taking into account the background -of modern civilization. This is a rare virtue in American -medicine where the specialist is constantly in danger of -isolating himself, a tendency which is particularly harmful in -the study of the mental sciences. Unfortunately Doctor Beard -did not follow through. He seems to have become frightened -at his own diagnosis. For no sooner had he drawn the worst -possible picture of American civilization as a breeder of neurasthenia<span class="pagenum" id="Page_433">433</span> -than he turned around and assured the public that -things were not so bad after all. He accomplished this by -enriching his sociology with a philosophy which is a prodigy -in itself. This philosophy of his he called the “omnistic philosophy” -and claimed for it the peculiar virtue of being able to -include “optimism on the one hand and pessimism on the -other and make the best of both,” which is undoubtedly as -uplifting a piece of American metaphysics as one is likely to -find on the whole Chautauqua circuit. In criticizing the slow -advance of American medicine as a whole it is always well to -remember the atmosphere of intellectual quackery in which -our physicians no less than our early metaphysicians so confidently -moved.</p> - -<p>By the end of the 19th century the study of functional nervous -disorders in America was, as I have said, pretty well strewn -with the <i xml:lang="la" lang="la">disjecta membra</i> of neurasthenia which still breathed -slightly under the stimulus of electro- and hydrotherapeutics -and of the “health foods” industry. Meanwhile hypnotism -also had come to do its turn upon the American medical stage, -where it ran through a swift cycle of use and abuse. Neurology -as a special department, like the rest of American medicine, -had been greatly enriched by contact with continental -medicine, and the works of Kraepelin had come into honour -among the psychiatrists. Dr. Morton Prince had begun to -publish some interesting studies of double personalities, and -a number of tentative systems of psycho-therapy based on a -rather mixed procedure had been set up only to be knocked -down again as a beneficial exercise for the critical faculty.</p> - -<p>But now the stage was set for the appearance of the two -modern theories of the neuroses as presented in Europe by -Janet and Freud. In the rivalry that immediately ensued between -these two opposing theories that of Janet was soon outdistanced. -His fundamental conception of hysteria as a form -of degeneration was in a way quite as repugnant to American -optimism as the sexual interpretation of Freud was to American -prudery. Janet had indeed been of invaluable help to -the hysteric by taking him seriously, but his presentation of -the subject was so narrow and his theory in the end proved -so static that his views have made little headway. Janet was<span class="pagenum" id="Page_434">434</span> -also under the disadvantage of working as an isolated figure -in a prescribed field and did not come into any revolutionary -relation to psychology as a whole or find those immensely suggestive -analogies in the field of psychiatry, especially in dementia -præcox and paranoia, which have given the work of Freud -such a wide range. He had, besides, the defects common -to so much of French medicine which is often so peculiarly -insular and, so to speak, not made for export. His contribution -more or less began and ended with the theory of the dissociation -of the personality which is not characteristic of hysteria -alone and could not successfully be grafted upon the old -psychology to which Janet clung.</p> - -<p>On the other hand, Freud after an initial resistance rapidly -became epidemic in America. As was the case in Europe, he -enjoyed considerable vogue among the lay public while still -violently opposed in medical circles. His visit to America, -however, in 1909, on the occasion of the twentieth anniversary -of Clark University, created a very favourable impression and -brought him to the attention of such American psychologists as -William James, Edwin B. Holt, Adolf Meyer, and others. His -works appeared in this country in translations by Doctor A. A. -Brill, and in a short while Freud was “taken up” with a -vengeance.</p> - -<p>He has had both the advantages and the handicaps of a -boom. His admirers have obscured or exaggerated him and -his enemies have derided his popularity as proof of a reputation -based upon sensationalism. In fact, Freud met with three -fates: he was either wildly embraced, or rejected in toto with -an appropriate academic lynching, or else he was accepted with -“improvements.”</p> - -<p>He was fortified by previous experience against the second -alternative and probably resigned to the third: it was the embrace -that most nearly proved fatal to him. For America -was to see the most extravagant development of the so-called -“wild” psychoanalysis, a danger against which Freud himself -had issued a warning. In 1916, for instance, an informal -canvas revealed that approximately five hundred individuals -were quite willing to psychoanalyze patients in the city of New -York alone, whereas there were probably not more than six<span class="pagenum" id="Page_435">435</span> -properly qualified medical practitioners in the whole State. -Advertisements offered to teach the psychoanalytic technique -by mail and instructors in chiropractic included it in their -curriculum. This gross abuse was due to the general laxness -of medical law in this country which still remains to be remedied. -It was not only the amateurs that offended; doctors -themselves were often at fault. For it cannot be too often -emphasized that a psychoanalyst must have something more -than the conceit of psychological subtlety common to most of -us; he must be a trained neurologist and must have had considerable -experience in psychiatry if he would escape the pitfalls -of differential diagnosis—a case of hysteria can be dangerously -like an incipient tumour of the brain and a compulsion-neurosis -may simulate a paranoid condition. These abuses are, of -course, no criticism of the intrinsic value of psychoanalysis. -It has been the history of so many medical discoveries that -they are recommended as a cure-all; we need but recall vaccination, -or the present vitamine craze. On the other hand, it -is regrettable that the direct attack upon Freud in this country -has rarely risen above the level of denunciation. Quite recently, -for instance, one of our socially eminent neurologists -allowed himself to indulge in the teleological, or rather disguised -theological, argument that if the unconscious is really -so full of dreadful things as Freud says, they should be left -there. And yet it is just serious and sympathetic criticism -of which the science of psychoanalysis stands most in need.</p> - -<p>The attempts to assimilate Freud were of two kinds. The -first of these, like Professor Holt’s book on “The Freudian -Wish” or Doctor Edward J. Kempf’s “The Autonomic Functions -and the Personality,” were sincere attempts of critical -dignity to relate psychoanalysis to American behaviouristic psychology -on the part of men who are not altogether professed -Freudians. The second were more in the nature of somewhat -pompous criticisms which attempted to reconcile and soften -what seemed to be the more repellent features of the Freudian -theories. There is a prevalent tendency among medical men -in America to indulge in criticism without any due regard to -the proportions between the magnitude of a subject and their -familiarity with it, somewhat after the manner of the green<span class="pagenum" id="Page_436">436</span> -theological student who is confident of his ability to subvert -the theory of evolution in a casual thesis of his own. The -scientist in many fields is constantly facing this debasement of -standards, making science not too scientific or logic not too -logical lest it should be misunderstood; it is certainly a commentary -that the majority of Americans, for instance, look -upon Edison as our greatest scientist. The tendency to -sweeten and refine Freud has taken some peculiar forms, due, -in great part, to Doctor Jung who, on having re-introduced -the libido theory to American audiences with a number of -philosophical and mystical trimmings of his own, felt that he -had made Freud more palatable over here.</p> - -<p>Ironically enough, it would have been a very simple matter -to “put over” Freud in this country with all the éclat of the -Bergsonian craze which just preceded him. It was merely -a question of the right kind of publicity, for the problem of -how to handle sex in America has been solved long ago. The -way to do it is to sentimentalize it. If Freud, instead of saying -that the incestuous longing of the child for the parent of -opposite sex is a natural impulse, though normally sublimated -during the period of adolescence, had put the same idea into -the phraseology of so many of our popular songs which reiterate -the theme about mother being her boy’s first and last -and truest love, he would have encountered no opposition. -And if he had given his theory of the unconscious a slightly -religious setting by emphasizing the fact that the unconscious -has no sense of the passage of time and cannot conceive its -own annihilation, he would have been hailed as the latest -demonstrator of the immortality of the soul. A little personal -press-agenting to the effect that he led a chaste life and was -the father of a flourishing family would have completed the -prescription. He would have gone over with a bang, though -he probably would have been quite as amiably misunderstood -as he is now viciously misunderstood.</p> - -<p>Freud, however, presented his case at its own value and, -aside from informing an astonished American audience that -Doctor Sanford Bell had preceded him in announcing the preadolescent -sexuality of children, shouldered the responsibility -for his theories. What he has said, carefully and repeatedly,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_437">437</span> -is that ever since, for a long period in our development, the -difficulties of satisfying the hunger impulse have been overcome -in so far as civilized man has pretty well solved the problem -of nutrition; it is the sex impulse to which the individual -has the greatest difficulty in adjusting himself. This difficulty -increases rather than decreases with the advance of culture -and at certain stages leads to the group of diseases known -as the neuroses. In a normal sexual life there is no neurosis. -But our civilization has in many ways become so perverse that -we find something akin to an official preference for a neurosis -rather than a normal sexual life, in spite of the fact that the -neurosis ultimately will destroy civilization. This is the -vicious circle which Freud attacked. In doing so he had first -to enlarge the concept of sexuality and show its complex relation -to our whole culture. In studying civilization at its breaking -point he naturally had to study what was breaking it up, -namely, the individual’s maladjustment to his sexual impulses. -But he has never attempted to sexualize the universe, as has -been claimed, nor has he ever lost sight of the fact that while -man as an egocentric being must put the self-regarding instincts -first, man regarded as one of the processes of nature -remains to be studied in terms of his reproductive instincts. -Freud has been persistently oversexualized both by his admirers -and his opponents, and the degree to which this has -been done in America is at least some indication of how close -he has come home to conditions here.</p> - -<p>Freudian research in this country has been limited almost -entirely to cases. Our physicians who practise psychoanalysis -have lacked either the leisure or the culture to apply their -science to wider cultural questions to which the Freudian -psychology applies, and among the lay scholars using the -psychoanalytic technique there has been no outstanding figure -like that of Otto Rank who has done such notable work in -Vienna. But the study of specific cases of hysteria and -neurosis as they occur in America already permit of some -general conclusions as to the character of the national matrix -from which they spring. One of the most striking features -of our emotional life is the exaggerated mother-love so frequently -displayed by Americans. The average American,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_438">438</span> -whether drunk or sober, can grow maudlin about his mother’s -perfections and his devotion to her in a way that must shock -the European observer. Not that the European loves his -mother less: it is simply that he is more reticent about expressing -an emotion which he feels has a certain private sanctity; -he would experience a decided constraint or αἰδώς in -boasting about it, just as a woman of breeding would not -parade her virtue. The American adult knows no such restraint; -he will “tell the world” how much he loves his -mother, will sing sentimental songs about her and cheerfully -subscribe to the advice to “choose a girl like your mother -if you want to be happily married,” and then grows violent -when the incest-complex is mentioned. This excessive mother -worship has reached almost cultic proportions. It is reflected -in our fiction, in our motion-pictures, in the inferior position -of the American husband, and in such purely matriarchal religions -as Christian Science where a form of healing is practised -which is not very far removed from a mother’s consolation -to her boy when he has bruised his knees. All this points to -a persistent sexual infantilism and an incomplete sublimation, -which are such fertile breeders of hysteria. One is involuntarily -reminded of Doctor Beard’s rather enigmatic statement -that the extraordinary beauty of our women is one of the -causes of nervousness in America. In so far as they offer a -maximum of enticement with a minimum of conjugal satisfaction -the charge is certainly justified. It is as if they did not -even know their own business in terms of their sexual function -of weaning their husbands from their mothers and thus -completing the necessary exogamic process. We thus have the -condition where the husband, in further seeking to overcome -his incest-complex, becomes everything in his business and -nothing in his home, with an ultimate neurotic breakdown or -a belated plunge into promiscuity. The wife, on her part, -either becomes hysterical or falls a victim to religious or reformatory -charlatanism.</p> - -<p>The study of compulsion-neuroses and allied paranoid states -which are so prevalent among us has given us further insights -into the neurotic character of the American temperament. -One of the most valuable of these is the recognition of the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_439">439</span> -compulsive nature of so much of our thinking. This has also -been well observed by a foreign critic like Santayana who says -of America, “Though it calls itself the land of freedom, it is -really the land of compulsions, and one of the greatest compulsions -is that we must think and feel alike.” This is a -rather fatal indictment of our boasted individualism, which is, -as a matter of fact, an individualism born of fear and distrust -such as already marked our early pioneers. We are indeed -ultra-conformists, and our fear of other-mindedness amounts -almost to a phobia. But such an atmosphere constitutes a -paradise for the compulsion-neurotic because he finds it easy -to impose his compulsions upon the rest of society. The fact -that compulsion-neurotics are constantly indulging in neo-religious -formations through which they are enabled temporarily -to accommodate their taboos and phobias in religious -ceremonials, enables them to make use of the general religious -sanctions of society in order to impose their compulsions upon -their fellow-beings.</p> - -<p>Herein probably lies a better explanation of American intolerance -than in the indictment of Puritanism which furnishes -such a favourite invective for our iconoclasts. Puritanism -has become a literary catchword and by no means covers -the case. For it must be remembered that we are dealing with -offshoots of deteriorated religions which spring from a very -wide range of individuals. Religion, having been cut off from -direct interference with the State, and having gradually lost -its primitive anthropomorphism which really was one of its -sources of strength, proceeded to project itself more and more -outwardly upon social questions. As the personality of God -grew dim the figure of the Devil also lost its vividness and -the problem between good and evil could not longer be fought -out entirely in the individual’s own bosom; he was no longer -tempted by the figure of the Devil appearing to him in person. -Christian religion in its prime saw very clearly that the soul -must put its own salvation to the fore, and constantly used -many apt similes, such as the beam in our own eye, to remind -us that while our neighbour might also have his hands full in -fighting the Devil, he probably was capable of taking care of -himself. Our modern reformer has no use for any such simile;<span class="pagenum" id="Page_440">440</span> -he would have to go out of business if he could not keep picking -at the mote in his neighbour’s eye. He finds the equivalent -of the Devil in our social vices, in alcohol, in tobacco, in tea -and coffee, in practically all forms of amusements. He -preaches a crusade which no longer has an ideal object, and -enlists a vague religious emotion which is inaccessible to reason -and mocks intellectual criticism. The device of using religious -associations as carriers of propaganda has often been -used for political purposes with consummate skill. Bryan’s -famous Cross of Gold speech and Roosevelt’s Armageddon -appeal are excellent examples of it.</p> - -<p>The question has often arisen why the fanatical reformer -is so omnipotent in America. Why does he succeed so well -in imposing his compulsions upon others? Why are we so -defenceless against his blackmail? Why, in plain language, -do we stand for him? Foreign observers have frequently -commented upon the enormous docility of the American public. -And it is all the more curious because ordinarily the average -American prides himself upon his assertiveness and his -quickness in detecting false pretensions. Yet it is a common -occurrence to meet people with valid claims to hard-headedness -who nevertheless submit to every form of compulsion. They -do not believe in prohibition but vote for it, they smoke but -think smoking ought to be stopped, they admit the fanatical -nature of reform movements and yet continue their subscriptions.</p> - -<p>In giving what can at best be only a partial answer to this -national enigma, we may briefly consider two types which profoundly -contribute to our atmosphere of compulsion: our immigrant -and our native aristocrat. The first, from the very -nature of the case, becomes the victim of compulsion, while -the second imposes the compulsion and then in turn, however -unwillingly, succumbs to it himself. Our society, with its -kaleidoscopic changes of fortune and its unchannelled social -distinctions, presents a problem of adjustment with which even -those who are at home in America find it difficult to cope. -People on the make, people who are not sure of themselves -on a new social ladder, are likely to conform: we find an astonishing -amount of social imitation, in its milder and more<span class="pagenum" id="Page_441">441</span> -ludicrous form, in all our pioneer communities. The immigrant -faces the same problem to an intensified degree. He -comes to us in an uprooted state of mind, with many of his -emotional allegiances still lingering in his native country, and -often with an entirely alien tradition. His mind is set to conform, -to obey at first without much asking. He is like a -traveller arriving in a strange town who follows the new traffic -directions even though he does not understand their purpose. -But even with the best of will he cannot entirely conform. -He finds himself in a new world where what formerly seemed -right to him is now considered wrong, his household gods have -lost their power, his conscience is no longer an infallible guide. -It is a sign of character in him to resist, to refuse to sink his -individuality entirely, to struggle somewhat against the democratic -degradation which threatens to engulf him too suddenly. -But his struggle leads to a neurotic conflict which is often not -resolved until the third generation. It is thus quite permissible -to talk of an immigrant’s neurosis, which has considerable -sociological importance even though it does not present an -integral clinical picture. It leads either to the formation of -large segments of undigested foreigners in American society -who sullenly accept the forms we impose upon them while -remaining comparatively inarticulate in our cultural and political -life, or else it produces a type of whom our melting-pot -romanticists are foolishly proud, the pseudo-American who -has sunk from individualism to the level of the mob, where he -conforms to excess in order to cover his antecedents and becomes -intolerant in order that he may be tolerated.</p> - -<p>Ordinarily, the mob tyranny which has become such an -alarming feature of our public life would be checked by the -aristocratic element in society. It is part of the aristocratic -function to foster cultural tolerance and to resist herd suggestion: -the aristocratic or dominant type, in enjoying the most -privileges, is normally least subject to compulsions and taboos. -With us that is not the case. The Southerner, for instance, -our most traditional aristocrat, finds himself paralyzed by the -consciousness of a black shadow behind him who constantly -threatens both his political and his sexual superiority. He -moves in an atmosphere of taboos from which he himself<span class="pagenum" id="Page_442">442</span> -cannot escape, for it is an established fact that interdiction -in one line of thought has a crippling effect upon a man’s -intellectual activity as a whole. Elsewhere our native aristocrat -frequently finds himself in the position of a lonely outpost -of a thin Anglo-Saxon tradition which he must defend against -the constant onslaughts of alien civilizations, in the desperate -attempt to uphold the fiction that spiritually, at least, we are -still an English colony. He is in a state of tension where he -himself cannot move with any of the freedom which he vaunts -as one of the outstanding characteristics of the country of his -fathers. In his hands his own latest hope, our war-born -Americanization programme, which should really be an initiation -into freedom, has quickly become little more than a forced -observance of sterile rites with which to impress the alien. -He already sees its failure, and, like a general who is afraid of -his own army, he does not sleep very well.</p> - -<p class="right"> -<span class="smcap">Alfred B. Kuttner</span> -</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div id="toclink_443" class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_443">443</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="MEDICINE">MEDICINE</h2> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="smcap1">From</span> time immemorial the doctor has been the object of -respect and awe by the generality of mankind. It is true -that he has occasionally been made the butt of the satirical -humour of such dramatists as Molière and Shaw, but the -majority of people have regarded these jests as amiable buffooneries, -and not as penetrating criticisms. In ancient days -the veneration of the medico was based upon his supposed -association with gods and devils, and upon the belief that he -could cure disease by wheedling propitiation of <i xml:lang="la" lang="la">deus</i>, or by -the exorcism of <i xml:lang="la" lang="la">diabolus</i>. In modern times he holds sway by -his supposed possession of the secrets of science.</p> - -<p>In spite of his pretension to scientific attainment, many -vestiges of his former priesthood remain, and this <i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">mélange</i> of -scientist and priest has produced curious contradictions and -absurdities. But these absurdities must by an inexorable law -remain concealed from all save a few, and the general failure -to recognize them has led to a great increase in the importance -and prosperity of the medical cult. In America, of all -civilized nations, medical magnificence has reached its most -formidable proportions. This exaggeration, characteristic of -all social phenomena in the new world, makes the real importance -of the doctor to society easy to inspect and to analyze.</p> - -<p>A friend not long ago asked me to explain the co-existence, -in the same city, of the elaborate installation of the Harvard -Medical School and the magnificent temple of the religion -of Mrs. Eddy. “What is it in our culture,” said he, “that -permits the symbol of such obvious quackery as that of Mrs. -Eddy to flourish within a stone’s throw of such an embodiment -of scientific enlightenment as the medical college?”</p> - -<p>I replied that the reason for this must be sought in the gullibility -of our citizens, who are capable of entertaining most incompatible -and contradictory credos. Thus, the average -American can believe firmly and simultaneously in the therapeutic<span class="pagenum" id="Page_444">444</span> -excellence of yeast, the salubrious cathartic effects of -a famous mineral oil, the healing powers of chiropractors, -and in the merits of the regimen of the Corrective Eating -Society. His catholicity of belief permits him to consider -such palpable frauds seriously, and at the same time to admire -and respect authentic medical education and even the scientific -study of disease. But the teachers, students, and alumni -of medical colleges are drawn from our excessively credulous -populace. So it is dangerous to consider the votaries of the -profession of medicine as sceptical and open-minded <em>savants</em>, -in contrast to the promulgators of the afore-mentioned imbecilities -and to <i xml:lang="la" lang="la">Homo sapiens americanus</i>, who is the unconscious -victim of such charlatanry. In reality the great majority -of the medical profession is credulous and must always -remain so, even in matters of health and disease.</p> - -<p>The tendency to consider physicians in general as men of -science is fostered by the doctors themselves. Even the most -eminent among them are guilty in this respect. Thus the -Director of the Hospital of the Rockefeller Institute maintains -that medicine must be considered not as an applied science -but as an independent science (R. Cole, <cite>Science</cite>, N. S., Vol. LI, -p. 329). And an eminent ex-President of the American Medical -Association holds a similar view, at the same time preposterously -asserting that “medicine has done more for the -growth of science than any other profession, and that its best -representatives have been among the leaders in the advancement -of knowledge....” (V. C. Vaughan, <cite>Journal</cite>, A. M. A., -1914, Vol. LXII, p. 2003.)</p> - -<p>Such pronunciamentoes rest upon the almost universal confusion -of the <em>art</em> of the practice of medicine with the <em>science</em> -of the study of disease. Science, in its modern definition, -is concerned with the quantitative relationship of the factors -governing natural phenomena. No favourites are to be played -among these factors. They are to be weighed and measured -meticulously and coldly, without enthusiasm for one, or disdain -and enmity toward another. Now, in the case of relationship -of doctor to patient, it is clear that such emotions must -enter. The physician must entertain enthusiasm for the defensive -powers of his patient, John Smith, and at the same<span class="pagenum" id="Page_445">445</span> -time hate virulently the pneumococcus that attacks him. This -emotional state of the soldier of health prevents the employment -of what is known in the language of the laboratory as -the “control.” For example, a doctor wishes to test the -efficacy of a serum against pneumonia. In America it is -practically unknown for him to divide his cases of pneumonia -into two groups of equal size, to administer his serum to group -A and to leave group B untreated. He almost invariably has -a <i xml:lang="la" lang="la">parti-pris</i> that the serum will work, and he reflects with horror -that if he holds his remedy from group B, some members -of this group will die, who might otherwise have been saved. -So he injects his serum into all of his patients (A and B), and -if the mortality in the entire group appears to him to be lower -by statistics than that observed in previous series of cases, -he concludes that the value of his nostrum is proved. This -is an illustration of the fallacy of the notion that medicine is -a science in the modern sense.</p> - -<p>Modern study of disease, conducted in the laboratory upon -experimental animals, has furnished medical practitioners with -a few therapeutic and prophylactic weapons. In the use of -these the American medico has not lagged behind his European -colleague. But the great majority of the malaises that -plague us are not amenable to cure, and it is with these that -the doctor has since the beginning of time played his most -important rôle, i.e., that of a “professional sympathizer.” The -encouraging conversation with the family of the sufferer; the -mumbling of recondite Latin phrases; the reassuring hopeful -hand on the patient’s shoulder; the grave use of complicated -gimcracks; the prescription of ineffective but also innocuous -drugs or of water tinted to pleasing hues; all these are of -incalculable value to the <i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">ménage</i> stricken by disease. It is -my lamentable duty to point out the danger of the decline of -this essential rôle among the doctors of America. The general -practitioner of the <i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">ancien régime</i> was sincere in his performance -of his quasi-religious function. He was unsparing of -his energies, stern in his devotion to duty, deeply altruistic -in sentiment, and charmingly negligent in economic matters.</p> - -<p>But at the present time this adorable figure is disappearing -from the land, to be replaced by another, more sinister type,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_446">446</span> -actually less learned in the important folklore of the bedside, -pseudo-scientific, given to rigidly defined office hours, and painfully -exact in the extortion of his emolument. What are the -factors that give rise to the appearance of this new figure on -the American scene? The most important of these is to be -found in the high development of the craft of surgery in the -United States. Of all the dread afflictions that plague us, a -few may be cured or ameliorated by the administration of -remedies, and an equally small number improved or abolished -by surgical interference. But in spite of the relatively few -diseases to which surgery is beneficial, the number of surgeons -that flourish in the land is enormous. The fundamental discoveries -of Pasteur and their brilliant application by Lister -were quickly seized upon in America. The names of Bull, -Halstead, Murphy, the brothers Mayo, Cushing, and Finney -are to be ranked with those of the best surgeons of any nation. -In fact, we may be said to lead the world—to use an apt -Americanism—in the production of surgeons, just as we do in -that of automobiles, baby carriages, and antique furniture.</p> - -<p>The success of these protagonists in the higher carpentry -at once attracted a horde of smaller fry, imitators, men of inferior -ability. The rapid advances made by the leaders resulted -in the development of a diversified and complicated technic, -which the ordinary surgeon was able to master in sections -but not <i xml:lang="la" lang="la">in toto</i>. From this, specialization in surgery has developed -rapidly and naturally, so that now certain men devote -their lives exclusively to the enthusiastic and indiscriminate -removal of tonsils, others are death on gall bladders, some the -foes of the vermiform appendix, and yet others practise exclusively -the radical cure of phimosis. It is obvious that such -narrow specialization, practised in isolation, would lead to -most amusing results, which may best be left to the imagination. -But these absurdities were finally apparent even to the -surgeons themselves, with the resulting development of what -is now known as “group medicine.”</p> - -<p>In brief, surgeons with special <em>penchants</em> for the removal of -various organs, form partnerships, calling to their aid the internist -for the diagnosis of their prospective victims. The -internist gathers about him, in turn, a group of less important<span class="pagenum" id="Page_447">447</span> -fry, known as radiographers, bacteriologists, pathologists, and -serologists. Frequently a dentist is added to the coterie. The -entire organization is welded into a business partnership of -typically American efficiency. These groups are forming over -the entire nation, are appearing even in the tank-towns of -the hinterland. They occupy elegant suites in important -office buildings, their members are generally considered the -arbiters of the medical opinion of the community. Their more -or less intelligent use of the paraphernalia of pathology, bacteriology, -<i xml:lang="la" lang="la">et cetera</i>, gives them an enormous advantage over -their more humble brother, the general practitioner. This -last, indeed, is being rapidly routed in his battle with such -associations of “best minds,” equipped with the armamentarium -of modern science.</p> - -<p>The remuneration required by the “super-docs” of group -medicine is naturally far in excess of that demanded by the -general practitioner. It is right that this should be so, if not -for the results obtained, then by reason of the elaborate organization -and expensive equipment that the group system -demands. This increase in reward has made the profession -of medicine in America what it never was before, a paying -proposition—again to use an apt Americanism. The result -of this entry of crass materialism into a previously free-and-easy, -altruistic, anything but business-like profession is, once -more, better left to the imagination than described. The -brigandage of many of these medical banditti is too painful -even to think about. It will be apparent that relatively few -of our citizens are able to pay for group medicine. So, it is -interesting to observe that the best in medical treatment and -advice is accessible only to the highest and lowest castes of -our plutocracy. The rich receive this at the elegant offices -and private hospitals of the groups, the miserably poor at the -teaching hospitals of medical colleges.</p> - -<p>The service of the “super-doc” to such of our citizens as -can afford him cannot at this time be properly estimated. It -is true that he is progressive, that he leans heavily upon the -subsidiary sciences of pathology, <i xml:lang="la" lang="la">et cetera</i>, that he publishes -papers in medical periodicals, that he visits medical libraries, -frequents medical congresses. It has just been insisted that<span class="pagenum" id="Page_448">448</span> -the doctor has benefitted himself to a great extent economically -by forming the group; it is for the future to divulge whether -his ministrations have resulted in a perceptible reduction of -human suffering or in a prolongation of human life. Certainly -he has perpetrated some astounding hoaxes, the kind-hearted -will say unwittingly. Probably the most interesting -of these is to be observed in the focal infection mania just -now subsiding.</p> - -<p>Focal infection came into prominence as the theory, so -called, of a group of eminent physicians in Chicago. It is, in -brief, the doctrine that many of our aches and pains whose -direct etiology it is impossible to demonstrate are due to the -presence in the body of foci of harmful microbes, at the roots -of the teeth, in the tonsils, accessory sinuses, or the appendix. -Discover the focus, remove it, and presto!—the ache disappears -like the card up the sleeve of the expert American poker -player. The advantages of this theory to the various specialists -of a group will be obvious. To illustrate. Henry Doolittle -is plagued by a persistent and annoying pain over his -left shoulder-blade. He goes to the office of a group of -“super-docs,” is referred to the diagnostician, who makes a -careful record of his <i xml:lang="la" lang="la">status præsens</i>, then orders his satellites -to perform the Wassermann reaction, make the luetin test, do -differential blood counts, perform the determination of his -blood urea, and carry out a thorough chemical study of his -basal metabolism. If the results of these tests show no departure -from the normal, or if they seriously contradict each -other, the cause of the pain is probably focal infection. The -patient is then subjected to examination by X-ray, his teeth -are pulled by the dentist, his tonsils excised by the otolaryngolist, -who also takes a swipe, in passing, at his accessory -sinuses, and should these mutilations fail to relieve him, his -appendix is removed by the abdominal surgeon. If relief -still fails to occur, the theory is not given up, but the focus is -presumed to exist elsewhere. If Mr. Doolittle’s patience is -equal to the test, and if his purse is not by this time completely -empty, additional operations are advised. These continue -until all organs and appendages not actually necessary to -mere existence have been removed. Henry then returns to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_449">449</span> -his former mode of life, depleted and deformed, it is true, but -occasionally minus his original pain. It is not the intention -to deny that infected teeth and tonsils have no significance in -pathology. But it is certain that their importance has been -greatly exaggerated by many physicians. The question needs -more investigation, with fewer preconceived ideas. The “science” -underlying this astounding practice is admirably outlined -in the book of Billings called “Focal Infection.” It -is the most striking example of medical <em>Ga-Ga-ism</em> that has -appeared in our country. It is, as its author himself admits, -a triumph of the new idea of team-work and co-operative research -in medicine. The factors giving rise to this lamentable -<em>Ga-Ga</em> are the gullibility of patient and doctor, the emotional -element entering into the interpretation of all of the phenomena -observed by the physician, commercialism, and, finally, the -self-limiting nature of most disease.</p> - -<p>So much for the Art of Healing as practised by the physicians -of America. What of our activities in the second aim of -medicine, that is, the prevention of disease? While superficial -examination is enough to lay bare the many hollow pretensions -of the practice of medicine, it would appear <i xml:lang="la" lang="la">a priori</i> -that the work of disease prevention might at least approach -the category of the applied sciences. This would seem to be -so, since the greater part of this field must of necessity concern -itself with infectious disease. Now the etiologic agents of the -majority of infectious diseases are known. It is easy to see -that the labour of their prevention rests upon an exact knowledge -of the nature of the disease-producing microbes, the -analysis of the delicate balance between the virulence of the -microbic invader and the resistance of the human host, and, -most important of all, upon the exact path by which the -germ in question travels from one individual to another.</p> - -<p>In the early days of preventive medicine, following shortly -upon the fundamental researches of Pasteur, several important -contributions were made by Americans. These include -the brilliant investigations of Theobald Smith on the etiology -and mode of transmission of the Texas fever of cattle, and, -later on, the differentiation of bovine and human tuberculosis. -America had again reason to be proud when, in 1901, Reed,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_450">450</span> -Carroll, Agramonte, and Lazear demonstrated that yellow -fever was spread exclusively by the mosquito, <i xml:lang="la" lang="la">Ædes calopus</i>. -These investigators showed a beautiful spirit of self-sacrifice -and devotion to their science. The construction of the Panama -Canal was made possible by the application of these -researches by Gorgas. Again, the American Russell was the -first to show that vaccination against typhoid and allied infections -is feasible. In the New York Board of Health, Park, -Krumwiede, and their associates have made careful and valuable -studies on the prevention of diphtheria. These constitute -the high lights of American achievement in preventive -medicine. It must be admitted that the majority of these -examples are to be placed in the category of the science of the -study of disease, rather than in that of its application—preventive -medicine.</p> - -<p>It is noticeable even by cursory survey of recent American -work that such striking achievements have become distinctly -fewer in recent years, despite an enormous increase in personnel, -equipment, and money devoted to the prevention of -disease. Along with this decrease in solid contributions there -has been an augmentation of fatuous propaganda and windy -theory. All of the judicious must view this tendency with -alarm and sadness, since it seemed for a time that science was -really about to remove the vestigia of witchcraft and high-priesthood -from this branch of medicine at least.</p> - -<p>What is the cause of this retrogression? It must be laid -at the door of <i xml:lang="la" lang="la">Religio Sanitatis</i>, the Crusade of Health. This -is one of the most striking examples of the delusion of most -Americans that they are the Heaven-appointed uplifters of -the human race. Just as all Baptists, Presbyterians, and -Methodists deprecate the heathen happiness of the benighted -Oriental, so the International Health Board seeks to mitigate -his contented squalour and to eradicate his fatalistically born -disease. Just as Billy Sunday rages against John Barleycorn -and the Dionysians who worship him, so the Great Hygienists -seek to point out the multiform malaises arising from such -worship. Just as the now extinct Wilson strove to show the -world that it was horrid and wrong to fight, so the Public -Health Service seeks to propagate the notion that chastity and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_451">451</span> -adherence to marital vows are the sole alternatives to a universal -syphilization.</p> - -<p>Thus we observe with horror the gradual replacement of -those Nestors of preventive medicine who had the dispassionate -view of science, and who applied its methods of cold -analysis, by a group of dubious Messiahs who combine the -zealous fanaticism of the missionary with the Jesuitical -cynicism of the politician. For most of the organizations for -the promotion of health are closely dependent upon state and -municipal politics, and must become contaminated with the obscenity -of political practice. Finally, it is apparent that the -great privately endowed foundations are animated by the spirit -of proselytism common to the majority of religions, but especially -to Baptists. It will be objected that such charges are -vague generalizations. It is necessary, therefore, to bring -forward one or two specific instances in support of these -contentions.</p> - -<p>The soldiers of the recent successful campaign for national -prohibition were supported by battalions of noted hygienists -who made excellent practice with a heavy artillery of so-called -scientific evidence upon the confused ranks of brewers, distillers, -and their customers, the American bibuli. What is -the value of their “scientific evidence”? Two charges are -made against the use of alcohol as a beverage. <i xml:lang="la" lang="la">Primo</i>, that -its moderate or excessive use is the direct cause of various -maladies. <i xml:lang="la" lang="la">Secondo</i>, that the children of alcoholic parents are -often deformed, degenerates, or imbeciles, and that such lamentable -stigmata are the direct results of the imbibitions of their -parents.</p> - -<p>Now it is vain to argue that alcohol, taken in great excess, -is not injurious. Mania a potu (Korsakow’s disease) is -without doubt its direct result, at least in some instances. On -the other hand, excessive indulgence in water is also not without -its harmful effects, and I, for one, would predict evil -days for our Great Commoner, should he so far lose control -of himself as to imbibe a gallon of grape juice <i xml:lang="la" lang="la">per diem</i>. -Many enthusiastic hygienists advance the opinion that alcohol -is filling our insane asylums! This generalization is a gorgeous -example of <i xml:lang="la" lang="la">post hoc propter hoc</i> reasoning, and is based<span class="pagenum" id="Page_452">452</span> -upon the idiotic statistical research which forms so large a -part of the activity of the minions of public health. The -recent careful work of Clouston and others tends more and -more to indicate that chronic alcoholics do not go crazy because -they drink, but become alcoholics because they already -were crazy, or had the inherited tendency toward insanity. -This embarrassing fact is carefully suppressed by the medico-hygienic -heavy artillerists of the prohibition army. What is -more, diseases with definite pathologic pictures, such as cirrhosis -of the liver, have by no means been definitely proved to be -caused by alcohol. Indeed, the researches of Friedenwald, -who endeavoured to produce such effects by direct experiment, -have led to negative results.</p> - -<p>The second indictment, i.e., that alcoholism in parents -causes degenerate offspring, rests upon still more dubious scientific -foundations. The most important animal experimentation -in this field is that of Stockard, who used guinea-pigs -as his subjects, and of Pearl, who had recourse to chickens. -Both of these researches are sound in scientific method. Unfortunately -for hygienists, they lead to completely contradictory -conclusions. Stockard and his collaborators found the -offspring of alcoholic guinea-pigs to be fewer in number than -those of his normal controls. What is more, the children of -the alcoholics were frequently smaller, had a higher post-natal -mortality, and were prone to suffer from epileptiform convulsions. -These results brought forth <em>banzais</em> from the hygienists -and were extensively quoted, though their application by analogy -to the problems of human heredity is not to be made too -hastily.</p> - -<p>Pearl, on the other hand, discovered that while the number -of offspring from his inebriated chickens was distinctly fewer, -yet these were unquestionably superior to normal chickens in -eight of the twelve hereditary characters amenable to quantitative -measurement. Now if one can generalize Stockard’s results -to human beings, then it is equally permissible to do the -same with Pearl’s. Of the two, the latter generalization would -be preferable, and of greater benefit to the human race, were -the analogy valid. For who will not whoop for “fewer children, -but better ones”? Do the votaries of preventive medicine<span class="pagenum" id="Page_453">453</span> -place the results of Pearl along side of those of Stockard? -Indeed, who even mentions Pearl’s results at all? If satisfactory -evidence is adduced that this has been done, I hereby -promise to contribute one hundred dollars in cash toward the -foundation of a home for inebriated prohibition agents. Again, -while much is heard of the results of Bezzola in regard to the -<i xml:lang="de" lang="de">Rauschkinder</i> resulting from the Swiss bacchanalia, the negative -findings of Ireland in similar investigations of the seasonal -debauches of Scotland are carefully avoided. Once more, Elderton -and Karl Pearson have failed utterly to find increase -in the stigmata of degeneracy among the children of alcoholic -parents as compared with those of non-alcoholics. This research, -published in a monograph of the Francis Galton Laboratory -of London, is the one really careful one that has been -made in the case of human beings. It was directed by Pearson, -admittedly a master of biometrical science. Yet, turning -to Rosenau’s “Preventive Medicine and Hygiene,” the bible of -this branch, I find the Elderton-Pearson report relegated to a -footnote in the edition of 1913, <em>and omitted completely from -the 1920 edition</em>.</p> - -<p>A discussion of the fatuity to which American preventive -medicine descends cannot be terminated without touching upon -the current propaganda of the syphilophobes. For just as -practitioners of medicine exploit human credulity, so the preventers -of disease play upon the equally universal instinct of -fear. There is no intention of minimizing the seriousness of -syphilis. Along with cancer, pneumonia, and tuberculosis, it -is one of the major afflictions of humanity. It causes thousands -of deaths yearly; it leads to great misery. Paresis, one of the -important psychoses, is definitely known to be one of its manifestations. -It is obvious, therefore, that its eradication is one -of the major tasks of social hygiene.</p> - -<p>But by what means? Let one of the most noted of our -American syphilophobes give the answer! This gentleman, a -professor of pathology in one of the most important medical -schools of the Middle West, yearly lectures over the length -and breadth of the land on the venereal peril. He begins his -expostulation with reduction of his audiences to a state of terror -by a lantern-slide display of the more loathsome manifestations<span class="pagenum" id="Page_454">454</span> -of the disease. He does not state that modern treatment -makes these more and more rare. He insists upon the -utter impossibility of its cure, a fact by no means established. -He advocates early marriage to a non-syphilitic maiden as the -best means of prevention, and failing that, advises that chastity -is both possible and salubrious. Then follows a master -stroke of advice by innuendo—<em>the current belief that masturbation -causes insanity is probably untrue</em>. Finally he denies -the value of venereal prophylaxis, which was first experimentally -demonstrated by Metchnikoff and Roux, and -which the medical department of the Army and Navy know -to be of almost perfect efficacy when applied early and -thoroughly.</p> - -<p>Lack of space prevents the display of further examples of -the new phenomenon of the entrance of religion and morals into -medicine. It is not my intention for a moment to adopt a -nihilistic attitude toward the achievement of preventive medicine. -But it is necessary to point out that its contamination -by moralism, Puritanism, proselytism, in brief, <em>by religion</em>, -threatens to reduce it to absurdity, and to shake its authority -in instances where its functions are of unmistakable value to -our republic. At present the medical profession plays a minor -rôle in the more important functions of this branch. These -are performed in the first place by bacteriologists who need -not be doctors at all, and in the second by sanitary engineers, -whose splendid achievements in water supply and sewage disposal -lead those of all other nations.</p> - -<p>It has been remarked above that one of the chief causes of -the unscientific nature of medicine and the anti-scientific character -of doctors lies in their innate credulity and inability to -think independently. This contention is supported by the report -on the intelligence of physicians recently published by the -National Research Council. They are found by more or less -trustworthy psychologic tests to be the lowest in intelligence -of all of the professional men excepting only dentists and -horse doctors. Dentists and horse doctors are ten per cent. -less intelligent. But since the quantitative methods employed -certainly carry an experimental error of ten per cent. or even -higher, it is not certain that the members of the two more<span class="pagenum" id="Page_455">455</span> -humble professions have not equal or even greater intellectual -ability. It is significant that engineers head the list in intelligence.</p> - -<p>In fact, they are rated sixty per cent. higher than doctors. -This wide disparity leads to a temptation to interesting psychological -probings. Is not the lamentable lack of intelligence -of the doctor due to lack of necessity for rigid intellectual -discipline? Many conditions conspire to make him an intellectual -cheat. Fortunately for us, most diseases are self-limiting. -But it is natural for the physician to turn this dispensation -of nature to his advantage and to intimate that <em>he</em> has -cured John Smith, when actually nature has done the trick. -On the contrary, should Smith die, the good doctor can assume -a pious expression and suggest that, despite his own incredible -skill and tremendous effort, it was God’s (or Nature’s) -will that John should pass beyond. Now the engineer is open -to no such temptation. He builds a bridge or erects a building, -and disaster is sure to follow any mis-step in calculation -or fault in construction. Should such a calamity occur, he is -presently discredited and disappears from view. Thus he is -held up to a high mark of intellectual rigour and discipline that -is utterly unknown in the world the doctor inhabits.</p> - -<p>A survey of the present condition of American medical education -offers little hope for a higher intellectual status of the -medical profession or of any fundamental tendency to turn -medicine as a whole from a <i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">mélange</i> of religious ritual, more -or less accurate folk-lore, and commercial cunning, toward the -rarer heights of the applied sciences.</p> - -<p>Such a reform depends absolutely upon the recognition that -the bodies of all the fauna of the earth (including <i xml:lang="la" lang="la">Homo -sapiens</i>) are essentially physico-chemical mechanisms; that -disease is a derangement of one sort or another of this mechanism; -and that real progress in knowledge of disease can only -come from quantitatively exact investigation of such derangements.</p> - -<p>Up to the present, the number of professors in any branch -of medicine who are aware of this fact is pitifully few. The -men, who, being aware of it, have the training in physics and -chemistry to put their convictions into practice are less in<span class="pagenum" id="Page_456">456</span> -number. So, it is vain to hope that medical students are being -educated from this point of view.</p> - -<p>This casual glance at American medicine may be thought -to be an unduly pessimistic one. It has not been my intention -to be pessimistic or to be impertinently critical. Indeed, -turning from the art of the practice of medicine, and the religion -and folk-lore of sanitation, to the science of the study of -disease, we have much of which to be proud. American biochemists -of the type of Van Slyke and Folin are actually in the -lead of their European brothers. Their precise quantitative -methods furnish invaluable tools in the exact study of the ills -that afflict us.</p> - -<p>Finally, the greatest figure of all, Jacques Loeb, working in -an institution that declares its purpose to be the dubious one -of <em>medical</em> research, has in the last three years published investigations -which throw a flood of light upon the dark problems of -the chemistry of proteins. His work is of most fundamental -significance, will have far-reaching results, and is measurably -in advance of that of any European in the same field. Loeb, -like all men of the first rank, has no spirit of propaganda or -proselytism. His exact quantitative experiments rob biology -of much of its confused romantic glamour. The comprehension -of his researches demands thorough knowledge of physical -chemistry. However, it is encouraging to note that among -a few younger investigators his point of view is being accepted -with fervour and enthusiasm. But it is time to stop. We are -straying from our subject which was, if I remember, American -medicine.</p> - -<p class="right"> -<span class="smcap">Anonymous</span> -</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div id="toclink_457" class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_457">457</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="SPORT_AND_PLAY">SPORT AND PLAY</h2> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap b"><span class="smcap1">Bartlett</span> does not tell us who pulled the one about all -work and no play, but it probably was the man who said -that the longest way round was the shortest way home. There -is as much sense in one remark as in the other.</p> - -<p>Give me an even start with George M. Cohan, who lives in -Great Neck, where I also live, without his suspecting it—give -us an even start in the Pennsylvania Station and route me on -a Long Island train through Flushing and Bayside while he -travels via San Francisco and Yokohama, and I shall undertake -to beat him home, even in a blizzard. So much for “the -longest way round.” Now for the other. If it were your ambition -to spend an evening with a dull boy, whom would you -choose, H. G. Wells, whose output indicates that he doesn’t -even take time off to sleep, or the man that closes his desk at -two o’clock every afternoon and goes to the ball-game?</p> - -<p>You may argue that watching ball-games is not play. It is -the American idea of play, which amounts to the same thing, -and seventy-five per cent, of the three hundred thousand citizens -who do it daily, in season, will tell you seriously that it -is all the recreation they get; moreover, that deprived of it, -their brain would crack under the strain of “business,” that, -on account of it, they are able to do more work in the forenoon, -and do it better, than would be possible in two or three -full days of close sticking on the job. If you believe them, -inveterate baseball fans can, in a single morning, dictate as -many as four or five twenty-word letters to customers or salesmen, -and finish as fresh as a daisy; whereas the non-fan, the -grind, is logy and torpid by the time he reaches the second -“In reply to same.”</p> - -<p>But if you won’t concede, in the face of the fans’ own statement, -that it is recreation to look on at baseball or any other -sport, then let me ask you to invite to your home some evening, -not a mere spectator, but an active participant in any of -our popular games—say a champion or near-champion golfer,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_458">458</span> -or a first string pitcher on a big league baseball club. The -golfer, let us say, sells insurance half the year and golfs the -rest. The pitcher plays eight months of the year and loafs the -other four. Bar conversation about their specialty, and you -won’t find two duller boys than those outside the motion-picture -studios.</p> - -<p>No, brothers, the bright minds of this or any other country -are owned by the men who leave off work only to eat or go to -bed. The doodles are the boys who divide their time fifty-fifty -between work and play, or who play all the time and don’t -even pretend to work. Proper exercise undoubtedly promotes -good health, but the theory that good health and an active -brain are inseparable can be shot full of holes by the mention -of two names—Stanislaus Zbyzsk and Robert Louis Stevenson.</p> - -<p>It is silly, then, to propound that sport is of mental benefit. -Its true, basic function is the cultivation of bodily vigour, with -a view to longevity. And longevity, despite the fact that we -profess belief in a post-mortem existence that makes this one -look sick, is a thing we poignantly desire. Bonehead and wise -guy, believer and sceptic—all of us want to postpone as long -as possible the promised joy-ride to the Great Beyond. If to -participate in sport helps us to do that, then there is good -reason to participate in sport.</p> - -<p>Well, how many “grown-ups” (normal human beings of -twenty-two and under need not be considered; they get all -the exercise they require, and then some) in this country, a -country that boasts champions in nearly every branch of athletics, -derive from play the physical benefit there is in it? -What percentage take an active part in what the sporting editors -call “the five major sports”—baseball, football, boxing, -horse racing, and golf? Let us take them one by one and figure -it out, beginning with “the national pastime.”</p> - -<p><i>Baseball.</i> Twenty or twenty-one play. Three hundred to -forty thousand look on. The latter are, for two hours, “out -in the open air,” and this, when the air is not so open as to give -them pneumonia and when they don’t catch something as bad -or worse in the street-car or subway train that takes them -and brings them back, is a physical benefit. Moreover, the -habitual attendant at ball-games is not likely to die of brain<span class="pagenum" id="Page_459">459</span> -fever. But otherwise, the only ones whose health is appreciably -promoted are the twenty or twenty-one who play. And -they are not doing it for their health.</p> - -<p><i>Football.</i> Thirty play. Thirty thousand look on. One or -two of the thirty may be killed or suffer a broken bone, but -the general health of the other twenty-nine or twenty-eight is -improved by the exercise. As for the thirty thousand, all they -get is the open air—usually a little too much of it—and, unless -they are hardened to the present-day cheer-leader, a slight -feeling of nausea.</p> - -<p><i>Boxing.</i> Eight to ten play. Five thousand to sixty thousand -look on. Those of the participants who are masters of defence -may profit physically by the training, though the rigorous -methods sometimes employed to make an unnatural weight -are certainly inimical to health. The ones not expert in defensive -boxing, the ones who succeed in the game through their -ability to “take punishment” (a trait that usually goes with -a low mentality) die, as a rule, before reaching old age, as a -result of the “gameness” that made them “successful.” -There is a limit to the number of punches one can “take” -and retain one’s health. The five or sixty thousand cannot -boast that they even get the air. All but a few of the shows -are given indoors, in an atmosphere as fresh and clean as that -of the Gopher Prairie day-coach.</p> - -<p><i>Horse Racing.</i> Fifty horses and twenty-five jockeys play. -Ten thousand people look on. I can’t speak for the horses, but -if a jockey wants to remain a jockey, he must, as a rule, eat a -great deal less than his little stomach craves, and I don’t know -of any doctor who prescribes constant underfeeding as conducive -to good health in a growing boy.</p> - -<p>Racing fans, of course, are out for financial, not physical, -gain. They, like the jockeys, are likely to starve to death -while still young.</p> - -<p><i>Golf.</i> Here is a pastime in which the players far outnumber -the lookers-on. It is a game, if it is a game, that not only -takes you out in the open air, but makes you walk, and walking, -the doctors say, is all the exercise you need, if you walk -five miles or more a day. Golf, then, is really beneficial, and -it costs you about $25.00 a week the year round.