{"collection":"philosophy-ethics","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_56376/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_56376","id":"gutenberg_56376","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/56376","summary":null,"tags":["Category: American Literature","Category: Philosophy & Ethics","Category: Politics","Category: Sociology","National characteristics, American","United States -- Economic conditions -- 1865-1918","United States -- Intellectual life -- 1865-1918","United States -- Politics and government -- 1901-1909","United States -- Social life and customs -- 1865-1918"],"text":"Produced by Richard Tonsing and the Online Distributed\nProofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was\nproduced from images generously made available by The\nInternet Archive)\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n                                  THE\n                               AMERICANS\n\n\n                                   BY\n\n                            HUGO M\u00dcNSTERBERG\n\n                        PROFESSOR OF PSYCHOLOGY\n                         AT HARVARD UNIVERSITY\n\n                             TRANSLATED BY\n\n                          EDWIN B. HOLT, PH.D.\n\n                    INSTRUCTOR AT HARVARD UNIVERSITY\n\n[Illustration]\n\n                                NEW YORK\n                        McCLURE, PHILLIPS & CO.\n                                 MCMIV\n\n\n\n\n                         _Copyright, 1904, by_\n\n                        McCLURE, PHILLIPS & CO.\n\n                     _Published November, 1904, N_\n\n------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\n\n\n\n                                PREFACE\n\n\nIn the Preface to my \u201cAmerican Traits,\u201d in which I defended German\nideals and criticised some American tendencies, I said, some years ago:\n\u201cIt has been often questioned whether I am right in fighting merely\nagainst American shortcomings from a German point of view, and in trying\nto destroy prejudices on this side of the water; whether it is not, in a\nstill higher degree, my duty to attempt the same for the other side;\u2014for\nGerman prejudices concerning the United States are certainly not less\nsevere, and the points in which Germany might learn from American\nculture not less numerous. The question is fair, and I shall soon put\nbefore the German public a book on American life\u2014a book which deals in a\ndetailed way with the political, economic, intellectual, and social\naspects of American culture. Its purpose is to interpret systematically\nthe democratic ideals of America.\u201d\n\nHere is the book; it fulfils the promise, and it might appear that no\nfurther explanation is needed. And yet, in sending a book into the\nworld, I have never felt more strongly the need of prefatory\nexcuses\u2014excuses not for writing the book, but for agreeing to its\ntranslation into English.\n\nTo outline American life for readers beyond the sea is one thing; to\nappear before an American audience and to tell them solemnly that there\nis a Republican and a Democratic party, and that there are troubles\nbetween capital and labour, is quite another thing. To inform my German\ncountrymen about America may be to fill a long-felt want; but, as a\nGerman, to inform the Americans on matters which they knew before they\nwere born seems, indeed, worse than superfluous.\n\nWhen I was urged, on so many sides, to bring my \u201cAmericans\u201d before the\nAmericans, it was, therefore, clear to me from the outset that I ought\nnot to do it myself under any circumstances. If I had translated the\nbook myself, it would have become simply an English book, written in\nEnglish by the author; and yet its only possible right to existence must\nlie in its reflected character, in its having been written for others,\nin its coming back to the New World from the Old. My friend, Dr. Holt,\nwho has been for years my assistant in the Harvard Psychological\nLaboratory, has assisted, therefore, in this social psychological\nexperiment, and translated the book from the German edition.\n\nI have been still more influenced by another consideration. If the book\nwere chiefly a record of facts, it would be folly for a foreigner to\npresent it to the citizens; but the aim of the book is a quite different\none. To make a real scientific study of the facts, I should have felt\nutterly incompetent; indeed, it may be doubted whether any one could\nhope to master the material of the various fields: a division of labour\nwould then become necessary. The historian, the politician, the\neconomist, the jurist, the engineer, and many others would have to\nco-operate in a scholarly investigation of American events; and I have\nno right to any of these titles. I am merely a psychologist, and have\nnot set out to discover new material. The only aim of the book is to\nstudy the American man and his inner tendencies; and, perhaps, a truer\nname for my book would have been \u201cThe Philosophy of Americanism.\u201d For\nsuch a task the outsider may be, after all, not quite unsuited, since\nthe characteristic forces make themselves more easily felt by him than\nby those who have breathed the atmosphere from their childhood. I am,\ntherefore, anxious to insist that the accent of the book lies on the\nfour chapters, \u201cSpirit of Self-Direction\u201d, \u201cSpirit of Self-Realization,\u201d\n\u201cSpirit of Self-Perfection,\u201d and \u201cSpirit of Self-Assertion\u201d; while those\nchapters on the economic and political problems are the least important\nof the book, as they are meant merely by way of illustration. The\nlasting forces and tendencies of American life are my topics, and not\nthe problems of the day. For this reason the book is translated as it\nappeared six months ago in Germany, and the events and statistical\nfigures of the last few months have not been added; the Philosophy of\nAmericanism is independent of the happenings of yesterday. The only\nchanges in the translation are abbreviations; for instance, the\nindustrial tables, which every American can get easily from the\ngovernment reports, are abridged; and, above all, the chapters which\ndeal with the German-Americans are left out, as better remaining an\nesoteric discussion for the Germans.\n\nThe purpose of finding the deeper impulses in American life necessarily\ndemands a certain ignoring of the shortcomings of the hour. If we aim to\nwork out and to make clear the essentials of the American mission in the\nworld, we cannot take the attitude of the reformer, whose attention\nbelongs, first of all, to the blunders and frailties of the hour; they\nare to us less important by-products. The grumbler in public life sees\nin such a view of the American, of course, merely a fancy picture of an\nimaginary creature; he is not aware that every portrayal involves\nabstraction, and that a study in Americanism means, indeed, a study of\nthe Americans as the best of them are, and as the others should wish to\nbe.