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_460">460</span></p> - -<p>So much for our “five major sports.” We look on at four -of them, and if we can support the family, and pay taxes and -insurance, on $1250 a year less than we earn, we take part in -the fifth.</p> - -<p>The minor sports, as the editor will tell you, are tennis, -boating, polo, track athletics, trap-shooting, archery, hockey, -soccer, and so on. Not to mention games like poker, bridge, -bowling, billiards, and pool (now officially known as “pocket -billiards” because the Ladies’ Guild thought “pool” must -have something to do with betting), which we may dismiss as -being of doubtful physical benefit, since they are all played -indoors and in a fog of Camel smoke.</p> - -<p>Of the outdoor “minors,” tennis is unquestionably the most -popular. And it is one whale of a game—if you can stand it. -But what percentage of grown-ups play it? I have no statistics -at hand, and must guess. The number of adult persons -with whom I am acquainted, intimately or casually, is possibly -two thousand. I can think of ten who play as many as five -sets of tennis a year.</p> - -<p>How many of the two thousand play polo or have ever -played polo? One. How many are trap-shooters? Two. -How many have boats? Six or seven. How many run footraces -or jump? None. How many are archers? None. How -many play hockey, soccer, la crosse? None.</p> - -<p>If I felt like indulging in a game of cricket, which God forbid, -whom should I call up and invite to join me?</p> - -<p>Now, how many of my two thousand acquaintances are occasional -or habitual spectators at baseball games, football -games, boxing matches, or horse races? All but three or four. -The people I know (I do not include ball-players, boxers, and -wrestlers, who make their living from sport) are average -people; they are the people you know. And the overwhelming -majority of them don’t play.</p> - -<p>Why not? If regular participation in a more or less interesting -outdoor game is going to lengthen our lives, why don’t -we participate? Is it because we haven’t time? It takes just -as much time to look on, and we do that. Is it because we -can’t afford it? We can play tennis for as little as it costs to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_461">461</span> -go to the bail-game and infinitely less than it costs to go to -the races.</p> - -<p>We don’t play because (1) we lack imagination, and because -(2) we are a nation of hero-worshippers.</p> - -<p>When we were kids, the nurse and the minister taught us -that, if we weren’t good, our next stop would be hell. But, to -us, there was no chance of the train’s starting for seventy -years. And we couldn’t visualize an infernal excursion that -far off. It was too vague to be scary. We kept right on swiping -the old man’s cigars and giggling in the choir. If they had -said that misdemeanours such as those would spell death and -eternal fire, not when we were old, but to-morrow, most of -us would have respected father’s property rights and sat -through the service with a sour pan. If the family doctor were -to tell us now that unless we got outdoors and exercised every -afternoon this week, we should die next Tuesday before lunch, -you can bet we should get outdoors and exercise every afternoon -this week. But when he tells us that, without healthful outdoor -sport, we shall die in 1945 instead of 1949, why, it doesn’t -mean anything. It’s a chimera, a myth, like the next war.</p> - -<p>But hero-worship is the national disease that does most to -keep the grandstands full and the playgrounds empty. To -hell with those four extra years of life, if they are going to cut -in on our afternoon at the Polo Grounds, where, in blissful -asininity, we may feast our eyes on the swarthy Champion of -Swat, shouting now and then in an excess of anile idolatry, -“Come on, you Babe. Come on, you Baby Doll!” And if -an hour of tennis is going to make us late at the Garden, perhaps -keep us out of our ringside seats, so close to Dempsey’s -corner that (O bounteous God!) a drop of the divine perspiration -may splash our undeserving snout—Hang up, liver! -You’re on a busy wire!</p> - -<p class="right"> -<span class="smcap">Ring W. Lardner</span> -</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div id="toclink_463" class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_463">463</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="HUMOUR">HUMOUR</h2> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="smcap1">With</span> the aid of a competent bibliographer for about five -days I believe I could supply the proof to any unreflecting -person in need of it that there is no such thing as an -American gift of humorous expression, that the sense of -humour does not exist among our upper classes, especially our -upper literary class, that in many respects almost every other -civilized country in the world has more of it, that quiet New -England humour is exceedingly loud and does not belong to -New England, that British incomprehension of our jokes is as -a rule commendable, the sense of humour generally beginning -where our jokes leave off. And while you can prove anything -about a race or about all races with the aid of a bibliographer -for five days, as contemporary sociologists are now showing, I -believe these things are true. Belief in American humour is -a superstition that seldom outlasts youth in persons who have -been exposed to American practice, and hardly ever if they -know anything of the practice elsewhere. Of course I am not -speaking of the sad formalism of the usual thing as we see it -in newspapers and on movie screens or of the ritual of magazines -wholly or in part sanctified to our solemn god of fun. I -mean the best of it.</p> - -<p>In the books and passages collated by my bibliographer the -American gift of humour would be distributed over areas of -time so vast and among peoples so numerous, remote, or savage, -that no American would have the heart to press his claim. -The quaintness, dryness, ultra-solemnity with or without the -wink, exaggeration, surprise, contrast, assumption of common -misunderstanding, hyperbolical innocence, quiet chuckle, upsetting -of dignity, <i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">éclat</i> of spontaneity with appeals to the everlasting, -dislocation of elegance or familiarity, imperturbability, -and twinkle—whatever the qualities may be as enumerated by -the bacteriologists who alone have ever written on the subject,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_464">464</span> -the most American of them would be shown in my bibliographer’s -report to be to a far greater degree un-American. Patriotic -exultation in their ownership is like patriotic exultation -in the possession of the parts of speech. Humour is no more -altered by local reference than grammar is altered by being -spoken through the nose. And if the bibliography is an ideal -one it will not only present American humour at all times and -places but will produce almost verbatim long passages of -American humorous text dated at any time and place, and will -show how by a few simple changes in local terms they may be -made wholly verbatim and American. It will show that American -humorous writing did in fact begin everywhere but only -at certain periods was permitted to continue and that these -periods were by no means the happiest in history. I have time -to mention here only the laborious section that it will probably -devote to Mark Twain in the Age of Pericles, though for -the more active reader the one on Mr. Cobb, Mr. Butler, and -others around the walls of Troy might be of greater contemporary -interest.</p> - -<p>Mark Twain, according to the citations in this section, would -seem actually to have begun all of his longer stories, including -“Pudd’nhead Wilson,” and most of the shorter ones, essays, -and other papers, at Athens or thereabouts during this period, -but not to have finished a single one, not even the briefest of -them. He started, gave a clear hint as to how the thing would -naturally run, and then he stopped. The reason for this was -that owing to the trained imagination of the people for whom -he wrote, the beginning and the hint were sufficient, and from -that point on they could amuse themselves along the line that -Mark Twain indicated better than he would have amused -them, had he continued. Mark Twain finally saw this and -that is why he stopped, realizing that there was no need of his -keeping the ball rolling when to their imaginative intelligence -the ball would roll of itself. He did at first try to keep on, -and being lively and observant and voluble even for a Greek -he held large crowds on street-corners by the sheer repetition -of a single gesture of the mind throughout long narratives of -varied circumstance. In good society this was not tolerated -even after supper, and there was never the slightest chance of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_465">465</span> -publication. But the streets of Athens were full of the suppressed -writings of Mark Twain.</p> - -<p>Every man of taste in Athens loved Mark Twain for the -first push of his fancy but none could endure the unmitigated -constancy of his pushing of it, and as Mark Twain went everywhere -and was most persistent, the compression of his narrative -flow within the limits of the good breeding of the period -was an embarrassing problem to hosts, unwilling to be downright -rude to him. Finally he was snubbed in public by his -friends and a few of the more intimate explained to him afterwards -the reason why.</p> - -<p>The gist of their explanation was evidently this: The hypothesis -of the best society in town nowadays is that the prolongation -of a single posture of the mind is intolerable, no -matter how variegated the substance in which the mind reposes. -That sort of thing belongs to an earlier day than ours, -although, as you have found, it is still much relished in the -streets. If all the slaves were writers; if readers bred like -rabbits so that the pleasing of them assured great wealth; if -the banausic element in our life should absorb all the rest of -it and if, lost in the external labour process, with the mechanism -of it running in our minds, we turned only a sleepy eye -to pleasure; then we might need the single thought strung with -adventures, passions, incidents and need only that—infinitudes -of detail easily guessed but inexorably recounted; long lists of -sentiments with human countenances doing this and that; -physiological acts in millions of pages and unchanging phrase; -volumes of imaginary events without a thought among them; -invented public documents equalling the real; enormous anecdotes; -and all in a strange reiterated gesture, caught from machines, -disposing the mind to nod itself to sleep repeating the -names of what it saw while awake. But the bedside writer for -the men in bed is not desired at the present moment in our -best society.</p> - -<p>All these things are now carried in ellipsis to the reader’s -head, if the reader’s head desires them; they are implied in -dots at ends of sentences. We guess long narratives merely -from a comma; we do not write them out. In this space left -free by us with deliberate aposiopesis, a literature of countless<span class="pagenum" id="Page_466">466</span> -simplicities may some day arise. At present we do not feel the -need of it. And in respect to humour the rule of the present -day is this: never do for another what he can do for himself. -A simple process of the fancy as in contrast, incongruity, exaggeration, -impossibility, must be confined in public to one or -two displays. Let us take the simplest of illustrations—a cow -in the dining-room, for example—and proceed with it as simply -as we can. If by a happy stroke of fancy a cow in the dining-room -is made pleasing to the mind, never argue that the pleasure -is doubled by the successive portrayal of two cows in two -dining-rooms, assuming that the stroke of fancy remains the -same. Realize rather that it diminishes, and that with the -presentation of nine cows in nine dining-rooms it has changed -to pain. Now if for cows in dining-rooms be substituted gods -in tailor shops, tailors in the houses of gods, cobblers at -king’s courts, Thebans before masterpieces, one class against -another, one age against another, and so on through incalculable -details, however bizarre, all in simple combination, all easily -gathered, without a shift of thought or wider imagery, the fancy -mechanistically placing the objects side by side, picked from -the world as from a catalogue—even then the situation to our -present thinking is not improved.</p> - -<p>“Distiktos,” said they, playfully turning the name of the -humourist into the argot of the street, “we find you charming -just at the turn of the tide, but when the flood comes in, <i xml:lang="la" lang="la">ne -Dia!</i> you are certainly <i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">de trop</i>. And in your own private interest, -Distiktos, unless you really want to lead a life totally -anexetastic and forlorn, how can you go on in that manner?”</p> - -<p class="right"> -<span class="smcap">Frank Moore Colby</span> -</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_467">467</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="American_Civilization_from_the_Foreign_Point_of_View"><i>American Civilization from the Foreign Point of View</i></h2> -</div> - -<table id="foreign"> -<tr> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#toclink_469">I.</a></td> - <td class="tdl"><a href="#toclink_469">ENGLISH</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#toclink_489">II.</a></td> - <td class="tdl"><a href="#toclink_489">IRISH</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#toclink_508">III.</a></td> - <td class="tdl"><a href="#toclink_508">ITALIAN</a></td> -</tr> -</table> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_468">468</span></p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div id="toclink_469" class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_469">469</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="I_AS_AN_ENGLISHMAN_SEES_IT">I. AS AN ENGLISHMAN SEES IT</h2> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap a"><span class="smcap1">A little</span> less than two years ago—on the 14 July, 1919, -to be exact—it fell to my lot, as an officer attached to -one of the many military missions in Paris, to “assist,” from -a reserved seat in a balcony of the Hotel Astoria, at the <i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">défilé</i>, -or triumphal entry of the Allied troops into Paris.</p> - -<p>The march <i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">à Berlin</i> not having eventuated owing to the upset -in schedule brought about by the entry of dispassionate -allies at the eleventh hour, it was felt that the French must -be offered something in exchange, and this took the happy -form of a sort of community march along the route once desecrated -by Prussian hoof-beats—a vast military <i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">corbeille</i> of the -allied contingents, with flags, drums, trumpets, and all the rest -of the paraphernalia that had been kept in cold storage during -four years of gas, shell, and barbed wire. Such a <i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">défilé</i>, it was -calculated, would be something more than a frugal gratification -to the French army and people. It would offer to the -world at large, through the medium of a now unmuzzled press, -a striking object lesson in allied good feeling and similarity of -aims.</p> - -<p>My purpose in referring to the <i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">défilé</i> is merely to record one -unrehearsed incident in it but I would say in passing that the -affair, “for an affair,” as the French say, was extraordinarily -well stage-managed. A particularly happy thought was the -marshalling of the allied contingents by alphabetical order. -This not only obviated any international pique on what we -all wanted to be France’s day, but left the lead of the procession -where everybody, in the rapture of delivery, was well content -it should remain. Handled with a little tact, the alphabet -had once more justified itself as an impartial guide:</p> - -<p class="in0 in4"> -B is for Britain, Great.<br /> -A is for America, United States of. -</p> - -<div class="tb">* * * * *</div> - -<p>For impressiveness I frankly and freely allot the palm to -what it was the fashion then to term the American effort. Different<span class="pagenum" id="Page_470">470</span> -contingents were impressive in different ways. The Republican -Guard, jack-booted, with buckskin breeches, gleaming -helmets, flowing <i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">crinières</i>, and sabres <i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">au clair</i>, lent just the right -subtle touch of the <i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">épopée</i> of Austerlitz and Jena to make us -feel 1871 had been an evil dream; the Highlanders, the voice -of the hydra squalling and clanging from their immemorial -pipes, stirred all sorts of atavistic impulses and memories. -Nevertheless, had I been present that day in Paris as a newspaper -man instead of as the humblest and most obscure of soldiers, -neither one nor the other would have misled my journalistic -instinct. I should have put the lead of my “story” -where alphabetical skill had put the lead of the procession—in -the American infantry.</p> - -<p>In front the generalissimo, martial and urbane, on a bright -coated horse that pranced, curvetted, “passaged” from side to -side under a practised hand. At his back the band, its monster -uncurved horns of brass blaring out the Broadway air before -which “over there” the walls of pacifism had toppled into dust -in a day. Behind them, platoon by platoon, the clean shaved, -physically perfect fighting youth of the great republic. All six -feet high—there was not one, it was whispered, but had earned -his place in the contingent by a rigorous physical selection: -moving with the alignment of pistons in some deadly machine—they -had been drilled, we were told, intensively for a month -back. In spotless khaki, varnished trench helmets, spick and -span, scarcely touched by the withering breath of war. Whenever -the procession was checked, platoon after platoon moved -on to the regulation distance and marked time. When it -resumed, they opened out link by link with the same almost -inhuman precision, and resumed their portentous progress. -How others saw them you shall hear, but to me they were -no mere thousand fighting men; rather the head of a vast -battering ram, the simple threat of which, aimed at the over-taxed -heart of the German Empire, had ended war. A French -<i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">planton</i> of the Astoria staff, who had edged his way into the -ticketed group was at my back. “Les voilà qui les attendaient,” -he almost whispered. “Look what was waiting for -<em>them</em>.”</p> - -<p>The next balcony to mine had been reserved for the civil<span class="pagenum" id="Page_471">471</span> -employés of British missions, and here was gathered a little -knot of average English men and women—stenographers, typists, -clerks, cogs of commercialism pressed into the mechanical -work of post-war settlement. As the Americans moved on -after one of the impressive checks of which I have just spoken, -something caught my ears that made me turn my head quickly, -even from a spectacle every lost moment of which I grudged. -It was, of all sounds that come from the human heart, the -lowest and the most ominous—the sound that makes the unwary -walker through tropical long grass look swiftly round his -feet and take a firmer grasp on the stick he has been wise -enough to carry.</p> - -<p>It is impossible—it is inconceivable—and it’s true. On this -great day of international congratulation, one of the two -branches of the Anglo-Saxon race was hissing the other.</p> - -<div class="tb">* * * * *</div> - -<p>I spoke about the matter later to a friend and former -chief, whom I liked but whose position and character were no -guarantee of tact or good judgment. I said I thought it rather -an ominous incident, but he refused to be “rattled.” With -that British imperturbability which Americans have noted and -filed on the card index of their impressions he dismissed the -whole thing as of slight import.</p> - -<p>“Very natural, I dare say. Fine show all the same. Perhaps -your friends on the other balcony thought they were -slopping over in front.”</p> - -<p>“‘Slopping over...?’”</p> - -<p>“Well—going a little too far. Efficiency and all that. Bit -out of step with the rest of the procession.”</p> - -<p>I have often wondered since whether this homely phrase, uttered -by a simple soldier man, did not come nearer to the root -of the divergence between British and American character -than all the mystifying and laborious estimates which nine out -of ten of our great or near-great writers seem to think is due -at a certain period in their popularity.</p> - -<p>To achieve discord, you see, it is not necessary that two instruments -should play different tunes. It is quite sufficient -that the tempo of one should differ from the tempo of the other. -All I want to indicate in the brief space which the scope of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_472">472</span> -this work, leaves at my disposal are just a few of the conjunctures -at which I think the beat of the national heart, here and -across the Atlantic, is likely to find itself out of accord.</p> - -<div class="tb">* * * * *</div> - -<p>Englishmen do not emigrate to the United States in any -large numbers, and it is many years since their arrival contributed -anything but an insignificant racial element to the -“melting pot.” They do not come partly because their own -Colonies offer a superior attraction, and partly because British -labour is now aware that the economic stress is fiercer in the -larger country and the material rewards proportionately no -greater. Those who still come, come as a rule prepared to take -executive positions, or as specialists in their several lines. -Their unwillingness to assume American citizenship is notorious, -and I think significant; but it is only within quite recent -years that it has been made any ground of accusation—and -among the class with which their activities bring them into -closest contact it is, or was until a year or two ago, tacitly and -tactfully ignored. During a review of the “foreign element” -in Boston to which I was assigned two years before the war, I -found business men of British birth not only reluctant to yield -“copy” but resentful of the publicity to which the enterprise -of my journal was subjecting them.</p> - -<p>There are many reasons why eminent English writers and -publicists are of little value in arriving at an estimate of “how -Americans strike an Englishman.” While not asserting anything -so crude as that commercial motives are felt as a restraining -force when the temptation arises to pass adverse judgment -on the things they see and hear, it is evident that the conditions -under which they come—men of achievement in their -own country accredited to men of achievement here—keep -them isolated from much that is restless, unstable, but vitally -significant in American life. None of them, so far as I know, -have had the courage or the enterprise to come to America, -unheralded and anonymous, and to pay with a few months -of economic struggle for an estimate that might have real -value.</p> - -<p>To this lack of real contact between the masses in America -and Great Britain is due the intrinsic falsity of the language<span class="pagenum" id="Page_473">473</span> -in which the racial bond is celebrated on the occasions when -some political crisis calls for its reiteration. It is felt easier -and safer to utter it in consecrated <i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">clichés</i>—to refer to the -specific gravity of blood and water, or the philological roots -of the medium used by Milton and Arthur Brisbane. The -banality, the insincerity, of the public utterances at the -time that America’s entry into the European struggle first -loomed as a possible solution of the agony on the Western -Front was almost unbelievable. Any one who cares to turn -up the files of the great dailies between September, 1916, and -March, 1918, may find them for himself.</p> - -<p>To a mind not clouded by the will to believe, this constant -invocation of common aims, this perpetual tug at the bond to -ensure that it has not parted overnight, would be strong corroboration -of a suspicion that the two vessels were drifting apart, -borne on currents that flow in different directions. It is not -upon the after-dinner banalities of wealthy and class-conscious -“pilgrims” nor the sonorous platitudes of discredited laggards -on the political scene, still less is it upon the sporting proclivities -of titled hoydens and hawbucks to whom American -sweat and dollars have arrived in a revivifying stream, that -we shall have to rely should the cable really part and the two -great vessels of State grope for one another on a dark and uncharted -sea. It is upon the sheer and unassisted fact of how -American and Englishman like or dislike one another.</p> - -<p>It is a truism almost too stale to restate that we are standing -to-day on the threshold of great changes. What is not so -well realized is that many of these changes have already taken -place. The passing of gold in shipment after shipment from -the Eastern to the Western side of the Atlantic and the feverish -hunt for new and untapped sources of exploitation are only the -outward signs of a profound European impoverishment in -which Britain for the first time in her history has been called -upon to bear her full share. The strikes and lock-outs that -have followed the peace in such rapid succession might possibly -be written off as inevitable <i xml:lang="la" lang="la">sequelæ</i> of a great war. The -feeble response to the call for production as a means of salvation, -the general change in the English temper faced with its -heavy task are far more vital and significant matters. They<span class="pagenum" id="Page_474">474</span> -seem to mark a shift in moral values—a change in the faith -by which nations, each in the sphere that character and circumstance -allot, wax and flourish.</p> - -<p>Confronted with inevitable competition by a nation more -populous, more cohesive, and richer than itself, it seems to me -that there are three courses which the older section of the -English race may elect to follow. One is war, before the -forces grow too disparate, and on the day that war is declared -one phase of our civilization will end. It will really not matter -much, to the world at large, who wins an Anglo-American -world conflict. The second, which is being preached in and -out of season by our politicians and publicists, who seldom, -however, dare to speak their full thought, is a girding up of -the national loins, a renewed consecration to the gospel of effort, -a curtailment, if necessary—though this is up to now -only vaguely hinted—of political liberties bestowed in easier -and less strenuous days. The third course may easily be -guessed. It is a persistence in proclivities, always latent as I -believe in the English temperament, but which have only revealed -themselves openly since the great war, a clearer questioning -of values till now held as unimpeachable, a readier ear -to the muttering and murmuring of the masses in Continental -Europe, internationalism—revolution. No thoughtful man in -England to-day denies the danger. Even references to that -saving factor, the “common sense of the British workman,” -no longer allays the spectre of a problem the issues of which -have only to be stated to stand forth in all their hopeless irreconcilability. -Years ago, long before the shadow fell on the -world, in a moment of depression or inspiration, I wrote that -cravings were stirring in the human heart on the very eve of -the day when the call would be to sacrifice. That is the riddle, -nakedly stated, to which workers and rulers alike are asked -to find an answer to-day.</p> - -<p>In this choice that lies before the British worker a great -deal may depend upon how American experiments and American -achievements strike him. In England now there is no -escaping from the big transatlantic sister. Politicians use her -example as a justification; employers hold up her achievements -as a reproach. A British premier dare not face the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_475">475</span> -House of Commons on an “Irish night” unequipped with -artful analogies culled from the history of the war of secession. -The number of bricks per hour America’s bricklayers will lay -or the tons of coal per week her stolid colliers will hew are -the despair of the contractor face to face with the loafing and -pleasure-loving native born. You will hear no more jokes -to-day in high coalition places over her political machine replacing -regularly and without the litter and disorder of a general -election tweedledum Democrat by a tweedledee Republican. -She is recognized—and this, I think, is the final value -placed upon her by the entire ruling and possessing classes in -my own country—as better equipped in her institutions, her -character, and her population for the big economic struggle -that is ahead of us.</p> - -<p>This is the secret of the unceasing court paid to Washington -by all countries, but pre-eminently by Britain. It is not -fear of her power, nor hunger for her money bags and harvests, -nor desire to be “on the band-wagon,” as light-hearted -cartoonists see it, that prompts the nervous susceptibility and -the instantaneous response to anything that will offend those -in high places on the banks of the Potomac. It is the sense, -among all men with a strong interest in maintaining the present -economic order, that the support in their own countries is -crumbling under their hands, and that that fresh support, -stronger and surer, is to be found in a new country with a -simpler faith and a cleaner, or at any rate a shorter, record. -To fight proletarianism with democracy is a method so obvious -and safe that one only wonders its discovery had to wait upon -to-day. Its salient characteristic is a newly aroused interest -and enthusiasm in one country for the political forces that seem -to make stability their watchword in the other. The coalition -has become the hero of the New York <cite>Times</cite> and <cite>Tribune</cite>—the -triumph of the Republican party was hailed almost as a -national victory in the London <cite>Times</cite> and Birmingham <cite>Post</cite>. -Intransigeance in foreign policies finds ready forgiveness in -London; in return, a blind eye is turned to schemes of territorial -aggrandisement at Washington.</p> - -<p>If a flaw is to be discerned in what at first sight seems a perfectly -adjusted instrument for international comity, it is that<span class="pagenum" id="Page_476">476</span> -this new Anglo-American understanding seems to be founded -on class rather than on national sympathy. Even offhand -some inherent inconsistency would seem to be sensed from the -fact that the appeal of the great republic comes most home, in -the parent country, to the class that is least attached to democratic -forms and the most fearful of change. References to -America arouse no enthusiasm at meetings of the labour element -in England, and it is still felt unwise to expose the Union -Jack to possible humiliation in parades on a large scale in New -York or Chicago. A sympathy that flowers into rhetoric at -commercial banquets or at meetings of the archæologically inclined -may have its roots in the soundest political wisdom. -But to infer from such demonstrations of class solidarity any -national community of thought or aim is both unwarranted and -unsafe. This much is evident, that should a class subversion, -always possible in a country the political fluidity of which is -great, leave the destinies of Great Britain in the hands of the -class that is silent or hostile to-day when the name of America -is mentioned, an entire re-statement of Anglo-American unity -would become necessary, in terms palatable to the average -Englishman.</p> - -<div class="tb">* * * * *</div> - -<p>This average Englishman is a highly complicated being. -Through the overlay which industrialism has imposed on him, -he has preserved to quite an extraordinary extent the asperities, -the generosities, the occasional eccentricities of the days -when he was a free man in a free land. No melting process -has ever subdued the sharp bright hues of his individuality -into the universal, all-pervading drab that is the result -of blending primary colours. No man who has employed -him to useful purpose has ever succeeded in reducing his personality -to the proportions of a number on a brass tag. The -pirate and rover who looked upon Roman villadom and found -it not good, the archer who brought the steel-clad hierarchy -of France toppling from their blooded horses at Crécy and -Agincourt, the churl who struck off the heads of lawyers in -Westminster Palace yard survive in him.</p> - -<p>If I am stressing this kink in the British character it is because -one of its results has been to make the Englishman of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_477">477</span> -all men the least impressed by scale, and the one to whom appeals -made on the size of an experiment or the vastness of a -vision will evoke the least response, and especially because I -think I perceive a tendency to approach him in the interests -of Anglo-American unity precisely from the angle that will -awake antagonism where co-operation is sought. The attachment -of the Englishman to little things and to hidden things, -which no one except Chesterton has had the insight to perceive, -or at all events which Chesterton was the first to place in -its full relation to his inconsistencies, explains his strangely -detached attitude to that British Empire of which his country -is the core. Its discovery as an entity calling for a special -quality in thought and action dates no further back than that -strange interlude in history, when the personality of Roosevelt -and the vision of Kipling held the imagination of the world.</p> - -<p>This refusal to be impressed by greatness, whether his own -or others’, has its disadvantages, but at least it has one saving -element. It leaves an Englishman quite capable of perceiving -that it is possible for a thing to be grandiose in scale and mean -in quality. It leaves intact his frank and childlike confidence -that the little things of the world confound the strong; his -implicit conviction that David will always floor Goliath, and -that Jack’s is the destined sword to smite off the giant’s head. -The grotesqueness of the Kaiser’s upturned moustaches, -the inadequacy of a mythical “William the Weed” to -achieve results that would count, were his guiding lights -to victory, the touchstones by which he tested in advance the -vast machine that finally cracked and broke under its own -weight. It was the “contemptible” little army of shopmen -and colliers which seized his imagination and held his affection -throughout, not the efficient mechanical naval machine -that fought one great sea battle, which was a revelation of -the risks inherent in its own monstrousness and complexity, -and made its headquarters in Scapa Flow. I recall the comments -heard at the time of Jutland in the artillery camp where -fate had throwm me. They served to confirm a dawning conviction -that the navy, while it still awes and impresses, lost -its hold on the British heart the day wooden walls were exchanged -for iron and steel. It is perhaps the “silent service”<span class="pagenum" id="Page_478">478</span> -to-day because its appeal awakes so little response. It has -been specialized and magnified out of the average Englishman’s -power to love it.</p> - -<p>In America the contrary seems the case. The American -heart appears to go out to bulk, to scale, and to efficiency. The -American has neither the time nor the temperament to test -and weigh. His affections, even his loyalties, seem to be at -the mercy of aspects that impose and impress. I know no -other country where the word “big” is used so constantly as -a token of affection. Every community has its “Big Tims,” -“Big Bills,” “Big Jacks,” great hearty fellows who gambol -and spout on public occasions with the abandonment of a -school of whales. Gargantuan “Babe Ruth,” mountainous -Jack Dempsey are the idols of its sport-loving crowds. -“Mammoth in character,” the qualification which on the lips -of the late Mr. Morgan Richards stirred laughter throughout -England, is to the American no inconsequential or slipshod -phrase. He does perceive a character and justification in -bigness. It was perhaps to this trait in his mental make-up -that the puzzling shift of allegiance to the beginning -of the great war was due. The scale and completeness of the -German effort laid hold of his imagination to an extent that -only those who spent the first few months of agonizing doubt -in the West and the Middle West can appreciate. Something -that was obscurely akin, something that transcended racial affinities -and antipathies, awoke in him at the steady ordered -flow of the field-grey legions Westward, so adequately pictured -for him by Richard Harding Davis. He is quite merciless to -defeat.</p> - -<p>Nothing conceived on such a scale can indulge complexities. -Its ideals must be ample, rugged, and primitive, adequate -to the vast task. Hence the velocity, the thoroughness, -the apparent ruthlessness with which American enterprises are -put through. It is the fashion among a certain school of -thought to call America the country of inhibitions. But there -is little inhibition to be perceived on that side of his temperament, -which the American has chosen to cultivate, leaving all -else to those who find perverse attraction in weed and ruin. -His language—and he is amazingly vocal—is as simple and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_479">479</span> -direct as his thought. The appeals and admonitions of his -leaders reverberate from vast and resonant lungs. They are -calculated rather to carry far than to penetrate deeply. They -are statements and re-statements rather than arguments. If -their verbiage often aims at and sometimes seems to attain -the sublime, if the American leader is forever dedicating, consecrating, -inspiring something, the altitude is like the elevation -given a shell in order that it may travel further. The nimble -presentation of antithesis of a Lloyd George, the dagger-play -of sarcasm of an Asquith, are conspicuously absent from the -speeches of American leaders. There is something arrogant -and ominous, like the clenching of a fist before the arm is -raised, in this sonorous presentation of a faith already securely -rooted in the hearts of all its hearers.</p> - -<p>This primitiveness and single-mindedness of the American -seem to intensify as his historical origins recede further and -further into the past. It is idle to speculate on what might -have happened had the development of his country remained -normal and homogeneous, as, up to the Civil War, it admittedly -did. It is an even less grateful task to look back on the -literature of the Transcendental period and register all that -American thought seems to have lost since in subtlety and essential -catholicity. What is really important is to realize that -not only the language but the essence of Occidental civilization -has called for simplification, for sacrifice, year by year. -It is hard to see what other choice has lain before the American, -as wave after wave of immigration diluted his homogeneity, -than to put his concepts into terms easily understood -and quickly grasped, with the philological economy of the traveller’s -pocket manual and the categorical precision of the drill -book. If in the very nature of things, this evangel is oftener -pointed with a threat than made palatable with the honey of -reason and sympathy, the task and not the taskmaster is to -blame. On no other country has ever been imposed similar -drudgery on a similar scale. It is idle to talk about the spiritual -contribution of the foreigner when his first duty is to cast -that contribution into the discard. It is futile to appeal to his -traditions where the barrier of language rears itself in a few -years between parents who have never learnt the new<span class="pagenum" id="Page_480">480</span> -tongue and children who are unable or ashamed to speak the -old.</p> - -<p>But such a régime cannot endure for many years without a -profound influence, not only on those to whom it is prescribed, -but on those who administer it. The most heaven-born -leader of men, put into a receiving depot to which monthly -and fortnightly contingents of bemused recruits arrive, quickly -deteriorates into something like a glorified and commissioned -drill sergeant. The schoolmaster is notoriously a social failure -in circles where intercourse must be held on the level to which -the elevation of his <i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">estrade</i> has dishabituated him. Exact -values—visions, to use a word that misuse has made hateful—disappear -under a multiplicity of minor tasks. It is one of the -revenges taken by fate that those who must harass and drive -become harassed and sterile in turn.</p> - -<p>No one yet, so far as I know, has sought to place this -amazing simplification in its true relation to the aridity of -American life, an aridity so marked that it creates a positive -thirst for softer and milder civilizations, not only in the foreigner -who has tasted of them, but at a certain moment in their -life in almost every one of the native born whose work lies -outside the realm of material production. It is not that in England, -as in every community, entire classes do not exist who seek -material success by the limitation of interests and the retrenchment -of sympathies. But in so doing they sacrifice to a domestic, -not a national God; they follow personal not racial proclivities. -There is no conscious subscription to a national ideal -in their abandonment of æsthetic impulses. Side by side with -them live other men whose apparent contentment with insecure -and unstable lives at once redresses their pride and curtails -their influence. They are conscious of the existence -around them of a whole alien world, the material returns from -which are negligible but in which other men somehow manage -to achieve a fullness of experience and maintain self-respect. -This other world reacts not only on employer but on employed. -For the worker it abates the fervour and stress of his -task, lends meaning and justification to his demand for leisure -in the face of economic demands that threaten or deny. No one -in England has yet dared to erect into an evangel the obvious<span class="pagenum" id="Page_481">481</span> -truth that poor men must work. No compulsion sets the -mental attitude a man may choose when faced with his task. -The speeder-up and the efficiency expert is hateful and alien. -“A fair day’s wage for a fair day’s work” may seem a loose -and questionable phrase, but its implications go very deep. -It sets a boundary mark on the frontier between flesh and -spirit by which encroachments are registered as they occur.</p> - -<p>In America no such frontier exists. Here the invasion -seems to be complete. The spirit that would disentangle material -from immaterial aims wanders baffled and perplexed -through a maze of loftily conceived phrases and exhortations -each one of which holds the promise of rescue from the drudgery -of visionless life, yet each one of which leads back to an -altar where production is enthroned as God. Manuals and -primers, one had almost written psalters, pour out from the -printing presses in which such words as “inspiration,” “dedication,” -“consecration” urge American youth not to the renunciation -of material aims but to their intensive pursuit. -This naïve and simple creed is quite free of self-consciousness -or hypocrisy. In its occasional abrupt transitions from the -language of prayer to such conscience-searching questions as -“Could you hold down a $100.00 a week job?” or “Would -you hire yourself?” no lapse from the sublime to the ridiculous, -far less to the squalid, is felt. It has the childlike gravity -and reverence of all religions that are held in the heart.</p> - -<p>But its God is a jealous God. No faltering in his service, -no divided allegiance is permitted. His rewards are concrete -and his punishments can be overwhelming. For open rebellion, -outlawry; for secret revolt, contempt and misunderstanding -are his inevitable visitations. For this reason those who -escape into heresy not unfrequently lose their integrity and are -gibbeted or pilloried for the edification of the faithful. The -man who will not serve because the service starves and stunts -his soul is all too likely to find himself dependent for company -upon the man who will not serve because his will is too -weak or his habits too dissipated.</p> - -<p>That this service is a hard one, its most ardent advocates -make no attempt to conceal. Its very stringency is made the -text of appeals for ever and ever fresh efficiency, intensive<span class="pagenum" id="Page_482">482</span> -training, specialization. “The pace they must travel is so -swift,” one advocate of strenuousness warns his disciples, -“competition has become so fierce that brains and vision are -not enough. One must have the <em>punch</em> to put things through.” -The impression grows that the American business man, new -style, is a sombre gladiator, equipped for his struggle by rigorous -physical and mental discipline. The impression is helped -by a host of axioms, plain and pictured, that feature a sort of -new cant of virility. “Red-blooded men,” “Two-fisted men,” -“Men who do things,” “Get-there fellows,” are a few headliners -in this gospel of push and shove.</p> - -<p>The service is made still more difficult by its uncertainty, -since no gospel of efficiency can greatly change the proportion -of rewards, though it can make the contest harder and the -marking higher. Year in year out, while competition intensifies -and resources are fenced off, insecurity of employment remains, -an evil tradition from days when opportunity was really boundless -and competition could be escaped by a move of a few score -miles Westward. Continuity in one employment still remains -the exception rather than the rule, and when death or retirement -reveals an instance it is still thought worthy of space in -local journals. “Can you use me?” remains the customary -gambit for the seeker after employment. The contempt of a -settled prospect, of routine work, the conception of business as -something to work <em>up</em> rather than to work <em>at</em> is still latent in -the imagination of atavistic and ambitious young America. Of -late years this restlessness, even though in so worthy a cause -as “getting on,” has been felt as a hindrance to full efficiency, -and the happy idea has been conceived of applying the adventurous -element of competition at home. Territorial or departmental -spheres are allotted within or without the “concern” -to each employé; the results attained by A, B, and C are then -totalled, analyzed, charted, and posted in conspicuous places -where all may see, admire, and take warning. In the majority -of up-to-date houses “suggestions” for the expansion or improvement -of the business are not only welcomed but expected, -and the employé who does not produce them in reasonable bulk -and quality is slated for the “discard.” When inventiveness -tires, “shake-ups” on a scale unknown in England take place,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_483">483</span> -and new aspirants eager to “make good” step into the shoes of -the old. The business athletes strain and pant toward the -goal. There is no rest for the young man “consecrated” to -merchandising effort. Like the fly in the fable, he must struggle -and swim until the milk around his legs is churned into the -butter of executive position.</p> - -<p>The American press, hybrid, highly coloured, and often -written by men of erratic genius who prefer the poor rewards -of news writing to the commercial yoke, conveys but a partial -idea of this absorption of an entire race in a single function. -A far more vivid impression is to be gained from the “house -organs,” and publicity pamphlets which pour from the press -in an unceasing stream and the production of which within -recent years has become a large and lucrative industry. Here -articles and symposia on such themes as “Building Character -into Salesmanship,” “Hidden Forces that bring Sales,” and -“Capitalizing Individuality,” often adorned with half-tones of -tense and joyless faces, recur on every page. No sanctuary -is inviolable, no recess unexplored. The demand of the commercial -God is for the soul, and he will be content with no less.</p> - -<p>This demand implies a revised conception of the relation -between employé and employer. The old contract under -which time and effort were hired for so many hours a day at a -stated remuneration, leaving life, liberty, and the pursuit of -happiness outside those hours a matter of personal predilection, -is now abrogated, or at least sharply questioned. It is recognized, -and with entire logic, that the measure of accomplishment -within working hours will depend largely on the environment -amid which hours of recreation are spent; and that -though detection of inefficiency is a task of keen brains that -seldom fail, this detection, in the nature of things, may not -take place until damage has been done the commercial structure. -This is the real inwardness of a whole new gospel of -“Welfare” and “Uplift,” under whose dispensation employés -are provided with simple and tested specifics for recreation, -with the watchful and benevolent eye of department heads -upon them, in which it is presumed and stated with entire candour -that the physical, moral, and mental efficiency of the -staffs and “salesforce” has become the concern of the organization<span class="pagenum" id="Page_484">484</span> -that has allotted them a place in its economy. The -organism works, plays, rests, moves on together.</p> - -<p>Nothing is more terrifying, as that master of terror, Edgar -Allan Poe, perceived, than an organism that is at once mean -and colossal. Properties of efficiency and adaptation to one -definite end are bestowed in an eminent degree only on the -lower orders of animal life. With rigid bodies, encasing organs -that are designed for simple, metabolic purposes, armed -with an elaborate mechanism of claws, hinges, borers, valves, -and suckers the lepidoptera are living tools that fly or creep. -Absorbed in one tireless function, with all distractions of love -and war delegated to specialized subspecies, they neither love, -hate, nor rebel. As the scale ascends, efficiency dwindles, until -in the litter and loneliness of the den, lazy domesticity -with dam and cubs, the joy of prey hunt and love hunt, between -the belly pinch of hunger and the sleep of repletion, the -lives of the big carnivora pass in a sheer joy of living for living’s -sake until the gun of the hunter ends the day dream.</p> - -<p>It has been left for man—hapless and inventive—to realize -a life that touches both ends of the scale, to feel at his heart -the pull of hive-life and jungle-life in turn. Something of the -ant and something of the tiger lurks in every normal human -creature. If he has immense powers of assertion, his faculty -for abdication seems to be as limitless. It is just this dual -nature in man that makes prophecy as to what “will happen -the world” so difficult and unsafe. But one prophecy may be -ventured on and that is, that in proportion as acquiescence or -revolt seize the imaginations of separated nations will those -nations coalesce or drift apart into antagonism.</p> - -<p>If a life spent during the last twenty years between -England and the United States is any title to judge, I -should say that at the present moment the dominant note -in America is acquiescence in, and in England revolt against -the inordinate demands of commercialism. Here, to all appearances, -the surrender for the moment is complete. There -are revolts, but they are sporadic and misguided and their -speedy suppression seems to stir no indignation and to -awaken no thrill of common danger among the body of -workers. Strikes confined to wage issues are treated more indulgently,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_485">485</span> -but even they are generally strangled at their birth -by injunctions, and a sour or hostile attitude of authority -makes success difficult. In any display of opposition to established -conditions, even when based on the most technical -grounds, authority appears to sense a challenge to larger issues -and to meet them half way with a display of force that -to an Englishman appears strangely over-adequate. It is evident -the ground is being tested. Interpretations of liberty that -date from easier and roomier days are under revision, and -where they are found at variance with a conception of society -as a disciplined and productive force, they are being roughly -retrenched. The prevailing character of the labour mass, at -once heterogeneous and amorphous, makes it a safe and ductile -medium for almost any social experiment. “If you don’t like -it, go back,” is an argument to which no answer has been -found. Native-born labour shares in the universal dis-esteem -and takes refuge from it in aristocratic and doctrinaire federations -whose ineffectiveness is apparent whenever a labour issue -arises. For the rebel who, under these conditions, chooses -to fight on, rougher methods are found. He may become <i xml:lang="la" lang="la">fera -natura</i>. Tarring and feathering, ducking and rubbing with -acid, and deportation from State to State may be his portion. -Under any social condition conformity is the easiest -course. When the prison cell and social pillory are its -alternatives, to resist requires a degree of fanatical courage -and interior moral resources possessed only by a handful of -men in a generation.</p> - -<p>To this conception of a disciplined community harnessed to -the purpose of production, thousands of the possessing and -capitalistic classes look wistfully from the other side of the -Atlantic. But there are many obstacles to its realization in -England. The English proletarian is no uprooted orphan, paying -with docile and silent work for the citizenship of his children -and grandchildren. That great going concern, the British -Empire, is his personal work, built on the bones and cemented -with the blood of his forebears. His enfranchisement is as complete -as his disinheritance, and the impoverishment of his country, -evidenced in the stream of gold that pours Westward like -arterial blood, has not reached to his spirit. Even the Great<span class="pagenum" id="Page_486">486</span> -War, with its revelation to him of how ruthless and comprehensive -the demands of the State on the individual can be, -has only reinforced his sense of being a very deserving person -and has added to the long debt which he is frankly out to -collect. The promises, the appeals to national pride and tradition -with which he had to be appeased while, for the first time -in his history, the yoke of universal service was laid upon his -neck, trip up the feet of his rulers to-day. It is difficult to -tell him to go elsewhere, for he “belongs” in England. Even -suggestions that he should emigrate wholesale to British colonies -in order to relieve the congested labour market are received -with mocking laughter in which a threat lurks. He is, -I am sure, because I know him, looking on with a certain sardonic -relish and enjoyment at the flurries, the perplexities of -his rulers, their displays of force alternated with appeals to -sweet reason, their brave words succeeded by abject denials -and qualifications. He is waiting until the naked economic -question, which he knows well underlies all the rhodomontade -of national greatness and imperial heritage, shall be put to -him. It will be a great and momentous day when the Englishman -is given his choice. A choice it must be. The means -to compulsion are not here.</p> - -<div class="tb">* * * * *</div> - -<p>To America just now Europeans as a whole must seem a -helpless race, bewildered actors in a vast and tragic blunder. -To thousands of Red Cross workers, Knights of Columbus, -and welfare auxiliaries in devastated districts, the spectacle of -suffering and want must have come home to reinforce impressions -already gained from sights witnessed at Ellis Island or -Long Wharf. None the less, it is an historical misfortune that -the first real contact between the people of the two continents -should have come at a time when the older was bankrupt and -had little to show save the rags and tatters of its civilization. -The reverse of the tenderness to the stricken European abroad -has been a hardening of the heart to the immigrant at home, -and it is difficult for the American, schoolmaster and lawgiver -to so many alien peoples in his own country, to divest himself -of a didactic character in his foreign relations. To many -countries he is “saying it with flour,” and those who accept the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_487">487</span> -dole can do little else than swallow the sermon. Even to those -countries who were his allies he does shine forth in a certain -splendour of righteousness. His sacrifice was deliberate—which -is, perhaps, its best excuse for being a little conscious. -It was self-imposed, and fifty thousand of his dead, -wrested from productive enterprises to lie in France, attest -its sincerity. No Englishman, at any rate, believes in his -heart that its material reward, great and inevitable as it is -now seen to be, was the driving force at the time the sacrifice -was accepted. There are a host of reasons, some creditable, -others less so, that make Europe curb its restiveness under -American homilies.</p> - -<p>With England the case is different. No one knows just -how hard Britain has been hit, but she is managing to put a -good face on her wounds. No relief organization from the -big sister has landed its khaki-clad apostles of hygiene and -its grey-cloaked sisters of mercy on English shores. The façade -is intact, the old masters in possession. With a few shifts -and changes in political labelling that are a matter of domestic -concern, those who steered the big concern into the bankruptcy -of war are still entrusted with its extrication. No great -subversion stands as a witness of a change of national faith. -The destinies, the foreign relations, the aspects that attract -or antagonize remain in the hands of men who secured a fresh -lease of power by a clever political trick. The skeleton at the -feast of racial reunion is not Ireland, nor Mesopotamia, nor -Yap, nor the control of the seas. It is the emergence into -political power, sooner or later, but inevitably from the very -nature of British political institutions, of the British proletariat.</p> - -<p>Frankly I do not see, when this moment arrives, who is -going to put the gospel of American civilization into terms that -will be, I shall not say acceptable, but even significant, to the -emancipated British worker. Ruling classes in the older -country who rely on a steadying force from across the Atlantic -in possible political upheavals must have strange misgivings -when they take account of their own stewardship. It will be -an ungrateful task to preach the doctrine of salvation through -work to a people that has tried it out so logically and completely -that the century which has seen the commercial supremacy<span class="pagenum" id="Page_488">488</span> -of their country has witnessed the progressive impoverishment -and proletarization of its people. Homilies on -discipline will sound strangely in the ears of those who, while -America was enjoying her brief carnival of spacious and fruitful -endeavour in a virgin land, went under an industrial yoke -that has galled their necks and stunted their physical growth. -Appeals to pride of race will have little meaning coming from -a stock that has ceased through self-indulgence or economic -upward pressure to resist ethnologically and whose characteristics -are disappearing in the general amalgam.</p> - -<p>The salient fact that stands out from all history is that inordinateness -of any sort has never failed to act upon the English -character as a challenge. His successes, whatever his libellists -may seek to believe, have seldom been against the small -or weak. It has been his destiny, in one recurrent crisis after -another, to find himself face to face with some claimant to -world power, some “cock of the walk.” To use a homely -phrase, it has always been “up to him.” And the vision of -his adversary which has nerved his arm has always been an -excess in some quality easily understandable by the average -man. Bigotry is not the monopoly of the Spaniard, nor commercial -greed of the Hollander, nor vanity of the Frenchman, -nor pomposity of the German. It would be an easy task to -convict the Englishman of some share in each vice. Nevertheless -history in the main has justified his instinct for proportion, -his dislike for “slopping over.” In something far beyond -the accepted phrase, the English struggle has been a -struggle for the “balance of power.”</p> - -<p class="right"> -<span class="smcap">Henry L. Stuart</span> -</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div id="toclink_489" class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_489">489</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="II_AS_AN_IRISHMAN_SEES_IT">II. AS AN IRISHMAN SEES IT</h2> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="smcap1">The</span> application of the term “shirt-sleeve” to American -diplomacy is perhaps the most concise expression of the -conception we have formed in Europe of life in the United -States. We imagine that it is only necessary to cross the Atlantic -Ocean to find a people young and vigorous in its emancipation -from ancient forms and obsolete ceremonies. The average -visitor returns, after a brief tour through the more urbane -centres of European imitation, and tries to startle us with a -narrative in which a few picturesque crudities are supposed to -indicate the democratic ease of American civilization. His -mind is filled with an incoherent jumble of skyscrapers, express -elevators, ice water, chewing-gum, and elevated railroads, -so that his inevitable contribution to the literature relating to -America becomes the mere chronicle of a tourist’s experiences. -Every deviation from European practice is emphasized, and in -proportion to the writer’s consequent personal discomfort, he -will conjure up a hideous picture of uncouthness, whose effect -is to confirm us in our estimate of American progress ... -or barbarism, as the case may be. If the critical stranger -happens to be a well-known poet or dramatist, he will probably -succeed in passing lightly over those minor inconveniences, -which the generosity of wealthy admirers has prevented -him from experiencing at first hand.</p> - -<p>The consequence is that there is no subject more hopelessly -involved in a cloud of voluminous complaint and banal laudation -than American life as seen by the foreigner. Neither the -enthusiasts nor the fault-finders have contributed much of any -assistance either to Europeans or to the Americans themselves. -The former accept America at its own valuation, the latter -complain of precisely those things upon which the average citizen -prides himself. It is not easy to decide which class of -critics has helped most effectively to perpetuate the legend of -American freedom; the minor commentators who hold democracy<span class="pagenum" id="Page_490">490</span> -to be the cause of every offence, or the higher critics, like -Viscount Bryce, who, finding no American commonwealth, proceeded -to invent one. The objectors are dismissed as witnesses -to the incapacity of the servile European to appreciate -true liberty and equality; the well-disposed are gratefully received -as evangelists of a gospel to which Americans subscribe -without excessive introspection. There is something touching -in the gratitude felt towards the author of “The American -Commonwealth.” Who would have believed that a foreigner, -and a Britisher at that, could make a monument of such imposing -brick with the straws of political oratory in the United -States?</p> - -<p>On one point all observers have involuntarily agreed. -Whether with approval or disapproval, they have depicted for -us a society which presents such marked divergencies from -our own manners and customs that there is not one of us but -comes to America believing that his best or worst hopes will -be confirmed. It is, therefore, somewhat disconcerting to -confess that neither presentment has been realized. To have -passed from Continental Europe to New York, via London, -is to deprive oneself of that social and intellectual shock which -is responsible for the uniformly profound impression which -transatlantic conditions make upon the European mind. So -many continentals enjoy in the United States their first direct -contact with Anglo-Saxon institutions and modes of thought -that the revelation cannot fail to stimulate them. Their writings -frequently testify to a naïve ignorance of the prior existence -in England of what excites their dismay or admiration in -America. If it be asked why, then, have Englishmen similarly -reacted to the same stimuli, if acquaintance with England -blunts the fine edge of perception, the reply must be: the -quality of their emotion is different. The impression made -upon a mind formed by purely Latin traditions necessarily -differs from that received by a mind previously subjected to -Anglo-Saxon influences. Consequently, the student of American -life who has neither the motive of what might be called -family jealousy, in the Englishman, nor the mentality, wholly -innocent of alien culture, of the Latin, would seem well -equipped to view the subject from another angle.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_491">491</span></p> - -<p>To the good European the most striking characteristic of -the United States is a widespread intellectual anæmia. So far -from exhibiting those traits of freedom and progress which -harrow the souls of sensitive aristocrats in Europe, the American -people alarm the outsider in search of stimulating ideas -by their devotion to conventions and formulæ. As soon as one -has learnt to discount those lesser manifestations of independence, -whose perilous proximity to discourtesy gives them an -exaggerated importance in the eyes of superficial critics, the -conventionality of the American becomes increasingly evident. -So many foreigners have been misled—mainly because of an -apparent rudeness—by this show of equality, this ungraciousness -in matters of service, that one hesitates at first to dismiss -the unconventional American as a myth closely related -to that of the “immoral Frenchman.” It is only when prolonged -association has revealed the timid respectability beneath -this veneer of informality that it becomes possible to understand -the true position of America. From questioning individuals -one proceeds to an examination of the public utterances -of prominent men, and the transition from the press to literature -is easily made. At length comes the discovery that mentally -the United States is a generation or two behind Western -Europe. The rude and vigorous young democracy, cited by -its admirers in extenuation of æsthetic sins of omission and -commission, suddenly stands forth attired in the garment of -ideas which clothed early Victorian England.</p> - -<p>This condition is largely due to the absence of an educated -class accustomed to leisure. To the American work for work’s -sake has a dignity unknown in Europe, where it is rare to find -anybody working for mere wages if he has any means of independent -subsistence, however small. In America the contrary -is the case, and people who could afford to cultivate their own -personalities prefer to waste their energies upon some definite -business. Almost all the best that has come out of Europe -has been developed in that peculiar class which sacrificed -money-making for the privilege of leisure and relative independence. -The only corresponding class in the United States -is that of the college professors, who are an omnipresent menace -to the free interplay of ideas. Terrorized by economic<span class="pagenum" id="Page_492">492</span> -fears and intellectual inhibitions, they have no independence. -They are despised by the plain people because of their failure -to make money; and to them are relegated all matters which -are considered of slight moment, namely, learning and the arts. -In these fields the pedants rule unchallenged, save when some -irate railroad presidents discover in their teachings the heresy -of radicalism. Æsthetics is a science as incomprehensible to -them as beauty, and they prefer to substitute the more homely -Christian ethics. Moral preoccupations are their sole test of -excellence. The views of these gentlemen and their favourite -pupils fill the bookshelves and the news-stands.</p> - -<p>The professorial guardians of Colonial precedents and traditions -determine what the intellectual life of America shall be. -Hence the cult of anæmia. Instead of writing out of themselves -and their own lives, they aspire to nothing greater than -to be classed as English. They are obsessed by the standards -imposed from without, and their possible achievement is -thwarted. While they are still shaking their heads over Poe, -and trying to decide whether Whitman is respectable, a national -literature is growing up without the guidance and help -which it should expect from them. At the same time, as the -official pundits have the ear of Europe, and particularly of -England, American culture is known only as they reflect it. -It is natural, therefore, that the European attitude should be -as contemptuous as it so often is.</p> - -<p>When the reviews publish some ignorant and patronizing -dissertation on the American novel or American poetry, by an -English writer, they are pained by the evident lack of appreciation. -The ladies and gentlemen whose works are respectfully -discussed by the professors, and warmly recommended by -the reviewers, do not seem to receive the consideration due to -them for their unflinching adherence to the noblest standards -of academic criticism. When these torch-bearers of the purest -Colonial tradition are submitted to the judgment of their -“big” cousins in England, there is a noticeable condescension -in those foreigners. But why should they profess to admire -as the brightest stars in the American firmament what are, -after all, the phosphorescent gleams of literary ghosts? Is -it any wonder that the majority of Britishers can continue in<span class="pagenum" id="Page_493">493</span> -the comfortable belief that there is practically no American -literature worthy of serious attention?</p> - -<p>The academic labours of American professors of literature -are an easy and constant butt for English critics. Yet, they -rarely think of questioning the presentation of literary America -for which these gentlemen are so largely responsible. When -have the Stuart Shermans and Paul Elmer Mores (and their -diminutives) recognized the existence of a living American -writer of genius, originality, or distinction? The only justification -for their existences is their alleged capacity to estimate -literary values. If they cannot do so, it is hardly surprising -that their English patrons, who imagine that they are -representative men, do not often penetrate the veil of Colonialism. -Whatever their outward professions, the majority of -Englishmen regard all other English-speaking countries as -Colonies. Since they are stubborn enough when faced with -undeniable proof of the contrary, as in Ireland, it is unlikely -they will persuade themselves unaided that they are mistaken. -When will American criticism have the courage to base the -claims of contemporary literature on those works which are -essentially and unmistakably American?</p> - -<p>The mandarins, of course, have stood for reaction in all -countries, and there is no intention here to acquit the European -of the species. So many of his worst outrages are matters -of history that it would be futile to pretend that he is untrue -to type. Nevertheless, his position in Europe is measurably -more human than in this country, owing to the greater freedom -of intellectual intercourse. In America the mandarin is firmly -established on a pedestal which rests upon the vast unculture -of an immense immigrant population, enjoying for the first -time the benefits of sufficient food and heat. He is obviously -secure in his conviction that those qualified to challenge him—except -perhaps some isolated individual—are not likely to -do so, being of the same convention as himself. He belongs -to the most perfect trade-union, one which has a practical monopoly -of its labour. His European colleagues, on the contrary, -live in constant dread of traitors from their ranks, or -worse still, the advance of an opposing force manned with -brains of no inferior calibre. France, for example, can boast<span class="pagenum" id="Page_494">494</span> -of a remarkable roll of names which never adorned the councils -of pedantry, or not until they had imposed a new tradition. -The two finest minds of modern French literature, Anatole -France and Rémy de Gourmont, are illustrations of this -fact. France has never allowed his academic honours to -restrict the daring play of his ideas; Gourmont died in the -admiration of all cultivated men, although his life was a prolonged -protest against the orthodox, who never succeeded in -taming him.</p> - -<p>What America requires is an unofficial <i xml:lang="la" lang="la">intelligentsia</i> as -strong and as articulate as the political and literary pundits, -whose purely negative attitude first exasperates, and finally -sterilizes, every impulse towards originality. Only when a survey -is made of the leading figures in the various departments -of American life is it possible fully to realize the weight of -inertia which presses upon the intellect of the country. While -the spirit of enterprise and progress is stimulated and encouraged -in all that relates to material advancement, the artistic -and reasoning faculties are deadened. Scientific study, when -directed to obviously practical ends, is the only form of mental -effort which can count upon recognition and reward. It is not -without its significance that the Johns Hopkins Medical School -is the one learned institution in America whose fame is world-wide -amongst those who appreciate original research, otherwise -the names of few universities are mentioned outside academic -circles. Even in the field of orthodox literary culture -the mandarins have, in the main, failed to do anything positive. -They have preferred to bury their talent in anæmic -commentary. The reputed intellectuals are still living on a -tradition bequeathed by the attenuated transcendentalism of -the Bostonian era.</p> - -<p>That tradition was, after all, but a refinement of the notorious -Puritanism of New England. Having lost whatever -semblance of dignity the Emersons and Thoreaus conferred -upon it, its subsequent manifestations have been a decadent -reversion to aboriginal barbarism. This retrograde movement, -so far as it affects social life, is noticeable in the ever-increasing -number of crusades and taboos, the constant probing -of moral and industrial conditions, unrelated to any well-considered<span class="pagenum" id="Page_495">495</span> -desire for improvement, or intelligent conception -of progress. The orgies of prohibition and suppression are -unbelievable to the civilized European, who has no experience -of a community in which everything from alcohol to Sunday -tennis has attracted the attention of the “virtuosi of vice”—to -quote the phrase of a discerning critic. Innumerable commissions, -committees, and boards of enquiry supplement the -muck-raking of yellow journalism, and encourage espionage in -social reformers. But what has the country to show for this? -Probably the greatest number of bungled, unsolved, and misunderstood -problems of all industrial nations of the same -rank.</p> - -<p>These debauches of virtue, however, are the direct outcome -of the mental conditions fostered by those who are in a position -to mould public opinion. The crowd which tolerates, -or participates in, the Puritanical frenzy is merely reflecting -the current political and social doctrine of the time. Occasionally -the newspapers will hold a symposium, or the reviews -will invite the aid of some foreign critic, to ascertain the reasons -for the prevailing puerility of American fiction. Invariably -it is urged, and rightly, that the novel is written by -women for women. Where almost all articles of luxury are -produced for female consumption, and the arts are deemed -unessential to progress, the latter are naturally classed with -uneconomic production destined to amuse the idle. They are -left to the women, as the men explain, who have not yet understood -the true dignity of leisure. They are abandoned, -in other words, to the most unreal section of the community, -to those centres of culture, the drama leagues and literary -clubs, composed of male and female spinsters. Needless to -say, any phrase or idea likely to have disturbed a mid-Victorian -vicarage will be ruled out as unseemly.</p> - -<p>The malady of intellectual anæmia is not restricted to any -one department of American life. In politics, as in art and -literature, there is a dread of reality. The emasculation of -thought in general is such as to render colourless the ideas -commonly brought to the attention of the public. Perhaps the -most palpable example of this penchant for platitude is the -substantial literature of a pseudo-philosophic character which<span class="pagenum" id="Page_496">496</span> -encumbers the book-stores, and is read by thousands of right-thinking -citizens. Namby-pamby works, it is true, exist to -some extent in all Protestant countries, but their number, -prevalence, and cost in America are evidence of the demand -they must meet. It is not for nothing that the books of -thoughtful writers are crowded from shelves amply stocked -with the meditations of an Orison Swett Marden, a Henry van -Dyke, or a Hamilton Wright Mabie—to mention at random -some typical authors.</p> - -<p>These moral soothsayers successfully compete with moving-picture -actors, and novelists whose claim to distinction is their -ability to write the best-seller of the season. If they addressed -themselves only to the conventicles, the phenomenon would -have less significance, but the conventicles have their own -minor prophets. The conclusion, therefore, suggests itself, -that these must be the leaders and moulders of American -thought. The suspicion is confirmed when men of the same -stamp, sometimes, indeed, the actual authors of this evangelical -literature, are found holding the most important public -offices. To have written a methodist-tract would appear to be -an unfailing recommendation for promotion. It is rare to -find the possessor of such a mentality relegated to the obscurity -he deserves.</p> - -<p>A wish to forestall the accusation of exaggeration or inaccuracy -imposes the painful obligation of citing specific instances -of the tendency described. Who are the leading -public men of this country, and what have they written? Besides -the classic volumes of Thiers and Guizot must we set -such amiable puerilities as “The New Freedom,” “On Being -Human,” and “When a Man Comes to Himself.” Even the -essays of Raymond Poincaré do not sound the depths indicated -by the mere titles of these presidential works. But the author -of “The State,” for all his antiquated theories of government, -writes measurably above the level of that diplomatist whose -copious bibliography includes numerous variations upon such -themes as “The Gospel for a World of Sin,” “The First -Christmas Tree,” and “The Blue Flower.” A search through -the underworld of parish magazines in England, France, and -Germany would probably reveal something to be classed with<span class="pagenum" id="Page_497">497</span> -the works of Dr. Lyman Abbott, but the authors would not -be entrusted with the editorship of a leading weekly review. -As for the writings of his associate, the existence of his book -on Shakespeare is a testimony to Anglo-Saxon indifference to -the supreme genius of the race.</p> - -<p>It is hardly necessary to dwell upon the literary labours of -William Jennings Bryan, ex-Secretary of State, except to wonder -that they did not alone suffice to disqualify him for such -an office. They belong to the same category as those volumes -of popular American philosophy whose titles are: “Character -the Grandest Thing in the World,” “Cheerfulness as a Life -Power,” and “The Miracle of Right Thought.” If those -quoted are to be laid to the charge of Mr. Orison Swett Marden, -every department of American life contains prominent men -who might say: There, but for the grace of God, speak I. The -sanctimonious breath of the uplifter tarnishes the currency -of ideas in almost every circle of society. Irrespective of -party, Republicans, Democrats, and Socialists help to build up -this monument of platitude which may one day mark the resting -place of the American brain. Books, reviews, magazines, -and newspapers are largely conceived in the evangelical spirit. -The average contributor, when not a foreigner, suggests a -Sunday-school superintendent who has (perhaps) missed his -vocation. Where the subject excludes the pedantry of the -professors, the tone is intensely moral, and the more it is so -the surer one may be that the writer is a colonel, a rear-admiral, -or a civil officer of the State or Federal government. -Imagination refuses to conceive these functionaries as fulfilling -their duties efficiently in any service, other than that of the -Salvation Army or a revivalist campaign.</p> - -<p>The stage of culture which these phenomena presuppose cannot -but be hostile to artistic development in such as escape -contamination. It has already been postulated that the just -claims of ethics and æsthetics are hopelessly confounded in -America, to the evident detriment of art in all its branches. -To the poor quality of the current political and social philosophy -corresponds an equally mediocre body of literary -criticism. A recent historian of American literature accords -a high place amongst contemporary critics, to the author of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_498">498</span> -“Shelburne Essays,” and other works. These volumes are -dignified as “our nearest approach to those ‘Causeries du -Lundi’ of an earlier age,” and may well be taken as representative. -Typical of the cold inhumanity which a certain -type of “cultured person” deems essential is the circumstance -related, by Mr. Paul Elmer More himself, in explanation of -the genesis of these essays. “In a secluded spot,” he writes, -“in the peaceful valley of the Androscoggin I took upon myself -to live two years as a hermit,” and “Shelburne Essays” -was the fruit of his solitary mediations. The historian is -mightily impressed by this evidence of superiority. “In another -and far more unusual way he qualified himself for his -high office of critic,” says Professor Pattee, “he immured himself -for two years in solitude.”... “The period gave him -time to read leisurely, thoughtfully, with no nervous subconsciousness -that the product of that reading was to be marketable.”</p> - -<p>What a revelation of combined timidity and intellectual -snobbishness there is in this attitude so fatuously endorsed -by a writer for the schools! We can imagine what the effect -of such a pose must be upon the minds of the students whom -the professor would constrain to respect. Only a young prig -could pretend to be favourably impressed by this pseudo-Thoreau -in the literary backwoods. The impulse of most -healthy young men would be to turn in contempt from an art -so unnatural as this conception of criticism implies. How are -they to know that the Taines, Sainte-Beuves, Brunetières, and -Arnolds of the world are not produced by expedients so primitive -as to suggest the <i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">mise en scène</i> of some latter-day Messiah, -a Dowie, or a Mrs. Baker Eddy? The heralds of new theologies -may find the paraphernalia of asceticism and aloofness a -useful part of their stock in trade—neither is associated with -the great criticism of literature. The <i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">causeries</i> of Sainte-Beuve -were not written in an ivory tower, yet they show no traces -of that “nervous subconsciousness” which our professor finds -inseparable from reading that is “marketable.”</p> - -<p>The suspicion of insincerity in this craving for the wilderness -will be strengthened by reference to the first of Mr. -More’s volumes. Whatever may have been the case of its<span class="pagenum" id="Page_499">499</span> -successors, this work was certainly the product of his retirement. -What, then, are the subjects of such a delicate nature -that they could not be discussed within the sound of “the -noisy jargon of the market-place”? Of the eleven essays, -only four deal with writers whose proximity to the critic’s own -age might justify a retreat, in order that they be judged impartially, -and without reference to popular enthusiasm and the -prevalent fashion of the moment. The seven most substantial -studies in the book are devoted to flogging horses so dead that -no fear of their kicking existed. “A Hermit’s Notes on Thoreau,” -“The Solitude of Nathaniel Hawthorne,” “The Origins -of Hawthorne and Poe,” “The Influence of Emerson,” “The -Spirit of Carlyle”—these are a few of the startling topics -which Mr. More could discuss only with fasting and prayer! -Any European schoolmaster could have written these essays in -the leisure moments of his Sunday afternoons or Easter vacation.</p> - -<p>No more remarkable profundity or originality will be found -in the critic’s essays in contemporary literature. His strictures -upon Lady Gregory’s versions of the Irish epic, and his comments -upon the Celtic Renaissance in general are the commonplaces -of all hostile English criticism. “The shimmering -hues of decadence rather than the strong colours of life” is -the phrase in which he attempts to estimate the poetry of the -Literary Revival in Ireland. In fact, for all his isolation Mr. -More was obsessed by the critical cant of the hour, as witness -his readiness to apply the term “decadent” to all and sundry. -The work of Arthur Symons is illuminated by this appellation, -as is also that of W. B. Yeats. The jargon of the literary -market-place, to vary Mr. More’s own <i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">cliché</i>, is all that he -seems to have found in that “peaceful valley of the Androscoggin.” -Even poor Tolstoy is branded as “a decadent with -the humanitarian superimposed,” an application of the word -which renders its previous employment meaningless. As a -crowning example of incomprehension may be cited Mr. More’s -opinion that the English poet, Lionel Johnson, is “the one great -... and genuinely significant poet of the present Gaelic movement.” -In the circumstances, it is not surprising that he -should pronounce Irishmen incapable of exploiting adequately<span class="pagenum" id="Page_500">500</span> -the themes of Celtic literature. For this task he considers -the Saxon genius more qualified.</p> - -<p>With these examples before us it is unnecessary to examine -the remaining volumes of “Shelburne Essays.” Having -started with a distorted conception of the critical office, the -author naturally contributed nothing helpful to the literature -of American criticism. His laborious platitudes do not help us -to a better appreciation of the dead, his dogmatic hostility nullifies -his judgments upon the living. Not once has he a word -of discerning censure or encouragement for any rising talent. -Like most of his colleagues, Mr. More prefers to exercise his -faculties at the expense of reputations already established, save -when he condescends to repeat the commonplaces of complaint -against certain of the better known modern writers. He is -so busy with Mrs. Gaskell, Charles Lamb, Milton, Plato, and -Dickens that he can find time to mention only some fifteen -Americans, not one of them living.</p> - -<p>Such is the critic whom Professor Pattee salutes as “consistent” -and “courageous,” having “standards of criticism” -which make him comparable to Sainte-Beuve. As editor of -“the leading critical review of America,” we are assured that -Mr. More had “a dominating clientèle and a leader’s authority.” -Alas! There can be no doubt as to this, though it is -very doubtful if the fact can be regarded as “one of the most -promising signs for that new literary era which already is overdue.” -That era will long continue overdue while criticism -remains absorbed in the past, aloof from life and implacably -hostile to every manifestation of originality. If the new literary -generation were merely ignored its lot would be comparatively -happy. But the mandarins come down periodically -from their Olympic communings with George Eliot and Socrates, -to fill the reviews with verbose denunciations of whatever -is being written independently of their idols. The oracles -having spoken, the newcomers are left with an additional -obstacle in the way of their reaching the indifferent ear of the -crowd. The crowd wallows in each season’s literary novelties, -satisfied that whatever is well advertised is good. Rather than -face the subjects endorsed by the frigid enthusiasm of Mr. Paul -Elmer More or Stuart Sherman, Mr. W. C. Brownell and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_501">501</span> -Professor Brander Matthews, it takes refuge in fields where -the writ of pedantry does not run. Meanwhile, the task of -welcoming new talent is left to amiable journalists, whose -casual recommendations, usually without any background of -critical experience, are accepted as the judgments of competent -experts. The “colyumist” has to perform the true function -of the critic.</p> - -<p>Although anæmia is the dominant characteristic of intellectual -life in the United States, the reaction against that condition -is none the less worthy of notice. When we remember -that the fervour of righteousness is the very breath of current -philosophy, we are also reminded that crudeness, sensationalism, -and novelty are commonly held by Europeans to be the -quintessence of America. It might be replied, in answer to -this objection, that Hearst newspapers, and the vaudeville theology -of Billy Sunday, are the only alternatives to the prim -conventionality of authoritative journalism, and the sanctimoniousness -of popular leaders. The man in the street obtains the -illusion of strenuous cerebral activity when he contrasts the -homely qualities of those prophets of democracy with the -spinster-like propriety and beatific purity of prominent publicists -and statesmen. He likes to hear his master’s voice, -it is true, but he likes even more to hear his own, especially -where his personal interests are at issue. The æsthetic <i xml:lang="la" lang="la">obiter -dicta</i> of the professors, like the language of diplomacy, are -concerned with questions sufficiently remote to make sonority -an acceptable substitute for thought.</p> - -<p>In the realm of ideas, nevertheless, there is a more or less -articulate expression of reaction, mainly concentrated in the -larger cities of the East. There the professional supermen and -their female counterparts have come together by tacit agreement, -and have attempted to shake off the incubus of respectability. -The extremists impress one as being overpowered by -a sense of their own sinful identity. In a wild burst of hysterical -revolt they are plunged into a debauch of ideas from -which they are emerging in a very shaken and parlous condition. -For the most part their adventures, mental and otherwise, -have been in the domain of sex, with a resultant flooding -of the “radical” market by varied tomes upon the subject.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_502">502</span> -What the bookstores naïvely catalogue as the literature of -advanced thought is a truly wonderful <i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">salade russe</i>, in which -Krafft-Ebbing and Forel compete with Freud and Eugene -Debs. Karl Marx, and Signora Montessori, Professor Scott -Nearing, and Havelock Ellis engage the same attention as the -neo-Malthusian pamphleteers, and the young ladies whose novels -tell of what Flaubert called “<i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">les souillures du mariage et -les platitudes de l’adultère</i>.”</p> - -<p>The natural morbidity of the Puritan mind is exasperated -in advanced circles, whose interest is nothing if not catholic. -Let Brieux discourse of venereal disease, or Strindberg expound -his tragedies of prurience, their success is assured -amongst those who would believe them geniuses, rather than -risk the ignominy of agreement with the champions of orthodoxy. -So long as our European pornographers are serious -and inartistic, they need have no fear of America. Unbalanced -by prolonged contemplation of the tedious virtues of -New England, a generation has arisen whose great illusion -is that the transvaluation of all values may be effected by -promiscuity. Lest they should ever incur the suspicion of -conservatism the emancipated have a permanent welcome for -everything that is strange or new. The blush on the cheek of -the vice-crusader is their criterion of excellence.</p> - -<p>By an irony of fate, however, they are condemned to the -disheartening spectacle of their moral bogies being received -into a society but one removed from the Olympians themselves. -In recent years it has been the practice of the latter to accept -certain reputations, when they have passed through the sieve -of the literary clubs and drama leagues. In fact, candidates -for academic immortality frequently serve on the board of -these literary filtration plants. While the mandarins execute -their ritual in the cult of Longfellow and Bryant, and excommunicate -heretical moderns, their servitors are engaged upon -an ingenious task. They discover the more innocuous subjects -of “radical” enthusiasm, deprive them of whatever sting of -originality their work possessed, and then submit the result -discreetly to the official pundits. When these judges have -satisfied themselves as to the sterility of the innovations, their -imprimatur is granted, and another mediocrity is canonized.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_503">503</span> -Ibsen is saluted because of his “message,” and “Anna -Karenina” becomes a masterpiece, because Tolstoy was a -Christian. While remarkable talents at home are ignored or -vilified, the fifth-rate European is in the process of literary -naturalization. Mr. Masefield receives the benediction of Paul -Elmer More, who in the same breath tries to convince us that -he is qualified to pronounce “The Spoon River Anthology” a -bad joke.</p> - -<p>Nothing more clearly demonstrates the futility and disrepute -of criticism in this country than the constant surrenders to -the prestige of the foreigner. A cheap fashion in European -literature has only to be thrust with sufficient publicity upon -the women’s literary clubs, and parish meeting-houses, to ensnare -the uneasy wearers of the academic crown. Give them -time and they will be found praising a translated French poet -for precisely those qualities which offend them in the protégés -of Miss Harriet Monroe. The young Englishman, Rupert -Brooke, might have contributed to “Poetry” for ten years -without securing any more recognition than did the American, -Robert Frost. But now both reputations, made in England, -are widely accepted, and the inevitable professor is found to -tread respectfully where Henry James rushed in. Compare -the critical essays which James wrote during a period of thirty -years with the stereotyped Bostonian theses of the men he -left behind him. Yet nobody will accuse James of a disregard -for tradition.</p> - -<p>The American word “standpatter” is curiously precise as -a designation of the species. The conservative critic in -Europe, Brunetière, for example, is never so purely negative as -his counterpart on this side of the Atlantic. When Brunetière -adversely criticized the Symbolist movement in French poetry -he did so intelligently, not in that laboriously facetious fashion -which is affected by the Stuart Shermans and W. H. Boyntons -when they are moved to discuss <i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">les jeunes</i>. Brunetière, in a -word, was a man of education and culture, capable of defending -rationally his own theories, without suggesting that the -unfamiliar was necessarily bad. He condemned the excesses -of the new school, not the school itself. If he had been in -America, he would have denied the Symbolists even the right<span class="pagenum" id="Page_504">504</span> -to exist. Edward Dowden might also be cited as a similar -example, in English literature, of enlightened conservatism. -Dowden was partly responsible for bringing Whitman to the -favourable notice of the English public, and his work stands -as a proof that respect for the classics does not involve hostility -to the moderns. Just as he was able to write a masterpiece -of Shakespearean criticism without retiring into hermitage, -so he was qualified to appreciate original genius when -it presented itself. He was not paralyzed, in short, by the -weight of his literary traditions and conventions.</p> - -<p>A thousand and one reasons have been advanced to explain -the absence of a genuine American literature, and all of them -are probably true. The country is comparatively young, and -its energies have been, are still, directed chiefly towards the -exploitation of material resources and the conquest of natural -difficulties. Racially the nation is in an embryonic stage, and -until some homogeneity is attained the creation of a native -tradition must be slow. Moreover, the conflict of diverse races -implies, in a broad sense, the clash of two or more civilizations, -one of which must impose its culture if any organized -progress is to be made. The language of the Hyphenated -States is English, but to what extent will the nation in being -evolve in accordance with this linguistic impulse? Will it be -Anglo-Saxon, Teutonic, Latin, or Slav? These are a few of -the problems which have a direct bearing upon the intellectual -development of the country. They must be solved before -America can give her imprint to the arts. They cannot -be solved by the assumption that the Anglo-Saxon hyphen is -alone authentic. The permanent hypothesis of Colonialism -must be abandoned, if “Americanization” is ever to be more -than the silliest political cant. Puritanism must be confined -to the conventicles, to its natural habitat. It must not be -allowed to masquerade as art, philosophy, and statesmanship. -The evangelical tyranny exists elsewhere, but only in America -has it invaded every branch of the national life. In the more -impatient and realistic generation which has emerged from the -world war this monstrous extension of prohibitions is arousing -a violent reaction. It is rare now to find a young American -who does not cry out against American civilization.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_505">505</span></p> - -<p>To the disinterested European, this spectacle is an affecting -illustration of what may be called the enchantment of distance. -Evidently these disconsolate citizens imagine that there is a -way of escape from the Presbyterian wilderness, an oasis in -the desert of one hundred per cent. Americanism, where every -prospect pleases and man is only relatively vile. One listens -to the <em>intelligentsia</em>, rendered more than usually loquacious by -generous potations of unconstitutional Scotch whiskey, cursing -the subtle blow to the arts administered by the Volstead denial -of the necessary ambrosia. Advanced thinkers revelling in -the delights of a well-organized polygamy, have taken me aside -to explain how the prophets of Methodism have laid waste -this fair land. I have read desperate appeals to all young -men of spirit to shake off the yoke of evangelistic philistinism -by expatriation to more urbane centres of culture.</p> - -<p>These are brave words, coming as they do, for the most part, -from those who are in no wise incommoded by the ukases of -the gospel-tent tyrants, and who have taken appropriate measures -to defeat the Eighteenth Amendment. Back of all their -plaints is the superstition that Europe is free from the blight -which makes America intolerable in their eyes. They do not -know that the war has almost destroyed the Europe of a -civilized man’s affections. Socially, politically, and intellectually -that distracted continent is rapidly expiring in the arms -of profiteers and class-conscious proletarians, who have decided -between them to leave not a blade of culture upstanding. The -leisured class, which was rarely the wealthiest, is being ground -out of existence by the plutocracy and the proletariat. That -was the class which made the old Europe possible, yet there -are Americans who go on talking as if its extinction did not -knock the bottom out of their utopia. Most of these disgruntled -Americans are radicals, who strive to forward the -designs of the plain people and their advocates.</p> - -<p>Yet, every European knows that if prohibition is making -the headway it surely is, the chief reason must be sought in the -growth of radicalism. From Bernard Shaw to Trotsky, our -revolutionaries are “dry.” Their avowed ideal is a state of society -in which the allurements of love are reduced to a eugenic -operation, the mellowing influences of liquor are abolished,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_506">506</span> -and compulsory labour on the Taylor efficiency plan of scientific -management is substituted. In fine, by the benign workings -of democratic progress Europe is moving steadily toward -the state of affairs attributed here by disillusioned intellectuals -to the sinister machinations of Wall Street and the evangelists.</p> - -<p>No doubt America was a purer and happier place in 1620 -than in 1920. No Sumner was needed to keep the eyes of the -settlers from the dimpled knees of Ziegfeld’s beauties, and the -platitudes of the Wilsonian epoch were the brightest flowers of -wisdom in 1776. Alas! that it should be so, and in every -country of our Western World. If the Magna Charta were -to be offered for signature in London now, some nasty Bolshevik -would be sure to prove that the document was drawn -up in a private conclave of the international financiers. If -Lincoln were to make his Gettysburg speech to-day the world -would snicker irreverently, and a dreadfully superior person, -with a Cambridge accent (like John Maynard Keynes, C.B.), -would publish the “Economic Consequences of the Civil War,” -full of sardonic gibes at the innocent evangelism of Springfield. -As for the Declaration of Independence—well, during -“the late unpleasantness” we saw what happened to such un-American -sedition-mongers. In fine, things are not what they -used to be; we pine for what is not, and so forth. Of this only -we may be sure, that America corresponds neither more nor -less than any other country to the dreams of its ancestors.</p> - -<p>Indeed, to be more affirmative in this plea for America, it is -probable that this country has followed more closely the intentions -of its founders than the critics will admit. Unlike most -European nations, the Americans have preserved, with an almost -incomprehensible reverence, the constitution laid down -to meet conditions entirely unlike those of the 20th century. -Ancestor worship is the cardinal virtue of America and surpasses -that of China and Japan, where revolutionary changes -have been made in the whole social and political structure. -America was created as a political democracy for the benefit -of staunch individualists, and both these ends have been -achieved to perfection. Everything against which the super-sensitive -revolt has come about <i xml:lang="nl" lang="nl">planmaessig</i>, and existed in the -germ from the day when the Pilgrim Fathers first brought the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_507">507</span> -blessings of Anglo-Saxon civilization to the shores of Cape -Cod.</p> - -<p>In the South alone were traces of a <i xml:lang="de" lang="de">Weltanschauung</i> which -might have given an impulse in another direction, but the -South went under, in obedience to the rules of democratic Darwinism. -Once the dissatisfied American can bring himself to -look the facts of his own history and of contemporary Europe -in the face, he may be forced to relent. He will grant, at -least, that it is useless to cherish the notion that the ills the -American mind is heir to are spared to other peoples. He may -even come to recognize the positive virtues of this country, -where the stories in the <cite>Saturday Evening Post</cite> actually come -true. Here a man can look his neighbour straight in the eye -and subscribe—without a smile—to the romantic credo that -all men are equal, in so far as it is possible by energy, hard -work, and regular attendance at divine service, to reach the -highest post in any career. Class barriers are almost unknown, -and on all sides there is an endlessly generous desire to learn, -to help, and to encourage. The traditional boy can still arrive -from the slums of Europe and finish up in the editorial chair of -a wealthy newspaper. If he ever fails to do so it can only be -because he starts by reading the <cite>Liberator</cite>, and devotes to the -deciphering of Thorstein Veblen’s hieroglyphics of socialism -the time which should have been given to mastering the more -profitable technique of Americanism.</p> - -<p class="right"> -<span class="smcap">Ernest Boyd</span> -</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div id="toclink_508" class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_508">508</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="III_AS_AN_ITALIAN_SEES_IT">III. AS AN ITALIAN SEES IT</h2> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="smcap1">In</span> a typical form of primitive society, where institutions and -ideals, collective representations and individual reactions, -coincide, no distinction can be made between culture and civilization. -Every element of the practical culture is a spiritual -symbol, and there is no other logic or reason than that which -is made manifest by the structure and habits of the social -group. Life is a religion, in the two meanings of the word, that -of a binding together of men, and the deeper one—of gathering -the manifold activities of the individual in one compact spiritual -mass. The mythical concepts, which limit and integrate -the data of experience, in a sphere which is neither purely -imaginative nor purely intellectual, present to the individual -mind as irresistibly as to the mind of the group, a world of -complementary objects which are of the same stuff as the -apprehended data. Thought—practical, æsthetic, ethical—is -still undifferentiated, unindividualized, as if a collective mind -were an active reality, a gigantic, obscure, coherent personality, -entering into definite relations with a world homogeneous -with itself.</p> - -<p>Such an abstract, ideal scheme of the life of the human -spirit before it has any history, before it is even capable of -history, affords, in its hypothetical indistinction (within the -group, within the individual), a prefiguration of a certain -higher relationship of culture with civilization, of a <i xml:lang="la" lang="la">humana -civilitas</i>, in which the practical should be related to the spiritual, -nature to the mind, in the full light of consciousness, -with a perfect awareness of the processes of distinction and -individualization. In the twilight and perspective of historical -knowledge, if not in their actuality, Greece before Socrates, -Rome before Christ, the Middle Ages before Saint Francis -(each of them, before the apparition of the disrupting and -illuminating element of growth), are successive attempts or -<i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">étapes</i> towards the creation of a civilization of such a kind—a -human civilization.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_509">509</span></p> - -<p>Between these two limits—the primitive and the human—the -ideal beginning and the ideal end—we can recognize, at -any given moment in history, through the segmentation and -aggregation of a multitude of cultures, different ages and strata -of culture coexisting in the same social group; and the individual -mind emerges at the confluence of the practical cultures, -with science and philosophy and the ethical, non-tribal -ideals, germs and <em>initia</em>, of the human civilization remaining -above the given society as a soul that never entirely vivifies -its own body. History begins where first the distinction between -civilization and culture appears, or, to state the same -fact from a different angle, where individual consciousness is -born. It ends, ideally, where the same distinction fades away -into Utopia, or death, or the Kingdom of Heaven; where the -highest form of individual consciousness is at no point higher -than the consciousness of the group from which it originally -differentiated itself.</p> - -<div class="tb">* * * * *</div> - -<p>The writer of these pages belongs, by birth, education, and -election, to the civilization of Rome and to the culture, or -cultures, of Italy. The civilization of Rome, the <i xml:lang="la" lang="la">latina -civilitas</i>, is a complex mind, whose successive phases of growth -are the abstract humanism of ancient Greece, the civic and -legal humanism of Rome, the moral and spiritual humanism -of the Latin church, the æsthetic and metaphysical humanism -of the Renaissance. Each phase is an integration of the preceding -one and the acquisition of a new universal principle, -made independent of the particular social body in which it has -partially realized itself before becoming a pure, intelligible -ideal, an essential element of the human mind. The first three -phases, Greece, Rome, and the Church, are still more or less -closely associated, in relation to the forms of humanism which -are peculiar to each of them, with particular cultures. But the -last one, which, in its progress from the 13th century to -our days, has been assimilating, purifying, and clarifying all -the preceding ones, does not, at any given moment, directly -connect itself with any definite social body. In its inception, -as a purely Italian Renaissance, it may appear as the spiritual -form of Italian society from the 13th to the 15th century; but<span class="pagenum" id="Page_510">510</span> -its apparition coincides with the natural growth of the several, -sharply defined European nationalities, and very soon (and -apart from the evident insufficiency of any individual nation -to fulfil its spiritual exigencies) it manifests its intrinsic character -of universality by overflowing the frontiers of Italy and -becoming the law of the whole Western European world.</p> - -<p>The history of Europe during the last six centuries is the -history of the gradual penetration of that idea within the circle -of the passively or actively resistant, or inert, local, national -cultures. The Reformation, of all active resistances, is the -strongest and most important. The Germanic tribes rebel -against the law of Rome, because a delay of from five to ten -centuries in the experience of Christianity, and an experience -of Christianity to be made not on a Græco-Roman, but on an -Odinic background, create in them the spiritual need of an -independent elaboration of the same universal principles. Germany -is practically untouched by the spirit of the Renaissance -until the 18th century, and Italy herself is for two centuries -reduced to spiritual and political servitude by the superior -material strength which accompanies and sustains the spiritual -development of the nations of the North. Through the -whole continent, within the single national units, as well as -between nation and nation, the contrast and collaboration of -the Romanic and Germanic elements, of Renaissance and Reformation, -is the actual dialectic of the development of European -civilization: of the successive approximations of the single -cultures, or groups of cultures, in a multitude of more or -less divergent directions, with alternating accelerations and -involutions, towards the common form, the <i xml:lang="la" lang="la">humana civilitas</i>.</p> - -<div class="tb">* * * * *</div> - -<p>Of all the nations of Europe, Italy is the only one that, -however contingently and imperfectly, has actually realized all -of the four phases of humanism in a succession of historical -cultures: Magna Græcia, the Roman Empire, the Catholic -Church, the Renaissance. And as each of these successive -cultures was trying to embody in itself a universal, not a -particular, principle, nationality in Italy is not, as for other -nations, the acceptance of certain spiritual limits elaborated -from within the social body, but a reaction to the pressure<span class="pagenum" id="Page_511">511</span> -of adjoining nationalities, which presented themselves as obstacles -and impediments, even within the life of Italy herself, -to the realization of a super-national principle. This is the -process through which the humanism of the Renaissance, after -having received its abstract political form at the hands of -the thinkers and soldiers of the French Revolution, becomes -active and militant in Mazzini’s principle of nationality, which -is a heroic effort towards the utilization of the natural growth -of European nations for the purposes of a universal civilization.</p> - -<p>The distance between that civilization and the actual cultures -of the nations of Europe can easily be measured by the -observer of European events during the last seven years. To -that civilization belong the ideals, to those cultures, the realities, -of the Great War. And all of us who have thought and -fought in it have souls which are irremediably divided between -that civilization and those cultures. If we should limit ourselves -to the consideration of present facts and conditions, we -might well give way to despair: not for a good many years -in the past have nationalities been so impervious to the voice -of the common spirit as they are in Europe to-day. And the -sharp contrast between ideals and realities which has been -made visible even to the blind by the consequences of the -war, has engendered a temper of violence and cynicism even -among those rare men and parties who succeeded in keeping -their ideals <i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">au dessus de la mêlée</i>, and therefore did not put -them to the destructive test of a promise which had to be -broken.</p> - -<p>The moral problem which every nation of Europe will have -to labour at in the immediate future, is that of the relations -of its historical culture or cultures with the exigencies of the -<i xml:lang="la" lang="la">humana civilitas</i>. It is the problem that presents itself more -or less dimly to the most earnest and thoughtful of Europeans, -when they speak of the coming “death of our civilization,” or -of the “salvaging of civilization.” To many of them, it is -still a problem of institutions and technologies: its essentially -spiritual quality does not seem to have been thoroughly -grasped as yet. But it is also the problem that confronts, less -tragically, with less urgency, but not less inevitably, this great<span class="pagenum" id="Page_512">512</span> -European Commonwealth which has created its own life on -the North American continent for the space of the last three -centuries.</p> - -<div class="tb">* * * * *</div> - -<p>This European Commonwealth of America owes its origin -to a small number of adventurers and pilgrims, who brought -the seeds of English culture to the new world. Let us very -rapidly attempt a characterization of that original culture.</p> - -<p>England holds as peculiar and distinctive a position among -the nations of Europe as Italy. She is the meeting-point of -the Romanic and Germanic elements in European history; -and if her culture may appear as belonging to the family of -mediterranean cultures (to what we have called the <i xml:lang="la" lang="la">latina -civilitas</i>), to an English Catholic, like Cardinal Newman, there -was a time, and not very remote, when the Protestant could be -proud of its Teutonic associations. From a Catholic and -Franco-Norman mediæval England, logically emerges, by a -process similar to that exemplified by Italy and France and -Spain, the England of Henry VIII and Elizabeth, of Shakespeare -and the Cavaliers: Renaissance England. She flourishes -between the suppression of the monasteries and the suppression -of the theatres. She moulds, for all centuries to come, -the æsthetic and political mind of the English people. But -she carries the germs of a widely different culture in her womb: -she borrows from them, already during the Elizabethan age, -some traits that differentiate her from all other Renaissance -cultures. And these germs, slowly gaining impetus through -contrast and suppression, ultimately work her overthrow with -the short-lived triumph of Cromwell and the Puritans.</p> - -<p>After 1688, the law of English life is a compromise between -Puritan and Cavalier, between Renaissance and Reformation, -which sends the extreme representatives of each type -out of the country, builders of an Empire of adventurers and -pilgrims—while at home the moderate Cavalier, and the moderate -Puritan, the Tory and the Whig, establish a Republic -with a King, and a Parliamentary feudal régime. But the -successive stages of English culture do not interest us at this -point, except in so far as America has always remained closer -to England than to any other European nation, and has again<span class="pagenum" id="Page_513">513</span> -and again relived in her own life the social, political, spiritual -experiences of the Mother Country.</p> - -<p>It is from the two main directions of English spiritual life -that America, through a double process of segmentation, Elizabethan -or Cavalier in the South, Puritan in the North, draws -the origins of her own life. It is in the Cavalier and the Puritan, -still within the circle of English life, that the germs of -American culture must be sought. The peculiar relations of -the Cavalier and the Puritan to the general design of European -civilization define the original attitude of this Commonwealth -beyond the sea towards the other European cultures, -and are the origins of the curves which, modified in their -development by the addition of new elements and by the action -of a new, distinctive environment, American culture has described -and will describe in the future.</p> - -<div class="tb">* * * * *</div> - -<p>Puritanism is essentially a culture and not a civilization. -The Puritan mind, in its quest for an original Christian experience, -falls upon the Old Testament and the Ancient Law. The -God of the tribes of Israel becomes its God, a God finding a -complete expression in the law that rules his chosen people. A -compact, immovable spiritual logic, a set of fixed standards, a -rhetoric of the virtues, the identification of any element of -growth and change with the power of evil, a dualistic morality, -and the consequent negation of a spiritually free will, these -are the characteristics of Puritanism, constituting at the -same time, and with the same elements, a system of truth and -a system of conduct. In both the meanings in which we have -used the word religion at the beginning of this essay, Puritanism -is a perfect, final religion. Transplanted to America -when Europe was slowly becoming conscious of the metaphysical -implications of the destruction of the old Cosmology—when -the discovery of an infinite universe was depriving a -purely transcendent divinity of the place it had been given -beyond the limits of a finite universe—the infinite universe -itself being manifest, in the words of Bruno, as <i xml:lang="la" lang="la">lo specchio della -infinita deità</i>,—it gave birth to an intrinsically static culture, -standing out against a background of transcendental thought.</p> - -<p>The principles of growth in Puritanism were not specifically<span class="pagenum" id="Page_514">514</span> -Puritan: they were those universal values that Puritan discipline -succeeded in rediscovering because every moral discipline, -however fettered by its premises, will inevitably be led towards -them. Quite recently, a sincere and ardent apologist of Puritanism -recognized in a document which he considers as the -highest expression of that culture in America, a paraphrase of -the Roman <i xml:lang="la" lang="la">dulce et decorum</i>. The irrationality which breaks -through the most hermetically closed system of logic, in the -process of life, asserts itself by extracting from a narrowly -institutional religion values which are not dependent upon a -particular set of institutions, nor are valid for one people only. -But we might detect the germs of that irrationality already in -the very beginnings of the system, when Milton adds the whole -weight of the Roman tradition to the Puritan conception of -democracy—or in the divine words of the Gospels, through -which in all times and places every <i xml:lang="la" lang="la">anima naturaliter christiana</i> -will hear the cry of Love rebelling against the letter of the -Ancient Law.</p> - -<p>What the Cavalier brought to America, we should have to -investigate only if we were tracing the history of divergent -directions, of local cultures: because the original soul of America -is undoubtedly the Puritanic soul of New England, and -the South, even before the War of Secession, in relation to the -main direction, to the general culture, has a merely episodical -significance. Yet, though the founders of New England were -only Puritans, certain traits of the Cavalier spirit, the adventurer -in the pilgrim, will inevitably reappear in their descendants, -repeating the original dichotomy in the generations issuing -from an apparently pure stock: partly, because a difference -in beliefs is not always the mark of a fundamental -difference in temperaments, and partly because those traits -correspond to some of the generally human impulses suppressed -by the choice of the Puritan.</p> - -<p>There is one element which is common to Puritan and -Cavalier in America, and which cannot be said to belong in -precisely the same fashion to their ancestors in England. It -is, in England and the rest of Europe, a mythology formed -by similar hopes and desires, by a similar necessity of giving -an imaginary body to certain thoughts and aspirations, on the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_515">515</span> -part of the spirit of the Renaissance as well as of the spirit -of the Reformation: a mythology which, in the mind of the -European during the centuries between the discovery of America -and the French Revolution, inhabits such regions as the -island of Utopia, the city of the Sun, and the continent of -America. In that mythology, Utopism and American exoticism -coincide. But the adventurer and the pilgrim were actually -and firmly setting their feet on one of the lands mapped -in that purely ideal geography, and thoughts and aspirations -confined by the European to the continent of dreams, became -the moral exigencies of the new Commonwealth. Thus America -set herself against Europe as the ideal against the real, -the land of the free, and the refuge of the oppressed; and was -confirmed in such a position by her natural opportunities, by -the conditions of pioneer life, by contrast to European despotism—finally, -by the Revolution and the Constitution, in -which she felt that the initial moral exigencies were ultimately -fulfilled. It is to this myth of a Promised Land, which is -neither strictly Puritan nor strictly Cavalier, and yet at times -seems to coincide with the less static aspects of Puritanism, -that a peculiarly American idealism, unconquerable by defeat -and even by the evidence of facts, abstract, self-confident, energetic, -youthful and optimistic, owes its strength and its courage: -an idealism which is hardly conscious of what Europe -has been taught by centuries of dire experience—the irreparable -contingency and imperfection of history; and which believes, -as firmly as the Puritan legislator believes it, that such -institutions have been devised, or can be devised, through which -the ideal law, when thought out and written, will not fail to -become the law of reality for all times to come.</p> - -<p>From two contrasting elements, a firm belief in a Law which -was at the beginning, and a romantic mythology, a third characteristic -of the American mind is thus engendered: a full confidence -in the power of intellect conceived as a mechanism apt -to contrive practical schemes for the accomplishment of ideal -ends. This intellectual faith is similar in its static nature to -the moral faith of the Puritan: it is the material weapon of -Puritanism. Perfectibility is within its reach, but not the -actual processes of evolution. The intellect that does not conceive<span class="pagenum" id="Page_516">516</span> -itself as a process or function, but as a mechanism, can -tend towards, and theoretically possess, a state of perfection, -but will resent and condemn the gropings and failings of actual, -imperfect growth and change. Not without reason, the greatest -individual tragedy of the war, in a typically American -mind confronted with the sins and misery of Europe, was a -tragedy of intellectual pride: of the inability of a static intellect -to become charitably active in the tragic flux of European -life; a tragedy which a little moral and intellectual humility -might well have spared to the generous hopes of America, -and the childish, messianic faith which irradiated for only too -short a time the bleeding soul of Europe.