\n\nBut the optimism of my book has still another source. Its outspoken\npurpose has been to awaken a better understanding of Americans in the\nGerman nation. Whoever fights against prejudices can serve the truth\nmerely in emphasizing the neglected good sides, and in somewhat\nretouching in the picture the exaggerated shadows. But just here arises\nmy strong reluctance. The optimism and the style of a defender were\nsincere, and necessary to the book when it addressed itself to the\nGermans; is it necessary, is it, indeed, sincere, to place such a eulogy\nof Americanism before the Americans? I know too well that, besides the\nself-direction, self-realization, self-perfection, and self-assertion\nthere is, more vivid still, the spirit of self-satisfaction, whose story\nI have forgotten to include in this volume. Have I the right to cater to\nthis spirit?\n\nBut is it not best that the moods of criticism and optimism alternate?\nThe critical eagerness of the reformer which attacks the faults and\nfollies of the day is most necessary; but it turns into discouraging\npessimism if it is not supplemented by a profession of faith in the\nlasting principles and deeper tendencies. The r\u00f4le of the critic I have\nplayed, perhaps, more often and more vehemently than is the foreigner\u2019s\nright. My book on \u201cAmerican Traits\u201d has been its sharpest expression.\nDoes that not give me, after all, a moral right to supplement the\nwarning cry by a joyful word on the high aims of true Americanism? My\nduty is only to emphasize that I am myself fully aware of the strong\none-sidedness, and that this new book is not in the least meant to\nretract the criticisms of my \u201cAmerican Traits.\u201d The two books are meant\nto be like the two pictures of a stereoscope, which must be seen both\ntogether to get the full plastic effect of reality. It is certainly\nimportant to remind the nation frequently that there are political\ncorruption and pedagogical blundering in the world; but sometimes it is\nalso worth while to say that Americanism is something noble and\ninspiring, even for the outsiders, with whom naturally other impulses\nare stronger\u2014in fact, to make clear that this Americanism is a\nconsistent system of tendencies is ultimately, perhaps, only another way\nof attaining the reformer\u2019s end.\n\nOnly one word more\u2014a word of thanks. I said the aim of the book was to\nbring the facts of American life under the point of view of general\nprinciples, but not to embody an original research in American history\nand institutions. I have had thus to accept the facts ready-made, as the\nbest American authors present them; and I am thus their debtor\neverywhere. Since the book is popular in its style, I have no foot-notes\nand scholarly quotations, and so cannot enumerate the thousand American\nsources from which I have taken my material. And I am not speaking here\nmerely of the great standard books and specialistic writings, but even\nthe daily and weekly papers, and especially the leading monthly\nmagazines, have helped to fill my note-books. My thanks are due to all\nthese silent helpers, and I am glad to share with them the welcome\nwhich, in competent quarters, the German edition of the book has found.\n\n                                                        HUGO M\u00dcNSTERBERG\n\n CAMBRIDGE, MASS.,\n     October 25, 1904\n\n\n\n\n                                CONTENTS\n\n\n   I. POLITICAL LIFE\n\n                                                                    PAGE\n\n       1. THE SPIRIT OF SELF-DIRECTION                                 3\n\n       2. POLITICAL PARTIES                                           35\n\n       3. THE PRESIDENT                                               63\n\n       4. CONGRESS                                                    85\n\n       5. JUSTICE                                                    101\n\n       6. CITY AND STATE                                             115\n\n       7. PUBLIC OPINION                                             137\n\n       8. PROBLEMS OF POPULATION                                     155\n\n       9. INTERNAL POLITICAL PROBLEMS                                185\n\n      10. EXTERNAL POLITICAL PROBLEMS                                201\n\n\n  II. ECONOMIC LIFE\n\n      11. THE SPIRIT OF SELF-INITIATIVE                              229\n\n      12. THE ECONOMIC RISE                                          255\n\n      13. THE ECONOMIC PROBLEMS                                      278\n\n               The Silver Question                                   279\n\n               The Tariff Question                                   289\n\n               The Trust Question                                    301\n\n               The Labour Question                                   318\n\n\n III.  INTELLECTUAL LIFE\n\n      14. THE SPIRIT OF SELF-PERFECTION                              347\n\n      15. THE SCHOOLS AND POPULAR EDUCATION                          365\n\n      16. THE UNIVERSITIES                                           393\n\n      17. SCIENCE                                                    425\n\n      18. LITERATURE                                                 449\n\n      19. ART                                                        473\n\n      20. RELIGION                                                   496\n\n\n  IV. SOCIAL LIFE\n\n      21. THE SPIRIT OF SELF-ASSERTION                               531\n\n      22. THE SELF-ASSERTION OF WOMEN                                558\n\n      23. ARISTOCRATIC TENDENCIES                                    590\n\n\n\n\nPART ONE\nPOLITICAL LIFE\n\n\n\n\n                              CHAPTER ONE\n                     _The Spirit of Self-Direction_\n\n\nWhosoever wishes to describe the political life of the American people\ncan accomplish this end from a number of starting points. Perhaps he\nwould begin most naturally with the Articles of the Constitution and\nexpound the document which has given to the American body-politic its\nremarkable and permanent form; or he might ramble through history and\ntrace out from petty colonies the rise of a great world-power; or he\nmight make his way through that multitude of events which to-day arouse\nthe keenest public interest, the party strifes and presidential\nelections, the burdens and amenities of city and state, the transactions\nof the courts and of Congress. Yet all this would be but a superficial\ndelineation. Whoever wishes to understand the secret of that baffling\nturmoil, the inner mechanism and motive behind all the politically\neffective forces, must set out from only one point. He must appreciate\nthe yearning of the American heart after self-direction. Everything else\nis to be understood from this.\n\nIn his social life the American is very ready to conform to the will of\nanother. With an inborn good-nature, and often too willingly, perhaps,\nhe lends himself to social situations which are otherwise inconvenient.\nThus his guest, for instance, is apt to feel like a master in his house,\nso completely is his own will subordinated to that of the guest. But, on\nthe other hand, in the sphere of public life, the individual, or a more\nor less restricted group of individuals, feels that it must guide its\nown activities to the last detail if these are to have for it any value\nor significance whatsoever. He will allow no alien motive to be\nsubstituted\u2014neither the self-renunciation of fidelity or gratitude, nor\nthe \u00e6sthetic self-forgetfulness of hero-worship, nor even the\nrecognition that a material advantage would accrue or some desirable end\nbe more readily achieved if the control and responsibility were to be\nvested in some one else. This self-direction is neither arbitrary nor\nperverse; least of all does it indicate a love of ease or aversion to\ntoil. In Russia, as a well-known American once said, serfdom could be\nwiped out by a stroke of the Czar\u2019s pen, and millions of Russians would\nbe freed from slavery with no loss of life or property. \u201cWe Americans\nhad to offer up a half-million lives and many millions\u2019 worth of\nproperty in order to free our slaves. And yet nothing else was to be\nthought of. We had to overcome that evil by our own initiative, and by\nour own exertions reach our goal. And just because we are Americans and\nnot Russians no power on earth could have relieved us of our\nresponsibility.\u201d\n\nWhen in any people the desire of self-direction dominates all other\nmotives, the form of government of that people is necessarily\nrepublican. But it does not conversely follow that every republic is\ngrounded in this spirit of self-direction. Hence it is that the republic\nof the United States is so entirely different from all other republics,\nsince in no other people is the craving for self-determination so\ncompletely the informing force. The republics of Middle and South\nAmerica, or of France, have sprung from an entirely different political\nspirit; while those newer republics, which in fundamental intention are\nperhaps more similar, as for instance Switzerland, are still not\ncomparable because of their diminutive size. The French republic is\nfounded on rationalism. The philosophy of the eighteenth century, with\nits destructive criticism of the existing order, furnished the\ndoctrines, and from that seed of knowledge there grew and still are\ngrowing the practical ideals of France. But the political life of the\nUnited States sprang not from reasoned motives but from ideals; it is\nnot the result of insight but of will; it has not a logical but a moral\nfoundation. And while in France the principles embodied in the\nconstitution are derived from theory, the somewhat doubtful doctrines\nenunciated in the Declaration of Independence are merely a corollary to\nthat system of moral ideals which is indissolubly combined with the\nAmerican character.\n\nIt is not here to be questioned whether this character is purely the\ncause and not also the effect of the American system; but so much is\nsure, that the system of political relations which has sprung from these\nethical ideals constitutes the actual body-politic of America. Such is\nthe America which receives the immigrant and so thoroughly transforms\nhim that the demand for self-determination becomes the profoundest\npassion of his soul. Such is the America toward which he feels a proud\nand earnest patriotism. For the soil on which his kingdom has been\nreared he knows but scanty sentiment or love; indeed, the early progress\nof America was always an extension of the frontier, an unremitting\npushing forth over new domain. The American may be linked by personal\nties to a particular plot of land, but his national patriotism is\nindependent of the soil. It is also independent of the people. A nation\nwhich in every decade has assimilated millions of aliens, and whose\nhistoric past everywhere leads back to strange peoples, cannot with its\nracial variegation inspire a profound feeling of indissoluble unity. And\nyet that feeling is present here as it is perhaps in no European\ncountry. American patriotism is directed neither to soil nor citizen,\nbut to a system of ideas respecting society which is compacted by the\ndesire for self-direction. And to be an American means to be a partizan\nof this system. Neither race nor tradition, nor yet the actual past\nbinds him to his countryman, but rather the future which together they\nare building. It is a community of purpose, and it is more effective\nthan any tradition, because it pervades the whole man. Participation in\na common task holds the people together, a task with no definite and\ntangible end nor yet any special victory or triumph to look forward to,\nbut rather a task which is fulfilled at each moment, which has its\nmeaning not in any result but in the doing, its accomplishment not in\nany event which may befall, but only in the rightness of the motive. To\nbe an American means to co-operate in perpetuating the spirit of\nself-direction throughout the body-politic; and whosoever does not feel\nthis duty and actively respond to it, although perhaps a naturalized\ncitizen of the land, remains an alien forever.\n\nIf the newcomer is readily assimilated in such a society, commonly, yet\nit must not be overlooked that those who come from across the seas are\nnot selected at random. Those who are strong of will are the ones who\nseek out new spheres of activity. Just those whose satisfaction in life\nhas been stunted by a petty and oppressive environment have always\ncherished a longing for the New World. That conflict which every one\nmust wage in his own bosom before he can finally tear himself away from\nhome, has schooled the emigrant for the spirit of his new home; and only\nthose who have been impelled by the desire for self-direction have had\nthe strength to break the ties with their own past. Thus it is that\nthose of Germanic extraction adapt themselves so much more quickly and\nthoroughly to the political spirit of America than those of Romanic\nblood. The Latin peoples are much more the victims of suggestion. Being\nmore excitable, they are more imitative, and therefore as individuals\nless stable. The Frenchman, Italian, or Spaniard is often a sympathetic\nmember of the social life of the country, but in its political life he\nintroduces a certain false note; his republicanism is not the American\nrepublicanism. As a moral ideal he has little or no concern with the\ndoctrine of self-direction.