</p> - -<div class="tb">* * * * *</div> - -<p>If we have called Puritanism a culture, what name shall we -reserve for that vast and complicated collection of mechanical -contrivances which constitute the material body of American -society to-day? We are in the presence of a technology, a -more highly developed one, perhaps (with the possible exception -of Germany before the war), than any that has ever existed -in the world. Technologies have a logic of their own, and -that logic is apt to take the place of higher spiritual constructions; -either when conditions of life lend a miraculous character -to the means of sustaining life itself and invest the practical -actions of hunting or agriculture with a religious significance; -or when the complexity of their organization is such -that the workings of that practical logic inevitably transcend -the power of observation of the individual agent, however -highly placed in the machinery itself, and moral or intellectual -myths are born of an imperfect knowledge. This is the case -of America, and in America this technological or industrial -mythology has crushed out of existence the rival myths of the -farms and the prairie, allowing them a purely romantic value -and decorative function, through the industrially controlled -power of the press. Even pioneering, and the conquest of -the West, a process in which Americans of another age found -an energetic, if partly vicarious, satisfaction for certain moral -and ideal yearnings, has receded, in the mind of Americans of -to-day, into the shades of a fabulous and solemn background.</p> - -<p>The industrial revolution followed in America the lines of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_517">517</span> -development of its early English model. This commonwealth -beyond the sea, agricultural and democratic, found in itself the -same elements which gave birth in the original country to an -industrial feudalism, grafting itself, without any solution of -continuity, on a feudalism of the land. The ineradicable -optimism of the American invested the whole process with -the same halo of moral romance which had coloured the age -of pioneering, and accepted as a useful substitute (or rather, as -a new content) for Puritanic moralism the philosophy of opportunity -and of success constantly commensurate with true merit. -The conception of intellect as a mechanism to be used for -moral and ideal ends, gave way to a similar though more complex -conception, modelled not on the methods of pure science, -from whose early conquests the revolution itself had been -started, but on those of applied science or of practical machinery.</p> - -<p>When, in the natural course of events, the bonds which -kept together the purely economic elements of the country -became more powerful and real than any system of political -institutions, when, in fact, a financial syndicalism became the -structure underlying the apparent organs of government, all -the original ideals of America had already gathered to the -defence of the new order. Hence the extraordinary solidity of -the prevailing economic system in this country, when compared -with any European country. Economic, as well as political -systems, ultimately rest on convictions rather than on -sheer force, and the radical in America, in all spheres of -thought, is constantly in the necessity of fighting not mere -institutions, as in Europe, but institutionalized ideals, organisms -and personalities which establish their right on the same -assumptions which prompt him in his rebellion. There is less -difference in fundamentals between a Carnegie and a Debs -than between any two individuals placed in similar positions -in Europe.</p> - -<p>An interesting by-product of this particular development is -the myth of the captain of industry, possessed, in the popular -imagination, of all the virtues. And a consequence of this -myth is an unavoidable revision of the catalogue of virtues, -from which some were expunged that do not lead to industrial<span class="pagenum" id="Page_518">518</span> -success, and others were admitted because industrial success -is thought to be impossible without them. This myth is not -believed in by the aspiring multitudes only, but by a good -many among the captains of industry themselves, who accept -their wealth as a social trust, and conceive of their function in -a manner not dissimilar from that of the old sovereign by the -grace of God.</p> - -<div class="tb">* * * * *</div> - -<p>This transposition of ideals from the religious and moral -field to the practical and economic, leaves only a very thin -ground for personal piety and the religion of the Churches. -Yet there is no country in the world (again, with the only possible -exception of Northern Africa during the first centuries of -the Christian Era) which has produced such a wealth and such -a variety of religious movements as America. The substance -of that very thin ground is diluted Puritanism, Puritanism -which, in a vast majority of the population, converts itself, -strangely enough, as we have seen, into social optimism, a -belief sufficient to the great active masses, but not to the needs -of “the heart,” when the heart is given enough leisure to consider -itself, through either too much wealth or too little hope: -through the discovery of its emptiness, when the possession of -the means makes manifest the absence of an end, or through -the spasms of its hunger, when means are beyond reach, in -the hands of the supposed inferior and unworthy. In this -second case, even a purely sensual craving dignifies itself with -the name of the Spirit. The more or less official Churches, -in an attempt to retain the allegiance of their vast congregations, -have followed the masses in their evolution: they pride -themselves essentially on their social achievements, a little -doubtfully, perhaps, knowing that their particular God has -no more reason to inhabit a church than a factory, and that -the highest possible embodiment of their doctrine is an orderly -and paternally governed industrial organization.</p> - -<p>To the needs of “the heart” minister the innumerable sects -(and here again, the American religious history repeats, in magnified -proportions, the characteristics of English religious life). -But because of the gradual impoverishment of the central religious -tradition of the country, because of the scanty cultural<span class="pagenum" id="Page_519">519</span> -background of both apostles and neophytes, it is hard to recognize -in the whole movement an intimate spiritual dialectic -which might lend strength and significance to the individual -sects. A vague mysticism appropriates to itself, in a haphazard -and capricious fashion, shadows and ghosts of religious -experiences and opinions, whose germs of truth lie in other -ages and other climates. The only common feature seems to -be a distrust of intellect, derived from the original divorce of -the intellectual from the spiritual in the Puritan, a distrust -which at times becomes active in the denunciation of the supposed -crimes of science. It is this fundamental common feature -which will for ever prevent any of them from becoming -what all sects fail to be, a religion.</p> - -<p>The two states of mind which are nearer to-day to being -true religions are, on one side, Americanism (a religion as a -common bond), and on the other, Radicalism (a religion as -a personal experience). Americanism is the more or less perfect -expression of the common belief that American ideals -realize themselves in American society. Radicalism is the -more or less spasmodic protest against such a belief, sometimes -coupled with an individual attempt at realizing those ideals in -one’s life and actions. The sharpest contrast between the two -attitudes is to be found in their ideas of political and spiritual -freedom; which to one is a condition actually existing by the -mere fact of the existence of American society such as it is, -and to the other a dynamic principle which can never be permanently -associated with any particular set of institutions.</p> - -<p>The original spirit of Puritanism can hardly be said to be -alive to-day in America. In a few intellectuals, it confuses -itself with other high forms of moral discipline in the past, -and reappears with a strange fidelity to form rather than substance, -as Platonism, Classicism, Mediævalism, Catholicism, or -any other set of fixed standards that can be accepted as a -whole, and can give the soul that sense of security which is -inherent in the illusion of possessing the final truth. The consequence -of such a deviation is that these truly religious souls, -after having satisfied themselves with a sufficiently vast and -beautiful interpretation of their creed, resent any cruder and -more dangerous form of intellectual experience much more<span class="pagenum" id="Page_520">520</span> -keenly than they resent crudities and dangers actually present -in the nature of things. They are intellectuals, but again, with -no faith in intellect; they are truly isolated among their fellow-countrymen, -and yet they believe in conformity, and assume -the conformity of American society to be the conformity of -their dreams.</p> - -<p>Such a static apprehension of truth, such an identification -of universal spiritual values with one or another particular -tradition, is in fact as much an obstacle to the new life of -the human spirit as the external conformity enforced by social -optimism. But the polemic against the older intellectuals is -carried on by younger men, many of them of recent immigrant -blood, but all of them reared in the atmosphere of American -culture, and who differ from them more in the objects of their -preference than in the vastness or depth of their outlook. -There is a way of clinging to the latest fashion in philosophy or -in art which is not a progress in any sense in relation to older -faiths; of combating a manifest logical fallacy by the use of -the same sophism; of embracing sin with the same moral enthusiasm -that in less enlightened times was kept in reserve for -the highest virtues only.</p> - -<p>More important, for their influence on certain phases of -American life, than these intellectual echoes, are the moralistic -remnants of Puritanism. It is always possible, for small -groups of people, strongly endowed with the sense of other -people’s duties, to intimidate large sections of public opinion -into accepting the logical consequences of certain undisputed -moral assumptions, however widely they may differ from the -realities of American life. It is under such circumstances that -the kind-hearted, easy-going American pays the penalty for -his identification of realities with ideals, by being deprived of -some very dear reality in the name of an ideal which had -long since ceased to have any meaning for him.</p> - -<div class="tb">* * * * *</div> - -<p>From whatever side we look at American culture, we are -constantly brought face to face with a disregard or distrust, -or a narrow conception, of purely intellectual values, which -seems to be the common characteristic of widely divergent -spiritual attitudes. The American does not, as the Englishman,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_521">521</span> -glory in his capacity for muddling through: he is proud -of certain logical achievements, and has a fondness for abstract -schemes, an earnest belief in their validity and efficiency; -but no more than the English does he believe that -intellect is an integral part of the human personality. He -recognizes the identity of goodness and truth, provided that -truth can be found out by other means than purely intellectual: -by common sense, by revelation, by instinct, by imagination, -but not by intellect. It is here that even the defenders, -among Americans, of the classical tradition miss the true meaning -of the message of Socrates and Plato, the foundation of -humanism.</p> - -<p>What is peculiarly American in the opinions of American -philosophers is a clear and distinct expression of the common -attitude. The official philosophy of America has repeated for -a century the views of English empiricists and of German idealists, -sometimes with very interesting and illuminating personal -variations. It has even, and it is an original achievement, -brought them to lose their peculiar accents and to coincide in -new theories of knowledge. But the heart of American philosophy -is not there: it is in pragmatism, in instrumentalism, -in whatever other theory clearly establishes the purely functional -character of truth, the mechanical aspect of intellect. -Having put the criterion of truth outside the intellect, and -considered intellect as the mere mechanism of belief, these -doctrines try to re-establish the dignity of intellect by making -of it a machine for the reproduction of morally or socially -useful beliefs. The operation is similar to that of an anatomist -who, having extracted the heart from a living body, would presume -to reconstruct the body by artificially promoting the -movements of the heart. The doctrine of the purely pragmatic -or instrumental nature of intellect, which is the logical clarification -of the popular conception, is a doctrine of radical scepticism, -whatever the particular declarations of faith of the -philosophers themselves might say to the contrary: it destroys -not the objects of knowledge only, but the instrument itself.</p> - -<p>American philosophers came to this doctrine through the -psychological and sociological approach to the problems of -the mind. Such an approach is in keeping with the general<span class="pagenum" id="Page_522">522</span> -tendency towards assuming the form of natural and mathematical -sciences, which moral sciences in American universities -have been obeying during the last thirty or forty years, partly -under the influence of a certain kind of European positivism, -and partly because of the prestige that natural and mathematical -sciences gained from their practical applications. -Even now it is easier to find a truly humanistic mind, a sound -conception of intellectual values, among the great American -scientists than among the philosophers and philologists: but -pure science has become the most solitary of occupations, and -the scientist the most remote of men, since his place in society -has been taken by the inventor and by the popularizer. Psychology -and sociology, those half-literary, half-scientific disciplines, -gave as a basis to philosophy not the individual effort -to understand and to think, but the positive observation of the -more or less involuntary processes of thought in the multitude. -Intellect was sacrificed to a democratic idea of the equality of -minds: how could the philosopher presume to think, I do not -say better or more efficiently than, but differently from the -multitude? To European philosophy the reproach has been -made again and again, and with some justice, of imposing laws -upon reality which are only the laws of individual philosophic -thought; and yet what else does the scientist ultimately do? -But both scientist and philosopher find their justification in -their faith in the validity of their instruments: in a spirit of -devotion and humility, not in a gratuitous presumption. The -typical American philosopher has sold his birthright, not for -a pottage of lentils, but for mere love.</p> - -<div class="tb">* * * * *</div> - -<p>I am painfully aware of the fact that, through the meshes -of this necessarily abstract and sketchy analysis, a good deal -of the beauty and vastness, the vigour and good-humour of -American life inevitably escapes. The traveller from the old -countries experiences here a sense of great spaces and of practically -unbounded possibilities, which reflects itself in an unparalleled -gaiety and openness of heart, and freedom of social -intercourse. The true meaning of the doctrine of opportunity -lies much more in these individual attitudes than in any difference -between the structures of American and European<span class="pagenum" id="Page_523">523</span> -societies. And I do not believe that the only explanation for -them is in the prosperity of America when compared to the -misery of Europe, because this generosity stands in no direct -relation with individual wealth. The lumberman and the longshoreman -are as good as, if not better than, the millionaire.</p> - -<p>These individual attitudes find their collective expression -in the idea of, and readiness for, service, which is universal -in this country. Churches, political parties, movements for -social reform, fraternal orders, industrial and business organizations, -meet on this common ground. There is no material -interest or spiritual prejudice that will not yield to an appeal -for service: and whenever the object of service is clearly -defined, action follows the impulse, intolerant of any delay. -But Service is a means and not an end: you can serve a God, -or a man, or a group of men, and in that man or group of men -what you conceive to be his or their need, but you cannot serve -Service. And the common end can only be given by a clear -intellectual vision of the relations between a set of ideals and -the realities of life.</p> - -<p>This intrinsic generosity of the American people is the motive -of the song, and the substance of the ideal, of the one great -poet that America has added to the small family of European -poets: Walt Whitman. In him that feeling and that impulse -became a vision and a prophecy. There is a habit on the -part of American intellectuals to look with a slight contempt -on the admiration of Europeans for the poetry of Walt Whitman, -as just another symptom of their ignorance of American -things. But I, for one, will confess that what I have loved -passionately, as little more than a boy, in that poetry, is that -same quality whose presence I have now recognized as the -human flower of American culture, and which makes me love -this country as passionately as I loved that poetry.</p> - -<p>It is one of the many paradoxes of American intellectual -life that even the cultural preparation of a Walt Whitman -should have been deeper and more substantial, if not more -systematic, than that of any professor or writer of his times. -These were minds which had as fully imbibed European -thought and imagination as any professor or writer in Europe: -but that thought, that imagination, transplanted to the new<span class="pagenum" id="Page_524">524</span> -country, stood in no real relation with the new practical and -moral surroundings, and were therefore thin and sterile. Walt -Whitman knew and understood the great traditions of European -civilization, and tried to express them in the original -idiom, moral and literary, of his America.</p> - -<p>But <i xml:lang="la" lang="la">nemo propheta</i>, and it takes centuries to understand a -poet. Walt Whitman still waits for his own generation. The -modern schools of American poetry, curious of all winds of -fashion, working for the day rather than for the times, have -not yet fully grasped, I do not say the spirit of his message, -but even, for all their free-versifying, the mystery of his magnificent -rhythms. His successors are rather among some of -the younger novelists, and in a few men, spiritually related to -them, who approach the study of American conditions from -a combined economic and psychological point of view. The -novelists are busy in discovering the actual traits of the American -physiognomy, with sufficient faith in the future to describe -the shades with as much care as the lights, and with a deeper -passion; the economists are making way for the highest and -purest American ideals by revealing the contingent and merely -psychological basis of the supposedly scientific axioms of classical -economics.</p> - -<div class="tb">* * * * *</div> - -<p>My own experience of American life, between the autumn -of 1919 and the summer of 1921, has brought me in contact -with all sorts and manners of people from one end to the other -of the country, from the Atlantic to the Pacific. It is from -this direct intercourse with Americans, rather than from my -readings of American literature, continued for a much longer -time, that I have formed the opinions expressed in this paper. -But as my work has brought me in closer communion with colleges -and universities than with any other kind of institutions, -I feel a little more assured in writing of the educational aspect -of the American problem.</p> - -<p>A university is in any case more a <i xml:lang="la" lang="la">universitas studentium</i> -than a corporation of professors. I have enjoyed my life in -American faculties, and I have gained a good deal from the -many noble souls and intellects that I have met among them; -but, whenever it has been possible to me, I have escaped from<span class="pagenum" id="Page_525">525</span> -the faculties to the students and tried to understand the tendencies -of the coming generations.</p> - -<p>The students of the American college or university, from the -comparatively ancient institutions of the East, to the young -co-educational schools of the Middle and Far West, form a -fairly homogeneous, though very widely representative, cross-section -of the American community. They are, in a very precise -and inclusive meaning, young America, the America of to-morrow. -A good many of their intellectual and spiritual characteristics -are the common traits of American culture which -we have studied in the preceding paragraphs; and yet, because -of the social separation of individuals according to ages, -which is carried in this country much farther than in any -European country, they develop also a number of independent -traits, which are peculiar to each one of the “younger generations” -in their turn. The life of the American boy or girl, -up to the time of their entrance into college, is mainly the life -of a beautiful and healthy young organism, not subject to any -too strict intellectual or spiritual discipline. The High Schools -seem to understand their function in a spirit which is substantially -different from that of the European secondary schools, -owing especially to certain prevailing educational doctrines -founded on a fiction which is used also in many other fields -of American life, but which in the field of education has -wrought more harm than in any other one, the fiction of the -public demand—in this particular case of one or another type -of education. A fiction undoubtedly it is, and used to give -prestige and authority to the theories of individual educationalists, -since in no country and in no time there have existed -educational opinions outside the circle of the educators themselves. -But this fiction has unfortunately had practical consequences -because American educators, subject to big business -in the private institutions, and to the politicians in the State -schools and universities, have not found in themselves the -energy, except in a few isolated instances, to resist what came -to them strengthened by such auspices. And the public itself -was easily convinced that it wanted what it was told that it -wanted. The students, more sinned against than sinning, -enjoy the easy atmosphere of the school, and it is only when<span class="pagenum" id="Page_526">526</span> -they reach college that they become aware of their absolute -unpreparedness for the higher studies.</p> - -<p>This consciousness of their inferiority manifests itself in an -attitude of “low-browism,” which is not contempt of that -which they think is beyond them, but rather an unwillingness -to pretend that they are what they know they are not. It is -practically impossible for them to acquire any standards in -matters of scholarship, and they are thus forcibly thrown back -on that which they know very well, the sports, and social life -among themselves. A Chinese friend of mine once quaintly -defined an American university as an athletic association in -which certain opportunities for study were provided for the -feeble-bodied. Now, in athletics and social life, the student -finds something that is real, and therefore is an education: there -is no pretence or fraud about football, and in their institutions -within the college and the university the students obey certain -standards and rules which are not as clearly justified as those -of athletics, but still are made by themselves, and therefore -readily understood. They are standards and rules that sometimes -strangely resemble those of primitive society, as it is -only too natural when the ground on which they grow is a -community of the very young only, and yet undoubtedly they -are a preparation for a life after college in which similar features -are very far from being the exception. And besides, that -social life has a freedom and beauty of its own, evident in one -at least of its most hallowed institutions, the dance. American -dances, with those captivating and vital rhythms which -American music has appropriated for itself from the Negro, -are a perfect expression of the mere joy of life. The older -generations are shocked and mystified by these dances, and -also by many other ways and by the implicit opinions of the -young; but so they have been in all ages and countries. To -a curious and passionate observer, the youth of America seems -to be obscurely labouring at a liberation of the sexual life -from pretences and unjustified inhibitions, and, through an -original experience of the elements of love, at a creation of new -values, perhaps of a new morality.</p> - -<p>But the student is an object of perplexity and wonder to -the professor, who generally ends by taking very seriously,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_527">527</span> -very literally, as something that cannot be changed, his attitude -towards athletics and the social life of the college. Starting -from such an assumption, the professor becomes shy of -teaching; that is, he keeps for himself whatever true intellectual -and spiritual interests he may have, and deals out to -the students in the classroom rations of knowledge, which go -up to form a complicated system of units and credits symbolizing -the process of education. There is, to my mind, no -more tragic misunderstanding in American life.</p> - -<p>My own experience (and I give it for what it is worth) tells -me that athletics and the social life are vicarious satisfactions -for much deeper spiritual and intellectual needs. The student -receives from the common American tradition a desire for spiritual -values; from his individual reaction to that tradition, -a craving for intellectual clarity. But he is handicapped by -his scholastic unpreparedness, and disillusioned by the aloofness -of the professor, by the intricacies and aridity of the curriculum: -by the fact, only too evident to him, that what he is -given is not science or thought, but their scholastic version. -Whenever a man stands before him, and without trying to -“put himself at his level,” talks to him as one talks to a man, -thinking for him as one thinks for oneself, there is no more -ready and enthusiastic response to be had than from the -American student. He is not afraid of the difficulties or -dangers, but he must trust his guide, and know that his guide -trusts him. There is evidence for this in the cases which are -too frequent to be called mere exceptions, of those American -professors who are truly popular in the colleges and universities. -But until many more of them realize what splendid -material is in their hands, what big thirst there is for them to -quench, and go back to their work with this new faith, the -gulf will not be bridged, and young America will have to attempt -to solve her own problems without the help of the -spiritual experience of the centuries.</p> - -<div class="tb">* * * * *</div> - -<p>This condition in the institutions of higher learning is a symbol -and a mirror of the condition of the country. With an -impoverished religious tradition, with an imperfect knowledge -of the power of intellect, America is starving for religious and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_528">528</span> -intellectual truth. No other country in the world has, as the -phrase goes, a heart more full of service: a heart that is constantly -<i xml:lang="la" lang="la">quaerens quem amet</i>. With the war, and after the war, -America has wished to dedicate herself to the world, and has -only withdrawn from action when she has felt that she could -not trust her leaders, what was supposed to be her mind.</p> - -<p>In a few years, the children of the recent millions of immigrants -from all regions of Europe will come forward in American -life and ask for their share in the common inheritance of -American tradition, in the common work of American civilization. -They will not have much to contribute directly from -their original cultures, but they will add an unexampled variety -of bloods, of intellectual and moral temperaments, to the -population of America. Their Americanization, in habits and -language and manners, is a natural process which, left to itself, -invariably takes place in the second generation. America -must clarify and intensify her tradition, the moral discipline -of the Puritan, the moral enthusiasm of the Discoverers and -Pioneers, for them, and they will gladly embrace her heritage; -but this clarification and intensification is only possible -through the revision of the original values in the light of the -central humanistic tradition of European thought.</p> - -<p>The dreams of the European founders of this Commonwealth -of Utopia may yet come true, in the way in which human -dreams come true, by becoming the active, all-pervading -motive of spiritual effort, the substance of life. Exiles, voluntary -or forced, from England and Ireland, from Russia and -Italy, from Germany and Israel, children of one mother, unified -in America as they will not be unified for centuries to come -in Europe, will thus have a chance to anticipate, in the <i xml:lang="la" lang="la">civilitas -americana</i>, the future developments of the <i xml:lang="la" lang="la">humana civilitas</i>.</p> - -<p>And if this generation needs a motto, I would suggest one -line of Dante:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry short"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0"><i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">luce intellettual piena d’amore</i>:</div> - <div class="verse indent0">the light of intellect, in the fulness of love.</div> - </div> - <div class="attrib"><span class="smcap">Raffaello Piccoli</span></div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div id="toclink_527" class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="BIBLIOGRAPHICAL_NOTES">BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTES</h2> -</div> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_531">531</span></p> - -<h3>THE CITY</h3> - -<p>There is no adequate literature of cities in America. Some of -the larger cities possess guide-books and local histories; but the -most valuable illuminations on the history and development of the -American city lie buried in contemporary papers, narratives of -travel, and speeches. The reader who wishes to explore the ground -farther should dip into volumes and papers drawn from all periods. -The recent editions of “Valentine’s Manual” should be interesting -to those who cannot consult the original “Manual of the Common -Council of New York.” During the last twenty years a great many -reports and surveys have been printed, by city planning commissions -and other bodies: these are valuable both for showing the limitations -of the established régime and for giving hints of the forces -that are working, more or less, for improvement. “The Pittsburgh -Survey” (Russell Sage Foundation) is the great classic in this field. -A compendious summary of American city developments during the -last generation is contained in Charles Zueblin’s “American -Municipal Progress” (Macmillan). Standing by itself in this literature -is a very able book by Paul Harlan Douglass, called “The -Little Town,” published by Macmillan. (A book which shall deal -similarly with the Great Town is badly needed.) The best -general approach to the city is that of Professor Patrick Geddes in -“Cities in Evolution” (Williams and Norgate, London.) Those -who are acquainted with Professor Geddes’s “A Study in City -Development” or his contributions to “Sociological Papers” (Macmillan, -1905, 1906, 1907) will perhaps note my debt to him: I -hasten heartily to acknowledge this, as well as my debt, by personal -intercourse, to his colleague, Mr. Victor V. Branford. If the lay -reader can learn nothing else from Professor Geddes, he can learn -the utility of throwing aside the curtains of second-hand knowledge -and studying cities and social institutions by direct observation. -The inadequacy of American civic literature will not be altogether -a handicap if it forces the reader to obtain by personal explorations -impressions which he would otherwise get through the blur of -the printed page. Every city and its region is in a sense an exhibition<span class="pagenum" id="Page_532">532</span> -of natural and social history. Let the reader walk the streets of -our cities, as through the halls of a museum, and use the books that -have been suggested only as so many tickets and labels. Americans -have a reputation in Europe as voracious sightseers. One wonders -what might not happen if Americans started to see the sights at -home—not the Grand Canyon and the Yosemite, but a “Broadway,” -and its back alleys, and the slums and suburbs that stretch beyond. -If observation led to criticism, and criticism to knowledge, where -might not knowledge lead?</p> - -<p class="right"> -L. M. -</p> - -<h3>POLITICS</h3> - -<p>The standard works on the history of American politics are so -well known (and so few) that they scarcely need mention. Bryce, -Ostrogorski and de Tocqueville, I assume, have been read by all -serious students, as have also such personal memoirs as those of -Blaine and John Sherman. Bryce’s work is a favourite, but it suffers -from the disingenuousness of the man. Dr. Charles A. Beard’s -“Economic Interpretation of the Constitution” is less a complete -treatise than a prospectus of a history that is yet to be written. -As far as I know, the valuable suggestions in his preface have never -inspired any investigation of political origins by other American -historians, most of whom are simply unintelligent school-teachers, as -their current “histories” of the late war well show. All such inquiries -are blocked by the timorousness and stupidity that are so -characteristic of American scholarship. Our discussion of politics, -like our discussion of economics, deals chiefly with superficialities. -Both subjects need ventilation by psychologists not dependent upon -college salaries, and hence free to speak. Certainly the influence of -religious enthusiasm upon American politics deserves a careful study; -nevertheless, I have never been able to find a book upon it. Again, -there is the difficult question of the relations between politics and -journalism. My belief is that the rising power of newspapers has -tended to drive intelligent and self-respecting men out of politics, -for the newspapers are chiefly operated by cads and no such man -wants to be at their mercy. But that sort of thing is never studied -in the United States. We even lack decent political biography, so -common in England. The best light to be obtained upon current -politics is in the <cite>Congressional Record</cite>. It costs $1.50 a month and -is well worth it. Soon or late the truth gets into the <cite>Record</cite>; it -even got there during the war. But it seldom gets into the newspapers -and it never gets into books.</p> - -<p class="right"> -H. L. M. -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_533">533</span></p> - -<h3>JOURNALISM</h3> - -<p>I know of no quite satisfactory book on American journalism. -“History of Journalism in the United States” by George Henry -Payne and “History of American Journalism” by James Melvin -Lee are fairly good in their treatment of the past, but neither of -them shows any penetration in analyzing present conditions. The -innocence of Mr. Payne may be judged by his opinion that the -Kansas City <cite>Star</cite>, under Nelson, exemplifies a healthier kind of -“reform journalism” than the <cite>Post</cite> under Godkin! “Liberty and -the News” by Walter Lippmann is suggestive, but it does not pretend -to contain any specific information. More specific in naming -names and giving modern instances is a short essay by Hamilton -Holt, “Commercialism and Journalism.” “The Brass Check” by -Upton Sinclair contains much valuable material, and perhaps what -I have said of it does not do it justice; certainly it should be read -by everybody interested in this subject. Will Irwin published in -<cite>Collier’s Weekly</cite> from January to July, 1911, a valuable series of -articles, “The American Newspaper: A Study of Journalism.” I -cannot find that these articles have been reprinted in book form. -There is some information in autobiographies and biographies of -important journalists, such as “Recollections of a Busy Life” by -Horace Greeley, “Life of Whitelaw Reid” by Royal Cortissoz, -“Life and Letters of E. L. Godkin” by Rollo Ogden, “Life of -Charles A. Dana” by J. H. Wilson, “Life and Letters of John Hay” -by William Roscoe Thayer, “An Adventure with Genius: Recollections -of Joseph Pulitzer,” by Alleyne Ireland; also “The Story -of the <cite>Sun</cite>” by Frank M. O’Brien. Biographies, however, celebrate -persons and only indirectly explain institutions. A useful bibliography, -which includes books and magazine articles, is “Daily Newspapers -in U. S.” by Wieder Callie of the Wisconsin University School -of Journalism. But after all the best source of information is the -daily newspaper, if one knows how to read it—and read between the -lines.</p> - -<p class="right"> -J. M. -</p> - -<h3>THE LAW</h3> - -<p>“Bryce’s Modern Democracies,” Chapter XLIII, is a recent survey -of the American legal system; Raymond Fosdick, “American -Police Systems,” Chapter I, states the operation of criminal law. -For legal procedure, see Reginald Heber Smith, “Justice and the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_534">534</span> -Poor,” published by the Carnegie Endowment for the Advancement -of Teaching and dealing with legal aid societies and other methods -of securing more adequate legal relief; Charles W. Eliot and others, -“Efficiency in the Administration of Justice,” published by the National -Economic League; Moorfield Storey, “The Reform of Legal -Procedure;” and many other books and articles; the reports of the -American and New York Bar Associations are of especial value. -John H. Wigmore, “Evidence,” vol. V (1915 edition) discusses -recent progress; see his “Cases on Torts, Preface,” on substantive -law. A very wide range of topics in American law, philosophical, -historical, procedural, and substantive, is covered by the writings of -Roscoe Pound, of which a list is given in “The Centennial History of -the Harvard Law School.” The same book deals with many phases -of legal education; see also “The Case Method in American Law -Schools,” Josef Redlich, Carnegie Endowment. For the position -of lawyers, the best book is, Charles Warren, “A History of the -American Bar;” a recent discussion of their work is Simeon E. -Baldwin, “The Young Man and the Law.” No one interested in -this field should fail to read the “Collected Legal Papers of Justice -Holmes;” see also John H. Wigmore, “Justice Holmes and the Law -of Torts” and Felix Frankfurter, “The Constitutional Opinions of -Justice Holmes,” both in the <cite>Harvard Law Review</cite>, April, 1916, -and Roscoe Pound, “Judge Holmes’s Contributions to the Science -of Law,” <i xml:lang="la" lang="la">ibid.</i>, March, 1921. A valuable essay on Colonial legal -history is Paul S. Reinsch, “English Common Law in the Early -American Colonies.” A mass of material will be found in the law -reviews, which are indexed through 1907 by Jones, “Index to Legal -Periodicals,” 3 vols., and afterwards in the <cite>Law Library Journal</cite>, -cumulative quarterly.</p> - -<p class="right"> -<span class="smcap">Z. C., Jr.</span> -</p> - -<h3>EDUCATION</h3> - -<p>The ideas contained in the article are so commonplace and of such -general acceptance among educators that it is impossible to give -specific authority for them. In addition to the articles mentioned, -one of the latest by Dr. D. S. Miller, “The Great College Illusion” -in the <cite>New Republic</cite> for June 22, 1921, should be referred to. For -the rest the report of the Committee of Ten of the National Education -Association, and the reports of President Eliot and President -Lowell of Harvard, President Meiklejohn of Amherst, and President -Wilson of Princeton, may be cited, with the recognition that any -such selection is invidious.</p> - -<p class="right"> -R. M. L. -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_535">535</span></p> - -<h3>SCHOLARSHIP AND CRITICISM</h3> - -<p>There has been no really fundamental discussion of American -scholarship or American criticism. Those who merely seek a good -historical sketch of our older literary scholarship, along conventional -lines, will find one in the fourth volume of the “Cambridge -History of American Literature” that is at all events vastly superior -to the similar chapters in the “Cambridge History of English Literature.” -But more illuminating than any formal treatise are the comments -on our scholarly ideals and methods in Emerson’s famous -address on “The American Scholar,” in “The Education of Henry -Adams,” and in the “Letters” of William James. The “Cambridge -History of American Literature” contains no separate chapter on -American criticism, and the treatment of individual critics is -pathetically inadequate. The flavour of recent criticism may be -savoured in Ludwig Lewisohn’s interesting anthology, “A Modern -Book of Criticism,” where the most buoyant and “modern” of our -younger men are set side by side with all their unacademic masters -and compeers of the contemporary European world. All that can -be said in favour of the faded moralism of the older American -criticism is urged in an article on “The National Genius” in the -<cite>Atlantic Monthly</cite> for January, 1921, the temper of which may be -judged from this typical excerpt: “When Mr. Spingarn declares that -beauty is not concerned with truth or morals or democracy, he -makes a philosophical distinction which I have no doubt that -Charles the Second would have understood, approved, and could, -at need, have illustrated. But he says what the American schoolboy -knows to be false to the history of beauty in this country. Beauty, -whether we like it or not, has a heart full of service.” The case -against the conservative and traditional type of criticism is presented -with slapdash pungency in the two volumes of H. L. -Mencken’s “Prejudices.” But any one can make out a case for -himself by reading the work of any American classical scholar side -by side with a book by Gilbert Murray, or any history of literature -by an American side by side with Francesco de Sanctis’s “History -of Italian Literature,” or the work of any American critic side by -side with the books of the great critics of the world.</p> - -<p class="right"> -J. E. S. -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_536">536</span></p> - -<h3>SCHOOL AND COLLEGE LIFE</h3> - -<p>The “distinguished Englishman” to whom the Martian refers -is of course Viscount Bryce, whose “American Commonwealth” discusses -the external aspects of our uniformity, the similarity of our -buildings, cities, customs, and so on. Our spiritual unanimity has -been most thoroughly examined by George Santayana, both in his -earlier essays—as notably in “The Genteel Tradition”—and in his -recent “Character and Opinion in the United States.”</p> - -<p>For all the welter of writing about our educational establishment, -only infrequent and incidental consideration has been bestowed, -either favourably or unfavourably, on its regimental effect. As custodians -of a going concern, the educators have busied themselves -with repairs and replacements to the machinery rather than with the -right of way; and lay critics have pretty much confined themselves -to selecting between machines whose slightly differing routes all lie -in the same general direction. The exception that proves the rule -is “Shackled Youth,” by Edward Yeomans.</p> - -<p>But undergraduate life in America has a genre of its own, the -form of fiction known as “college stories.” Nearly every important -school has at some time had written round it a collection of tales -that exploit its peculiar legends, traditions, and customs—for the -most part a chafing-dish literature of pranks, patter, and athletic -prowess whose murky and often distorted reflection of student attitudes -is quite incidental to its business of entertaining. Owen -Johnson’s Lawrenceville stories—“The Prodigious Hickey,” “Tennessee -Shad,” “The Varmint,” “The Humming Bird”—are the -classics of preparatory school life. Harvard has “Pepper,” by H. E. -Porter, “Harvard Episodes” and “The Diary of a Freshman,” by -Charles Flandrau, and Owen Wister’s “Philosophy 4,” the best of -all college yarns. Yale has the books of Ralph D. Paine and of -others. The Western universities have such volumes as “Ann Arbor -Tales,” by Karl Harriman, for Michigan, and “Maroon Tales,” by -W. J. Cuppy, for Chicago. George Fitch writes amusingly about -life in the smaller Western colleges in “Petey Simmons at Siwash” -and “At Good Old Siwash.”</p> - -<p>The catalogue of serious college fiction is brief, and most of the -novels are so propagandist that they are misrepresentative. For -example, Owen Johnson’s “Stover at Yale,” which was some years -out of date when it was published, misses the essential club spirit in -New Haven by almost as wide a margin as Arthur Train’s “The<span class="pagenum" id="Page_537">537</span> -World and Thomas Kelly” departs from the normal club life in -Cambridge; both authors set up the straw man of snobbery where -snobs are an unimportant minority. Two recent novels, however, -deal more faithfully with the college scene for the very reason that -their authors were more interested in character than in setting: -“This Side of Paradise,” by Scott Fitzgerald, is true enough to -have provoked endless controversy in Princeton; and “Salt: The -Education of Griffith Adams,” by Charles G. Norris, is a memorable -appraisal of student ideals in a typical co-educational institution. -Dorothy Canfield’s “The Bent Twig” is also laid in a co-educational -college. Booth Tarkington’s “Ramsay Milholland” attends a State -University; and the hero of “Gold Shod,” by Newton Fuessle, is -a revelatory failure of the University of Chicago regimen. To these -add an autobiography—“An American in the Making, The Life -Story of an Immigrant,” by M. E. Ravage, whose candid report on -his fellows at the Missouri State University is a masterpiece of sympathetic -criticism.</p> - -<p class="right"> -C. B. -</p> - -<h3>THE INTELLECTUAL LIFE</h3> - -<p>To attempt to give references to specific books on so general and -inclusive a topic would be an impertinence. But one may legitimately -suggest the trends of investigation one would like to see -thoroughly explored. In my own case they would be: (1) a study -of the pioneer from the point of view of his cultural and religious -interests, correlating those interests with his general economic status; -(2) a study of the revolutionary <em>feeling</em> of America (not formulas) -in psychological terms and of its duration as an emotional driving -force; (3) a study of the effects of the post-Civil War period and -the industrial expansion upon the position of upper-class women in -the United States; (4) a study of sexual maladjustment in American -family life, correlated again with the economic status of the successful -pioneer; (5) a very careful study of the beginnings, rise, and -spread of women’s clubs, and their purposes and accomplishments, -correlated chronologically with the development of club life of men -and the extent of vice, gambling, and drunkenness; (6) a study of -American religions in more or less Freudian terms as compensations -for neurotic maladjustment; (7) a study of instrumentalism in -philosophy and its implications for reform; (8) a serious attempt -to understand and appraise the more or less disorganized <i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">jeunes</i>, -with some attention to comparing the intensity of their bitterness -or optimism with the places of birth and upbringing. No special<span class="pagenum" id="Page_538">538</span> -study of American educational systems or of the school or college -life would be necessary, it seems to me, beyond, of course, a general -knowledge. The intellectual life of the nation, after all, has little -relation to the academic life.</p> - -<p>When such special studies had been finished by sympathetic investigators, -probably one of several writers could synthesize the results -and give us a fairly definitive essay on the intellectual life of America. -Such studies, however, have not yet been done, and without them I -have had to write this essay to a certain extent <i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">en plein air</i>. Thus -it has been impossible entirely to avoid giving the impression of -stating things dogmatically or intuitively. But as a matter of fact -on all the topics I have suggested for study I have already given -much thought and time, and consequently, whatever its literary form, -the essay is not pure impressionism.</p> - -<p class="right"> -H. E. S. -</p> - -<h3>SCIENCE</h3> - -<p>There is no connected account of American achievement in science. -Strangely enough, the most pretentious American book on the history -of science, Sedgwick and Tyler’s “Short History of Science” -(New York: Macmillan, 1917), ignores the most notable figures -among the author’s countrymen. A useful biographical directory -under the title of “American Men of Science” (New York -Science Press, 1910, 2d edition), has been compiled by Professor -James McKeen Cattell; a third revised edition has been prepared -and issued this year prior to the appearance of the present volume.</p> - -<p>On the tendencies manifest in the United States there are several -important papers. An address by Henry A. Rowland entitled “A -Plea for Pure Science” (<cite>Popular Science Monthly</cite>, vol. LIX, 1901, -pp. 170–188), is still eminently worth reading. The external conditions -under which American scientists labour have been repeatedly -discussed in recent years in such journals as <cite>Science</cite> and <cite>School and -Society</cite>, both edited by Professor Cattell, who has himself appended -very important discussions to the above-cited biographical lexicon. -Against over-organization Professor William Morton Wheeler has -recently published a witty and vigorous protest (“The Organization -of Research,” <cite>Science</cite>, January 21, 1921, N. S. vol. LIII, pp. -53–67).</p> - -<p>In order to give an understanding of the essence of scientific -activity the general reader cannot do better than to trace the processes -by which the master-minds of the past have brought order -into the chaos that is at first blush presented by the world of reality.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_539">539</span> -In this respect the writings of the late Professor Ernst Mach are -unsurpassed, and even the least mathematically trained layman -can derive much insight from portions of his book “Die Mechanik” -(Leipzig, 7th edition, 1912), accessible in T. J. McCormack’s translation -under the title of “The Science of Mechanics” (Chicago: -Open Court Publishing Co.). The section on Galileo may be specially -recommended. Mach’s “Erkenntnis und Irrtum” (Leipzig, -1906) contains most suggestive discussions of the psychology of -investigation, dealing with such questions as the nature of a scientific -problem, of experimentation, of hypothetical assumptions, etc. -Much may also be learned from the general sections of P. Duhem’s -“La theorie physique, son objet et sa structure” (Paris, 1906). -E. Duclaux’s “Pasteur: Histoire d’un Esprit” has fortunately been -rendered accessible by Erwin F. Smith and Florence Hedges under -the title “Pasteur, the History of a Mind” (Philadelphia; Saunders, -1920). It reveals in masterly fashion the methods by which a great -thinker overcomes not only external opposition but the more baneful -obstacles of scientific folk-lore.</p> - -<p class="right"> -R. H. L. -</p> - -<h3>PHILOSOPHY</h3> - -<p>The omission of Mr. Santayana’s philosophy from the above account -indicates no lack of appreciation of its merits. Although -written at Harvard, it is hardly an American philosophy. On one -hand, Mr. Santayana is free from the mystical religious longings -that have given our Idealisms life, and on the other, he is too confident -of the reality of culture and the value of the contemplative -life to sanction that dominance of the practical which is the stronghold -of instrumentalism.</p> - -<p>The only histories of American Philosophy are those by Professor -Woodbridge Riley. His “Early Schools” (Dodd, Mead & Co., -1907), is a full treatment of the period in question, but his “American -Thought from Puritanism to Pragmatism” (H. Holt, 1915) is -better reading and comes down to date. These are best read in connection -with some history of American Literature such as Barrett -Wendell’s “Literary History of America” (Scribner’s Sons, 1914). -Royce’s system is given in good condensed form in the last four -chapters of his “Spirit of Modern Philosophy” (Houghton Mifflin, -1899). Its exhaustive statement is “The World and the Individual” -(2 vols., Macmillan, 1900–1). The “Philosophy of Loyalty” (Macmillan, -1908) develops the ethics, and the “Problem of Christianity” -(2 vols., Macmillan, 1913), relates his philosophy to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_540">540</span> -Christianity. Hocking’s religious philosophy is given in his “Meaning -of God in Human Experience” (Yale University Press, 1912). -His general position is developed on one side in “Human Nature and -Its Remaking” (Yale University Press, 1918). Anything of James -is good reading. His chief work is the “Principles of Psychology” -(H. Holt, 1890), but the “Talks to Teachers on Psychology and -Some of Life’s Ideals” (H. Holt, 1907) and the “Will to Believe” -(Longmans, Green & Co., 1899), better illustrate his attitude toward -life. “Pragmatism” (Longmans, Green & Co., 1907) introduces -his technical philosophizing. His religious attitude can be got -from the “Varieties of Religious Experience” (Longmans, Green -& Co., 1902). Dewey has nowhere systematized his philosophy. Its -technical points are exhibited in the “Essays in Experimental Logic” -(University of Chicago Press, 1916). The “Influence of Darwin -on Philosophy” (H. Holt, 1910) has two especially readable essays, -one the title-essay, the other on “Intelligence and Morals.” The -full statement of his ethics is the “Ethics” (Dewey and Tufts, H. -Holt, 1908). He is at his best in “Education and Democracy” -(Macmillan, 1916). “German Philosophy and Politics” (H. Holt, -1915) is a war-time reaction giving an interesting point of view -as to the significance of German Philosophy. “The New Realism” -(Macmillan, 1912) is a volume of technical studies by the Six -Realists. “Creative Intelligence” (H. Holt, 1917), by John Dewey -and others, is a similar volume of pragmatic studies. The reviews -are also announcing another co-operative volume, “Essays in Critical -Realism” by Santayana, Lovejoy and others. In a technical fashion -Perry has discussed the “Present Tendencies in Philosophy” (Longmans, -Green & Co., 1912), but the best critical reaction to American -philosophy is that of Santayana: “Character and Opinion in -the United States” (Scribner’s Sons, 1920). Santayana’s own chief -philosophic contributions are the “Sense of Beauty” (Scribner’s -Sons, 1896), and the “Life of Reason” (5 vols., Scribner’s -Sons, 1905–6). The first two chapters of his “Winds of Doctrine” -(Scribner’s Sons, 1913), on the “Intellectual Temper of the Age” -and “Modernism and Christianity,” are also relevant. Brief but -excellent expositions of Royce, Dewey, James, and Santayana by -Morris R. Cohen have appeared in the <cite>New Republic</cite>, vols. XX-XXIII.</p> - -<p class="right"> -H. C. B. -</p> - -<h3>LITERATURE</h3> - -<p>Perhaps the most illuminating books for any one interested in the -subject of the essay on literature are the private memorials of certain<span class="pagenum" id="Page_541">541</span> -modern European writers. For a sense of everything the American -literary life is <em>not</em>, one might read, for instance, the Letters of -Ibsen, Dostoievsky, Chekhov, Flaubert, Taine and Leopardi—all -of which have appeared, in whole or in part, in English.</p> - -<p class="right"> -V. W. B. -</p> - -<h3>MUSIC</h3> - -<p>What little there is that is worth reading concerning American -music is scattered through magazine articles and chapters in books -upon other musical subjects. Daniel Gregory Mason has a sensible -and illuminating chapter, “Music in America,” in his “Contemporary -Composers.” The section, “America,” in Chapter XVI of the Stanford-Forsyth -“History of Music” contrives to be tactful and at -the same time just. Two books that should be read by any one -interested in native composition are Cecil Forsyth’s “Music and -Nationalism” and Lawrence Gilman’s “Edward MacDowell.” -Rupert Hughes’s “Contemporary American Composers” is twenty -years old, but still interesting; it contains sympathetic—not to say -glowing—accounts of the lives and works of an incredibly large -number of Americans who do and did pursue the art of musical -composition. To know what an artist means when he asks to be -understood read pages 240 and 241 of Cabell’s “Jurgen”—if you -can get it; also the volume, “La Foire sur la Place,” of “Jean -Christophe.”</p> - -<p class="right"> -D. T. -</p> - -<h3>POETRY</h3> - -<p>Bodenheim, Maxwell: “Minna and Myself” (Pagan Publishing -Co.); “Advice” (Alfred A. Knopf).</p> - -<p>“H. D.”: “Sea-Garden” (Houghton Mifflin).</p> - -<p>Eliot, T. S.: “Poems” (Alfred A. Knopf).</p> - -<p>Fletcher, John Gould: “Irradiations: Sand and Spray” (Houghton -Mifflin); “Goblins and Pagodas” (Houghton Mifflin); “The -Tree of Life” (Macmillan); “Japanese Prints” (Four Seas Co.); -“Breakers and Granite” (Macmillan).</p> - -<p>Frost, Robert: “North of Boston” (Holt); “A Boy’s Will” -(Holt); “Mountain Interval” (Holt).</p> - -<p>Kreymborg, Alfred: “Plays for Poem-Mimes” (Others); “Blood -of Things” (Nicholas Brown); “Plays for Merry Andrews” (Sunwise -Turn).</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_542">542</span></p> - -<p>Lindsay, Vachel: “The Congo” (Macmillan); “The Chinese -Nightingale” (Macmillan).</p> - -<p>Lowell, Amy: “Men, Women and Ghosts” (Houghton Mifflin); -“Can Grande’s Castle” (Houghton Mifflin); “Pictures of the Floating -World” (Houghton Mifflin); “Legends” (Houghton Mifflin).</p> - -<p>Masters, Edgar Lee: “Spoon River Anthology” (Macmillan); -“The Great Valley” (Macmillan); “Domesday Book” (Macmillan).</p> - -<p>Pound, Ezra: “Umbra” (Elkin Matthews); “Lustra” (Alfred -A. Knopf).</p> - -<p>Robinson, Edwin Arlington: “Children of the Night” (Scribners); -“The Town Down the River” (Scribners); “The Man -Against the Sky” (Macmillan); “Merlin” (Macmillan); “Captain -Craig” (Macmillan); “The Three Taverns” (Macmillan); -“Avon’s Harvest” (Macmillan); “Lancelot” (Scott and Seltzer).</p> - -<p>Sandburg, Carl: “Smoke and Steel” (Harcourt, Brace & Co.).</p> - -<p>Stevens, Wallace: See “The New Poetry;” “Others” Anthology.</p> - -<p>Teasdale, Sara: “Rivers to the Sea” (Macmillan).</p> - -<p>Untermeyer, Louis: “The New Adam” (Harcourt, Brace & -Co.); “Including Horace” (Harcourt, Brace & Co.).</p> - -<p>Anthologies: “The New Poetry.” Edited by Harriet Monroe -and Alice Corbin Henderson (Macmillan); “An American Miscellany” -(Harcourt, Brace & Co.); “Others for 1919” edited by -Alfred Kreymborg (A. A. Knopf); “Some Imagist Poets” First, -Second and Third Series (Houghton Mifflin).</p> - -<p>Criticism: Untermeyer, Louis, “The New Era in American -Poetry” (Henry Holt), a comprehensive, lively, but sometimes misleading -survey.</p> - -<p class="right"> -C. A. -</p> - -<h3>ART</h3> - -<p>The reader may obtain most of the data on the history of American -art from Samuel Isham’s “History of American Painting,” -and Charles H. Caffin’s “Story of American Painting.” Very little -writing of an analytical nature has been devoted to American art, -and nearly all of it is devoid of a sense of perspective and of anything -approaching a realization of the position that American work -holds in relation to that of Europe. Outside of the writing that -is only incompetent, there are the books and articles by men whose -purpose is to “boost” the home product for nationalistic or commercial -reasons. In contrast with all this is Mr. Roger E. Fry’s -essay on Ryder, in the <cite>Burlington Magazine</cite> for April, 1908—a -masterful appreciation of the artist.</p> - -<p class="right"> -W. P. -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_543">543</span></p> - -<h3>THE THEATRE</h3> - -<p>The bibliography of this subject is extensive, but in the main -unilluminating. It consists chiefly in a magnanimous waving aside -of what is, and an optimistic dream of what is to be. Into this -category fall most, if not all, of the many volumes written by the -college professors and such of their students as have, upon graduation, -carried with them into the world the college-professor manner -of looking at things. Nevertheless, Professor William Lyon Phelps’ -“The Twentieth Century Theatre,” for all its deviations from fact, -and Professor Thomas H. Dickinson’s “The Case of American -Drama,” may be looked into by the more curious. Mr. Arthur -Ruhl’s “Second Nights,” with its penetrating humour, contains -several excellent pictures of certain phases of the native theatre. -Section IV of Mr. Walter Prichard Eaton’s “Plays and Players,” -Mr. George Bronson-Howard’s searching series of papers entitled, -“What’s Wrong with the Theatre,” and perhaps even Mr. George -Jean Nathan’s “The Popular Theatre,” “The Theatre, The Drama, -The Girls,” “Comedians All,” and “Mr. George Jean Nathan Presents” -may throw some light upon the subject. Miss Akins’ -“Papa” and all of Mr. O’Neill’s plays are available in book form. -The bulk of inferior native dramaturgy is similarly available to the -curious-minded: there are hundreds of these lowly specimens on -view in the nearest book store.</p> - -<p class="right"> -G. J. N. -</p> - -<h3>ECONOMIC OPINION</h3> - -<p>The literature of economic opinion in America is almost as voluminous -as the printed word. It ranges from the ponderous treatises -of professed economists, wherein “economic laws” are printed in -italics, to the sophisticated novels of the self-elect, in which economic -opinion is a by-product of clever conversation. Not only can one -find economic opinion to his taste, but he can have it in any form -he likes. Perhaps the most human and reasonable application of the -philosophy of laissez-faire to the problems of industrial society is -to be found in the pages of W. G. Sumner. Of particular interest -are the essays contained in the volumes entitled “Earth Hunger,” -“The Challenge of Facts,” and “The Forgotten Man.” The most -subtle and articulate account of the economic order as an automatic, -self-regulating mechanism is J. B. Clark, “The Distribution of -Wealth.” An able and readable treatise, characterized alike by a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_544">544</span> -modified classical approach and by a recognition of the facts of -modern industrial society, is F. W. Taussig, “The Principles of -Economics.” The “case for capitalism” has never been set forth -as an articulate whole. The theoretical framework of the defence is -to be found in any of the older treatises upon economic theory. A -formal <i xml:lang="la" lang="la">apologia</i> is to be found in the last chapter of almost every -text upon economics under some such title as “A Critique of the -Existing Order,” “Wealth and Welfare,” or “Economic Progress.” -A defence of “what is,” whatever it may chance to be, characterized -alike by brilliancy and ignorance, is P. E. More’s “Aristocracy and -Justice.” Contemporary opinion favourable to capitalism may be -found, in any requisite quantity and detail, in <cite>The Wall Street -Journal</cite>, <cite>The Commercial and Financial Chronicle</cite>, and the publications -of the National Association of Manufacturers. <cite>The Congressional -Record</cite>, a veritable treasure house of economic fallacy, presents -fervent pleas both for an unqualified capitalism and for capitalism -with endless modifications. The literature of the economics -of “control” is beginning to be large. The essay by H. C. Adams, -“The Relation of the State to Industrial Activity,” elaborating the -thesis that the function of the state is to regulate “the plane of -competition,” has become a classic. The best account of the economic -opinion of organized labour is to be found in R. F. Hoxie, “Trade -Unionism in the United States.” Typical examples of excellent work -done by men who do not profess to be economists are W. Lippmann, -“Drift and Mastery,” the opinions (often dissenting) delivered by -Mr. Justice Holmes and Mr. Justice Brandeis, of the United States -Supreme Court, and the articles frequently contributed to periodicals -by T. R. Powell upon the constitutional aspects of economic questions. -The appearance of such studies as the brief for the shorter -working day in the case of <cite>Bunting v. Oregon</cite>, prepared by F. Frankfurter -and J. Goldmark, and of the “Report on the Steel Strike of -1919,” by the Commission of Inquiry of the Interchurch World -Movement indicates that we are beginning to base our opinions and -our policies upon “the facts.” Among significant contributions are -the articles appearing regularly in such periodicals as <cite>The New -Republic</cite> and <cite>The Nation</cite>. At last the newer economics of the -schools is beginning to assume the form of an articulate body of -doctrine. The books of T. B. Veblen, particularly “The Theory of -Business Enterprise,” and “The Instinct of Workmanship,” contain -valuable pioneer studies. In “Personal Competition” and in the -chapters upon “Valuation” in “Social Process,” C. H. Cooley has -shown how economic institutions are to be treated. The newer -economics, however, begins with the publication in 1913 of W. C.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_545">545</span> -Mitchell, “Business Cycles.” This substitutes an economics of -process for one of statics and successfully merges theoretical and -statistical inquiry. It marks the beginning of a new era in the -study of economics. The work in general economic theory has followed -the leads blazed by Veblen, Cooley, and Mitchell. W. H. -Hamilton, in “Current Economic Problems,” elaborates a theory of -the control of industrial development, interspersed with readings -from many authors. L. C. Marshal, in “Readings in Industrial -Society,” attempts, through selections drawn from many sources, an -appraisal of the institutions which together make up the economic -order. D. Friday, in “Profits, Wages, and Prices,” shows how much -meaning a few handfuls of figures contain and how much violence -they can do to established principles. The National Bureau of -Economic Research is soon to publish the results of a careful and -thorough statistical inquiry into the division of income in the United -States. Upon particular subjects such as trusts, tariffs, railroads, -labour unions, etc., the literature is far too large to be catalogued -here. There is no satisfactory history of economic opinion in the -United States. T. B. Veblen’s “The Place of Science in Modern -Civilization” contains a series of essays which constitute the most -convincing attack upon the classical system and which point the -way to an institutional economics. Many articles dealing with the -development of economic doctrines are to be found in the files of -<cite>The Quarterly Journal of Economics</cite> and of <cite>The Journal of Political -Economy</cite>. An excellent statement of the present situation in economics -is an unpublished essay by W. C. Mitchell, “The Promise of -Economic Science.”</p> - -<p class="right"> -W. H. H. -</p> - -<h3>RADICALISM</h3> - -<p>For exposition of the leading radical theories the reader is urged -to go, not to second-hand authorities, but to their foremost advocates. -“Capital” by Karl Marx (Charles H. Kerr) is of course the -chief basis of Socialism. There is nothing better on Anarchism than -the article in the “Encyclopedia Britannica” by Prince Kropotkin. -For revolutionary industrial unionism it is important to know -“Speeches and Editorials” by Daniel de Leon (New York Labor -News Co.). De Leon was one of the founders of the I.W.W., -and his ideas not only influenced the separatist labour movements in -the United States but the shop-steward movement in England and -the Soviets of Russia. “Guild Socialism” by G. D. H. Cole is the -best statement of this recent theory, while “The State and Revolution”<span class="pagenum" id="Page_546">546</span> -by Nikolai Lenin (George Allen and Unwin) explains the -principles and tactics of modern Communism. To these should be -added another classic, “Progress and Poverty” by Henry George -(Doubleday Page).</p> - -<p>On the origins of the American government it is important to -read “Economic Origins of Jeffersonian Democracy” and “Economic -Interpretation of the Constitution” by Charles A. Beard (Macmillan).</p> - -<p>The “History of Trade Unionism” by Sidney and Beatrice Webb -(Longmans, Green), is an invaluable account of the growth of the -British labour movement, which has many similarities to our own. -“Industrial Democracy” by the same authors, issued by the same -publisher, is the best statement of the theories of trade unionism. -The “History of Labor in the United States” by John R. Commons -and associates (Macmillan), is a scholarly work, while “Trade -Unionism in the United States” by Robert F. Hoxie (Appleton), is -a more analytical treatment. “The I. W. W.” by Paul F. Brissenden -(Longmans, Green), is a full documentary history. Significant -recent tendencies are recorded in “The New Unionism in the Clothing -Industry” by Budish and Soule (Harcourt, Brace). The last -chapters of “The Great Steel Strike” by William Z. Foster (B. W. -Huebsch), expound his interesting interpretation of the trade unions.</p> - -<p>For a statement of the functional attitude toward public problems -one should read “Authority, Liberty and Function” by Ramiro -de Maeztu (Geo. Allen and Unwin). For a brief and readable -application of this attitude to economics, “The Acquisitive Society” -by R. H. Tawney (Harcourt, Brace), is to be recommended.</p> - -<p>“Modern Social Movements” by Savel Zimand (H. W. Wilson), -is an authoritative guidebook to present radical movements throughout -the world, and contains an excellent bibliography. And we -must not forget the voluminous Report of the New York State -Legislative Committee on Radicalism (the Lusk Committee), which -not only collects a wealth of current radical literature, but offers an -entertaining and instructive example of the current American attitude -toward such matters.</p> - -<p class="right"> -G. S. -</p> - -<h3>THE SMALL TOWN</h3> - -<p>Bibliography: “A Hoosier Holiday,” by Theodore Dreiser. -“Winesburg, Ohio,” by Sherwood Anderson. “Main Street,” by -Sinclair Lewis.</p> - -<p class="right"> -L. R. R. -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_547">547</span></p> - -<h3>HISTORY</h3> - -<p>The late Henry Adams had much in common with Samuel Butler, -that other seeker after an education. He knew that he had -written a very good book (his studies on American history were -quite as excellent in their way as “Erewhon” was in a somewhat -different genre) and he was equally aware of the sad fact -that his work was not being read. In view of the general public -indifference towards history it is surprising how much excellent -work has been done. Three names suggest themselves when history -in America is mentioned, Robinson, Beard, and Breasted. -Their works for the elementary schools have not been surpassed in -any country and their histories (covering the entire period from -ancient Egypt down to the present time) will undoubtedly help to -overcome the old and firmly established prejudice that “history is -dull” and will help to create a new generation which shall prefer a -good biography or history to the literature of our current periodicals.</p> - -<p>The group of essays published last year by Professor Robinson—the -pioneer of our modern historical world—under the title of -“The New History” contains several papers of a pleasantly suggestive -nature and we especially recommend “History for the Common -Man” for those who want to investigate the subject in greater -detail, and “The New Allies of History” for those who want to -get an idea of the struggle that goes on between the New and the -Old Movements in our contemporary historical world.</p> - -<p>But it is impossible to suggest a three- four- or five-foot bookshelf -for those who desire to understand the issues of the battle that is -taking place. The warfare between the forces of the official School -and University History and those who have a vision of something -quite different is merely a part of the great social and economic and -spiritual struggle that has been going on ever since the days of -the Encyclopedists. The scene is changing constantly. The leaders -hardly know what is happening. The soldiers who do the actual -fighting are too busy with the work at hand to waste time upon -academic discussions of the Higher Strategy. And the public will -have to do what the public did during the great war—study the -reports from all sides (the relevant and the irrelevant—the news -from Helsingfors-by-way-of-Geneva and from Copenhagen-by-way-of -Constantinople) and use its own judgment as to the probable -outcome of the conflict.</p> - -<p class="right"> -H. W. V. L. -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_548">548</span></p> - -<h3>SEX</h3> - -<p>As might be supposed, there has been little writing on sex in this -country—such discussion, more or less superficial, of the social -aspects as may be found in books on the family, on marriage or -prostitution, some quasi-medical treatises and of late a few books -along the lines of Freudian psychology, that is all. Among all the -organizations of the country there is no society corresponding to the -British Society for the Study of Sex. I doubt if such a society or -its publications would be tolerated, since even novelists who, like -Dreiser, express an interest in sex comparatively directly, run afoul -of public opinion, and a book such as “Women in Love” by D. H. -Lawrence, its publisher felt called upon to print without his name.</p> - -<p>It is not surprising, therefore, that in English the most adequate -discussions of sex have been made by an Englishman, Havelock Ellis—“Studies -in the Psychology of Sex.” Among less well known writing -on the subject by Ellis I would note in particular an illuminating -page or two in his essay on Casanova (“Affirmations”).</p> - -<p>Discussion of the theories of distinguishing between mating and -parenthood and of crisis psychology may be found in articles by the -writer in the <cite>International Journal of Ethics</cite>, July, 1915, January, -1916, October, 1917, and in <cite>The American Anthropologist</cite>, March, -1916, and <cite>The Journal of Philosophy, Psychology and Scientific -Methods</cite>, March, 1918.</p> - -<p>“The Behaviour of Crowds” by E. D. Martin, and “French -Ways and Their Meaning” by Edith Wharton are recent books that -the reader of a comparative turn of mind will find of interest, and -if he is not already familiar with the writings of the Early Christian -Fathers I commend to him some browsing in the “Ante-Nicene -Christian Library” and the “Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers.”</p> - -<p class="right"> -E. C. P. -</p> - -<h3>THE FAMILY</h3> - -<p>For statistical facts which have a bearing on the tendencies of the -family in the United States, the following group of sources has been -consulted:</p> - -<p>“Abstract of the Census, 1910;” the preliminary sheets of the -“Census of 1920;” Report on “Marriage and Divorce in 1916,” -published by the Bureau of the Census; Bulletin of the Woman’s -Bureau, U. S. Department of Labour on “What Became of Women<span class="pagenum" id="Page_549">549</span> -Who Went Into War Industries;” Bulletin of the U. S. Department -of Agriculture on “The Farm Woman;” Bulletin of the U. S. Children’s -Bureau on “Standards of Child Welfare.” Economic aspects -of the family and income data were acquired from “Conditions of -Labour in American Industries,” by Edgar Sydenstricker, and “The -Wealth and Income of the People of the United States,” by Willford -I. King. For facts concerning longevity, the aid of the Census was -supplemented by “The Trend of Longevity in the United States,” -by C. H. Forsyth, in the <cite>Journal of the American Statistical Association</cite>, -Vol. 128. For the long biological perspective to counteract the -near-sighted view of the Census, “The New Stone Age in Northern -Europe,” by John M. Tyler may be commended. Psychological -aspects of family relationships are discussed in a scientific and stimulating -way in the published “Proceedings of the International -Women Physicians’ Conference, 1919.”</p> - -<p class="right"> -K. A. -</p> - -<h3>RACIAL MINORITIES</h3> - -<p>No author or group of authors has yet attempted to treat in any -systematic and comprehensive way the position and the problem of -the several racial minorities in the United States. A perfect -bibliography of existing materials on the subject would be most -helpful, but it could not make good the existing shortage of fact, -and of thoughtful interpretation.</p> - -<p>The anthropological phase of the subject is discussed with authority -by Franz Boas in “The Mind of Primitive Man” (Macmillan, -1913), and by Robert H. Lowie in “Culture and Ethnology” -(McMurtrie, 1917). Some information on racial inter-marriage is -to be found in Drachsler’s “Democracy and Assimilation—The -Blending of Immigrant Heritages in America” (Macmillan, 1920). -Among recent reports of psychological tests of race-difference, the -following are of special interest: “A Study of Race Differences in -New York City,” by Katherine Murdock, (<cite>School and Society</cite>, -vol. XI, no. 266, p. 147, 31 January, 1920); “Racial Differences in -Mental Fatigue,” by Thomas R. Garth (<cite>Journal of Applied -Psychology</cite>, vol. IV, nos. 2 and 3, p. 235, June-Sept. 1920); “A -Comparative Study in the Intelligence of White and Colored Children,” -by R. A. Schwegler and Edith Winn (<cite>Journal of Educational -Research</cite>, vol. II, no. 5, p. 838, December, 1920); “The Intelligence -of Negro Recruits,” by M. R. Trabue (<cite>Natural History</cite>, vol. -XIX, no. 6, p. 680, 1919); “The Intelligence of Negroes at Camp<span class="pagenum" id="Page_550">550</span> -Lee, Virginia,” by George Oscar Ferguson, Jr. (<cite>School and Society</cite>, -vol. IX, no. 233, p. 721, 14 June, 1919); and the Government’s -official report of all the psychological tests given in the cantonments -(“Memoirs of the National Academy of Science,” vol. XV, Washington, -Government Printing Office, 1921).</p> - -<p>The most important single source of information on the present -status of the coloured race in the United States is “The Negro Year -Book,” edited by Monroe N. Work (Negro Year Book Pub. Co., -Tuskegee Institute, Alabama); the edition for 1918–19 contains an -extensive bibliography. Brawley’s “Short History of the American -Negro” (Macmillan, rev. ed., 1919) presents in text-book form a -general narrative, together with supplementary chapters on such -topics as religion and education among the Negroes. The Government -report on “Negro Population, 1790–1915” (Washington, -Bureau of the Census, Government Printing Office, 1918), is invaluable. -Important recent developments are treated in “Negro -Migration in 1916–17” and “The Negro at Work During the World -War and During Reconstruction” (Washington, Dep’t of Labour, -1919 and 1920 respectively). Some notion of the various manifestations -of prejudice against the Negro may be gathered from the -following sources: “Negro Education” (<cite>U. S. Bureau of Education -Bulletin</cite>, 1916, nos. 38 and 39); “The White and the Colored -Schools of Virginia as Measured by the Ayres Index,” by George -Oscar Ferguson, Jr. (<cite>School and Society</cite>, vol. XII, no. 297, p. 170, -4 Sept., 1920); “Thirty Years of Lynching in the United States, -1889–1918,” and “Disfranchisement of Colored Americans in the -Presidential Election of 1920” (New York, National Association for -the Advancement of Coloured People, 1919 and 1921 respectively). -A few representative expressions from the Negroes themselves are: -“Up from Slavery, an Autobiography,” by Booker T. Washington -(Doubleday, 1901); “Darkwater,” by W. E. Burghardt Du Bois -(Harcourt, 1920); <cite>The Messenger</cite> (a Negro Socialist-syndicalist -magazine, 2305 Seventh Avenue, New York); and the “Universal -Negro Catechism” (Universal Negro Improvement Association, 56 -West 135th Street, New York).</p> - -<p>A great body of valuable information on the Indians is collected -in two publications of the Government, the second of which contains -a very extensive bibliography; “Indian Population in the United -States and Alaska, 1910” (Washington, Bureau of the Census, -Government Printing Office, 1915), and the “Handbook of American -Indians North of Mexico,” edited by Frederick Webb Hodge (Washington, -Bureau of Ethnology, Government Printing Office, 1907–10, -2 vols.). An annual report containing current data on the status of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_551">551</span> -the Indian is published by the Commissioner of Indian Affairs. -Francis Ellington Leupp, who held this title from 1905 to 1909, -was the author of a volume which presents in popular form the -results of official experience (“The Indian and His Problem,” -Scribner, 1910).</p> - -<p>The “American Jewish Year Book” (Philadelphia, Jewish Publication -Society of America) is an extremely useful volume, and particularly -so because one must refer to it for statistical information -which in the case of the other racial minorities is available in the -reports of the national census. In the <cite>American Magazine</cite> for April, -1921, Harry Schneiderman, the editor of the “Year Book,” assembles -a great many facts bearing upon the relation of the Jews to the -economic, social, political, and intellectual life of the country (“The -Jews of the United States,” p. 24). Of special interest to students -of the Semitic problem is Berkson’s “Theories of Americanization; a -Critical Study with Special Reference to the Jewish Group” -(Teachers’ College, Columbia University, 1920).</p> - -<p>The standard works on the Oriental question are Coolidge’s -“Chinese Immigration” (Holt, 1909), and Millis’s “Japanese Problem -in the United States” (Macmillan, 1915). The Japanese problem -in California is treated statistically in a booklet prepared recently -by the State Board of Control (“California and the Oriental,” -Sacramento, State Printing Office, 1920), and in a symposium which -appeared in <cite>The Pacific Review</cite> for December, 1920 (Seattle, University -of Washington).</p> - -<p class="right"> -G. T. R. -</p> - -<h3>ADVERTISING</h3> - -<p>Expect from me no recommendation of the “scientific” treatises -on advertising or of the professional psychological analyses of the -instincts. Books, books in tons, have been written about advertising, -and as far as I am concerned, every single one of them is right. -Read these, if you have the hardihood, and remain mute. Read -them, I should say, and be eternally damned. Read them and -retire rapidly to a small room comfortably padded and securely -locked.</p> - -<p class="right"> -J. T. S. -</p> - -<h3>BUSINESS</h3> - -<p>Within the limits of this space anything like an adequate reference -to the source books of fact and thought is impossible. All<span class="pagenum" id="Page_552">552</span> -that may be attempted is to suggest an arbitrary way through the -whole of the subject—a thoroughfare from which the reader may -take off where he will as his own interests develop. For the foundations -of an economic understanding one needs only to read “Principles -of Political Economy,” by Simon Newcomb, the American -astronomer, who in a mood of intellectual irritation inclined his -mind to this mundane matter and produced the finest book of its -kind in the world. For the rough physiognomy of American economic -phenomena there is “A Century of Population Growth,” Bureau of -the Census, 1909, a splendid document prepared under the direction -of S. N. D. North. Katharine Coman’s “Industrial History of the -United States” is an important work in itself and contains, besides, -an excellent and full bibliography. “Crises and Depressions” and -“Corporations and the State,” by Theodore E. Burton; “Forty -Years of American Finance,” by Alexander D. Noyes; “Railroad -Transportation, Its History and Its Laws,” by A. T. Hadley; -“Trusts, Pools and Corporations,” by Wm. Z. Ripley; and “The -Book of Wheat,” by Peter Tracy Dondlinger, are books in which -the separate phases indicated by title are essentially treated. For -dissertation, interpretation, and universal thought every student will -find himself deeply indebted to “Trade Morals, Their Origin, Growth -and Province,” by Edward D. Page; “The Economic Interpretation -of History,” by James E. Thorold Rogers; “History of the -New World Called America,” by E. J. Payne; “Economic Studies,” -by Walter Bagehot; “Essays in Finance,” by R. Giffen; “Recent -Economic Changes,” by David A. Wells, and “The Challenge of -Facts and Other Essays,” by William Graham Sumner.</p> - -<p class="right"> -G. G. -</p> - -<h3>ENGINEERING</h3> - -<p>Literature covering the function of the engineer in society, especially -in America, is very limited compared with books of information -on most subjects. Engineering activities such as are usually -described cover the technical achievements of the profession. Useful -material, however, will be found scattered throughout the technical -literature and engineering society proceedings especially among -the addresses and articles of leading engineers prepared for special -occasions. A comprehensive history of engineering has never been -written, although there are many treatises dealing with particular developments -in this field. Among these may be mentioned Bright’s -“Engineering Science, 1837–1897”; Matschoss’s “Beiträge zur<span class="pagenum" id="Page_553">553</span> -Geschichte der Technik und Industrie” (“Jahrbuch des Vereines -deutscher Ingenieure”); and Smiles’s “Lives of the Engineers.” -On engineering education, the “Proceedings of the Society for the -Promotion of Engineering Education” and Bulletin No. 11 of the -Carnegie Foundation for the Advancement of Teaching, “A Study -of Engineering Education,” by Charles R. Mann, offer useful information. -Concerning the status of the engineer in the economic -order, Taussig’s “Inventors and Money Makers,” Veblen’s “The -Engineers and the Price System,” together with Frank Watts’s “An -Introduction to the Psychological Factors of Industry,” will be -found of value. On the relation between labour and the engineer, -much can be found in <cite>The Annals of the American Academy of -Political and Social Science</cite> for September, 1920, on “Labor, Management -and Production.”</p> - -<p class="right"> -<span class="smcap">O. S. B., Jr.</span> -</p> - -<h3>NERVES</h3> - -<p>Complete works of Cotton Mather; also of Jonathan Edwards. -Complete works of Dr. George M. Beard, notably his “American -Nervousness,” Putnam, 1881. Medical publications of Dr. S. Weir -Mitchell. Dr. George M. Parker: “The Discard Heap—Neurasthenia,” -<cite>N. Y. Medical Journal</cite>, October 22, 1910. Dr. -William Browning: “Is there such a thing as Neurasthenia?” -<cite>N. Y. State Medical Journal</cite>, January, 1911. Dr. Morton Prince: -“The Unconscious,” Macmillan, 1914. Professor Edwin B. Holt: -“The Freudian Wish.” Dr. Edward J. Kempf: “The Autonomic -Function and the Personality.” Complete works of Professor Freud, -in translation and in the original.</p> - -<p>Files of <cite>Journal of Abnormal Psychology</cite>, to date. Files of -<cite>Psychoanalytic Review</cite>, to date. Files of <cite>Imago</cite>, to date. Files of -<cite xml:lang="de" lang="de">Internationale Zeitschrift fuer Aerztliche Psychoanalyse</cite>, to date. Dr. -A. A. Brill, “Psychoanalysis,” third edition. “Character and Opinion -in the United States,” by George Santayana. “Studies in -American Intolerance,” by Alfred B. Kuttner, <cite>The Dial</cite>, March 14 -and 28, 1918.</p> - -<p class="right"> -A. B. K. -</p> - -<h3>MEDICINE</h3> - -<p>No attempt is here made to give any exhaustive, or even suggestive, -bibliography. Only specific references in the text itself are -here given in full, so that the reader may find them for himself, if<span class="pagenum" id="Page_554">554</span> -he so desires. But on the general subject of “Professionalism,” -although it deals more with the profession of law than of medicine, -some valuable and stimulating observations can be found in the -chapter of that name in “Our Social Heritage,” by Graham Wallas -(Yale University Press, 1921).</p> - -<p>Bezzola: Quoted from “Preventive Medicine and Hygiene,” -Rosenau, 1920, p. 340.</p> - -<p>Clouston: “The Hygiene of the Mind,” 1909.</p> - -<p>Cole: “The University Department of Medicine,” Science, N. S., -vol. LI, No. 1318, p. 329.</p> - -<p>Elderton and Pearson: “A First Study of the Influence of Parental -Alcoholism on the Physique and Ability of the Offspring,” Francis -Galton Eugenics Laboratory <cite>Memoirs</cite>, 1910, No. 10.</p> - -<p>Pearl: “The Effect of Parental Alcoholism upon the Progeny in -the Domestic Fowl,” <cite>Proc. Nat. Acad. Sci.</cite>, 1916, vol. II, p. 380.</p> - -<p>Peterson: “Credulity and Cures,” <cite>Jour. Amer. Med. Assn.</cite>, 1919, -vol. LXXIII, p. 1737.</p> - -<p>Rosenau: “Preventive Medicine and Hygiene,” 1920.</p> - -<p>Stockard: <cite>Interstate Medical Jour.</cite>, 1916, vol. XXIII, No. 6.</p> - -<p>Vaughan: “The Service of Medicine to Civilization,” <cite>Jour. -Amer. Med. Assn.</cite>, 1914, vol. LXII, p. 2003.</p> - -<p>Vincent: “Ideals and Their Function in Medical Education,” -<cite>Jour. Amer. Med. Assn.</cite>, 1920, vol. LXXIV, p. 1065.</p> - -<p class="right"> -ANON. -</p> - -<h3>SPORT AND PLAY</h3> - -<p>Mr. Spalding, the well-known sporting goods manufacturer, is also -the publisher of the Spalding Athletic Library, which contains, -besides rule books and record books of various sports, a series of -text-books, at ten cents the copy, bearing such titles as “How to -Play the Outfield,” “How to Catch,” “How to Play Soccer,” “How -to Learn Golf,” etc. Authorship of these works is credited to -famous outfielders, catchers, soccer players, and golfers, but as the -latter can field, catch, play soccer, and golf much better than they -can write, the actual writing of the volumes was wisely left to -persons who make their living by the pen. The books are recommended, -as a cure for insomnia at least. The best sporting fiction -we know of, practically the only sporting fiction an adult may read -without fear of stomach trouble, is contained in the collected works -of the late Charles E. Van Loan.</p> - -<p class="right"> -R. W. L. -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_555">555</span></p> - -<h3>AMERICAN CIVILIZATION FROM THE FOREIGN POINT -OF VIEW<a id="FNanchor_1" href="#Footnote_1" class="fnanchor"><span class="smaller">1</span></a></h3> - -<p>Frances Milton Trollope: “The Domestic Manners of the -Americans,” London, 1832.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry short"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">The rest is silence ... or repetition.</div> - </div> - <div class="attrib">E. B.</div> -</div> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_1" href="#FNanchor_1" class="fnanchor">1</a> The views of foreign travellers in the United States are summarized -in John Graham Brooks’s “As Others See Us,” New York, 1908.—<cite>The -Editor.</cite></p> - -</div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div id="toclink_557" class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_557">557</span></p> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="WHOS_WHO">WHO’S WHO<br /> -OF THE CONTRIBUTORS TO<br /> -THIS VOLUME</h2> -</div> - -<div class="smaller"> -<p><b>Conrad Aiken</b> was born in Savannah, Georgia, in 1889, and was -graduated from Harvard in 1912. His books include several volumes -of poems, “Earth Triumphant,” “Turns and Movies,” “The Jig of -Forslin,” “Nocturne of Remembered Spring,” “The Charnel Rose,” “The -House of Dust,” and “Punch: The Immortal Liar,” and one volume of -critical essays, “Scepticisms: Notes on Contemporary Poetry.”</p> - -<p><b>Anonymous</b>, the author of the essay on “Medicine,” is an American -physician who has gained distinction in the field of medical research, but -who for obvious reasons desires to have his name withheld.</p> - -<p><b>Katharine Anthony</b> was born in Arkansas, and was educated at the -Universities of Tennessee, Chicago, and Heidelberg. She has done -research and editorial work for the Russell Sage Foundation, National -Consumers’ League, The National Board, Y. W. C. A., and other national -reform organizations, and is the author of “Feminism in Germany and -Scandinavia,” “Margaret Fuller: A Psychological Biography,” and other -books.</p> - -<p><b>O. S. Beyer, Jr.</b>, was graduated from the Stevens Institute of Technology -as a mechanical engineer in 1907, and did graduate work in railway -and industrial economics in the Universities of Pennsylvania and -New York. After some experience as an engineering assistant and general -foreman on various railways, and as research engineer in the University -of Illinois, he helped organize the U. S. Army School of Military -Aeronautics during the War, and later took charge of the Department of -Airplanes. He was subsequently requested by the U. S. Army Ordnance -Department to organize and operate schools for training ordnance specialists -and officers, and in order to conduct this work, he was commissioned -Captain. After the termination of the War, he helped promote, and -subsequently assumed charge in the capacity of Chief, Arsenal Orders -Section, of the significant industrial developments carried forward in the -Army arsenals. He has contributed numerous articles to technical -periodicals and proceedings of engineering and other societies.</p> - -<p><b>Ernest Boyd</b> is an Irish critic and journalist, who has lived in this -country for some years, and is now on the staff of the New York <cite>Evening -Post</cite>. He was educated in France, Germany, and Switzerland for the -British Consular Service, which he entered in 1913. After having served -in the United States, Spain, and Denmark, he resigned from official life -in order to take up the more congenial work of literature and journalism. -He has edited Standish O’Grady’s “Selected Essays” for Every Irishman’s -Library and translated Heinrich Mann’s “Der Untertan” for the -European Library, and is the author of three volumes dealing with modern -Anglo-Irish Literature: “Ireland’s Literary Renaissance,” “The Contemporary -Drama of Ireland,” and “Appreciations and Depreciations.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_560">560</span></p> - -<p><b>Clarence Britten</b> was born in Pella, Iowa, in 1887, and was graduated -from Harvard in 1912 as of 1910. He was Instructor of English in the -Agricultural and Mechanical College of Texas, in the Department of -University Extension, State of Massachusetts, and in the University of -Wisconsin. He has been editor of the <cite>Canadian Journal of Music</cite>, and -from 1918 to 1920 was an editor of the <cite>Dial</cite>.</p> - -<p><b>Van Wyck Brooks</b> was born in Plainfield, New Jersey, in 1886, and -was graduated from Harvard in 1907, as of 1908. He was instructor in -English in Leland Stanford University from 1911 to 1913, and is now -associate editor of the <cite>Freeman</cite>. Among his books are “America’s -Coming-of-Age,” “Letters and Leadership,” and “The Ordeal of Mark -Twain.”</p> - -<p><b>Harold Chapman Brown</b> was born in Springfield, Mass., in 1879, and -was educated at Williams and Harvard, from which he received the -degree of Ph.D. in 1905. He was instructor in philosophy in Columbia -University until 1914, and since then has been an instructor in Leland -Stanford University. During the War he was with the American Red -Cross, Home Service, at Camp Fremont. He has contributed numerous -articles on philosophy to technical journals, and is co-author of “Creative -Intelligence.”</p> - -<p><b>Zechariah Chafee, Jr.</b>, was born in Providence, R. I., in 1885, and -was educated at Brown University and the Harvard Law School. After -several years’ practice of the law in Providence, and executive work in -connection with various manufacturing industries, he became Assistant -Professor of Law in Harvard University in 1916, and Professor of Law -in 1919. He is the author of “Cases on Negotiable Instruments,” “Freedom -of Speech,” and various articles in law reviews and other periodicals.</p> - -<p><b>Frank M. Colby</b> was born in Washington, D. C., in 1865, and was -graduated from Columbia in 1888. He was Professor of Economics in -New York University from 1895 to 1900, and has been editor of the -“New International Encyclopedia” since 1900, and of the “New International -Year Book” since 1907. He is the author of “Outlines of General -History,” “Imaginary Obligations,” “Constrained Attitudes,” and -“The Margin of Hesitation.”</p> - -<p><b>Garet Garrett</b> was born in Pana, Ill., in 1878, and from 1900 to 1912 -was a financial writer on the New York Sun, the <cite>Wall Street Journal</cite>, -the New York <cite>Evening Post</cite>, and the New York <cite>Times</cite>. He was the first -editor of the New York <cite>Times Annalist</cite> in 1913–1914, and was executive -editor of the New York <cite>Tribune</cite> from 1916 to 1919. He is the author of -“The Driver,” “The Blue Wound,” “An Empire Beleaguered,” “The -Mad Dollar,” and various economic and political essays.</p> - -<p><b>Walton H. Hamilton</b> was born in Tennessee in 1881, was graduated -from the University of Texas in 1907, and received the degree of Ph.D. -from the University of Michigan in 1913. After teaching at the Universities -of Michigan and Chicago, he became Olds Professor of -Economics in Amherst College in 1915. He was formerly associate editor -of the <cite>Journal of Political Economy</cite>, and is associate editor of the series, -“Materials for the Study of Economics,” published by the University of -Chicago Press. During the War he was on the staff of the War Labour -Policies Board. He is co-editor with J. M. Clark and H. G. Moulton of -“Readings in the Economics of War,” and the author of “Current Economic -Problems” and of various articles in economic journals.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_561">561</span></p> - -<p><b>Frederic C. Howe</b> was born in Meadville, Pa., in 1867, and was educated -at Allegheny College and Johns Hopkins University, from the latter -receiving the degree of Ph.D. in 1892. After studying in the University of -Maryland Law School and the New York Law School, he was admitted to -the bar in 1894, and practised in Cleveland until 1909. He was director of -the People’s Institute of New York from 1911 to 1914, and Commissioner -of Immigration in the Port of New York from 1914 to 1920. He has -been a member of the Ohio State Senate, special U. S. commissioner to -investigate municipal ownership in Great Britain, Professor of Law in -the Cleveland College of Law, and lecturer on municipal administration -and politics in the University of Wisconsin. Among his books are “The -City, the Hope of Democracy,” “The British City,” “Privilege and -Democracy in America,” “Wisconsin: An Experiment in Democracy,” -“European Cities at Work,” “Socialized Germany,” “Why War?” “The -High Cost of Living,” and “The Land and the Soldier.”</p> - -<p><b>Alfred Booth Kuttner</b> was born in 1886, and was graduated from -Harvard in 1908. He was for two years dramatic critic of the <cite>International -Magazine</cite>, and is a contributor to the <cite>New Republic</cite>, <cite>Seven Arts</cite>, -<cite>Dial</cite>, etc. He has pursued special studies in psychology, and has translated -several of the books of Sigmund Freud.</p> - -<p><b>Ring W. Lardner</b> was born in Niles, Michigan, in 1885, and was educated -in the Niles High School and the Armour Institute of Technology -at Chicago. He has been sporting writer on the Boston <cite>American</cite>, Chicago -<cite>American</cite>, Chicago <cite>Examiner</cite>, and the Chicago <cite>Tribune</cite>, and writer for -the Bell Syndicate since 1919. Among his books are “You Know Me -Al,” “Symptoms of Thirty-five,” “Treat ’Em Rough,” and “The Big -Town.”</p> - -<p><b>Robert Morss Lovett</b> was born in Boston in 1870, and was graduated -from Harvard in 1892. He has been a teacher in the English Departments -of Harvard and the University of Chicago, and dean of the Junior -Colleges of the latter institution from 1907 to 1920. He was formerly -editor of the <cite>Dial</cite>, and is at present on the staff of the <cite>New Republic</cite>. He -is a member of the National Institute of Arts and Letters, and is the -author of two novels, “Richard Gresham” and “A Winged Victory,” of -a play, “Cowards,” and with William Vaughn Moody of “A History of -English Literature.”</p> - -<p><b>Robert H. Lowie</b> was born in Vienna in 1883, and came to New York -at the age of ten. He was educated at the College of the City of New -York and Columbia University, from which he received the degree of -Ph.D. in 1908. He has made many ethnological field trips, especially to -the Crow and other Plains Indians. He was associate curator of Anthropology -in the American Museum of Natural History, New York, -until 1921, and since then has become Associate Professor of Anthropology -in the University of California. He is associate editor of the <cite>American -Anthropologist</cite>, and was secretary of the American Ethnological Society -from 1910 to 1919, and president, 1920–1921. He is the author of “Culture -and Ethnology” and “Primitive Society,” as well as many technical -monographs dealing mainly with the sociology and mythology of North -American aborigines.</p> - -<p><b>John Macy</b> was born in Detroit in 1877, and was educated at Harvard, -from which he received the degree of A.B. in 1899, and A.M. in 1900. -After a year as assistant in English at Harvard, he became associate editor -of <cite>Youth’s Companion</cite>, and later literary editor of the Boston <cite>Herald</cite>.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_562">562</span> -Among his books are “Life of Poe” (Beacon Biographies), “Guide to -Reading,” “The Spirit of American Literature,” “Socialism in America,” -and “Walter James Dodd: a Biography.”</p> - -<p><b>H. L. Mencken</b> was born in Baltimore in 1880, and was educated in -private schools and at the Baltimore Polytechnic. He was engaged in -journalism until 1916, and is now editor and part owner with George -Jean Nathan of the <cite>Smart Set Magazine</cite>, and a contributing editor of -the <cite>Nation</cite>. His books include “The Philosophy of Friedrich Nietzsche,” -“A Book of Burlesques,” “A Book of Prefaces,” “The American -Language,” and two volumes of “Prejudices.” In collaboration with -George Jean Nathan he has published “The American Credo,” and -“Heliogabalus,” a play.</p> - -<p><b>Lewis Mumford</b> was born in Flushing, Long Island, in 1895. He was -associate editor of the Dial in 1919, acting editor of the <cite>Sociological -Review</cite> (London), a lecturer at the Summer School of Civics, High -Wycombe, England, and has contributed to the <cite>Scientific Monthly</cite>, the -<cite>Athenaeum</cite>, the <cite>Nation</cite>, the <cite>Freeman</cite>, the <cite>Journal of the American institute -of Architects</cite>, and other periodicals. He was a radio operator in -the United States Navy during the War.</p> - -<p><b>George Jean Nathan</b> was born in Fort Wayne, Indiana, in 1882, and -was graduated from Cornell University in 1904. He has been dramatic -critic of various newspapers and periodicals, and is at present editor and -part owner with H. L. Mencken of the <cite>Smart Set Magazine</cite>. Among his -books are “The Popular Theatre,” “Comedians All,” “Another Book on -the Theatre,” “Mr. George Jean Nathan Presents,” “The Theatre, the -Drama, the Girls,” and, with H. L. Mencken, of “The American Credo,” -and “Heliogabalus.”</p> - -<p><b>Walter Pach</b> was born in New York in 1883, and was graduated from -the College of the City of New York in 19013. He studied art under -Leigh Hunt, William M. Chase, and Robert Henri, and worked during -most of the eleven years before the War in Paris and other European art-centres, -exhibiting both here and abroad. He was associated with the -work of the International Exhibition of 1913, as well as other exhibitions -of the modern masters in America, and with the founding and carrying on -of the Society of Independent Artists. He is represented by paintings -and etchings in various public and private collections, has lectured at the -Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, University of California, -Wellesley College, and other institutions, has contributed articles on art -subjects to the <cite xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">Gazette des Beaux-Arts</cite>, <cite xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">L’Arts et les Artistes</cite>, <cite>Scribner’s</cite>, -the <cite>Century</cite>, the <cite>Freeman</cite>, etc., and is the translator of Elie Faure’s -“History of Art.”</p> - -<p><b>Elsie Clews Parsons</b> was graduated from Barnard College in 1896, -and received the degree of Ph.D. from Columbia University in 1899. -She has been Fellow and Lecturer in Sociology at Barnard College, Lecturer -in Anthropology in the New School of Social Research, assistant -editor of the <cite>Journal of American Folk-Lore</cite>, treasurer of the American -Ethnological Society, and president of the American Folk-Lore Society. -She is married and the mother of three sons and one daughter. Among -her books are “The Family,” “The Old-Fashioned Woman,” “Fear and -Conventionality,” “Social Freedom,” and “Social Rule.”</p> - -<p><b>Raffaello Piccoli</b>, who has written the article on “American Civilization -from an Italian Point of View,” was born in Naples in 1886, and was<span class="pagenum" id="Page_563">563</span> -educated at the Universities of Padua, Florence, and Oxford. In 1913 -he was appointed Lecturer in Italian Literature in the University of Cambridge, -and in 1916 was elected Foreign Correspondent of the Royal -Society of Literature. During the War he was an officer in the First -Regiment of Italian Grenadiers, was wounded and taken prisoner while -defending a bridge-head on the Tagliamento, and spent a year of captivity -in Hungary. After the Armistice he was appointed to the chair of English -Literature in the University of Pisa. During the years 1919–21 he has -acted as exchange professor at various American universities. He has -published a number of books, including Italian translations of Oscar Wilde -and of several Elizabethan dramatists.</p> - -<p><b>Louis Raymond Reid</b> was born in Warsaw, N. Y., and was graduated -from Rutgers College in 1911. Since then he has been engaged in newspaper -and magazine work in New York City. He was for three years -the editor of the <cite>Dramatic Mirror</cite>.</p> - -<p><b>Geroid Tanquary Robinson</b> was born in Chase City, Virginia, in 1892, -and studied at Stanford, the University of California, and Columbia. -He was a member of the editorial board of the <cite>Dial</cite> at the time when it -was appearing as a fortnightly, and is now a member of the editorial -staff of the <cite>Freeman</cite>, and a lecturer in Modern European History at -Columbia University. He served for sixteen months during the War as -a First Lieutenant (Adjutant) in the American Air Service. Residence in -Virginia, North Carolina, Colorado, Arizona, and California has given -him the opportunity to observe at first hand some of the modes and -manners of race-prejudice.</p> - -<p><b>J. Thorne Smith, Jr.</b>, was born in Annapolis, Md., in 1892, and was -graduated from Dartmouth College in 1914. He was Chief Boatswain’s -Mate in the U. S. Naval Reserve during the War, and editor of the -navy paper, <cite>The Broadside</cite>. He is the author of “Haunts and By-Paths -and Other Poems,” “Biltmore Oswald,” and “Out-O’-Luck.”</p> - -<p><b>George Soule</b> was born in Stamford, Conn., in 1887, and was graduated -from Yale in 1908. He was a member of the editorial staff of the <cite>New -Republic</cite> from 1914 to 1918, and during 1919 editorial writer for the -New York <cite>Evening Post</cite>. He drafted a report on the labour policy of the -Industrial Service Sections, Ordnance Department and Air Service, for -the War Department, and was commissioned a Second Lieutenant in the -Coast Artillery Corps. He is a director of the Labour Bureau, Inc., which -engages in economic research for labour organizations, and is co-author -with J. M. Budish of “The New Unionism in the Clothing Industry.”</p> - -<p><b>J. E. Spingarn</b> was born in New York in 1875, was educated at -Columbia and Harvard, and was Professor of Comparative Literature in -Columbia University until 1911. Among his other activities he has been a -candidate for Congress, a delegate to state and national conventions, -chairman of the board of directors of the National Association for the -Advancement of Coloured People, vice-president of a publishing firm, and -editor of the “European Library.” During the War he was a Major of -Infantry in the A. E. F. His first book, “Literary Criticism in the Renaissance,” -was translated into Italian in 1905, with an introduction by Benedetto -Croce; he has edited three volumes of “Critical Essays of the 17th -Century” for the Clarendon Press of Oxford, and contributed a chapter -to the “Cambridge History of English Literature;” his selection of -Goethe’s “Literary Essays,” with a foreword by Lord Haldane, has just -appeared; and his other books include “The New Hesperides and Other -Poems” and “Creative Criticism.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_564">564</span></p> - -<p><b>Harold E. Stearns</b> was born in Barre, Mass., in 1891, and was graduated -from Harvard in 1913. Since then he has been engaged in journalism -in New York, and has been a contributor to the <cite>New Republic</cite>, the -<cite>Freeman</cite>, the <cite>Bookman</cite>, and other magazines and newspapers. He was -associate editor of the <cite>Dial</cite> during the last six months of its appearance -as a fortnightly in Chicago. Among his books are “Liberalism in -America” and “America and the Young Intellectual.”</p> - -<p><b>Henry Longan Stuart</b> is an English author and journalist who has -spent a considerable part of his life since 1901 in the United States. He -served through the War as a Captain in the Royal Field Artillery, was -attached to the Italian Third Army after Caporetto, and was press censor -in Paris after the Armistice and during the Peace Conference. He is -the author of “Weeping Cross,” a study of Puritan New England, -“Fenella,” and a quantity of fugitive poetry and essays.</p> - -<p><b>Deems Taylor</b> was born in New York in 1885, and was graduated -from New York University in 1906. He studied music with Oscar Coon -from 1908 to 1911. He has been connected with the editorial staff of the -“Encyclopedia Britannica,” and has been assistant Sunday editor of the -New York <cite>Tribune</cite> and associate editor of <cite>Collier’s Weekly</cite>, and at present -is a critic of the New York <cite>World</cite>. He has composed numerous -musical works, including “The Siren Song” (symphonic poem, awarded -the orchestral prize of the National Federation of Music Clubs in 1912), -“The Chambered Nautilus” (cantata), “The Highwaymen” (cantata -written for the MacDowell festival), and “Through the Looking Glass” -(suite for symphonic orchestra).</p> - -<p><b>Hendrik Willem Van Loon</b> was born in Holland in 1882, and received -his education in Dutch schools, at Cornell and Harvard, and at the University -of Munich, from which he received his Ph.D., magna cum laude, -in 1911. He was a correspondent of the Associated Press in various -European capitals, and for some time was a lecturer on modern European -history in Cornell University. He is at present Professor of the Social -Sciences in Antioch College, and is the author of “The Fall of the Dutch -Republic,” “A Short History of Discovery,” “Ancient Man,” “The Story -of Mankind for Boys and Girls,” “The Rise of the Dutch Kingdom,” etc.</p> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_565">565</span></p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div id="toclink_565" class="chapter"><div class="index"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_567">567</span></p> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="INDEX">INDEX</h2> - -<ul class="index"> -<li class="ifrst">Abbott, Lyman, <a href="#Page_497">497</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Abolitionists, <a href="#Page_58">58</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Absolute, <a href="#Page_166">166</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Academic life, <a href="#Page_95">95</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Accident lawyers, <a href="#Page_59">59</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Acoustics, <a href="#Page_159">159</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Adams, Henry, <a href="#Page_11">11</a>, <a href="#Page_77">77</a>, <a href="#Page_303">303</a>, <a href="#Page_547">547</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">quoted on a school of literature, <a href="#Page_196">196</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Ade, George, <a href="#Page_249">249</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Administrative officers, <a href="#Page_32">32</a>, <a href="#Page_33">33</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Adolescence, <a href="#Page_436">436</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Adulteration, <a href="#Page_406">406</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Advertising, <a href="#Page_381">381–395</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">appeal, <a href="#Page_383">383</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">bibliography, <a href="#Page_551">551</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">effects on the writers, <a href="#Page_384">384</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">efficacy, <a href="#Page_389">389</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">honest, <a href="#Page_387">387</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">justification, <a href="#Page_388">388</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">newspaper, <a href="#Page_44">44</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">newspaper control, <a href="#Page_46">46</a>, <a href="#Page_47">47</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">objectionable, <a href="#Page_395">395</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">outdoor, <a href="#Page_395">395</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">over-production and, <a href="#Page_390">390</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">pro and con, <a href="#Page_391">391</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">signs, <a href="#Page_293">293</a>, <a href="#Page_395">395</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">solicitor and writer, <a href="#Page_387">387</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">value, <a href="#Page_391">391</a>, <a href="#Page_392">392</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">writers, <a href="#Page_387">387</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Æsthetic emotion, <a href="#Page_204">204</a>, <a href="#Page_214">214</a>, <a href="#Page_480">480</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Æsthetics, vii, <a href="#Page_14">14</a>, <a href="#Page_100">100</a>, <a href="#Page_105">105</a>, <a href="#Page_108">108</a>, <a href="#Page_492">492</a>, <a href="#Page_497">497</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Africa, association of negroes to establish empire, <a href="#Page_369">369</a></li> - -<li class="indx">“Age of Innocence, The,” <a href="#Page_179">179</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Agnosticism, <a href="#Page_171">171</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Agricultural implements, <a href="#Page_402">402</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Aiken, Conrad, on poetry, <a href="#Page_215">215–226</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Akins, Zoë, <a href="#Page_248">248</a>, <a href="#Page_253">253</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Alcohol, <a href="#Page_451">451</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Alcoholics, children of, <a href="#Page_452">452</a>, <a href="#Page_453">453</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Alien Land Laws, <a href="#Page_364">364</a></li> - -<li class="indx"><a id="Aliens"></a>Aliens, <a href="#Page_337">337–350</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">economics and, <a href="#Page_339">339</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">legislative attitude to, <a href="#Page_343">343</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">protection, <a href="#Page_349">349</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Alfieri, Vittorio, <a href="#Page_104">104</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Alimony, <a href="#Page_331">331</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Alleghany mountains, <a href="#Page_4">4</a>, <a href="#Page_30">30</a>, <a href="#Page_399">399</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Allied troops, <a href="#Page_469">469</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Alphabetical order, <a href="#Page_469">469</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Amalgamated Clothing Workers, <a href="#Page_346">346</a></li> - -<li class="indx">America, as economic support for Europe, <a href="#Page_475">475</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">feminization, <a href="#Page_135">135</a>, <a href="#Page_143">143</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">germinal energy, <a href="#Page_148">148</a>, <a href="#Page_150">150</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">original culture, <a href="#Page_512">512</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">provincialism, <a href="#Page_286">286</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">“real America,” <a href="#Page_138">138</a></li> - -<li class="indx">“America First” Publicity Association, <a href="#Page_47">47</a></li> - -<li class="indx">“American ideals,” <a href="#Page_104">104</a></li> - -<li class="indx">American infantry in Paris, <a href="#Page_470">470</a></li> - -<li class="indx">American Legion, <a href="#Page_88">88</a></li> - -<li class="indx">American literature. <i>See</i> <a href="#Literature_American">Literature, American</a></li> - -<li class="indx">American Philosophical Association, <a href="#Page_177">177</a></li> - -<li class="indx">American Revolution, <a href="#Page_300">300</a>, <a href="#Page_399">399</a>, <a href="#Page_417">417</a>, <a href="#Page_515">515</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Americanism, <a href="#Page_133">133</a>, <a href="#Page_519">519</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Americanization, <a href="#Page_337">337</a>, <a href="#Page_344">344</a>, <a href="#Page_346">346</a>, <a href="#Page_347">347</a>, <a href="#Page_442">442</a>, <a href="#Page_528">528</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">spirit, <a href="#Page_88">88</a>, <a href="#Page_89">89</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Americans, uniformity, <a href="#Page_36">36</a>, <a href="#Page_109">109</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Ames, Winthrop, <a href="#Page_245">245</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Amusements, <a href="#Page_8">8</a>, <a href="#Page_13">13</a>, <a href="#Page_440">440</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">music, <a href="#Page_204">204</a>, <a href="#Page_205">205</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Anæmia, intellectual, <a href="#Page_491">491</a>, <a href="#Page_492">492</a>, <a href="#Page_495">495</a>, <a href="#Page_501">501</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Ancestor worship, <a href="#Page_506">506</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Anderson, Sherwood, <a href="#Page_137">137</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Anglin, Margaret, <a href="#Page_251">251</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Anglo-American relations, <a href="#Page_471">471</a>, <a href="#Page_473">473</a>, <a href="#Page_474">474</a>, <a href="#Page_476">476</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Anglo-Saxonism, <a href="#Page_320">320</a>, <a href="#Page_341">341</a>, <a href="#Page_442">442</a>, <a href="#Page_471">471</a>, <a href="#Page_504">504</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Anthony, Katharine, on the family, <a href="#Page_319">319–336</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Anthropological groups, <a href="#Page_353">353</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Anthropology, <a href="#Page_154">154</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Anti-Saloon League, <a href="#Page_29">29</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Anti-Semitism, <a href="#Page_356">356</a>, <a href="#Page_364">364</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Appleseed, Johnny, <a href="#Page_4">4</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Applied science, <a href="#Page_146">146</a>, <a href="#Page_155">155–156</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Architecture, <a href="#Page_238">238</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">city, debasement, <a href="#Page_10">10</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">industrial city, <a href="#Page_11">11</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Aridity of American life, <a href="#Page_480">480</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Aristocracy, <a href="#Page_193">193</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Aristocrats, <a href="#Page_441">441</a>, <a href="#Page_442">442</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Armageddon, <a href="#Page_440">440</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Armory Show, <a href="#Page_239">239</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Art, <a href="#Page_100">100</a>, <a href="#Page_204">204</a>, <a href="#Page_207">207</a>, <a href="#Page_227">227–241</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">bibliography, <a href="#Page_542">542</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">colonial, <a href="#Page_230">230</a>, <a href="#Page_231">231</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">conditions and opportunities, <a href="#Page_228">228</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">definition, <a href="#Page_107">107</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">feminization, <a href="#Page_229">229</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">morals and, <a href="#Page_101">101</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">poetry, <a href="#Page_225">225</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">tariff on works of art, <a href="#Page_230">230</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Art for art’s sake, <a href="#Page_102">102</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Artists, advertising as a benefit, <a href="#Page_391">391</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">definition, <a href="#Page_107">107</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">respect for, <a href="#Page_208">208</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Asiatics. <i>See</i> <a href="#Orientals">Orientals</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Associated Press, <a href="#Page_47">47</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Asylums, <a href="#Page_334">334</a>, <a href="#Page_451">451</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Athletics, <a href="#Page_526">526</a>, <a href="#Page_527">527</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">college, <a href="#Page_117">117</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Atlantic City, <a href="#Page_9">9</a></li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Atlantic Monthly</i>, <a href="#Page_243">243</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Attorney-General, <a href="#Page_66">66</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Austin, Mrs. Mary, <a href="#Page_144">144</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Australia, farm policy, <a href="#Page_347">347</a>, <a href="#Page_348">348</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Australian Courts of Conciliation, <a href="#Page_73">73</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Authority, <a href="#Page_160">160</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">educational, <a href="#Page_85">85</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Automobile industry, <a href="#Page_400">400</a></li> - -<li class="ifrst">Back to the land, <a href="#Page_285">285</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Backgrounds, historical, <a href="#Page_308">308</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">intellectual, <a href="#Page_146">146</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Bacteriologists, <a