\n\nThe American political system, therefore, by no means represents an\nideal of universal significance; it is the expression of a certain\ncharacter, the necessary way of living for that distinct type of man\nwhich an historically traceable process of selection has brought\ntogether. And this way of living reacts in its turn to strengthen the\nfundamental type. Other nations, in whom other temperamental factors no\nless significant or potent or admirable are the fundamental traits, must\nfind the solution of their political problems in other directions. No\ngain would accrue to them from any mere imitation, since it would tend\nto nothing but the crippling and estranging of the native genius of\ntheir people.\n\nThe cultivated American of to-day feels this instinctively. Among the\nmasses, to be sure, the old theme is still sometimes broached of the\nworld-wide supremacy of American ideals: and a part of the necessary\nparaphernalia of popular assemblages will naturally consist in a\nreaffirmation that the duty of America is to extend its political system\ninto every quarter of the globe; other nations will thus be rated\naccording to their ripeness for this system, and the history of the\nworld appear one long and happy education of the human race up to the\nplane of American conceptions. But this tendency is inevitable and not\nto be despised. It must more nearly concern the American than the\ncitizen of other states to propagate his ideals, since here everything\ndepends on each individual co-operating with all his might, and this\nco-operation must succeed best when it is impelled by an uncritical and\nblindly devoted faith. And such a faith arouses, too, a zealous\nmissionary spirit, which wants to carry this inspired state-craft unto\nall political heathen. But the foreigner is apt to overestimate these\nsentiments. The cultivated American is well aware that the various\npolitical institutions of other nations are not to be gauged simply as\ngood or bad, and that the American system would be as impossible for\nGermany as the German system for America.\n\nThose days are indeed remote when philosophy tried to discover one\nintrinsically best form of government. It is true that in the conflicts\nof diverse nations the old opposition of realistic and idealistic, of\ndemocratic and aristocratic social forces is repeated over and over. But\nnew problems are always coming up. The ancient opposition is\nneutralized, and the problem finds its practical solution in that the\nopposing forces deploy their skirmish lines in other territory. The\npolitical ideas which led to the French Revolution had been outlived by\nthe middle of the nineteenth century. A compromise had been effected.\nThe whole stress of the conflict had transferred itself to social\nproblems, and no one earnestly discussed any more whether republic or\nmonarchy was the better form of government. The intellectual make-up of\na people and its history must decide what shall be the outward form of\nits political institutions. And it is to-day tacitly admitted that there\nare light and shade on either side.\n\nThe darker side of democracy, indeed, as of every system which is\nfounded on complete individualism, can be hidden from no one; nor would\nany one be so foolish, even though he loved and admired America, as to\ndeny that weaknesses and dangers, and evils both secret and public, do\nthere abound. Those who base their judgments less on knowledge of\ndemocratic forces than on obvious and somewhat sentimental social\nprejudices are apt to look for the dangers in the wrong direction. A\nGerman naturally thinks of mob-rule, harangues of the demagogue, and\nevery form of lawlessness and violence. But true democracy does not\nallow of such things. A people that allows itself to turn into a mob and\nto be guided by irresponsible leaders, is not capable of directing\nitself. Self-direction demands the education of the nation. And nowhere\nelse in the world is the mere demagogue so powerless, and nowhere does\nthe populace observe more exemplary order and self-discipline.\n\nThe essential weakness of such a democracy is rather the importance it\nassigns to the average man with his petty opinions, which are sometimes\nright and sometimes wrong, his total lack of comprehension for all that\nis great and exceptional, his self-satisfied dilettanteism and his\ncomplacency before the accredited and trite in thought. This is far less\ntrue of a republic like the French, with its genius for scepticism, a\nrepublic nourished in \u00e6sthetic traditions and founded on the ruins of an\nempire. The intellectual conditions are there quite different. But in an\nethical democracy, where self-direction is a serious issue, domination\nby the average intelligence is inevitable; and those who are truly great\nare the ones who find no scope for their powers. Those who appear great\nare merely men who are exploiting to the utmost the tendencies of the\nday. There are no great distinctions or premiums for truly high\nachievements which do not immediately concern the average man, and\ntherefore the best energies of the nation are not spurred on to their\nkeenest activity. All ambition is directed necessarily toward such\nachievements as the common man can understand and compete for\u2014athletic\nvirtuosity and wealth. Therefore the spirit of sport and of\nmoney-getting concerns the people more nearly than art or science, and\neven in politics the domination of the majority easily crowds from the\narena those whose qualifications do not appeal to its mediocre taste.\nAnd by as much as mature and capable minds withdraw from political life,\nby so much are the well-intentioned masses more easily led astray by\nsharp and self-interested politicians and politics made to cater to mean\ninstincts. In short, the danger is not from any wild lawlessness, but\nfrom a crass philistinism. The seditious demagogue who appeals to\npassion is less dangerous than the sly political wire-puller who\nexploits the indolence and indifference of the people; and evil intent\nis less to be feared than dilettanteism and the intellectual limitations\nof the general public.\n\nBut, on the other hand, it is also certain that when it comes to a\ncritical comparison between the weaknesses and theoretical dangers of\ndemocracy and aristocracy, the American is at no loss to serve up a\nhandsome list of shortcomings to the other side. He has observed and,\nperhaps overestimating, he detests the spirit of caste, the existence of\nthose restrictions which wrongfully hamper one individual and as\nundeservedly advantage another. Again, the American hates bureaucracy\nand he hates militarism. The idea of highest authority being vested in a\nman for any other reason than that of his individual qualifications goes\nagainst all his convictions; and his moral feeling knows no more\ndetestable breed of man than the incompetent aspirant who is servile\nwith his superiors and brutal to his inferiors. It is typically\nun-American. And if, in contrast to this, one tries to do justice to the\nproved advantages of monarchy, of aristocracy and the spirit of caste,\nto justify the ruler who stands above the strife of parties, and to\ndefend that system of symbols by which the sentiment of the past is\nperpetuated in a people, and the protection which is instituted for all\nthe more ideal undertakings which surpass the comprehension of the\nmasses, or if one urges the value of that high efficiency which can\narise only from compact political organization\u2014then the American citizen\nswells with contempt. What does he care for all that if he loses the\ninestimable and infinite advantage which lies in the fact that in his\nstate every individual takes an active hand, assumes responsibility, and\nfights for his own ideals? What outward brilliancy of achievement would\ncompensate him for that moral value of co-operation, initiative,\nself-discipline, and responsibility, which the poorest and meanest\ncitizen enjoys? It may be that an enlightened and well-meaning monarch\nsees to it that the least peasant can sit down to his chicken of a\nSunday; but God raised up the United States as an example to all\nnations, that it shall be the privilege of every man to feel himself\nresponsible for his town, county, state, and country, and even for all\nmankind, and by his own free initiative to work to better them. The\nstrife of parties would better be, than that a single man should be dead\nto the welfare of his country; and it is good riddance to aristocracy\nand plenty, if a single man is to be prevented from emulating freely the\nhighest that he knows or anywise detained from his utmost\naccomplishment.\n\nAll such speculative estimates of different constitutional forms lead to\nno result unless they take into account the facts of history. Every side\nhas its good and evil. And all such discussions are the less productive\nin that superiorities of constitution, although soundly argued, may or\nmay not in any given country be fully made use of, while on the other\nhand defects of constitution are very often obviated. Indeed, to take an\nexample from present tendencies in America, nothing is more\ncharacteristic than the aristocratic by-currents through which so many\ndangers of democracy are avoided. Officially, of course, a republic must\nremain a democracy, otherwise it mines its own foundations, and yet we\nshall see that American social and political life have developed by no\nmeans along parallel lines but rather stand out often in sharp contrast.\nThe same is true of Germany. Official Germany is aristocratic and\nmonarchic through and through, and no one would wish it other; but the\nintimate life of Germany becomes every day more democratic, and thus the\nnatural weaknesses of an aristocracy are checked by irresistible social\ncounter-tendencies. It may have been the growing wealth of Germany which\nraised the plane of life of the middle classes; or the industrial\nadvance which loaned greater importance to manufacturer and merchant,\nand took some social gloss from the office-holding class; it may have\nbeen the colonial expansion which broadened the horizon and upset a\nstagnant equilibrium of stale opinion; or, again, the renewed efforts of\nthose who felt cramped and oppressed, the labourers, and, above all, the\nwomen; it does not matter how it arose\u2014a wave of progress is sweeping\nover that country, and a political aristocracy is being infused with\nnew, democratic blood.\n\nNow in America, as will often appear later, the days are over in which\nall aristocratic tendencies were strictly held back. The influence of\nintellectual leaders is increasing, art, science, and the ideals of the\nupper classes are continually pushing to the front, and even social\nlines and stratifications are beginning more and more to be felt. The\nsoul of the people is agitated by imperialistic and military sentiments,\nand whereas in former times it was bent on freeing the slaves it now\ndiscovers \u201cthe white man\u2019s burden\u201d to lie in the subjugation of inferior\nraces. The restrictions to immigration are constantly being increased.\nNow of course all this does not a whit prejudice the formal political\ndemocracy of the land; it is simply a quiet, aristocratic complement to\nthe inner workings of the constitution.\n\nThe presence, and even the bare possibility, here, of such by-currents,\nbrings out more clearly how hopeless the theoretical estimation of any\nisolated form of statehood is, if it neglects the factors introduced by\nthe actual life of the people. The American democracy is not an\nabstractly superior system of which a European can approve only by\nbecoming himself a republican and condemning, incidentally, his own form\nof government: it is rather, merely, the necessary form of government\nfor the types of men and the conditions which are found here. And any\neducated American of to-day fully realizes this. No theoretical\nhair-splitting will solve the problem as to what is best for one or\nanother country; for that true historical insight is needed. And even\nwhen the histories of two peoples are so utterly dissimilar as are those\nof America and Germany, it by no means follows, as the social\nby-currents just mentioned show, that the real spirit of the peoples\nmust be unlike. Democratic America, with its unofficial aristocratic\nleanings, has, in fact, a surprising kinship to monarchical Germany,\nwith its inner workings of a true democracy. The two peoples are growing\ninto strong resemblance, although their respective constitutions\nflourish and take deeper root.\n\nThe beginnings of American history showed unmistakably and imperatively\nthat the government of the American people must be, in the words of\nLincoln, \u201ca government of the people, by the people, and for the\npeople.