href="#Page_454">454</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Baking industry, <a href="#Page_400">400</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Ballot, <a href="#Page_281">281</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Bar Associations, <a href="#Page_65">65–66</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Bargaining, collective, <a href="#Page_264">264</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1"><i>see also</i> <a href="#Contract">Contract</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Barnum, P. T., <a href="#Page_292">292</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Barrie’s “Peter Pan,” <a href="#Page_246">246</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Barrymore, John, <a href="#Page_250">250</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Baseball, <a href="#Page_458">458</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Baseball fans, <a href="#Page_457">457</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Beard, C. A., <a href="#Page_532">532</a>, <a href="#Page_547">547</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Beard, G. M., <a href="#Page_430">430</a>, <a href="#Page_431">431</a>, <a href="#Page_432">432</a>, <a href="#Page_438">438</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Beautiful necessity, <a href="#Page_165">165</a>, <a href="#Page_168">168</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Beauty, <a href="#Page_14">14</a>, <a href="#Page_204">204</a>, <a href="#Page_238">238</a>, <a href="#Page_492">492</a>, <a href="#Page_535">535</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Beer-garden, <a href="#Page_10">10</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Behaviour, <a href="#Page_173">173</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">crowd, <a href="#Page_312">312</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Behaviourism, <a href="#Page_169">169</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Belief, <a href="#Page_171">171</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Bell, Sanford, <a href="#Page_436">436</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Bergson, Henri, <a href="#Page_167">167</a>, <a href="#Page_172">172</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Bett, Miss Lulu, <a href="#Page_320">320</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Beyer, O. S., Jr., on engineering, <a href="#Page_417">417–425</a></li> - -<li class="indx">“Beyond the Horizon,” <a href="#Page_243">243</a>, <a href="#Page_244">244</a>, <a href="#Page_248">248</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Bibliographical notes, <a href="#Page_531">531</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Big business, <a href="#Page_406">406</a>, <a href="#Page_407">407</a>, <a href="#Page_409">409</a></li> - -<li class="indx"><span class="pagenum" id="Page_568">568</span>Bigness, contrary effect on English and Americans, <a href="#Page_477">477</a>, <a href="#Page_478">478</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Billboards, <a href="#Page_293">293</a>, <a href="#Page_395">395</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Billiards, <a href="#Page_460">460</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Billings, Frank, <a href="#Page_449">449</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Biochemistry, <a href="#Page_456">456</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Biographical notes on contributors to this volume, <a href="#Page_557">559–564</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Biographies, <a href="#Page_96">96</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">political, <a href="#Page_532">532</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Biology, <a href="#Page_456">456</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">experimental, <a href="#Page_153">153</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Birth control, <a href="#Page_320">320</a>, <a href="#Page_321">321</a>, <a href="#Page_322">322</a>, <a href="#Page_323">323</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">artificial, <a href="#Page_321">321</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Birth-rate, <a href="#Page_321">321</a>, <a href="#Page_336">336</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Black Star Line, <a href="#Page_369">369</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Blackburn, J. B., <a href="#Page_231">231</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Blashfield, E. H., <a href="#Page_236">236</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Blind Tom, <a href="#Page_207">207–208</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Board of Health, <a href="#Page_304">304</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Boas, Franz, <a href="#Page_154">154</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Bodenheim, Maxwell, <a href="#Page_218">218</a>, <a href="#Page_221">221</a>, <a href="#Page_222">222</a>, <a href="#Page_223">223</a></li> - -<li class="indx">“Book of Daniel Drew, The,” <a href="#Page_72">72</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Boosters, <a href="#Page_293">293</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Bosses, political, <a href="#Page_24">24</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Boston, <a href="#Page_4">4</a>, <a href="#Page_15">15</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">dramatic taste, <a href="#Page_245">245</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">marriage age, <a href="#Page_328">328</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">Public Library, <a href="#Page_11">11</a>, <a href="#Page_235">235</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">Trinity Church, <a href="#Page_11">11</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Boxing, <a href="#Page_459">459</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Boyd, Ernest, on American civilization, <a href="#Page_489">489–507</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Brady, W. A., <a href="#Page_244">244</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Brandeis, L. D., brief on Oregon law, <a href="#Page_73">73</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Branford, V. V., <a href="#Page_531">531</a></li> - -<li class="indx">“Brass Check, The,” <a href="#Page_41">41</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Breasted, J. H., <a href="#Page_547">547</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Brewer, Justice P. J., <a href="#Page_73">73–74</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Brill, A. A., <a href="#Page_434">434</a></li> - -<li class="indx">British Institution of Civil Engineers, <a href="#Page_418">418</a>, <a href="#Page_419">419</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Britten, Clarence, on school and college life, <a href="#Page_109">109–133</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Broadway, <a href="#Page_8">8</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Brokers, <a href="#Page_405">405</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Bronson-Howard, George, <a href="#Page_249">249</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Brooke, Rupert, <a href="#Page_503">503</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Brookline, Mass., <a href="#Page_15">15</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Brooks, Van Wyck, iii;</li> -<li class="isub1">on the literary life, <a href="#Page_179">179–197</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Brown, H. C., on philosophy, <a href="#Page_163">163–177</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Brown University, <a href="#Page_125">125</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Brunetière, Ferdinand, <a href="#Page_498">498</a>, <a href="#Page_503">503</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Bryan, W. J., <a href="#Page_25">25</a>, <a href="#Page_429">429</a>, <a href="#Page_440">440</a>, <a href="#Page_451">451</a>, <a href="#Page_497">497</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Bryce, James, <a href="#Page_196">196</a>, <a href="#Page_490">490</a>, <a href="#Page_532">532</a>, <a href="#Page_536">536</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Buddhism, <a href="#Page_373">373</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Bundling, <a href="#Page_315">315</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Bush Terminal Tower, <a href="#Page_12">12</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Business, <a href="#Page_397">397–415</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">American conception, <a href="#Page_482">482</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">bibliography, <a href="#Page_551">551</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">blind sequence, <a href="#Page_414">414</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">government and, <a href="#Page_48">48</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">honour, <a href="#Page_405">405</a>, <a href="#Page_409">409</a>, <a href="#Page_410">410</a>, <a href="#Page_430">430</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">individual and corporate, <a href="#Page_409">409</a>, <a href="#Page_410">410</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">revolution of methods, <a href="#Page_405">405</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">State and, <a href="#Page_264">264</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Business education, <a href="#Page_80">80</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Business life, <a href="#Page_186">186</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Business man’s chivalry, <a href="#Page_324">324</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Business world, <a href="#Page_143">143</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Butler, Samuel, <a href="#Page_188">188</a>, <a href="#Page_547">547</a></li> - -<li class="ifrst">California, early law, <a href="#Page_54">54</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">gold discovery, <a href="#Page_403">403</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">Land Laws, <a href="#Page_365">365</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">race-prejudice, <a href="#Page_357">357</a>, <a href="#Page_364">364</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Calvinism, <a href="#Page_164">164</a>, <a href="#Page_168">168</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Cambridge, Mass., <a href="#Page_4">4</a>, <a href="#Page_6">6</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Canals, <a href="#Page_403">403</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Canning industry, <a href="#Page_401">401</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Capital, <a href="#Page_404">404</a>, <a href="#Page_405">405</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Capital and labour, engineers and, <a href="#Page_420">420</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Capitalism, <a href="#Page_544">544</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">case for, <a href="#Page_257">257</a>, <a href="#Page_261">261</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Captains of industry, <a href="#Page_517">517</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Carnegie, Andrew, <a href="#Page_18">18</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Carnegie Institution, <a href="#Page_158">158</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Case-system, <a href="#Page_68">68</a>, <a href="#Page_69">69</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Castberg, Johan, <a href="#Page_332">332</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Caste system in college, <a href="#Page_121">121</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Catechism, Negro, <a href="#Page_370">370</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Catholic Church, <a href="#Page_193">193</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Cattell, J. Nick, <a href="#Page_538">538</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Cavalier and Puritan, <a href="#Page_512">512</a>, <a href="#Page_513">513</a>, <a href="#Page_514">514</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Celibacy, <a href="#Page_321">321</a>, <a href="#Page_328">328</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Cézanne, Paul, <a href="#Page_239">239</a>, <a href="#Page_240">240</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Chafee, Zechariah, Jr., on the law, <a href="#Page_53">53–75</a></li> - -<li class="indx">City, bibliography, <a href="#Page_531">531</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Chain-store, <a href="#Page_407">407</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Chambers, R. W., <a href="#Page_192">192</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Character in business, <a href="#Page_409">409</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Charm, personal, <a href="#Page_112">112</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Chase, W. M., <a href="#Page_234">234</a>, <a href="#Page_235">235</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Chastity, <a href="#Page_454">454</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Chautauqua, <a href="#Page_6">6</a>, <a href="#Page_83">83</a>, <a href="#Page_142">142</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Chekhov, A. P., <a href="#Page_190">190</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Chemistry of proteins, <a href="#Page_456">456</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Chesterton, G. K., <a href="#Page_477">477</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">on American genius, <a href="#Page_183">183</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Chicago, <a href="#Page_8">8</a>, <a href="#Page_10">10</a>, <a href="#Page_403">403</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">dramatic taste, <a href="#Page_245">245</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Chickens, alcoholic, <a href="#Page_452">452</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Chief Justice, <a href="#Page_67">67</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Child labour, <a href="#Page_275">275</a>, <a href="#Page_329">329</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Childhood, family influence, <a href="#Page_335">335</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">shortness, <a href="#Page_185">185</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Children, fewer and better, <a href="#Page_452">452</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">on farms, <a href="#Page_321">321</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">sexuality, <a href="#Page_436">436</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">spoiling, <a href="#Page_334">334</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Children’s Bureau, <a href="#Page_320">320</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Chinese, <a href="#Page_373">373</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">Californians and, <a href="#Page_364">364</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">in America, <a href="#Page_357">357</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Chiropractors, <a href="#Page_444">444</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Chivalry of the business man, <a href="#Page_324">324</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Christian Science, <a href="#Page_438">438</a>, <a href="#Page_443">443</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Christianity, <a href="#Page_166">166</a>, <a href="#Page_167">167</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Church, <a href="#Page_35">35</a>, <a href="#Page_77">77</a>, <a href="#Page_85">85</a>, <a href="#Page_146">146</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Church-college, <a href="#Page_163">163</a>, <a href="#Page_168">168</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Cincinnati, <a href="#Page_4">4</a>, <a href="#Page_8">8</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Circus parade, <a href="#Page_292">292</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Cirrhosis of the liver, <a href="#Page_452">452</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Cities, <a href="#Page_3">3–20</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">architectural debasement, <a href="#Page_10">10</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">civic equipment, <a href="#Page_16">16</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">civic life, <a href="#Page_16">16</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">country versus, <a href="#Page_17">17</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">drama, outside New York, <a href="#Page_245">245</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">future, <a href="#Page_19">19</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">growth and improvement, <a href="#Page_15">15</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">improvements, <a href="#Page_14">14</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">industrial, <a href="#Page_9">9</a>, <a href="#Page_10">10</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">provincial, <a href="#Page_3">3</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">shifts of population and institutions, <a href="#Page_7">7</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">spiritual failure, <a href="#Page_9">9</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">State legislatures and, <a href="#Page_24">24</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">three periods, <a href="#Page_3">3</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Citizenship, good, <a href="#Page_175">175</a></li> - -<li class="indx">City Beautiful movement, <a href="#Page_14">14</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Civil engineers, <a href="#Page_417">417</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Civil War, <a href="#Page_139">139</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Civilization, human, <a href="#Page_508">508</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">Roman, <a href="#Page_509">509</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Civilization, American, as seen by an Englishman, <a href="#Page_469">469–488</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">as seen by an Irishman, <a href="#Page_489">489–507</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">as seen by an Italian, <a href="#Page_508">508–528</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Clark University, <a href="#Page_434">434</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Classics, <a href="#Page_79">79</a>, <a href="#Page_81">81</a>, <a href="#Page_94">94</a>, <a href="#Page_146">146</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Cleanliness, <a href="#Page_392">392</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Clients and lawyers, <a href="#Page_59">59</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Clouston, T. S., <a href="#Page_452">452</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Clubs, college, <a href="#Page_121">121</a>, <a href="#Page_128">128</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Coeducational forms, <a href="#Page_129">129</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Cohan, G. M., <a href="#Page_249">249</a>, <a href="#Page_457">457</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Cohen, M. R., <a href="#Page_168">168</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Colby, F. M., on humour, <a href="#Page_463">463–466</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Cole, R., <a href="#Page_444">444</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Collective bargaining, <a href="#Page_264">264</a></li> - -<li class="indx">College “Bible,” <a href="#Page_118">118</a></li> - -<li class="indx"><a id="College_life"></a>College life, <a href="#Page_109">109–133</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">athletics, <a href="#Page_117">117</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">avocations, <a href="#Page_128">128</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">bibliography, <a href="#Page_536">536</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">caste system, <a href="#Page_121">121</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">clubs, <a href="#Page_121">121</a>, <a href="#Page_128">128</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">course system, <a href="#Page_126">126</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">democracy, <a href="#Page_118">118</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">examination and passing, <a href="#Page_126">126</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1"><span class="pagenum" id="Page_569">569</span>extra-collegiate social regimen, <a href="#Page_129">129</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">fellowship, <a href="#Page_123">123</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">moral crusades, <a href="#Page_124">124–125</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">political management of affairs, <a href="#Page_124">124</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">recreation, <a href="#Page_130">130</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">sex lines and forms, <a href="#Page_129">129</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">social life, <a href="#Page_117">117–118</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">study, <a href="#Page_125">125</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">traditions, <a href="#Page_118">118</a></li> - -<li class="indx">College professors, <a href="#Page_491">491</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1"><i>see also</i> <a href="#Professors">Professors</a></li> - -<li class="indx">College stories, <a href="#Page_536">536</a></li> - -<li class="indx"><a id="Colleges"></a>Colleges, early church-college, <a href="#Page_163">163</a>, <a href="#Page_168">168</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1"><i>see also</i> <a href="#Education2">Education</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Colonial culture, <a href="#Page_138">138</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Colonial law, <a href="#Page_54">54</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Colonialism, <a href="#Page_97">97</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Colonies, <a href="#Page_301">301</a>, <a href="#Page_493">493</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Colonists, <a href="#Page_398">398</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Colour of God, <a href="#Page_370">370</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Commercial city, <a href="#Page_5">5</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Commercial God, <a href="#Page_480">480</a>, <a href="#Page_481">481</a>, <a href="#Page_483">483</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Commercialism, <a href="#Page_484">484</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Common Law, American conditions and, <a href="#Page_56">56</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">New England and, <a href="#Page_54">54</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Communist parties, <a href="#Page_279">279</a>, <a href="#Page_280">280</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Community, New England, <a href="#Page_5">5</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Compensation acts, <a href="#Page_72">72</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Competition, <a href="#Page_259">259</a>, <a href="#Page_260">260</a>, <a href="#Page_406">406</a>, <a href="#Page_482">482</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Composers, <a href="#Page_199">199</a>, <a href="#Page_208">208</a>, <a href="#Page_210">210</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Compromise, <a href="#Page_284">284</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Compulsions, <a href="#Page_439">439</a>, <a href="#Page_440">440</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Concord, Mass., <a href="#Page_4">4</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Coney Island, <a href="#Page_13">13</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Conformity, <a href="#Page_439">439</a>, <a href="#Page_520">520</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">college, <a href="#Page_118">118</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Congress, <a href="#Page_31">31</a></li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Congressional Record</i>, <a href="#Page_27">27</a>, <a href="#Page_532">532</a>, <a href="#Page_544">544</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Congressmen, character, <a href="#Page_22">22</a>, <a href="#Page_27">27</a>, <a href="#Page_33">33</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Conjugal fidelity, <a href="#Page_309">309</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Connecticut, early land act, <a href="#Page_55">55</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Conservatives, <a href="#Page_273">273</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Constitution, U. S., <a href="#Page_140">140</a>, <a href="#Page_506">506</a>, <a href="#Page_515">515</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Contingent fee, <a href="#Page_60">60</a></li> - -<li class="indx"><a id="Contract"></a>Contract, <a href="#Page_275">275</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">right of, <a href="#Page_259">259</a>, <a href="#Page_262">262</a>, <a href="#Page_264">264</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Contract labour law, <a href="#Page_343">343</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Contributors to this volume, brief biographies, <a href="#Page_557">559–564</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Control of industry, <a href="#Page_257">257</a>, <a href="#Page_263">263</a>, <a href="#Page_419">419</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Conventions, <a href="#Page_291">291</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">“iron hand of convention,” <a href="#Page_182">182</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Conventionalities, <a href="#Page_252">252</a>, <a href="#Page_491">491</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">college, <a href="#Page_129">129</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Co-operative movement, <a href="#Page_284">284</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Copley, J. S., <a href="#Page_231">231</a>, <a href="#Page_232">232</a>, <a href="#Page_233">233</a>, <a href="#Page_237">237</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Cornell University, tradition, <a href="#Page_120">120</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Corporation lawyers, <a href="#Page_59">59</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Corporations, <a href="#Page_406">406</a>, <a href="#Page_411">411</a>, <a href="#Page_412">412</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">State and, <a href="#Page_412">412</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Corrective Eating Society, <a href="#Page_444">444</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Correspondence schools, <a href="#Page_385">385</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Country, <a href="#Page_287">287</a>, <a href="#Page_288">288</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">envy of the city, <a href="#Page_17">17</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">social life, <a href="#Page_294">294</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1"><i>see also</i> <a href="#Small_town">Small town</a></li> - -<li class="indx">County fair, <a href="#Page_295">295</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Crisis-emotion, <a href="#Page_315">315</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Courage in journalism, <a href="#Page_40">40</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Courts, diversity, <a href="#Page_71">71</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Craftsmanship, <a href="#Page_413">413</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Crane, Frank, <a href="#Page_44">44</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Cranks, <a href="#Page_147">147</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Craven, Frank, <a href="#Page_248">248</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Credit, <a href="#Page_405">405</a>, <a href="#Page_410">410</a>, <a href="#Page_413">413</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Credulity, <a href="#Page_454">454</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">medical, <a href="#Page_444">444</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Criminal law, <a href="#Page_60">60</a>, <a href="#Page_70">70</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Criminals and lawyers, <a href="#Page_60">60</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Criticism, <a href="#Page_497">497</a>, <a href="#Page_503">503</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">American, <a href="#Page_99">99</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">bibliography, <a href="#Page_535">535</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">definition, <a href="#Page_100">100</a>, <a href="#Page_108">108</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">dogmatic or intellectual, <a href="#Page_100">100</a>, <a href="#Page_108">108</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">music, <a href="#Page_209">209</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">need, <a href="#Page_105">105</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">scholarship and, <a href="#Page_93">93–108</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">scholarship the basis, <a href="#Page_99">99</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">schools of, <a href="#Page_100">100</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Cross of Gold, <a href="#Page_440">440</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Crowd behaviour, <a href="#Page_312">312</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Culture, <a href="#Page_93">93</a>, <a href="#Page_106">106</a>, <a href="#Page_175">175</a>, <a href="#Page_508">508</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">original American, <a href="#Page_512">512</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Curiosity, <a href="#Page_130">130</a>, <a href="#Page_131">131</a>, <a href="#Page_175">175</a></li> - -<li class="ifrst">Daly, Arnold, <a href="#Page_251">251</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Dancing, <a href="#Page_526">526</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Dante, scholarship, <a href="#Page_96">96</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Darwin, Charles, <a href="#Page_163">163</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Days of grace, <a href="#Page_64">64</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Declaration of independence, <a href="#Page_132">132</a>, <a href="#Page_133">133</a>, <a href="#Page_140">140</a>, <a href="#Page_506">506</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Decorators, <a href="#Page_236">236</a></li> - -<li class="indx">De Leon, Daniel, <a href="#Page_545">545</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Demand and supply, <a href="#Page_261">261</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Dementia præcox, <a href="#Page_434">434</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Democracy, college, <a href="#Page_118">118</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Denmark, farmers, <a href="#Page_347">347</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Department stores, <a href="#Page_8">8</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">advertising in the newspapers, <a href="#Page_389">389</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">newspapers and, <a href="#Page_46">46</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">private tribunals, <a href="#Page_70">70</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Dependence, habits of, <a href="#Page_401">401</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Deportation, <a href="#Page_342">342</a>, <a href="#Page_344">344</a>, <a href="#Page_348">348</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Devil, <a href="#Page_439">439</a>, <a href="#Page_440">440</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Dewey, John, <a href="#Page_168">168</a>, <a href="#Page_540">540</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">on education, <a href="#Page_175">175</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">psychology, <a href="#Page_173">173</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">weakness of his philosophy, <a href="#Page_176">176</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Dickinson, Emily, <a href="#Page_218">218</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Differentiations, regional, <a href="#Page_111">111</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Diphtheria, <a href="#Page_450">450</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Diplomacy, shirt-sleeve, <a href="#Page_489">489</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Discipline, <a href="#Page_471">471</a>, <a href="#Page_480">480</a>, <a href="#Page_482">482</a>, <a href="#Page_488">488</a></li> - -<li class="indx"><a id="Disease"></a>Disease, <a href="#Page_443">443</a>, <a href="#Page_445">445</a>, <a href="#Page_449">449</a>, <a href="#Page_455">455</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">prevention, <a href="#Page_449">449</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Dishonesty in business, <a href="#Page_405">405</a>, <a href="#Page_409">409</a>, <a href="#Page_410">410</a>, <a href="#Page_430">430</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Divorce, attitude to, <a href="#Page_309">309</a>, <a href="#Page_310">310</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">growing prevalence, <a href="#Page_330">330</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Doctors, <a href="#Page_443">443</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1"><i>see also</i> <a href="#Disease">Disease</a>; <a href="#Physicians">Physicians</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Dogmatic criticism, <a href="#Page_100">100</a>, <a href="#Page_108">108</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Domestic Relations Courts, <a href="#Page_72">72</a>, <a href="#Page_331">331</a>, <a href="#Page_332">332</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Double personality, <a href="#Page_433">433</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Dowden, Edward, <a href="#Page_504">504</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Drachsler, Julius, <a href="#Page_375">375</a>, <a href="#Page_376">376</a>, <a href="#Page_377">377</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Drama. <i>See</i> <a href="#Theatre">Theatre</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Drama League, <a href="#Page_247">247</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Dreadnought Hams, <a href="#Page_386">386</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Dreiser, Theodore, <a href="#Page_181">181</a>, <a href="#Page_182">182</a>, <a href="#Page_189">189</a>, <a href="#Page_196">196</a>, <a href="#Page_286">286</a></li> - -<li class="ifrst">East, the, <a href="#Page_112">112</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Economic democracy, <a href="#Page_339">339</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Economic liberty, <a href="#Page_276">276</a></li> - -<li class="indx"><a id="Economic_opinion2"></a>Economic opinion, <a href="#Page_255">255–270</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">basis and value, <a href="#Page_270">270</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">opportunities, <a href="#Page_346">346</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">bibliography, <a href="#Page_543">543</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">radicalism, <a href="#Page_276">276</a>, <a href="#Page_277">277</a>, <a href="#Page_278">278</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">volume, <a href="#Page_269">269–270</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Economics, classical, <a href="#Page_259">259</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">facts and statistics, <a href="#Page_268">268</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">“fundamental,” <a href="#Page_273">273</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">immigration and, <a href="#Page_338">338</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">newer, <a href="#Page_544">544</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">protest, <a href="#Page_263">263</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">system, <a href="#Page_517">517</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">waste, <a href="#Page_284">284</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Eddy, Mrs. Mary Baker, <a href="#Page_443">443</a>, <a href="#Page_498">498</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Edison, T. A., <a href="#Page_436">436</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Editors, <a href="#Page_36">36</a></li> - -<li class="indx"><a id="Education2"></a>Education, <a href="#Page_77">77–92</a>, <a href="#Page_524">524</a>, <a href="#Page_525">525</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">bibliography, <a href="#Page_534">534</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">corrupt practices, <a href="#Page_90">90</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">Dewey’s philosophy, <a href="#Page_175">175</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">engineering, <a href="#Page_423">423</a>, <a href="#Page_424">424</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">enthusiasm for, <a href="#Page_109">109</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">feminization, <a href="#Page_317">317</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">general and special, <a href="#Page_81">81</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">medical, <a href="#Page_455">455</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">State and, <a href="#Page_89">89</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">superficial, <a href="#Page_82">82</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">superstitious mood toward, <a href="#Page_77">77</a>, <a href="#Page_78">78</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Edwards, Jonathan, <a href="#Page_164">164</a>, <a href="#Page_165">165</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Efficiency, <a href="#Page_471">471</a>, <a href="#Page_478">478</a>, <a href="#Page_481">481</a>, <a href="#Page_482">482</a>, <a href="#Page_484">484</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">social, <a href="#Page_175">175</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Egoism, <a href="#Page_197">197</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Eight-hour day, <a href="#Page_275">275</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Elderton-Pearson report, <a href="#Page_453">453</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Election machinery, <a href="#Page_281">281</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Elections, <a href="#Page_281">281</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Elective system in education, <a href="#Page_79">79</a>, <a href="#Page_119">119</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Electric lighting, <a href="#Page_14">14</a></li> - -<li class="indx"><span class="pagenum" id="Page_570">570</span>Electrical engineers, <a href="#Page_417">417</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Eliot, C. W., <a href="#Page_79">79</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Eliot, T. S., <a href="#Page_218">218</a>, <a href="#Page_221">221</a>, <a href="#Page_222">222</a>, <a href="#Page_223">223</a>, <a href="#Page_224">224</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Elizabethan literature, <a href="#Page_220">220</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Ellis Island, <a href="#Page_341">341</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Emerson, R. W., <a href="#Page_138">138</a>, <a href="#Page_164">164</a>, <a href="#Page_165">165</a>, <a href="#Page_184">184</a>, <a href="#Page_195">195</a>, <a href="#Page_494">494</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Emotion, <a href="#Page_203">203</a>, <a href="#Page_209">209</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">crisis, <a href="#Page_315">315</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">lack, vii;</li> -<li class="isub1">mother-love, <a href="#Page_437">437</a>, <a href="#Page_438">438</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">sex, <a href="#Page_310">310</a>, <a href="#Page_317">317</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Emotionality, <a href="#Page_176">176</a></li> - -<li class="indx">“Emperor Jones,” <a href="#Page_360">360</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Empiricism, <a href="#Page_172">172</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Employer and employé, <a href="#Page_483">483</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Employés’ welfare, <a href="#Page_484">484</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Employment, <a href="#Page_482">482</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Engineering, <a href="#Page_417">417–425</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">bibliography, <a href="#Page_552">552</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">bulwark and inspiration, <a href="#Page_424">424</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">new problems, <a href="#Page_418">418</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Engineers, capital and labour, relation to, <a href="#Page_420">420</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">educational background, <a href="#Page_423">423</a>, <a href="#Page_424">424</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">formulating a policy, <a href="#Page_420">420</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">intellectual limitations, <a href="#Page_423">423</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">intelligence, <a href="#Page_455">455</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">larger function, <a href="#Page_418">418</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">original function, <a href="#Page_418">418</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">position, <a href="#Page_432">432</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">symbolic speculations, <a href="#Page_423">423</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">typical, <a href="#Page_417">417</a></li> - -<li class="indx">England, <a href="#Page_512">512</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">bond with America, <a href="#Page_473">473</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">competition with America, and courses open, <a href="#Page_474">474</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">proletariat, <a href="#Page_485">485</a>, <a href="#Page_487">487</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">war and post-war conditions, <a href="#Page_487">487</a></li> - -<li class="indx">English language professors, <a href="#Page_96">96</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Englishman’s view of American civilization, <a href="#Page_469">469–488</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Englishmen, as immigrants, <a href="#Page_472">472</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">character, <a href="#Page_476">476</a>, <a href="#Page_477">477</a>, <a href="#Page_478">478</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Erie Railroad, <a href="#Page_72">72</a>, <a href="#Page_409">409</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Ethics, <a href="#Page_174">174</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Ettinger, W. L., <a href="#Page_87">87</a>, <a href="#Page_88">88</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Eucken, R. C., <a href="#Page_167">167</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Europe, American attitude to, <a href="#Page_486">486</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">attraction, <a href="#Page_238">238</a>, <a href="#Page_239">239</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">civilization and culture, <a href="#Page_511">511</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">history, <a href="#Page_510">510</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">impoverishment, <a href="#Page_473">473</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">problem, <a href="#Page_511">511</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Evangelical literature, <a href="#Page_496">496</a>, <a href="#Page_497">497</a></li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Evening Sun</i>, <a href="#Page_250">250</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Exchange, <a href="#Page_413">413</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Exercise, <a href="#Page_458">458</a>, <a href="#Page_461">461</a></li> - -<li class="ifrst">Factory workers, <a href="#Page_9">9</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Facts, <a href="#Page_313">313</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Faith, <a href="#Page_78">78</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">defending, <a href="#Page_163">163</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">intellectual, <a href="#Page_515">515</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Faithful servant, <a href="#Page_320">320</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Family, <a href="#Page_319">319–336</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">bibliography, <a href="#Page_548">548</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">financial arrangements, <a href="#Page_324">324</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">income, and distribution, <a href="#Page_323">323</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">influence on children 335;</li> -<li class="isub1">nomadic habit, <a href="#Page_333">333</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">public opinion, <a href="#Page_319">319</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">reduction in size, <a href="#Page_320">320</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">reunions, <a href="#Page_294">294</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Farmer-Labour Party, <a href="#Page_280">280</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Farming and alien immigrants, <a href="#Page_346">346</a>, <a href="#Page_347">347</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Fear, <a href="#Page_340">340</a>, <a href="#Page_341">341</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Federated Press, The, <a href="#Page_50">50</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Feminization, <a href="#Page_135">135</a>, <a href="#Page_143">143</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">education, <a href="#Page_317">317</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">music, <a href="#Page_205">205</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Ferguson, O. G., <a href="#Page_359">359</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Fiction, American, <a href="#Page_495">495</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">college, <a href="#Page_536">536</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">sporting, <a href="#Page_554">554</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Fish phosphates, <a href="#Page_431">431</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Fiske, John, <a href="#Page_185">185</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Five and ten cent store, <a href="#Page_9">9</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Fletcher, J. G., <a href="#Page_218">218</a>, <a href="#Page_220">220</a>, <a href="#Page_221">221</a>, <a href="#Page_222">222</a>, <a href="#Page_223">223</a>, <a href="#Page_226">226</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Flexner, Simon, <a href="#Page_154">154</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Focal infection, <a href="#Page_448">448</a>, <a href="#Page_449">449</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Folin, Otto, <a href="#Page_456">456</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Folksong, <a href="#Page_211">211</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Food, children’s, <a href="#Page_334">334</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Food products, <a href="#Page_401">401</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Football, <a href="#Page_459">459</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Ford, Henry, <a href="#Page_298">298</a>, <a href="#Page_299">299</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Foreign relations, <a href="#Page_486">486</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Foreign trade, <a href="#Page_414">414</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Foreign views of American civilization, bibliography, <a href="#Page_555">555</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">Englishman’s, <a href="#Page_469">469–488</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">Irishman’s, <a href="#Page_489">489–507</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">Italian’s, <a href="#Page_508">508–528</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Foreigners, <a href="#Page_275">275</a>, <a href="#Page_441">441</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">musical composers, <a href="#Page_199">199</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1"><i>see also</i> <a href="#Aliens">Aliens</a>; <a href="#Immigration">Immigration</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Fosdick, Raymond, <a href="#Page_70">70</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Foster, W. Z., <a href="#Page_282">282</a></li> - -<li class="indx">France, journalism, <a href="#Page_39">39</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">medicine, <a href="#Page_434">434</a></li> - -<li class="indx">France, Anatole, <a href="#Page_142">142</a>, <a href="#Page_180">180</a>, <a href="#Page_494">494</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Francis Galton Laboratory, <a href="#Page_453">453</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Fraternal orders, <a href="#Page_6">6</a>, <a href="#Page_34">34</a>, <a href="#Page_290">290</a>, <a href="#Page_291">291</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Fraternities, <a href="#Page_5">5</a>, <a href="#Page_6">6</a></li> - -<li class="indx"><a id="Freedom"></a>Freedom, <a href="#Page_275">275</a>, <a href="#Page_489">489</a>, <a href="#Page_490">490</a>, <a href="#Page_491">491</a>, <a href="#Page_519">519</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">in love, <a href="#Page_309">309</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">sexes in youth, <a href="#Page_313">313</a>, <a href="#Page_315">315</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">speech, <a href="#Page_74">74</a>, <a href="#Page_75">75</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">thought, <a href="#Page_86">86</a>, <a href="#Page_87">87</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1"><i>see also</i> <a href="#Liberty">Liberty</a></li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Freeman</i>, <a href="#Page_51">51</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Frémont, J. C., <a href="#Page_151">151</a></li> - -<li class="indx">French, D. C., <a href="#Page_236">236</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Freshmen, <a href="#Page_119">119</a>, <a href="#Page_120">120</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Freud, Sigmund, <a href="#Page_433">433</a>, <a href="#Page_434">434</a>, <a href="#Page_435">435</a>, <a href="#Page_436">436</a>, <a href="#Page_437">437</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">books on, <a href="#Page_435">435</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Friedenwald, Julius, <a href="#Page_452">452</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Front parlour, <a href="#Page_297">297</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Frontier, <a href="#Page_301">301</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Frost, Robert, <a href="#Page_184">184</a>, <a href="#Page_218">218</a>, <a href="#Page_221">221</a>, <a href="#Page_222">222</a>, <a href="#Page_226">226</a>, <a href="#Page_503">503</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Freude, J. A., on Americans, <a href="#Page_184">184</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Fugitive slave law, <a href="#Page_58">58</a></li> - -<li class="indx">“Fundamental economics,” <a href="#Page_273">273</a></li> - -<li class="indx">“Fussing,” <a href="#Page_129">129</a></li> - -<li class="ifrst"><i>Ga-Ga</i>, <a href="#Page_449">449</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Galileo, <a href="#Page_152">152</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Galli-Curci, Amelita, <a href="#Page_206">206</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Galsworthy, John, <a href="#Page_243">243</a>, <a href="#Page_244">244</a>, <a href="#Page_250">250</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Galton (Francis) Laboratory, <a href="#Page_453">453</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Garrett, Garet, on business, <a href="#Page_397">397–415</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Gary, Ind., <a href="#Page_12">12</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Gauguin, Paul, <a href="#Page_189">189</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Geddes, Patrick, <a href="#Page_531">531</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Generosity, <a href="#Page_523">523</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Genius, <a href="#Page_183">183</a>, <a href="#Page_188">188</a>, <a href="#Page_190">190</a>, <a href="#Page_194">194</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Genteel tradition, the, <a href="#Page_147">147</a>, <a href="#Page_148">148</a>, <a href="#Page_163">163</a>, <a href="#Page_167">167</a></li> - -<li class="indx">“Gentleman and scholar,” <a href="#Page_94">94</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Georgia, legislature, <a href="#Page_64">64</a></li> - -<li class="indx">German beer-garden, <a href="#Page_10">10</a></li> - -<li class="indx">German idealism, <a href="#Page_164">164</a></li> - -<li class="indx">German State, <a href="#Page_302">302</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Ghost Dance, <a href="#Page_372">372</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Gibbs, Willard, <a href="#Page_152">152</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Gilbert, G. K., <a href="#Page_153">153</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Gimbel Brothers, <a href="#Page_46">46</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Glad hand, <a href="#Page_5">5</a></li> - -<li class="indx">God, <a href="#Page_166">166</a>, <a href="#Page_439">439</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">colour of, <a href="#Page_370">370</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Gold in California, <a href="#Page_403">403</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Golf, <a href="#Page_459">459</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Gopher Prairie, <a href="#Page_19">19</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Gorgas, W. C., <a href="#Page_450">450</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Gorky, Maxim, <a href="#Page_180">180</a>, <a href="#Page_190">190</a>, <a href="#Page_192">192</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Gould, Jay, <a href="#Page_410">410</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Gourmont, Rémy de, <a href="#Page_494">494</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Government, <a href="#Page_275">275</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">business and, <a href="#Page_48">48</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Grade schools, <a href="#Page_84">84</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Graham, Stephen, <a href="#Page_365">365</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Grandeur, <a href="#Page_397">397</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Grape juice, <a href="#Page_451">451</a></li> - -<li class="indx">“Great American novel,” <a href="#Page_93">93</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Greatness, <a href="#Page_190">190</a>, <a href="#Page_191">191</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Greeley, Horace, <a href="#Page_37">37</a>, <a href="#Page_330">330</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Griffes, Charles, <a href="#Page_212">212</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Group medicine, <a href="#Page_446">446–447</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Group opinions, <a href="#Page_161">161</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Grub Street, <a href="#Page_189">189</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Guinea-pigs, <a href="#Page_452">452</a></li> - -<li class="indx"><span class="pagenum" id="Page_571">571</span>Gullibility, <a href="#Page_443">443</a>, <a href="#Page_449">449</a></li> - -<li class="ifrst">Hamilton, W. H., on economic opinion, <a href="#Page_255">255–270</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Hamsun, Knut, <a href="#Page_180">180</a>, <a href="#Page_192">192</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Hancock, John, <a href="#Page_399">399</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Hardy, Thomas, <a href="#Page_180">180</a>, <a href="#Page_190">190</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Harris, William, Jr., <a href="#Page_245">245</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Harvard College, <a href="#Page_78">78</a>, <a href="#Page_79">79</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">democracy, <a href="#Page_119">119</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Harvard Medical School, <a href="#Page_443">443</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Hawthorne, Nathaniel, <a href="#Page_185">185</a>, <a href="#Page_195">195</a></li> - -<li class="indx">“H. D.,” <a href="#Page_221">221</a>, <a href="#Page_223">223</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Health, exercise and, <a href="#Page_458">458</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">politics and, <a href="#Page_451">451</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Health, Board of, <a href="#Page_304">304</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Health crusade, <a href="#Page_450">450</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Hearst newspapers, <a href="#Page_43">43</a>, <a href="#Page_139">139</a>, <a href="#Page_501">501</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Heathen, <a href="#Page_450">450</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Helmholtz, H. L. F. von, <a href="#Page_159">159</a>, <a href="#Page_160">160</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Herbert, Victor, <a href="#Page_209">209</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Herd sense, <a href="#Page_311">311</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Hero-worship, <a href="#Page_461">461</a></li> - -<li class="indx">High schools, <a href="#Page_83">83</a>, <a href="#Page_114">114</a>, <a href="#Page_525">525</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Highbrow, <a href="#Page_131">131</a>, <a href="#Page_209">209</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Higher law, <a href="#Page_58">58</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Hill, G. W., <a href="#Page_153">153</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Historians, <a href="#Page_95">95</a>, <a href="#Page_302">302</a>, <a href="#Page_306">306</a>, <a href="#Page_307">307</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">scientific, <a href="#Page_303">303</a>, <a href="#Page_304">304</a></li> - -<li class="indx">History, <a href="#Page_95">95</a>, <a href="#Page_297">297–38</a>, <a href="#Page_509">509</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">American, <a href="#Page_298">298</a>, <a href="#Page_299">299</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">as an art, <a href="#Page_303">303</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">bibliography, <a href="#Page_547">547</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">early settlers, <a href="#Page_300">300</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">popular estimate, <a href="#Page_298">298</a>, <a href="#Page_308">308</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Hoar, E. R., quoted on law and private judgment, <a href="#Page_58">58</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Hocking, W. E., <a href="#Page_167">167</a>, <a href="#Page_168">168</a>, <a href="#Page_172">172</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Holmes, Justice O. W., quoted on criminal law, <a href="#Page_70">70</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">quoted on the law, <a href="#Page_75">75</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Holt, E. B., <a href="#Page_435">435</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Home, <a href="#Page_332">332</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Homer, Winslow, <a href="#Page_233">233</a>, <a href="#Page_234">234</a>, <a href="#Page_236">236</a>, <a href="#Page_237">237</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Honesty in business, <a href="#Page_405">405</a>, <a href="#Page_409">409</a>, <a href="#Page_410">410</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Honourables, <a href="#Page_295">295</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Hopkins, Arthur, <a href="#Page_245">245</a>, <a href="#Page_251">251</a>, <a href="#Page_253">253</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Hopkins, E. M., quoted on propaganda, <a href="#Page_86">86</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Hopwood, Avery, <a href="#Page_249">249</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Horse racing, <a href="#Page_459">459</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Hotels, <a href="#Page_293">293</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Hours of work for women, <a href="#Page_73">73</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Housewife, <a href="#Page_325">325</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Howe, F. C., on the alien, <a href="#Page_337">337–350</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Howells, W. D., <a href="#Page_184">184</a>, <a href="#Page_191">191</a>, <a href="#Page_192">192</a>, <a href="#Page_194">194</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Hubbard, Elbert, <a href="#Page_42">42</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Hughes, C. E., <a href="#Page_50">50</a>, <a href="#Page_63">63</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Human civilization, <a href="#Page_508">508</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Humanism, <a href="#Page_509">509</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">Italy, <a href="#Page_510">510</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Humboldt, Alexander von, <a href="#Page_151">151</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Humour, viii, <a href="#Page_463">463–466</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Husbands, <a href="#Page_316">316</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">as providers, <a href="#Page_324">324</a>, <a href="#Page_325">325</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Hypnotism, <a href="#Page_433">433</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Hypocrisy, <a href="#Page_252">252</a>, <a href="#Page_338">338</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Hysteria, <a href="#Page_433">433</a>, <a href="#Page_438">438</a></li> - -<li class="ifrst">Ibsen, Henrik, <a href="#Page_197">197</a>, <a href="#Page_503">503</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Idealism, advertising, <a href="#Page_385">385</a>, <a href="#Page_394">394</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">American, <a href="#Page_164">164</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">German, <a href="#Page_164">164</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">peculiar American, <a href="#Page_515">515</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">reaction to, <a href="#Page_167">167</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Ideas, <a href="#Page_501">501</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">political, <a href="#Page_28">28</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">real test, <a href="#Page_144">144</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Ignorance, <a href="#Page_113">113</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Illusion, <a href="#Page_295">295</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Imagination, <a href="#Page_102">102</a>, <a href="#Page_103">103</a>, <a href="#Page_461">461</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Immigrants, <a href="#Page_440">440</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">English, <a href="#Page_472">472</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">law and, <a href="#Page_57">57</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">neurosis, <a href="#Page_441">441</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">protection, <a href="#Page_349">349</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">rapid rise and progress, <a href="#Page_345">345</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">savings, <a href="#Page_348">348</a></li> - -<li class="indx"><a id="Immigration"></a>Immigration, <a href="#Page_301">301</a>, <a href="#Page_404">404</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">cause, <a href="#Page_338">338</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">constructive policy, <a href="#Page_347">347</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">economic cause, <a href="#Page_338">338</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">hostility, <a href="#Page_340">340</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">old and new, <a href="#Page_338">338</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">percentage law, <a href="#Page_344">344</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">problem, <a href="#Page_337">337</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Immortality, <a href="#Page_171">171</a>, <a href="#Page_436">436</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Impressionism, <a href="#Page_105">105</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Impressionist criticism, <a href="#Page_108">108</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Impressionists, <a href="#Page_235">235</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Inalienable rights, <a href="#Page_274">274</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Incest-complex, <a href="#Page_438">438</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Independence Hall, <a href="#Page_11">11</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Indian reservations, <a href="#Page_363">363</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Indians, American, <a href="#Page_351">351</a>, <a href="#Page_356">356</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">Americanization, <a href="#Page_363">363</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">art influence, <a href="#Page_227">227–228</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">bibliography, <a href="#Page_550">550</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">culture and education, <a href="#Page_371">371</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">marriage with whites, <a href="#Page_376">376</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">religious movement, <a href="#Page_372">372</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">treatment, <a href="#Page_362">362</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Individual, <a href="#Page_258">258</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Individualism, <a href="#Page_287">287</a>, <a href="#Page_311">311</a>, <a href="#Page_439">439</a>, <a href="#Page_506">506</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Individuality, lack, <a href="#Page_36">36</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Industrial accidents, <a href="#Page_72">72</a>, <a href="#Page_73">73</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Industrial management, <a href="#Page_419">419</a>, <a href="#Page_421">421</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Industrial revolution, <a href="#Page_266">266</a>, <a href="#Page_516">516</a></li> - -<li class="indx">I. W. W., <a href="#Page_276">276</a>, <a href="#Page_282">282</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Industrialism, birth, <a href="#Page_9">9–10</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">city life, <a href="#Page_9">9</a>, <a href="#Page_10">10</a>, <a href="#Page_11">11</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">culture and, <a href="#Page_12">12</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">disputes, <a href="#Page_72">72</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">system, <a href="#Page_260">260</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1"><i>see also</i> <a href="#Labour_movement">Labour movement</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Industry, control, <a href="#Page_257">257</a>, <a href="#Page_263">263</a>, <a href="#Page_419">419</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">secrets, <a href="#Page_421">421</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Inhibitions, <a href="#Page_478">478</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Injustice, <a href="#Page_341">341</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Inness, George, <a href="#Page_233">233</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Insanity, <a href="#Page_452">452</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Instrumentalism, <a href="#Page_145">145</a>, <a href="#Page_168">168</a>, <a href="#Page_521">521</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Intellect, <a href="#Page_521">521</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">distrust of, <a href="#Page_519">519</a>, <a href="#Page_520">520</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">needs, <a href="#Page_527">527</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Intellectual anæmia, <a href="#Page_491">491</a>, <a href="#Page_492">492</a>, <a href="#Page_495">495</a>, <a href="#Page_501">501</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Intellectual faith, <a href="#Page_515">515</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Intellectual life, <a href="#Page_135">135–150</a>, <a href="#Page_523">523</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">backgrounds, <a href="#Page_146">146</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">bibliography, <a href="#Page_537">537</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">contempt for real values, <a href="#Page_145">145</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">cranks and mountebanks, <a href="#Page_147">147</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">pioneer point of view and, <a href="#Page_136">136</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Intellectualist, <a href="#Page_100">100</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Intellectualist criticism, <a href="#Page_108">108</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Intelligence, <a href="#Page_174">174</a></li> - -<li class="indx">International Exhibition of 1913, <a href="#Page_239">239</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Interstate Commerce Commission, <a href="#Page_68">68</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Intolerance, <a href="#Page_430">430</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Investigators, <a href="#Page_156">156</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Ireland, <a href="#Page_493">493</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Irish, <a href="#Page_338">338</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Irishman’s view of American civilization, <a href="#Page_489">489–507</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Irving, Washington, <a href="#Page_186">186</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Isolation, <a href="#Page_188">188</a>, <a href="#Page_287">287</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Italian’s view of American civilization, <a href="#Page_508">508–528</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Italy, humanism, <a href="#Page_510">510</a></li> - -<li class="ifrst">James, Henry, <a href="#Page_183">183</a>, <a href="#Page_190">190</a>, <a href="#Page_503">503</a></li> - -<li class="indx">James, William, <a href="#Page_82">82</a>, <a href="#Page_540">540</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">eminence, <a href="#Page_152">152</a>, <a href="#Page_154">154</a>, <a href="#Page_155">155</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">on genius, <a href="#Page_194">194</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">pragmatism, <a href="#Page_171">171</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">psychology, <a href="#Page_170">170</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Janet, Pierre, <a href="#Page_433">433</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Japanese, <a href="#Page_373">373</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">Californians and, <a href="#Page_364">364</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">dislike and fear of, <a href="#Page_357">357</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Jefferson, Thomas, <a href="#Page_274">274</a>, <a href="#Page_275">275</a>, <a href="#Page_276">276</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Jensen, J. V., <a href="#Page_180">180</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Jews, <a href="#Page_351">351</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">bibliography, <a href="#Page_551">551</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">jealousy and fear of, <a href="#Page_356">356</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">manifestations of prejudice against, <a href="#Page_363">363</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">mixed marriages, <a href="#Page_376">376</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">place, <a href="#Page_372">372</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">religion, <a href="#Page_373">373</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Jim Crow regulations, <a href="#Page_358">358</a>, <a href="#Page_360">360</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Joan of Arc, canonization, <a href="#Page_428">428</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Johnson, Lionel, <a href="#Page_499">499</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Jokes, <a href="#Page_463">463</a></li> - -<li class="indx"><a id="Journalism2"></a>Journalism, <a href="#Page_35">35–51</a>, <a href="#Page_180">180</a>, <a href="#Page_501">501</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">bibliography, <a href="#Page_533">533</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">England, <a href="#Page_38">38</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">European continent, <a href="#Page_39">39</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">musical, <a href="#Page_209">209</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Journalists, <a href="#Page_36">36</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">courage and integrity, <a href="#Page_40">40</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">“training and outlook,” <a href="#Page_41">41</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Judges, <a href="#Page_65">65</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">selection and training, <a href="#Page_66">66</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">unfair treatment, <a href="#Page_67">67</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Judiciary, <a href="#Page_66">66</a></li> - -<li class="indx"><span class="pagenum" id="Page_572">572</span>Jumel Mansion, <a href="#Page_231">231</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Jung, C. G., <a href="#Page_436">436</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Justice, Minister of, <a href="#Page_66">66</a></li> - -<li class="ifrst">Kallen, H. M., quoted on control of education, <a href="#Page_91">91</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Kansas, <a href="#Page_429">429</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">industrial court, <a href="#Page_73">73</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Kempf, E. J., <a href="#Page_435">435</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Kent, James, <a href="#Page_56">56</a>, <a href="#Page_62">62</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Keynes, J. M., <a href="#Page_506">506</a></li> - -<li class="indx">King, Willford, <a href="#Page_324">324</a>, <a href="#Page_326">326</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Knowledge, <a href="#Page_131">131</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Kodak, <a href="#Page_18">18</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Korsakow’s disease, <a href="#Page_451">451</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Kraepelin, Emil, <a href="#Page_433">433</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Kreymborg, Alfred, <a href="#Page_221">221</a>, <a href="#Page_223">223</a>, <a href="#Page_224">224</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Ku Klux Klan, <a href="#Page_290">290</a>, <a href="#Page_359">359</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Kuttner, A. B., on nerves, <a href="#Page_427">427–442</a></li> - -<li class="ifrst">Labour, American and English, <a href="#Page_485">485</a>, <a href="#Page_486">486</a></li> - -<li class="indx"><a id="Labour_movement"></a>Labour movement, <a href="#Page_193">193</a>, <a href="#Page_277">277</a>, <a href="#Page_278">278</a>, <a href="#Page_281">281</a>, <a href="#Page_282">282</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">engineers and, <a href="#Page_420">420</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Labour organization, <a href="#Page_72">72</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Labour-saving devices, <a href="#Page_402">402</a></li> - -<li class="indx">La Forge, John, <a href="#Page_235">235</a></li> - -<li class="indx"><i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">Laissez-faire</i> economics, <a href="#Page_256">256</a>, <a href="#Page_257">257</a>, <a href="#Page_543">543</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Land, colonies and settlement, <a href="#Page_347">347</a>, <a href="#Page_348">348</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">free, <a href="#Page_339">339</a>, <a href="#Page_343">343</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">immigration and, <a href="#Page_339">339</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">speculation, <a href="#Page_7">7</a>, <a href="#Page_8">8</a>, <a href="#Page_347">347</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Landscape painters, <a href="#Page_232">232</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Langdell, C. C., <a href="#Page_69">69</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Language of American leaders, <a href="#Page_478">478</a>, <a href="#Page_479">479</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Lanier, Sidney, <a href="#Page_187">187</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Lardner, R. W., on sport and play, <a href="#Page_457">457–461</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Law, <a href="#Page_53">53–75</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">bibliography, <a href="#Page_533">533</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">delays, expenses, etc., <a href="#Page_71">71</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">disrespect for, <a href="#Page_57">57</a>, <a href="#Page_58">58</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">early hostility to English, <a href="#Page_54">54</a>, <a href="#Page_56">56</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">flings at, <a href="#Page_53">53</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">lack of progress, <a href="#Page_63">63</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">newspaper discussion needed, <a href="#Page_63">63</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">obligation, <a href="#Page_57">57</a>, <a href="#Page_58">58</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">private judgment and, <a href="#Page_58">58</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">real defect, <a href="#Page_62">62</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Law schools, <a href="#Page_68">68</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Lawyers, <a href="#Page_53">53</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">changing function, <a href="#Page_58">58–59</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">laymen and, <a href="#Page_60">60</a>, <a href="#Page_61">61</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Laziness, <a href="#Page_366">366</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Leadership, industrial, <a href="#Page_425">425</a></li> - -<li class="indx">League of nations, <a href="#Page_53">53</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Learning, <a href="#Page_96">96</a>, <a href="#Page_108">108</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Legal aid societies, <a href="#Page_72">72</a>, <a href="#Page_331">331</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Legal education, <a href="#Page_68">68</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Legal systems, various, <a href="#Page_65">65</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Legislation and lawyers, <a href="#Page_60">60</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Legislatures and law reforms, <a href="#Page_64">64</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Leisure, <a href="#Page_139">139</a>, <a href="#Page_141">141</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Leisure class, <a href="#Page_491">491</a>, <a href="#Page_505">505</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Lenin, Nicolai, lying about, <a href="#Page_49">49</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Lewis, Sinclair, <a href="#Page_192">192</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Liberals, <a href="#Page_273">273</a></li> - -<li class="indx"><a id="Liberty"></a>Liberty, <a href="#Page_485">485</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">economic, <a href="#Page_276">276</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1"><i>see also</i> <a href="#Freedom">Freedom</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Libido theory, <a href="#Page_436">436</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Lick Observatory, <a href="#Page_158">158</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Lindsay, Vachel, <a href="#Page_218">218</a>, <a href="#Page_219">219</a>, <a href="#Page_220">220</a>, <a href="#Page_221">221</a>, <a href="#Page_222">222</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Lippmann, Walter, quoted on journalism, <a href="#Page_40">40</a>, <a href="#Page_43">43</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Literary test, <a href="#Page_344">344</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Literary theory, <a href="#Page_108">108</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Literature, morals and, <a href="#Page_101">101</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">three conceptions, <a href="#Page_101">101</a></li> - -<li class="indx"><a id="Literature_American"></a>Literature, American, <a href="#Page_93">93</a>, <a href="#Page_492">492–493</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">absence, and reasons therefor, <a href="#Page_504">504</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">bibliography, <a href="#Page_540">540</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">colonial, <a href="#Page_195">195</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">impotence of creative spirit, <a href="#Page_179">179</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">lack of leadership, <a href="#Page_189">189</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">namby-pamby books, <a href="#Page_495">495–496</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">radical, <a href="#Page_501">501</a>, <a href="#Page_502">502</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">school, <a href="#Page_196">196</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">variety, <a href="#Page_216">216</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Little red school-house, <a href="#Page_302">302</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Lloyd George, David, <a href="#Page_50">50</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Lodge, G. C., <a href="#Page_183">183</a>, <a href="#Page_184">184</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Loeb, Jacques, <a href="#Page_456">456</a></li> - -<li class="indx">London, Jack, <a href="#Page_182">182</a>, <a href="#Page_183">183</a>, <a href="#Page_192">192</a></li> - -<li class="indx">London <i>Labour Herald</i>, <a href="#Page_50">50</a></li> - -<li class="indx">London <i>Times</i>, <a href="#Page_38">38</a>, <a href="#Page_63">63</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Long haul, <a href="#Page_408">408</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Longevity, <a href="#Page_328">328</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Louisiana, early law, <a href="#Page_56">56</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Love, as an art, <a href="#Page_318">318</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">freedom in, <a href="#Page_309">309</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Lovett, R. M., on education as degradation of energy, <a href="#Page_77">77–92</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Low-browism, <a href="#Page_526">526</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Lowell, Amy, <a href="#Page_218">218</a>, <a href="#Page_220">220</a>, <a href="#Page_221">221</a>, <a href="#Page_222">222</a>, <a href="#Page_223">223</a>, <a href="#Page_226">226</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">on our poetry, <a href="#Page_215">215</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Lowie, R. H., on science—lack of fruitful background, <a href="#Page_151">151–161</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Lusk Committee, <a href="#Page_546">546</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Lusk law, <a href="#Page_88">88</a>, <a href="#Page_90">90</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Lyceum, <a href="#Page_6">6</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Lynching, <a href="#Page_359">359</a>, <a href="#Page_360">360</a></li> - -<li class="ifrst">Mabie, H. W., <a href="#Page_496">496</a></li> - -<li class="indx">McCormick reaper, <a href="#Page_402">402</a></li> - -<li class="indx">MacDowell, E. A., <a href="#Page_210">210</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Mach, Ernst, <a href="#Page_155">155</a>, <a href="#Page_156">156</a>, <a href="#Page_161">161</a>, <a href="#Page_539">539</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Machine politics, <a href="#Page_24">24</a>, <a href="#Page_26">26</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Machinery, <a href="#Page_402">402</a>, <a href="#Page_404">404</a></li> - -<li class="indx">McKim, C. F., <a href="#Page_11">11</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Macy, John, on journalism, <a href="#Page_35">35–51</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Madison Square Garden, <a href="#Page_11">11</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Magazines, <a href="#Page_189">189</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">radical, <a href="#Page_272">272</a>, <a href="#Page_273">273</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Maiden aunt, <a href="#Page_320">320</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Main Street, <a href="#Page_14">14</a>, <a href="#Page_204">204</a>, <a href="#Page_248">248</a>, <a href="#Page_287">287</a>, <a href="#Page_307">307</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Malnutrition, <a href="#Page_334">334</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Manchester <i>Guardian</i>, <a href="#Page_38">38</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Mandarins, <a href="#Page_493">493</a>, <a href="#Page_494">494</a>, <a href="#Page_500">500</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Manet, Edouard, <a href="#Page_240">240</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Mania a potu, <a href="#Page_451">451</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Mann, Horace, <a href="#Page_84">84</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Marden, O. S., <a href="#Page_496">496</a>, <a href="#Page_497">497</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Marriage, <a href="#Page_314">314</a>, <a href="#Page_315">315</a>, <a href="#Page_316">316</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">ages for, <a href="#Page_327">327</a>, <a href="#Page_328">328</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">Indians and whites, <a href="#Page_376">376</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">mixed, <a href="#Page_374">374</a>, <a href="#Page_375">375</a>, <a href="#Page_376">376</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">Negroes and whites, <a href="#Page_374">374</a>, <a href="#Page_375">375</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">protection, <a href="#Page_310">310</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">war and, <a href="#Page_331">331</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Married persons, <a href="#Page_316">316</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Mars, visitor from, and his thoughts, <a href="#Page_109">109</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Martians, <a href="#Page_110">110</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Martin, E. D., <a href="#Page_312">312</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Martin, Homer, <a href="#Page_233">233</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Masculine and feminine, <a href="#Page_143">143</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Masefield, John, <a href="#Page_503">503</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Mass fatalism, <a href="#Page_196">196</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Mass production, <a href="#Page_408">408</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Masters, E. L., <a href="#Page_184">184</a>, <a href="#Page_218">218</a>, <a href="#Page_221">221</a>, <a href="#Page_222">222</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Masturbation, <a href="#Page_311">311</a>, <a href="#Page_454">454</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Materialism, <a href="#Page_97">97</a>, <a href="#Page_354">354</a>, <a href="#Page_481">481</a>, <a href="#Page_494">494</a>, <a href="#Page_516">516</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Mather, F. J., <a href="#Page_188">188</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Mating, <a href="#Page_310">310</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Maury, M. F., <a href="#Page_151">151</a></li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Mayflower</i>, <a href="#Page_350">350</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Mazzini, Giuseppe, <a href="#Page_511">511</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Meat-packing, <a href="#Page_401">401</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">idealism, <a href="#Page_385">385</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Mechanical engineers, <a href="#Page_417">417</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Mechanics’ Hall, <a href="#Page_10">10</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Medical education, <a href="#Page_455">455</a></li> - -<li class="indx"><a id="Medicine2"></a>Medicine, <a href="#Page_443">443–456</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">art of healing in America, <a href="#Page_446">446</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">bibliography, <a href="#Page_553">553</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">French, <a href="#Page_434">434</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">preventive, <a href="#Page_449">449</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">preventive, contamination by religion, <a href="#Page_454">454</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">preventive, retrogression, <a href="#Page_450">450</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">science and, <a href="#Page_444">444</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">specialization, and “group medicine,” <a href="#Page_446">446</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Melville, Herman, <a href="#Page_188">188</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Men and women, dichotomy, <a href="#Page_142">142</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Mencken, H. L., on aristocracy, <a href="#Page_193">193</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">on politics, <a href="#Page_21">21–34</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Mental hygiene, <a href="#Page_334">334</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Metaphysics, <a href="#Page_176">176</a>, <a href="#Page_433">433</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Metropolitan Opera House, <a href="#Page_199">199</a></li> - -<li class="indx"><span class="pagenum" id="Page_573">573</span>Metropolitanism, <a href="#Page_16">16</a>, <a href="#Page_17">17</a>, <a href="#Page_19">19</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Michelson, A. A., <a href="#Page_152">152</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Microbes, <a href="#Page_448">448</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Middle classes, <a href="#Page_326">326</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Middle West, towns, <a href="#Page_5">5</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Migration, <a href="#Page_301">301</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Miller, C. G., <a href="#Page_46">46</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Milling industry, <a href="#Page_401">401</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Milton, John, and Satan, <a href="#Page_103">103</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Minister of Justice, <a href="#Page_66">66</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Minorities, racial, <a href="#Page_351">351–379</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Mitchell, S. Weir, <a href="#Page_432">432</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Mob tyranny, <a href="#Page_441">441</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Money, <a href="#Page_112">112</a>, <a href="#Page_140">140</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">in college, <a href="#Page_118">118</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Morality, vi, <a href="#Page_526">526</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">alien population, <a href="#Page_346">346</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">art and literature and, <a href="#Page_101">101</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">business, <a href="#Page_405">405</a>, <a href="#Page_409">409</a>, <a href="#Page_410">410</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">realistic, <a href="#Page_170">170</a></li> - -<li class="indx">More, P. E., <a href="#Page_493">493</a>, <a href="#Page_498">498</a>, <a href="#Page_499">499</a>, <a href="#Page_500">500</a>, <a href="#Page_503">503</a>, <a href="#Page_544">544</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Morellet, Abbe, <a href="#Page_103">103</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Morgan, L. H., <a href="#Page_154">154</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Morgan, T. H., <a href="#Page_154">154</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Mormon Church, <a href="#Page_430">430</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Morrill Act, <a href="#Page_417">417</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Morse telegraph code, <a href="#Page_403">403</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Moses, M. J., <a href="#Page_180">180</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Mosquitoes and yellow fever, <a href="#Page_450">450</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Mother-love, <a href="#Page_437">437</a>, <a href="#Page_438">438</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Motion pictures, <a href="#Page_13">13</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">music accompaniment, <a href="#Page_212">212</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Motley, J. L., <a href="#Page_195">195</a>, <a href="#Page_303">303</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Mulattoes, <a href="#Page_374">374</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Mumford, Lewis, on the city, <a href="#Page_3">3–20</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Municipal Art societies, <a href="#Page_14">14</a></li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Munsey’s Magazine</i>, <a href="#Page_243">243</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Murry, J. M., on our poetry, <a href="#Page_215">215</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Music, <a href="#Page_199">199–214</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">American spirit, <a href="#Page_214">214</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">bibliography, <a href="#Page_541">541</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">classical and popular, <a href="#Page_209">209</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">composers, <a href="#Page_210">210</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">criticism, <a href="#Page_209">209</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">exotic, <a href="#Page_211">211</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">feminization, <a href="#Page_205">205</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">German, <a href="#Page_210">210</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">journalism, <a href="#Page_209">209</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">motion pictures and, <a href="#Page_212">212</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">Negro, <a href="#Page_211">211</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">technique, <a href="#Page_159">159</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Musical comedy, <a href="#Page_208">208</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Musical festivals, <a href="#Page_207">207</a></li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Musical Quarterly</i>, <a href="#Page_209">209</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Mysticism, <a href="#Page_172">172</a>, <a href="#Page_519">519</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Mythology, <a href="#Page_514">514</a>, <a href="#Page_515">515</a></li> - -<li class="ifrst">Napoleonic code, <a href="#Page_56">56</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Nathan, G. J., on the theatre, <a href="#Page_243">243–253</a></li> - -<li class="indx">National Education Association, <a href="#Page_78">78</a>, <a href="#Page_88">88</a></li> - -<li class="indx">National Federation of Musical Clubs, <a href="#Page_205">205</a></li> - -<li class="indx">National Research Council, report on intelligence, <a href="#Page_454">454</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Nationality, <a href="#Page_511">511</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Natural resources, <a href="#Page_257">257</a>, <a href="#Page_260">260</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Natural science, <a href="#Page_80">80</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Nature, <a href="#Page_164">164</a>, <a href="#Page_168">168</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Necessity, <a href="#Page_165">165</a>, <a href="#Page_168">168</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Negro Catechism, <a href="#Page_370">370</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Negro Declaration of Independence, <a href="#Page_370">370</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Negroes, <a href="#Page_351">351</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">bibliography, <a href="#Page_549">549</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">culture, <a href="#Page_371">371</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">decreasing proportion, <a href="#Page_355">355</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">economic progress, <a href="#Page_368">368</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">education, <a href="#Page_361">361</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">exodus organization, <a href="#Page_369">369</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">exodus to the North, <a href="#Page_360">360</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">in literature, <a href="#Page_360">360</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">international convention, <a href="#Page_370">370</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">marriage with whites, <a href="#Page_374">374</a>, <a href="#Page_375">375</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">music and religion, <a href="#Page_211">211</a>, <a href="#Page_368">368</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">new defiance of whites, <a href="#Page_367">367</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">Northern prejudice against, <a href="#Page_355">355</a>, <a href="#Page_359">359</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">repression in the South, <a href="#Page_358">358</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">Southern feeling about, <a href="#Page_354">354</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">white friends, <a href="#Page_361">361</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Nerve tonics, <a href="#Page_431">431</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Nerves, <a href="#Page_335">335</a>, <a href="#Page_427">427–442</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">bibliography, <a href="#Page_553">553</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Neurasthenia, <a href="#Page_430">430</a>, <a href="#Page_432">432</a>, <a href="#Page_433">433</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Neuroses, <a href="#Page_437">437</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Neurotics, <a href="#Page_427">427</a></li> - -<li class="indx">New England, <a href="#Page_179">179</a>, <a href="#Page_216">216</a>, <a href="#Page_301">301</a>, <a href="#Page_494">494</a>, <a href="#Page_502">502</a>, <a href="#Page_514">514</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">common law, <a href="#Page_54">54</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">culture, <a href="#Page_138">138</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">early trade, <a href="#Page_398">398</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">surplus women, <a href="#Page_327">327</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">town, <a href="#Page_3">3</a></li> - -<li class="indx">New Jersey, <a href="#Page_400">400</a></li> - -<li class="indx">New Realism, <a href="#Page_168">168</a></li> - -<li class="indx">New Realists, <a href="#Page_168">168</a>, <a href="#Page_169">169</a></li> - -<li class="indx"><i>New Republic</i>, <a href="#Page_51">51</a>, <a href="#Page_544">544</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">exposure of false nature of Russian news, <a href="#Page_49">49</a></li> - -<li class="indx">New York (City), <a href="#Page_16">16</a>, <a href="#Page_17">17</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">dominance, <a href="#Page_18">18</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">plan, <a href="#Page_7">7</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">School Board and trial of a teacher, <a href="#Page_86">86</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">theatre, <a href="#Page_243">243</a>, <a href="#Page_246">246</a></li> - -<li class="indx">New York (State), early law, <a href="#Page_55">55</a></li> - -<li class="indx">New York Board of Health, <a href="#Page_450">450</a></li> - -<li class="indx">New York <i>Call</i>, <a href="#Page_44">44</a></li> - -<li class="indx">New York Code of Civil Procedure, <a href="#Page_64">64</a></li> - -<li class="indx">New York <i>Globe</i>, <a href="#Page_44">44</a></li> - -<li class="indx">New York <i>Herald</i>, <a href="#Page_27">27</a></li> - -<li class="indx">New York <i>Nation</i>, <a href="#Page_46">46</a>, <a href="#Page_51">51</a>, <a href="#Page_544">544</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">exposure of false nature of Russian news, <a href="#Page_49">49</a></li> - -<li class="indx">New York <i>Sun</i>, <a href="#Page_250">250</a></li> - -<li class="indx">New York <i>Times</i>, <a href="#Page_27">27</a>, <a href="#Page_43">43</a>, <a href="#Page_46">46</a>, <a href="#Page_251">251</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">on parenthood, <a href="#Page_321">321</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">Russian news, character, <a href="#Page_49">49</a></li> - -<li class="indx">New York <i>Tribune</i>, <a href="#Page_36">36</a>, <a href="#Page_43">43</a></li> - -<li class="indx">New York <i>World</i>, <a href="#Page_36">36</a></li> - -<li class="indx">New Yorkers, <a href="#Page_285">285</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Newcomb, Simon, <a href="#Page_153">153</a>, <a href="#Page_155">155</a>, <a href="#Page_552">552</a></li> - -<li class="indx">News, rough recipe, <a href="#Page_38">38</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">sensational, <a href="#Page_45">45</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">world, <a href="#Page_48">48</a></li> - -<li class="indx">News services, <a href="#Page_47">47</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Newspaper writers’ organization, <a href="#Page_41">41</a></li> - -<li class="indx"><a id="Newspapers"></a>Newspapers, <a href="#Page_483">483</a>, <a href="#Page_532">532</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">advertising and corruption, <a href="#Page_389">389</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">advertisements, <a href="#Page_44">44</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">advertising, control by, <a href="#Page_46">46</a>, <a href="#Page_47">47</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">attitude toward the theatre, <a href="#Page_249">249</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">circulation, <a href="#Page_35">35</a>, <a href="#Page_43">43</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">Congressional reports, <a href="#Page_27">27</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">correspondents, <a href="#Page_37">37</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">counting-room control, <a href="#Page_45">45</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">influence, <a href="#Page_35">35</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">legal questions, <a href="#Page_63">63</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">readers uncritical, <a href="#Page_43">43</a>, <a href="#Page_44">44</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">stories, <a href="#Page_45">45</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1"><i>see also</i> <a href="#Journalism2">Journalism</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Nietzsche, F. W., <a href="#Page_187">187</a>, <a href="#Page_190">190</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Nomadism, <a href="#Page_333">333</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Non-conformism, reasoned, <a href="#Page_160">160</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Non-conformists, <a href="#Page_149">149</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Nonpartisan League, <a href="#Page_281">281</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Novelists, <a href="#Page_495">495</a>, <a href="#Page_496">496</a>, <a href="#Page_524">524</a></li> - -<li class="ifrst">Ochs, Adolph, <a href="#Page_49">49</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Offences, minor legal, <a href="#Page_70">70</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Office-holders, <a href="#Page_24">24</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Oil industry, <a href="#Page_400">400</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Old Guard, <a href="#Page_252">252</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Omnistic philosophy, <a href="#Page_433">433</a></li> - -<li class="indx">On the make, <a href="#Page_430">430</a>, <a href="#Page_440">440</a></li> - -<li class="indx">One Big Union, <a href="#Page_282">282</a></li> - -<li class="indx">O’Neill, Eugene, <a href="#Page_243">243</a>, <a href="#Page_244">244</a>, <a href="#Page_245">245</a>, <a href="#Page_248">248</a>, <a href="#Page_251">251</a>, <a href="#Page_360">360</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Open shop, <a href="#Page_346">346</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Opera, <a href="#Page_199">199</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Ophthalmoscope, <a href="#Page_159">159</a></li> - -<li class="indx"><a id="Opinion"></a>Opinion, <a href="#Page_148">148</a>, <a href="#Page_255">255</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1"><i>see also</i> <a href="#Economic_opinion2">Economic opinion</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Opportunity, <a href="#Page_522">522</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Optimism, <a href="#Page_517">517</a>, <a href="#Page_518">518</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Orchestras, <a href="#Page_199">199</a>, <a href="#Page_202">202</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Orchestration, <a href="#Page_201">201</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Orders, fraternal, <a href="#Page_6">6</a>, <a href="#Page_34">34</a>, <a href="#Page_290">290</a>, <a href="#Page_291">291</a></li> - -<li class="indx"><a id="Orientals"></a>Orientals, <a href="#Page_351">351</a>, <a href="#Page_357">357</a>, <a href="#Page_450">450</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">bibliography, <a href="#Page_551">551</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">culture, <a href="#Page_373">373</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">mixed marriages, <a href="#Page_376">376</a></li> - -<li class="indx">“Origin of Species,” <a href="#Page_163">163</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Over-production, <a href="#Page_413">413</a>, <a href="#Page_414">414</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">advertising and, <a href="#Page_390">390</a></li> - -<li class="ifrst">Pach, Walter, on art, <a href="#Page_227">227–241</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Panama Canal, <a href="#Page_450">450</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Panics, <a href="#Page_413">413</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Parades, <a href="#Page_291">291</a>, <a href="#Page_292">292</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Paranoia, <a href="#Page_434">434</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Parenthood, <a href="#Page_310">310</a>, <a href="#Page_321">321</a></li> - -<li class="indx"><span class="pagenum" id="Page_574">574</span>Paresis, <a href="#Page_453">453</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Paris, entry of Allied troops on July 14, 1919, <a href="#Page_469">469</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Parsons, E. C., on sex, <a href="#Page_309">309–318</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Party system, <a href="#Page_30">30</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Parvenus, <a href="#Page_106">106</a>, <a href="#Page_139">139</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Pasteur, Louis, <a href="#Page_446">446</a>, <a href="#Page_449">449</a>, <a href="#Page_539">539</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Pattee, F. L., <a href="#Page_498">498</a>, <a href="#Page_500">500</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Patterson, J. M., <a href="#Page_249">249</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Paul, the Apostle, <a href="#Page_314">314</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Pavements, <a href="#Page_14">14</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Payne, S. H., <a href="#Page_533">533</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Pearl, Raymond, <a href="#Page_452">452</a>, <a href="#Page_453">453</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Pearson, Karl, <a href="#Page_453">453</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Pedants, <a href="#Page_94">94</a>, <a href="#Page_97">97</a>, <a href="#Page_104">104</a>, <a href="#Page_108">108</a>, <a href="#Page_492">492</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Peirce, Charles, <a href="#Page_173">173</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Pensions, widows’, <a href="#Page_329">329</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Perfectibility, <a href="#Page_515">515</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Periodicals, <a href="#Page_50">50</a>, <a href="#Page_51">51</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Perry, R. B., <a href="#Page_170">170</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Personal charm, <a href="#Page_112">112</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Personality, <a href="#Page_106">106</a>, <a href="#Page_175">175</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">double, <a href="#Page_433">433</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">home and, <a href="#Page_335">335</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">lack, <a href="#Page_97">97</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">university life and, <a href="#Page_95">95</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">women, <a href="#Page_317">317</a>, <a href="#Page_318">318</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Petting, <a href="#Page_315">315</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Phase rule, <a href="#Page_152">152</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Philadelphia, dramatic taste, <a href="#Page_246">246</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Philadelphia <i>Press</i>, <a href="#Page_46">46</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Philosophers, American, <a href="#Page_522">522</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Philosophy, <a href="#Page_163">163–177</a>, <a href="#Page_517">517</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">American, <a href="#Page_521">521</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">bibliography, <a href="#Page_539">539</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Phosphates of fish, <a href="#Page_431">431</a></li> - -<li class="indx"><a id="Physicians"></a>Physicians, importance, <a href="#Page_443">443</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">intelligence, rank, <a href="#Page_454">454</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">modern kind, <a href="#Page_445">445–446</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">quasi-religious rôle, <a href="#Page_445">445</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">testimony, <a href="#Page_65">65</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Piccoli, Raffaello, on American civilization, <a href="#Page_508">508–528</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Picnics, pioneer, <a href="#Page_294">294</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Pictures, <a href="#Page_204">204</a>, <a href="#Page_236">236</a>, <a href="#Page_237">237</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Pioneers, <a href="#Page_97">97</a>, <a href="#Page_136">136</a>, <a href="#Page_137">137</a>, <a href="#Page_185">185</a>, <a href="#Page_193">193</a>, <a href="#Page_203">203</a>, <a href="#Page_294">294</a>, <a href="#Page_429">429</a>, <a href="#Page_441">441</a>, <a href="#Page_515">515</a>, <a href="#Page_516">516</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">hostility to law, <a href="#Page_57">57</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Pittsburgh, <a href="#Page_4">4</a>, <a href="#Page_10">10</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">newspapers and the steel strike, <a href="#Page_46">46</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Pittsburgh Survey of 1908, <a href="#Page_14">14</a>, <a href="#Page_531">531</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Platitude, <a href="#Page_497">497</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Play, <a href="#Page_457">457–461</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Playwrights, <a href="#Page_247">247</a>, <a href="#Page_248">248</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">foreign and American, <a href="#Page_249">249</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Plough, <a href="#Page_402">402</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Plumbing, <a href="#Page_14">14</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Poe, E. A., <a href="#Page_187">187</a>, <a href="#Page_194">194</a>, <a href="#Page_217">217</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Poetry, <a href="#Page_102">102</a>, <a href="#Page_215">215–226</a>, <a href="#Page_524">524</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">bibliography, <a href="#Page_541">541</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">definition, <a href="#Page_107">107</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">modern vigorousness, <a href="#Page_217">217</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">the “nonsense” of, <a href="#Page_103">103</a>, <a href="#Page_104">104</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">poetic consciousness, <a href="#Page_224">224</a>, <a href="#Page_225">225</a></li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Poetry: a Magazine of Verse</i>, <a href="#Page_217">217</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Poets, <a href="#Page_100">100</a>, <a href="#Page_102">102</a>, <a href="#Page_208">208</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">definition, <a href="#Page_108">108</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Police and law enforcement, <a href="#Page_70">70</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Political biography, <a href="#Page_532">532</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Political economy, bibliography, <a href="#Page_552">552</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Political ideas, <a href="#Page_28">28</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Political machinery, <a href="#Page_281">281</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Politicians, <a href="#Page_29">29</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">local, <a href="#Page_22">22</a>, <a href="#Page_23">23</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Politics, <a href="#Page_21">21–34</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">bibliography, <a href="#Page_532">532</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">health movements and, <a href="#Page_451">451</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Pool, <a href="#Page_460">460</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Poor. <i>See</i> <a href="#Poverty">Poverty</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Poor whites, <a href="#Page_355">355</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Population policies, <a href="#Page_322">322</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Pound, Ezra, <a href="#Page_217">217</a>, <a href="#Page_221">221</a>, <a href="#Page_223">223</a></li> - -<li class="indx"><a id="Poverty"></a>Poverty, <a href="#Page_187">187</a>, <a href="#Page_188">188</a>, <a href="#Page_277">277</a>, <a href="#Page_346">346</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">college life, <a href="#Page_118">118</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">injustice, <a href="#Page_71">71</a>, <a href="#Page_72">72</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">our forebears, <a href="#Page_337">337</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Power, <a href="#Page_397">397</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Practical, the, <a href="#Page_186">186</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Pragmatism, <a href="#Page_145">145</a>, <a href="#Page_170">170</a>, <a href="#Page_171">171</a>, <a href="#Page_173">173</a>, <a href="#Page_192">192</a>, <a href="#Page_521">521</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Preaching and practice, vi</li> - -<li class="indx">Prendergast, M. B., <a href="#Page_240">240</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Preparatory school, <a href="#Page_116">116</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Presidency, <a href="#Page_31">31</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Presidential campaigns, <a href="#Page_25">25</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Press. <i>See</i> <a href="#Journalism2">Journalism</a>; <a href="#Newspapers">newspapers</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Prevention of disease, <a href="#Page_449">449</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1"><i>see also</i> <a href="#Disease">Disease</a>; <a href="#Medicine2">Medicine</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Prices, open, <a href="#Page_409">409</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Primitiveness, <a href="#Page_479">479</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Primogeniture, <a href="#Page_55">55</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Prince, Morton, <a href="#Page_433">433</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Private property, <a href="#Page_259">259</a>, <a href="#Page_262">262</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Production, engineers and, <a href="#Page_421">421</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">mass, <a href="#Page_408">408</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Professionalism, <a href="#Page_554">554</a></li> - -<li class="indx"><a id="Professors"></a>Professors, <a href="#Page_96">96</a>, <a href="#Page_97">97</a>, <a href="#Page_193">193</a>, <a href="#Page_491">491</a>, <a href="#Page_527">527</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Profit, private, <a href="#Page_412">412</a>, <a href="#Page_413">413</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Profit-making, <a href="#Page_265">265</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Progress, legal lack of, <a href="#Page_63">63</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Prohibition, <a href="#Page_24">24</a>, <a href="#Page_29">29</a>, <a href="#Page_440">440</a>, <a href="#Page_451">451</a>, <a href="#Page_495">495</a>, <a href="#Page_505">505</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">consequences, <a href="#Page_71">71</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">origin of movement, <a href="#Page_287">287</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Promenade, <a href="#Page_8">8</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Promiscuity, <a href="#Page_438">438</a>, <a href="#Page_502">502</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Promised Land, <a href="#Page_515">515</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Propaganda, <a href="#Page_85">85</a>, <a href="#Page_86">86</a>, <a href="#Page_312">312</a>, <a href="#Page_440">440</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Property, governmental power over, <a href="#Page_74">74</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">private, <a href="#Page_259">259</a>, <a href="#Page_262">262</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">rights, <a href="#Page_259">259</a>, <a href="#Page_262">262</a>, <a href="#Page_412">412</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Protection, beginnings, <a href="#Page_399">399</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1"><i>see also</i> <a href="#Tariff">Tariff</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Protest, economic, <a href="#Page_263">263</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Provincial city, <a href="#Page_3">3</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Provincialism, <a href="#Page_286">286</a>, <a href="#Page_287">287</a>, <a href="#Page_366">366</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Prostitution, <a href="#Page_316">316</a>, <a href="#Page_317">317</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Prussia, educational system, <a href="#Page_84">84</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">family income, <a href="#Page_323">323</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Psychoanalysis, <a href="#Page_434">434</a>, <a href="#Page_435">435</a>, <a href="#Page_437">437</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Psychoanalysts, <a href="#Page_435">435</a>, <a