\u201d No one dreamed when the Constitution of the United States was\nframed, some hundred and seventeen years ago, that this democratic\ninstrument would ever be called on to bind together a mighty nation\nextending from Maine to California. And, indeed, such a territorial\nexpansion would undoubtedly have stretched and burst the unifying bonds\nof this Constitution, if the distance between Boston and San Francisco\nhad not meanwhile become practically shorter than the road from Boston\nto Washington was in those early days. But that this Constitution could\nso adapt itself to the undreamt broadening of conditions, that it could\ncontinue to be the mainstay of a people that was indefinitely extending\nitself by exchange and purchase, conquest and treaty, and that in no\ncrisis has an individual or party succeeded in any tampering with the\nrights of the people; all this shows convincingly that the American form\nof state was not arbitrarily hit on, but that it was the outcome of an\nhistorical development.\n\n                  *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe spirit of this commonwealth was not first conceived in the year\n1787. It was strong and ripe long before the delegates from the Thirteen\nStates assembled under Washington\u2019s leadership in Independence Hall at\nPhiladelphia. The history of the English colonists to the Atlantic coast\nshows from the very first what weight they attached to the duties and\nrights of the individual, and foretells as well the inevitable result,\ntheir unloosing from the mother country and final declaration of their\nindependence.\n\nWe may consider the different lines of development which began early in\nthe seventeenth century, after the feeble attempts at colonization from\nEngland, France and Spain in the latter half of the sixteenth century\nhad miscarried and left socially no traces. French settlements\nflourished as early as 1605, chiefly however in Nova Scotia and other\nparts of Canada, and in 1609 settlements of Dutch, whose colony on the\nHudson River, the present New York, soon passed over into English hands.\nThe development of the Spanish colonies on the Gulf of Mexico went on\noutside the territory of these young United States; and so the story of\nthe meagre years of America is comprised in the history of the English\ncolonies alone.\n\nThese colonies began diversely but came to resemble one another more and\nmore as time went on. There can be no greater contrast than between the\npioneer life of stout-willed men, who have left their native soil in\norder to live in undisturbed enjoyment of their Puritan faith, seeking\nto found their little communities on simple forms of self-government,\nand on the other hand the occupation of a rich trading company under\nroyal charter, or the inauguration of a colony of the crown. But these\ndifferences could not be preserved. The tiny independent communities, as\nthey grew in consideration, felt the need of some protecting power and\ntherefore they looked once more to England; while, on the other hand,\nthe more powerful, chartered colonies tended to loose themselves from\nthe mother country, feeling, as they soon did, that their interests\ncould not be well administered from across a broad ocean. In spite of\nthe protecting arm of England, they felt it to be a condition of their\nsound growth that they should manage their domestic affairs for\nthemselves. Thus it happened that all the colonies alike were externally\ndependent on England, while internally they were independent and were\nbeing schooled in citizenship.\n\nThe desire for self-government as a factor in the transformations which\nwent on can very easily be traced; but it would be harder to say how far\nutilitarian and how far moral factors entered in. Virginia took the\nfirst step. Its first settlement of 1606 was completely subject to the\nking, who granted homesteads but no political rights to the colonists.\nIt was a lifeless undertaking until 1609, when its political status was\nchanged. The administration of the colony was entrusted to those who\nwere interested in its material success. It became a great business\nundertaking which had everything in its favour. At the head was a London\ncompany, which for a nominal sum had been allowed to purchase a strip of\nland having four hundred miles of seacoast and extending inland\nindefinitely. This land contained inestimable natural resources, but\nneeded labour to exploit them. The company then offered to grant homes\non very favourable terms to settlers, receiving in return either cash or\nlabour; and these inducements, together with the economic pressure felt\nby the lower classes at home, brought about a rapid growth of the\ncolony. Now since this colony was organized like a military despotism,\nwhose ruler, however, was no less than three thousand miles away, the\ninterests of the company had to be represented by officials delegated to\nlive in the colony. The interests of these officials were of course\nnever those of the colonists, and presently, moreover, unscrupulous\nofficials commenced to misuse their power; so that as a result, while\nthe colony flourished, the company was on the brink of failure. The only\nway out of this difficulty was to concede something to the colonists\nthemselves, and harmonize their interests with those of the company by\ngranting them the free direction of their own affairs. It was arranged\nthat every village or small city should be a political unit and as such\nshould send two delegates to a convention which sat to deliberate all\nmatters of common concern. This body met for the first time in 1619; and\nin a short time it happened, as was to be expected, that the local\ngovernment felt itself to be stronger than the mercantile company back\nin London. Disputes arose, and before five years the company had ceased\nto exist, and Virginia became a royal province. But the fact remained\nthat in the year 1619 for the first time a deliberative body\nrepresenting the people had met on American soil. The first step toward\nfreedom had been taken. And with subtle irony fate decreed that in this\nsame year of grace a Dutch ship should land the first cargo of African\nnegroes in the same colony, as slaves.\n\nThat other form of political development, which started in the voluntary\ncompact of men who owned no other allegiance, was first exemplified in\nthe covenant of those hundred and two Puritans who landed from the\nMayflower at Plymouth, in the year 1620, having forsaken England in\norder to enjoy religious freedom in the New World. A storm forced them\nto land on Cape Cod, where they remained and amid the severest hardships\nbuilt up their little colony, which, as no other, has been a perpetual\nspring of moral force. Even to-day the best men of the land derive their\nstrength from the moral courage and earnestness of life of the Pilgrims.