href="#Page_437">437</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Psychology, James’, <a href="#Page_170">170</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Psychotherapy, <a href="#Page_433">433</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Public Health Service, <a href="#Page_450">450</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Public opinion. <i>See</i> <a href="#Economic_opinion2">Economic opinion</a>; <a href="#Opinion">Opinion</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Public service commissions, <a href="#Page_72">72</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Publicists, writings, <a href="#Page_496">496</a>, <a href="#Page_501">501</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Publicity pamphlets, <a href="#Page_483">483</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Publishing, <a href="#Page_112">112</a>, <a href="#Page_188">188</a>; music, <a href="#Page_210">210</a></li> - -<li class="indx">“Punch,” American, <a href="#Page_482">482</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Pure-food acts, <a href="#Page_406">406</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Puritan and Cavalier, <a href="#Page_512">512</a>, <a href="#Page_513">513</a>, <a href="#Page_514">514</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Puritanism, <a href="#Page_54">54</a>, <a href="#Page_57">57</a>, <a href="#Page_101">101</a>, <a href="#Page_104">104</a>, <a href="#Page_130">130</a>, <a href="#Page_203">203</a>, <a href="#Page_209">209</a>, <a href="#Page_212">212</a>, <a href="#Page_238">238</a>, <a href="#Page_252">252</a>, <a href="#Page_314">314</a>, <a href="#Page_439">439</a>, <a href="#Page_494">494</a>, <a href="#Page_504">504</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">culture, <a href="#Page_513">513</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">morbidity, <a href="#Page_502">502</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">original spirit, <a href="#Page_519">519</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">remnants, <a href="#Page_520">520</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Pushkin, A. S., <a href="#Page_190">190</a></li> - -<li class="ifrst">Quackery, <a href="#Page_431">431</a>, <a href="#Page_433">433</a>, <a href="#Page_443">443</a>, <a href="#Page_444">444</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Quality of commodities, <a href="#Page_406">406</a></li> - -<li class="ifrst">Race-prejudice, <a href="#Page_352">352</a>, <a href="#Page_353">353</a>, <a href="#Page_355">355</a>, <a href="#Page_377">377</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">manifestations, <a href="#Page_358">358</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">questions, <a href="#Page_378">378–379</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Race suicide, <a href="#Page_322">322</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Races, a quality or inequality, <a href="#Page_352">352</a>, <a href="#Page_353">353</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Rachmaninoff, S. V., <a href="#Page_206">206</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Racial minorities, <a href="#Page_351">351–379</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">attitude, in face of race-prejudice, <a href="#Page_367">367</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">bibliography, <a href="#Page_549">549</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">biological results, <a href="#Page_374">374</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">four most important, <a href="#Page_351">351</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">questions, <a href="#Page_378">378–379</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Radicalism, <a href="#Page_131">131</a>, <a href="#Page_174">174</a>, <a href="#Page_271">271–284</a>, <a href="#Page_505">505</a>, <a href="#Page_519">519</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">associations of the word, <a href="#Page_271">271</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">bibliography, <a href="#Page_545">545</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">definition, <a href="#Page_274">274</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">economic, <a href="#Page_276">276</a>, <a href="#Page_277">277</a>, <a href="#Page_278">278</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">historic American, <a href="#Page_274">274</a>, <a href="#Page_275">275</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">reality and, <a href="#Page_283">283</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">tendency, <a href="#Page_283">283</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Radicals, <a href="#Page_272">272</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Railroad stations, <a href="#Page_293">293</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Railroads, <a href="#Page_265">265</a>, <a href="#Page_401">401</a>, <a href="#Page_402">402</a>, <a href="#Page_403">403</a>, <a href="#Page_407">407</a>, <a href="#Page_411">411</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">rates and hauls, <a href="#Page_407">407</a>, <a href="#Page_408">408</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">rebates, <a href="#Page_408">408</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Rank, Otto, <a href="#Page_437">437</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Rates, railroad, <a href="#Page_407">407</a>, <a href="#Page_408">408</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Raw materials, <a href="#Page_257">257</a></li> - -<li class="indx"><span class="pagenum" id="Page_575">575</span>Reactionaries, <a href="#Page_273">273</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Realism, <a href="#Page_169">169</a>, <a href="#Page_204">204</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">new, <a href="#Page_168">168</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">small town, <a href="#Page_286">286</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Realistic morality, <a href="#Page_170">170</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Realists, <a href="#Page_168">168</a>, <a href="#Page_169">169</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Reaper, <a href="#Page_402">402</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Rebates, <a href="#Page_408">408</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Reconstruction, <a href="#Page_307">307</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Recreation, <a href="#Page_457">457</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">college, <a href="#Page_130">130</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Reform, <a href="#Page_174">174</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Reformation, Protestant, <a href="#Page_510">510</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Reformers, <a href="#Page_439">439–440</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Regional differentiations, <a href="#Page_111">111</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Registration areas, <a href="#Page_320">320</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Registration of deeds, <a href="#Page_55">55</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Reid, L. R., on the small town, <a href="#Page_285">285–296</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Relativity, <a href="#Page_152">152</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Religion, v, <a href="#Page_78">78</a>, <a href="#Page_167">167</a>, <a href="#Page_176">176</a>, <a href="#Page_427">427</a>, <a href="#Page_439">439</a>, <a href="#Page_508">508</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">founders, <a href="#Page_428">428</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">Puritan, <a href="#Page_513">513</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Religious movements, <a href="#Page_518">518</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Renaissance, <a href="#Page_94">94</a>, <a href="#Page_509">509</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">England, <a href="#Page_512">512</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Representatives, <a href="#Page_21">21</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Research, <a href="#Page_156">156</a>, <a href="#Page_157">157</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Resources, natural, <a href="#Page_257">257</a>, <a href="#Page_260">260</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Responsibility in business, <a href="#Page_410">410</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Results, <a href="#Page_174">174</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Revolution, <a href="#Page_280">280</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">England, prospect, <a href="#Page_474">474</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">Russian, <a href="#Page_278">278</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Revolutionary War, <a href="#Page_300">300</a>, <a href="#Page_399">399</a>, <a href="#Page_417">417</a>, <a href="#Page_515">515</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Rhode Island, Colonial legal training, <a href="#Page_55">55</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Richardson, H. H., <a href="#Page_11">11</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Riesenfeld, Hugo, <a href="#Page_213">213</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Rights and duties, <a href="#Page_72">72</a>, <a href="#Page_274">274</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Robinson, E. A., <a href="#Page_184">184</a>, <a href="#Page_217">217</a>, <a href="#Page_221">221</a>, <a href="#Page_222">222</a>, <a href="#Page_226">226</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Robinson, G. T., on racial minorities, <a href="#Page_351">351–379</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Robinson, J. H., vi, <a href="#Page_547">547</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Rockefeller Institute, <a href="#Page_158">158</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Rome, civilization, <a href="#Page_509">509</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Roosevelt, Theodore, <a href="#Page_26">26</a>, <a href="#Page_440">440</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">on race suicide, <a href="#Page_322">322</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Rosenau’s “Preventive Medicine and Hygiene,” <a href="#Page_453">453</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Rothafel, S. L., <a href="#Page_212">212</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Rowland, H. A., <a href="#Page_153">153</a>, <a href="#Page_158">158</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Royce, Josiah, <a href="#Page_165">165</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">ethics, <a href="#Page_166">166</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">philosophy of religion, <a href="#Page_167">167</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Russia, false news, <a href="#Page_49">49</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Russian Revolution, <a href="#Page_278">278</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Ryder, A. P., <a href="#Page_187">187</a>, <a href="#Page_233">233</a>, <a href="#Page_234">234</a>, <a href="#Page_237">237</a>, <a href="#Page_542">542</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Rymer, Thomas, <a href="#Page_103">103</a></li> - -<li class="ifrst">St. Louis, Mo., <a href="#Page_8">8</a>, <a href="#Page_10">10</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Sainte-Beuve, C. A., <a href="#Page_498">498</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Salesmanship, <a href="#Page_405">405</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Sandburg, Carl, <a href="#Page_103">103</a>, <a href="#Page_220">220</a>, <a href="#Page_221">221</a>, <a href="#Page_222">222</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Sanitariums, <a href="#Page_431">431</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Sanitary engineers, <a href="#Page_454">454</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Sankey, Justice, <a href="#Page_68">68</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Santayana, George, <a href="#Page_539">539</a>, <a href="#Page_540">540</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Sargent, J. S., <a href="#Page_234">234</a>, <a href="#Page_235">235</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Satire, <a href="#Page_247">247</a></li> - -<li class="indx"><i>Saturday Evening Post</i>, <a href="#Page_248">248</a>, <a href="#Page_286">286</a>, <a href="#Page_507">507</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Savings of aliens, <a href="#Page_348">348</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Scholarship, definition, <a href="#Page_94">94</a>, <a href="#Page_105">105</a>, <a href="#Page_108">108</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Scholarship and criticism, <a href="#Page_93">93–108</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">bibliography, <a href="#Page_535">535</a></li> - -<li class="indx">School and college life, <a href="#Page_109">109–133</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">bibliography, <a href="#Page_536">536</a></li> - -<li class="indx">School of literature, <a href="#Page_196">196</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Schoolmaster, <a href="#Page_301">301</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Schools, function, <a href="#Page_113">113</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">suppression of freedom of mind, <a href="#Page_86">86</a>, <a href="#Page_87">87</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Science, <a href="#Page_80">80</a>, <a href="#Page_436">436</a>, <a href="#Page_519">519</a>, <a href="#Page_522">522</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">American contributions, <a href="#Page_151">151–152</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">applied, <a href="#Page_146">146</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">applied and pure, <a href="#Page_155">155–156</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">bibliography, <a href="#Page_538">538</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">hothouse growth in America, <a href="#Page_155">155</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">individual and organized, <a href="#Page_156">156–157</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">lack of fruitful background, <a href="#Page_151">151–161</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">medicine and, <a href="#Page_444">444</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">results and self-doubt, <a href="#Page_169">169</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">theology versus, <a href="#Page_163">163</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Scientific schools, first, <a href="#Page_417">417</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Scientists, equipment, <a href="#Page_158">158</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">spirit, <a href="#Page_160">160</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Scope of the present volume, iv</li> - -<li class="indx">Scotch, <a href="#Page_338">338</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Scott, C. P., <a href="#Page_38">38</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Secondary schools, <a href="#Page_83">83</a>, <a href="#Page_114">114</a>, <a href="#Page_115">115</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">private, <a href="#Page_115">115–116</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Secret societies, <a href="#Page_290">290</a>, <a href="#Page_291">291</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Sects, <a href="#Page_518">518</a>, <a href="#Page_519">519</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Sensational news, <a href="#Page_45">45</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Sense and poetry, <a href="#Page_104">104</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Sentimentality, <a href="#Page_247">247</a>, <a href="#Page_252">252</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Servants, <a href="#Page_320">320</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Service, <a href="#Page_523">523</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Settlers, early, <a href="#Page_300">300</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">immigrant, <a href="#Page_343">343</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Sewers, <a href="#Page_14">14</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Sex, <a href="#Page_247">247</a>, <a href="#Page_309">309–318</a>, <a href="#Page_501">501</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">attitudes, <a href="#Page_314">314</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">bibliography, <a href="#Page_548">548</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">college relations, <a href="#Page_129">129</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">concept of sexuality, <a href="#Page_437">437</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">emotion, <a href="#Page_310">310</a>, <a href="#Page_317">317</a>, <a href="#Page_437">437</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">in children, <a href="#Page_436">436</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">morality, <a href="#Page_322">322</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">problem, <a href="#Page_436">436</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">relations, <a href="#Page_316">316</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">relations classified, <a href="#Page_313">313</a>, <a href="#Page_314">314</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">sublimation, <a href="#Page_312">312</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">suppression of instinct, <a href="#Page_311">311</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">youth and, <a href="#Page_526">526</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Shakespeare, William, <a href="#Page_220">220</a>, <a href="#Page_250">250</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Shaw, G. B., <a href="#Page_179">179</a>, <a href="#Page_192">192</a>, <a href="#Page_243">243</a>, <a href="#Page_244">244</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">on America, <a href="#Page_285">285</a></li> - -<li class="indx">“Shelburne Essays,” <a href="#Page_498">498</a>, <a href="#Page_500">500</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Sherman, Stuart, <a href="#Page_493">493</a>, <a href="#Page_500">500</a>, <a href="#Page_503">503</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Shirt-sleeve diplomacy, <a href="#Page_489">489</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Simplification of American life, <a href="#Page_479">479</a>, <a href="#Page_480">480</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Sinclair, Upton, and “The Brass Check,” <a href="#Page_41">41</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Single Tax, <a href="#Page_273">273</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Sissies, <a href="#Page_142">142</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Slang, <a href="#Page_112">112</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Slavery, <a href="#Page_354">354</a>, <a href="#Page_365">365</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Slopping over, <a href="#Page_471">471</a>, <a href="#Page_488">488</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Small Claims Courts, <a href="#Page_71">71</a></li> - -<li class="indx"><a id="Small_town"></a>Small town, <a href="#Page_285">285–296</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">bibliography, <a href="#Page_546">546</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">character, <a href="#Page_288">288</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">life, <a href="#Page_289">289</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Smith, J. Thorne, on advertising, <a href="#Page_381">381–395</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Smith, Reginald H., <a href="#Page_71">71</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Smith, Theobald, <a href="#Page_449">449</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Smoking, <a href="#Page_440">440</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Smuggling, <a href="#Page_399">399</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Soap, <a href="#Page_392">392</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Social hygiene, <a href="#Page_453">453</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Social life, <a href="#Page_526">526</a>, <a href="#Page_527">527</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">freedom of youth, <a href="#Page_313">313</a>, <a href="#Page_315">315</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Socialist Party, <a href="#Page_278">278</a>, <a href="#Page_279">279</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Society, <a href="#Page_516">516</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Society column, <a href="#Page_333">333</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Solicitor, advertising, <a href="#Page_388">388</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Soul and scholarship, <a href="#Page_98">98</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Soule, George, on radicalism, <a href="#Page_271">271–284</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Southern States, <a href="#Page_139">139</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">Negro repression, <a href="#Page_358">358</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">society, <a href="#Page_354">354</a>, <a href="#Page_365">365</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">white superiority, <a href="#Page_366">366</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Specialists, <a href="#Page_80">80</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Specialization, <a href="#Page_79">79</a>, <a href="#Page_80">80</a>, <a href="#Page_158">158</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">surgical, <a href="#Page_446">446</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Speculation in city land, <a href="#Page_7">7</a>, <a href="#Page_8">8</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Spingarn, J. E., <a href="#Page_535">535</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">on scholarship and criticism, <a href="#Page_93">93–108</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Spirit, <a href="#Page_518">518</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Spiritual activity, <a href="#Page_93">93</a>, <a href="#Page_98">98</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Spiritual needs, <a href="#Page_527">527</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Spiritual values, <a href="#Page_520">520</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Spoiled child, <a href="#Page_334">334</a></li> - -<li class="indx">“Spoon River Anthology,” <a href="#Page_221">221</a>, <a href="#Page_222">222</a>, <a href="#Page_226">226</a>, <a href="#Page_503">503</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Sport and play, <a href="#Page_457">457–461</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">bibliography, <a href="#Page_554">554</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Springfield <i>Republican</i>, <a href="#Page_38">38</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Standard Oil Co., <a href="#Page_409">409</a>, <a href="#Page_412">412</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Standardization, <a href="#Page_149">149</a>, <a href="#Page_150">150</a>, <a href="#Page_335">335</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">American, <a href="#Page_111">111</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">newspapers and readers, <a href="#Page_36">36</a></li> - -<li class="indx"><span class="pagenum" id="Page_576">576</span>Standards, economic, <a href="#Page_268">268</a></li> - -<li class="indx">State, business and, <a href="#Page_264">264</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">corporations and, <a href="#Page_412">412</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">diversity of legal systems, <a href="#Page_65">65</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">education and, <a href="#Page_89">89</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">German, <a href="#Page_302">302</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">legislatures, <a href="#Page_24">24</a>, <a href="#Page_31">31</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Stearns, H. E., on the intellectual life, <a href="#Page_135">135–150</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Sterility, <a href="#Page_148">148</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Stevens, Wallace, <a href="#Page_218">218</a>, <a href="#Page_221">221</a>, <a href="#Page_223">223</a>, <a href="#Page_224">224</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Stewart, A. T., <a href="#Page_405">405</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Stock Exchange, <a href="#Page_410">410</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Stockard, C. R., <a href="#Page_452">452</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Stories, newspaper, <a href="#Page_45">45</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Story, Joseph, <a href="#Page_54">54</a>, <a href="#Page_56">56</a>, <a href="#Page_62">62</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Strikes and the newspapers, <a href="#Page_46">46</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Stuart, H. L., on American civilization, <a href="#Page_469">469–488</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Student Councils, college, <a href="#Page_124">124</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Sturgis, Russell, quoted on art, <a href="#Page_237">237</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Style, <a href="#Page_106">106</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Sublimation of sex, <a href="#Page_312">312</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Suburbia, <a href="#Page_15">15</a>, <a href="#Page_19">19</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Success, <a href="#Page_517">517</a>, <a href="#Page_518">518</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Suffrage, <a href="#Page_143">143</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Sumner, W. G., <a href="#Page_543">543</a></li> - -<li class="indx">“Super-docs,” <a href="#Page_447">447</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Superstition, <a href="#Page_78">78</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Supply and demand, <a href="#Page_261">261</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Suppression of sex impulse, <a href="#Page_311">311</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Surgeons, <a href="#Page_446">446</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Swift, M. I., <a href="#Page_172">172</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Sydenstricker, Edgar, <a href="#Page_325">325</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Symbolists, <a href="#Page_503">503</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Symons, Arthur, <a href="#Page_499">499</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Sympathy, <a href="#Page_175">175</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">professional physician, <a href="#Page_445">445</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Symphony orchestras, <a href="#Page_199">199</a>, <a href="#Page_202">202</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Syphilis, <a href="#Page_453">453</a></li> - -<li class="ifrst">Taboos, <a href="#Page_315">315</a>, <a href="#Page_441">441</a>, <a href="#Page_494">494</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Talk, college, <a href="#Page_130">130</a></li> - -<li class="indx"><a id="Tariff"></a>Tariff, <a href="#Page_399">399</a>, <a href="#Page_414">414</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">works of art, <a href="#Page_230">230</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Tarkington, Booth, <a href="#Page_243">243</a>, <a href="#Page_248">248</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Taste, <a href="#Page_106">106</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">definition, <a href="#Page_100">100</a>, <a href="#Page_107">107–108</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">musical, <a href="#Page_200">200</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">theatrical, improvement, <a href="#Page_243">243</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Taylor, Deems, on music, <a href="#Page_199">199–214</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Teachers, control of teaching, <a href="#Page_90">90</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">status, <a href="#Page_90">90</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">suppression of freedom of mind, <a href="#Page_86">86</a>, <a href="#Page_87">87</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">unions, <a href="#Page_91">91</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Teasdale, Sara, <a href="#Page_221">221</a>, <a href="#Page_222">222</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Teeth, infected, <a href="#Page_448">448</a>, <a href="#Page_449">449</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Telegraph, Morse code, <a href="#Page_403">403</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Ten Commandments, <a href="#Page_307">307</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Tennis, <a href="#Page_460">460</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Teutonic school, <a href="#Page_303">303</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Texas fever, <a href="#Page_449">449</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Textile industry, <a href="#Page_402">402</a></li> - -<li class="indx"><a id="Theatre"></a>Theatre, <a href="#Page_243">243–253</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">bibliography, <a href="#Page_543">543</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">New York City, <a href="#Page_243">243</a>, <a href="#Page_246">246</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">newspapers and, <a href="#Page_249">249</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Theology versus science, <a href="#Page_163">163</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Things, <a href="#Page_397">397</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Thomas, Augustus, <a href="#Page_249">249</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Thomas, Theodore, <a href="#Page_213">213</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Thoreau, H. D., <a href="#Page_184">184</a>, <a href="#Page_194">194</a>, <a href="#Page_494">494</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Thorndike’s tests, <a href="#Page_154">154</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Thought, <a href="#Page_105">105</a>, <a href="#Page_148">148</a>, <a href="#Page_479">479</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">uniformity, <a href="#Page_439">439</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Threshing-machines, <a href="#Page_402">402</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Thrift, family, <a href="#Page_325">325</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Thucydides, <a href="#Page_307">307</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Ticknor, George, <a href="#Page_95">95</a>, <a href="#Page_96">96</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Tildsley, John, <a href="#Page_87">87</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Tolstoy, Leo, <a href="#Page_190">190</a>, <a href="#Page_499">499</a>, <a href="#Page_503">503</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Tom, Blind, <a href="#Page_207">207–208</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Tonsils, <a href="#Page_448">448</a>, <a href="#Page_449">449</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Towns, New England, <a href="#Page_3">3</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1"><i>see also</i> <a href="#Small_town">Small town</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Trade-mark, <a href="#Page_409">409</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Trade secrets, <a href="#Page_421">421</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Trade-union movement, <a href="#Page_283">283</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Traditions, <a href="#Page_528">528</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">college, <a href="#Page_118">118</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">college and life at large, <a href="#Page_131">131–132</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Transportation, <a href="#Page_401">401</a>, <a href="#Page_402">402</a>, <a href="#Page_408">408</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Trinity Church, Boston, <a href="#Page_11">11</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Truth, <a href="#Page_86">86</a>, <a href="#Page_92">92</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">love of, <a href="#Page_144">144</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Tschaikovsky, P. I., <a href="#Page_200">200</a>, <a href="#Page_213">213</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Tuberculosis, bovine and human, <a href="#Page_449">449</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Turgeniev, I. S., <a href="#Page_190">190</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Twachtman, J. H., <a href="#Page_235">235</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Twain, Mark, <a href="#Page_182">182</a>, <a href="#Page_187">187</a>, <a href="#Page_191">191</a>, <a href="#Page_194">194</a>, <a href="#Page_464">464</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Typhoid, <a href="#Page_450">450</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Typography, <a href="#Page_391">391</a></li> - -<li class="ifrst">Unconscious, the, <a href="#Page_435">435</a>, <a href="#Page_436">436</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Undergraduate, <a href="#Page_116">116</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Unemployment, <a href="#Page_414">414</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Uniform Negotiable Instruments Law, <a href="#Page_64">64</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Uniformity, colleges and life, <a href="#Page_131">131–132</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Unions, <a href="#Page_283">283</a></li> - -<li class="indx">U. S. Geological Survey, <a href="#Page_158">158</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Universal Negro Improvement Assn., <a href="#Page_369">369</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Universities, <a href="#Page_524">524</a>, <a href="#Page_526">526</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">materialism, <a href="#Page_97">97</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">mediocity of life and scholarship, <a href="#Page_95">95</a>, <a href="#Page_96">96</a>, <a href="#Page_97">97</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">professors, <a href="#Page_96">96</a>, <a href="#Page_97">97</a>, <a href="#Page_193">193</a>, <a href="#Page_491">491</a>, <a href="#Page_527">527</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1"><i>see also</i> <a href="#College_life">College life</a>; <a href="#Colleges">Colleges</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Untermeyer, Louis, on our poetry, <a href="#Page_215">215</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Uplifters, <a href="#Page_450">450</a>, <a href="#Page_497">497</a></li> - -<li class="ifrst">Vaccination for typhoid, <a href="#Page_450">450</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Valparaiso University, <a href="#Page_119">119</a>, <a href="#Page_124">124</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Van Dyke, Henry, <a href="#Page_496">496</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Van Loon, H. W., on history, <a href="#Page_297">297–308</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Van Slyke, D. D., <a href="#Page_456">456</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Vanderlyn, John, <a href="#Page_232">232</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Vaughan, V. C., <a href="#Page_444">444</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Veblen, T. B., <a href="#Page_544">544</a>, <a href="#Page_545">545</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Venereal peril, <a href="#Page_453">453</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Venereal prophylaxis, <a href="#Page_454">454</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Verihood, <a href="#Page_86">86</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Versailles, <a href="#Page_305">305</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Victrolas, <a href="#Page_212">212</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Villagers, <a href="#Page_285">285</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Villages, atmosphere, <a href="#Page_290">290</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Virginia schools, white and Negro, <a href="#Page_359">359</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Vision, <a href="#Page_177">177</a>, <a href="#Page_480">480</a>, <a href="#Page_481">481</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Vital statistics, <a href="#Page_319">319</a>, <a href="#Page_320">320</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Volstead Act, debate on, <a href="#Page_28">28</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Volunteer firemen’s organizations, <a href="#Page_292">292</a></li> - -<li class="ifrst">Wanamaker, John, <a href="#Page_46">46</a></li> - -<li class="indx">War. <i>See</i> <a href="#World_War">World War</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Washington, D. C., dramatic taste, <a href="#Page_246">246</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Washington Square Players, <a href="#Page_252">252</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Waste, business, <a href="#Page_413">413</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">economic, <a href="#Page_284">284</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">industrial, <a href="#Page_419">419</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Water, danger of excessive use, <a href="#Page_451">451</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Wealth, <a href="#Page_413">413</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Weir, J. A., <a href="#Page_235">235</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Welfare of employés, <a href="#Page_483">483</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Wellman, Rita, <a href="#Page_248">248</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Wells, H. G., <a href="#Page_457">457</a></li> - -<li class="indx"><i xml:lang="de" lang="de">Weltanschauung</i>, <a href="#Page_101">101</a>, <a href="#Page_102">102</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Wendell, Barrett, quoted on education, <a href="#Page_77">77</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Werner, Judge, W. E., <a href="#Page_73">73</a></li> - -<li class="indx">West, the, <a href="#Page_112">112</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Wharton, Mrs. Edith, <a href="#Page_179">179</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Whistler, J. A. M., <a href="#Page_234">234</a>, <a href="#Page_237">237</a></li> - -<li class="indx">White, Stanford, <a href="#Page_11">11</a></li> - -<li class="indx">White City, <a href="#Page_13">13</a></li> - -<li class="indx">White Ways, <a href="#Page_13">13</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Whitman, Walt, <a href="#Page_149">149</a>, <a href="#Page_185">185</a>, <a href="#Page_186">186</a>, <a href="#Page_187">187</a>, <a href="#Page_188">188</a>, <a href="#Page_190">190</a>, <a href="#Page_194">194</a>, <a href="#Page_215">215</a>, <a href="#Page_217">217</a>, <a href="#Page_504">504</a>, <a href="#Page_523">523</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Who’s who in this volume, <a href="#Page_557">559–564</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Widowhood, prevention, <a href="#Page_329">329</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Widows, <a href="#Page_328">328</a>, <a href="#Page_329">329</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Wigmore, J. H., <a href="#Page_69">69</a>, <a href="#Page_75">75</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Wild oats, <a href="#Page_316">316</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Wilson, Woodrow, <a href="#Page_25">25</a>, <a href="#Page_450">450</a></li> - -<li class="indx"><span class="pagenum" id="Page_577">577</span>“Winesburg, Ohio,” <a href="#Page_137">137</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Winsett, Ned, <a href="#Page_179">179</a></li> - -<li class="indx"><i xml:lang="de" lang="de">Wissenschaftlichkeit</i>, <a href="#Page_303">303</a>, <a href="#Page_304">304</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Witchcraft, <a href="#Page_429">429</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Wives, thrifty, <a href="#Page_324">324</a>, <a href="#Page_325">325</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Women, beauty, <a href="#Page_431">431</a>, <a href="#Page_438">438</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">dominance in art, <a href="#Page_229">229</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">dominance in intellectual life, <a href="#Page_135">135</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">dominance in music, <a href="#Page_205">205</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">hours of work, <a href="#Page_73">73</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">in industry, <a href="#Page_326">326</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">interests, <a href="#Page_142">142</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">longevity, <a href="#Page_328">328</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">maintenance at leisure, <a href="#Page_139">139</a>, <a href="#Page_141">141</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">men and, dichotomy, <a href="#Page_142">142</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">men’s circumspection as to, <a href="#Page_316">316</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">nervous, <a href="#Page_432">432</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">personality, <a href="#Page_317">317</a>, <a href="#Page_318">318</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">psychology, <a href="#Page_317">317</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">surplus, <a href="#Page_326">326</a>, <a href="#Page_327">327</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Women’s clubs, <a href="#Page_142">142</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Woodberry, G. E., <a href="#Page_101">101</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Woods, A. H., <a href="#Page_245">245</a>, <a href="#Page_251">251</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Work for work’s sake, <a href="#Page_491">491</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Workmen’s compensation, <a href="#Page_72">72</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Workmen’s families, <a href="#Page_325">325</a>, <a href="#Page_326">326</a></li> - -<li class="indx">World news, <a href="#Page_48">48</a></li> - -<li class="indx"><a id="World_War"></a>World War, business and, <a href="#Page_413">413</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">historians and, <a href="#Page_304">304</a></li> - -<li class="indx">World’s Fair, Chicago, <a href="#Page_13">13</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Wyant, A. H., <a href="#Page_233">233</a></li> - -<li class="ifrst">Yeast, <a href="#Page_444">444</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Yeats, W. B., <a href="#Page_499">499</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Yellow fever, <a href="#Page_450">450</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Y.M.C.A., <a href="#Page_144">144</a>;</li> -<li class="isub1">instruction, <a href="#Page_83">83</a></li> - -<li class="indx">Youth, sex life, <a href="#Page_526">526</a></li> - -<li class="ifrst">Zenger, Peter, <a href="#Page_55">55</a></li> -</ul> -</div></div> - -<div class="chapter"><div class="transnote"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="Transcribers_Notes">Transcriber’s Notes</h2> - -<p>Punctuation, hyphenation, and spelling were made -consistent within each article when a predominant -preference was found in that article; otherwise, -they were not changed.</p> - -<p>Simple typographical errors were corrected; unbalanced -quotation marks were remedied when the change was -obvious, and otherwise left unbalanced.</p> - -<p>Duplicate hemi-titles were removed.</p> - -<p>Table of Contents: replaced ditto marks with the -actual words above them.</p> - -<p>The index was not systematically checked for -proper alphabetization or correct page references.</p> - -<p><a href="#Page_352">Page 352</a>: “singled out” was printed as -“signalled out”; changed here.</p> - -<p><a href="#Page_388">Page 388</a>: “full-fledged” was printed as -“full-edged”; changed here.</p> - -<p><a href="#Page_573">Page 573</a>: “New York <i>Herald</i>” was -misprinted as “New York <i>World</i>”; -changed here.</p> - -<p><a href="#Page_576">Page 576</a>: “mediocity” was printed that way; -may be a misprint for either “mediocrity” -“meritocracy.”</p> - -<p><a href="#Page_576">Page 576</a>, under “State, business and”: -“corporations” was misprinted as “co-operations”; -changed here.</p> -</div></div> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CIVILIZATION IN THE UNITED STATES ***</div> -<div style='text-align:left'> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will -be renamed. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg™ electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG™ -concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, -and may not be used if you charge for an eBook, except by following -the terms of the trademark license, including paying royalties for use -of the Project Gutenberg trademark. If you do not charge anything for -copies of this eBook, complying with the trademark license is very -easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as creation -of derivative works, reports, performances and research. Project -Gutenberg eBooks may be modified and printed and given away—you may -do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks not protected -by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the trademark -license, especially commercial redistribution. -</div> - -<div style='margin-top:1em; font-size:1.1em; text-align:center'>START: FULL LICENSE</div> -<div style='text-align:center;font-size:0.9em'>THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE</div> -<div style='text-align:center;font-size:0.9em'>PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -To protect the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting the free -distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work -(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase “Project -Gutenberg”), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full -Project Gutenberg™ License available with this file or online at -www.gutenberg.org/license. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> -Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg™ -electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to -and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property -(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all -the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or -destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in your -possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a -Project Gutenberg™ electronic work and you do not agree to be bound -by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person -or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.B. “Project Gutenberg” is a registered trademark. It may only be -used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who -agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few -things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg™ electronic works -even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See -paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project -Gutenberg™ electronic works if you follow the terms of this -agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg™ -electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation (“the -Foundation” or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection -of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works. Nearly all the individual -works in the collection are in the public domain in the United -States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the -United States and you are located in the United States, we do not -claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, -displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as -all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope -that you will support the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting -free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg™ -works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the -Project Gutenberg™ name associated with the work. You can easily -comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the -same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg™ License when -you share it without charge with others. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern -what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are -in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, -check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this -agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, -distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any -other Project Gutenberg™ work. The Foundation makes no -representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any -country other than the United States. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other -immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg™ License must appear -prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg™ work (any work -on which the phrase “Project Gutenberg” appears, or with which the -phrase “Project Gutenberg” is associated) is accessed, displayed, -performed, viewed, copied or distributed: -</div> - -<blockquote> - <div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> - This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most - other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions - whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms - of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online - at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you - are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws - of the country where you are located before using this eBook. - </div> -</blockquote> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work is -derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not -contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the -copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in -the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are -redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase “Project -Gutenberg” associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply -either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or -obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg™ -trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work is posted -with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution -must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any -additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms -will be linked to the Project Gutenberg™ License for all works -posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the -beginning of this work. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg™ -License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this -work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg™. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this -electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without -prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with -active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project -Gutenberg™ License. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, -compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including -any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access -to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg™ work in a format -other than “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other format used in the official -version posted on the official Project Gutenberg™ website -(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense -to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means -of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original “Plain -Vanilla ASCII” or other form. Any alternate format must include the -full Project Gutenberg™ License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, -performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg™ works -unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing -access to or distributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works -provided that: -</div> - -<div style='margin-left:0.7em;'> - <div style='text-indent:-0.7em'> - • You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from - the use of Project Gutenberg™ works calculated using the method - you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed - to the owner of the Project Gutenberg™ trademark, but he has - agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid - within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are - legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty - payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in - Section 4, “Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg - Literary Archive Foundation.” - </div> - - <div style='text-indent:-0.7em'> - • You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies - you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he - does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg™ - License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all - copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue - all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg™ - works. - </div> - - <div style='text-indent:-0.7em'> - • You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of - any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the - electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of - receipt of the work. - </div> - - <div style='text-indent:-0.7em'> - • You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free - distribution of Project Gutenberg™ works. - </div> -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project -Gutenberg™ electronic work or group of works on different terms than -are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing -from the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the manager of -the Project Gutenberg™ trademark. Contact the Foundation as set -forth in Section 3 below. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.F. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable -effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread -works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project -Gutenberg™ collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg™ -electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may -contain “Defects,” such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate -or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other -intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or -other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or -cannot be read by your equipment. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the “Right -of Replacement or Refund” described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project -Gutenberg™ trademark, and any other party distributing a Project -Gutenberg™ electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all -liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal -fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT -LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE -PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE -TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE -LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR -INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH -DAMAGE. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a -defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can -receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a -written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you -received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium -with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you -with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in -lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person -or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second -opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If -the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing -without further opportunities to fix the problem. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth -in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you ‘AS-IS’, WITH NO -OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT -LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied -warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of -damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement -violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the -agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or -limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or -unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the -remaining provisions. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the -trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone -providing copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in -accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the -production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg™ -electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, -including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of -the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this -or any Project Gutenberg™ work, (b) alteration, modification, or -additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg™ work, and (c) any -Defect you cause. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> -Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg™ -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Project Gutenberg™ is synonymous with the free distribution of -electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of -computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It -exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations -from people in all walks of life. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the -assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg™’s -goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg™ collection will -remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure -and permanent future for Project Gutenberg™ and future -generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see -Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at www.gutenberg.org. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> -Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non-profit -501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the -state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal -Revenue Service. The Foundation’s EIN or federal tax identification -number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by -U.S. federal laws and your state’s laws. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -The Foundation’s business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, -Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up -to date contact information can be found at the Foundation’s website -and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact -</div> - -<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> -Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Project Gutenberg™ depends upon and cannot survive without widespread -public support and donations to carry out its mission of -increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be -freely distributed in machine-readable form accessible by the widest -array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations -($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt -status with the IRS. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating -charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United -States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a -considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up -with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations -where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND -DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular state -visit <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/donate/">www.gutenberg.org/donate</a>. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we -have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition -against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who -approach us with offers to donate. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make -any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from -outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Please check the Project Gutenberg web pages for current donation -methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other -ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To -donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate -</div> - -<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> -Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg™ electronic works -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project -Gutenberg™ concept of a library of electronic works that could be -freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and -distributed Project Gutenberg™ eBooks with only a loose network of -volunteer support. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Project Gutenberg™ eBooks are often created from several printed -editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in -the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not -necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper -edition. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Most people start at our website which has the main PG search -facility: <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -This website includes information about Project Gutenberg™, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. -</div> - -</div> -</body> -</html> |