\nBefore they landed they signed a compact, in which they declared that\nthey had made this voyage \u201cfor ye glory of God and advancement of ye\nChristian faith, and honour of our King and countrie,\u201d and that now in\nthe sight of God they would \u201ccombine ... togeather into a civil body\npolitik for our better ordering and preservation and furtherance of ye\nend aforesaid, and by vertue hearof to enacte, constitute and frame such\njust and equal lawes, ordinances, actes, constitutions and offices from\ntime to time, as shall be thought most meete and convenient for ye\ngenerall good of ye colonie.\u201d\n\nThe executive was a governor and his assistants, elected annually from\nthe people: while the power to make laws remained with the body of male\ncommunicants of the church. And so it remained for eighteen years, until\nthe growth of the colony made it hard for all church-members to meet\ntogether, so that a simple system of popular representation by election\nhad to be introduced. This colony united later with a flourishing\ntrading settlement, which centred about Salem; and these together formed\nthe Massachusetts Bay Colony, which in 1640 numbered already twenty\nthousand souls.\n\nThe covenant which was drawn up on board the Mayflower is to be\naccounted the first voluntary federation of independent Americans for\nthe purposes of orderly government. The first written constitution was\ndrawn up in the colony of Connecticut, a colony which repeated\nessentially the successful experiments of New Plymouth, and which\nconsisted of agricultural settlements and small posts for trading with\nthe Indians situated at Windsor and Hartford and other places along the\nConnecticut Valley. Led by common interests, they adopted in 1638 a\nformal constitution.\n\nThere was still a third important type of colonial government, which was\nat first thoroughly aristocratic and English, and nevertheless became\nquickly Americanized. It was the custom of the King to grant to\ndistinguished men, under provision of a small tribute, almost\nmonarchical rights over large tracts of land. The first such man was\nLord Baltimore, who received in 1632 a title to the domain of Maryland,\non the Chesapeake Bay. He enjoyed the most complete princely\nprerogatives, and pledged to the crown in return about a fifth part of\nthe gold and silver mined in his province. In 1664 Charles the Second\ngave to his brother, the Duke of York, a large territory, which was soon\nbroken up, and which included what are now known as the States of\nVermont, New Jersey, and Delaware. The great provinces of Georgia and\nCarolina\u2014now North and South Carolina\u2014were awarded by the same King to\none of his admirals, Sir William Penn, for certain services. Penn died,\nand his son, who found himself in need of the sixteen thousand pounds\nwhich his father had loaned to the King, gratified that monarch by\naccepting in their stead a stretch of coast lands extending between the\nfortieth and forty-third degrees of latitude.\n\nIn this way extensive districts were turned over to the caprice of a few\nnoblemen; but immediately the spirit of self-direction took everywhere\nroot, and a social-political enthusiasm proceeded to shape the land\naccording to new ideals. Carolina took counsel of the philosopher,\nLocke, in carrying out her experiment. Maryland, which was immediately\nprospered with two hundred men of property and rank, chiefly of Roman\nCatholic faith, started out with a general popular assembly, and soon\nwent over to the representative system. And Penn\u2019s constructive\nhandiwork, the Quaker State of Pennsylvania, was intended from the first\nto be \u201ca consecrated experiment.\u201d Penn himself explained that he should\ntake care so to arrange the politics of his colony that neither he\nhimself nor his successors should have an opportunity to do wrong.\nPenn\u2019s enthusiasm awoke response from the continent: he himself founded\nthe \u201ccity of brotherly love,\u201d Philadelphia; and Franz Daniel Pastorius\nbrought over his colony of Mennonites, the first German settlers, who\ntook up their abode at Germantown.\n\nThus it was that the spirit of self-reliant and self-assertive\nindependence took root in the most various soils. But that which led the\ncolonies to unite was not their common sentiments and ambitions, but it\nwas their common enemies. In spite of the similarity of their positions\nthere was no lack of sharp contrasts. And perhaps the most striking of\nthese was the opposition between the southern colonies, with their\nlanguid climate, where the planters left all the work to slaves, and the\nmiddle and northern provinces, where the citizens found in work the\ninspiration of their lives. The foes which bound together these diverse\nelements were the Indians, the French, the Spanish, and lastly their\nparent race, the English.\n\nThe Indian had been lord of the land until he was driven back by the\ncolonists to remoter hunting territory. The more warlike tribes tried\nrepeatedly to wipe out the white intruder, and constantly menaced the\nisolated settlements, which were by no means a match for them. Soon\nafter the first serious conflict in 1636, the Pequot war, Rhode Island,\nwhich was a small colony of scattered settlements, made overtures toward\na protective alliance with her stronger neighbours. In this she was\nsuccessful, and together with Massachusetts, Plymouth, New Haven, and\nConnecticut, formed the United Colonies of New England. This union was\nof little practical importance except as a first lesson to the colonies\nto avoid petty jealousies and to consider a closer mutual alliance as a\npossibility which would by no means impair the freedom and independence\nof the uniting parties.\n\nThe wars with the French colonies had more serious consequences. The\nFrench, who were the natural enemies of all English settlements, had\noriginally planted colonies only in the far north, in Quebec in 1608.\nBut during those decades in which the English wayfarers were making\nhomes for themselves along the Atlantic coast, the French were migrating\ndown from the north through the valley of the Saint Lawrence and along\nthe Great Lakes to the Mississippi River. Then they pressed on down this\nstream to its mouth and laid title to the tremendous tracts which it\ndrains, in the name of the French crown. This country they called after\nKing Louis XIV, Louisiana. They had not come as colonists, but solely\nwith an eye to gain, hoping to exploit these untouched resources in\nbehalf of the Canadian fur traffic; and close on the heels of the trader\ncame the Catholic priest. Thus the territory that flanked the English\ncolonies to inland fell into French hands, whereas the land-grants of\nthe English crown so read that only the Pacific Ocean should be the\nwestern boundary. A collision was therefore inevitable, although indeed\nmountains and virgin forests separated the coastland settlements from\nthe inland regions of the Mississippi where the French had planted and\nfortified their trading posts.\n\nWhen, in 1689, war broke out in Europe between England and France, a\nfierce struggle began between their representatives in the New World.\nBut it was not now as it had been in the Indian war, where only a couple\nof colonies were involved. All the colonies along the coast were\nthreatened by a common enemy. A congress of delegates convened at New\nYork in April of 1690, in which for the first time all the colonies were\ninvited to take part. Three long wars followed. The greatest advantage\non the French side was that from the first they had been on good terms\nwith the Indians, whose aid they were now able to enlist. But the French\nwere numerically weak, and received but little assistance from their\nmother country. When in 1766 the last great war broke out the English\ncolonies had a population of a million and a quarter, while the French\nhad only a tenth as many. Chiefly and finally, the English colonists\nwere actual settlers, hardened and matured through carrying the\nresponsibilities of their young state, and fighting for hearth and home;\nthe French were either traders or soldiers. The principle of free\ngovernment was destined on this continent to triumph. Washington, then a\nyoung man, led the fight; the English Secretary of State, William Pitt,\ndid everything in his power to aid; and the victory was complete. By the\ntreaty of 1763 all French possessions east of the Mississippi were given\nto England, with the exception of New Orleans, which, together with the\nFrench possessions west of the Mississippi, went to Spain. Spain\nmeanwhile ceded Florida to England. Thus the entire continent was\ndivided between England and Spain.\n\nBut the Seven Years War had not merely altered the map of America; it\nhad been an instructive lesson to the colonists. They had learned that\ntheir fortunes were one; that their own generals and soldiers were not\ninferior to any which England could send over; and lastly, they had come\nto see that England looked at the affairs of the colonies strictly from\nthe point of view of her own gain. Herewith was opened up a new prospect\nfor the future: the French no longer threatened and everything this side\nof the Mississippi stood open to them and promised huge resources. What\nneed had they to depend further on the English throne? The spirit of\nself-direction could now consistently come forward and dictate the last\nmove.\n\nIt is true that the colonists were still faithful English subjects, and\nin spite of their independent ambitions they took it for granted that\nEngland would always direct their foreign policy, would have the right\nto veto such laws as they passed, and that the English governors would\nalways be recognized as official authorities. But now the English\nParliament planned certain taxations that were the occasion of serious\ndispute. The Thirteen Colonies, which in the meantime had grown to be a\npopulation of two million, had by their considerable war expenditures\nshown to the debt-encumbered Britons the thriving condition of colonial\ntrade. And the latter were soon ready with a plan to lay a part of the\npublic taxation on the Americans. It was not in itself unfair to demand\nof the colonies some contribution to the public treasury, since many of\nthe expenditures were distinctly for their benefit; and yet it must have\nseemed extraordinary to these men who had been forced from childhood to\nshift for themselves, and who believed the doctrine of self-government\nto be incontrovertible. They objected to paying taxes to a Parliament in\nwhich they had no representation; and the phrase, \u201cno taxation without\nrepresentation,\u201d became the motto of the hour.\n\nThe Stamp Tax, which prescribed the use of revenue stamps on all\nAmerican documents and newspapers, was received with consternation, and\nsocieties called the Sons of Freedom were formed throughout the land to\nagitate against this innovation. The Stamp Tax Congress, which met in\nNew York in 1765, repudiated the law in outspoken terms. Nor did it halt\nwith a mere expression of opinion; the spirit of self-direction was not\nto be molested with impunity. Close on the resolve not to observe the\nlaw, came the further agreement to buy no English merchandise. England\nhad to waive the Stamp Tax, but endless mutterings and recriminations\nfollowed which increased the bitterness. Both sides were ripe for war\nwhen, in 1770, England issued a proclamation laying a tax on all tea\nimported to the colonies. The citizens of Boston became enraged and\npitched an English ship-load of tea into the harbour. Thereupon England,\nequally aroused, proceeded to punish Boston by passing measures designed\nto ruin the commerce of Boston and indeed all Massachusetts. The\nThirteen Colonies took sides with Massachusetts and a storm became\nimminent. The first battle was fought on the 19th of April, 1775; and on\nJuly 4th, 1776, the Thirteen Colonies declared their independence of\nEngland. Henceforth there were to be no colonies but in their place\nthirteen free states.\n\nThe Declaration of Independence was composed by Jefferson, a Virginian,\nand is a remarkable document. The spirit that informs it is found in the\nfollowing lines: \u201cWe hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men\nare created equal; that they are endowed by their Creator with certain\nunalienable rights; that among these are life, liberty, and the pursuit\nof happiness. That to secure these rights, governments are instituted\namong men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the\ngoverned....\u201d The sins of the English king and people against America\nare enumerated at length, and in solemn language the United States of\nAmerica are declared independent of the English people, who are\nhenceforth to be as \u201cthe rest of mankind, enemies in war, in peace\nfriends.\u201d This Declaration was signed by delegates from the states in\nIndependence Hall, in Philadelphia, where hung the famous bell, with its\ninscription, \u201cProclaim liberty throughout all the land, unto all the\ninhabitants thereof.\u201d\n\nThe spirit of self-direction had triumphed; but the dangers were by no\nmeans wholly passed. England sent over no more governors, and had indeed\nbeen repulsed; but she had as yet no intention of giving in. The war\ndragged on for five long years, and the outcome was uncertain until in\n1781 Cornwallis was brought to surrender. Then England knew that she had\nlost the contest. The king desired still to prolong the war, but the\npeople were tired of it and, the ministry having finally to yield, peace\nwas declared in April of the year 1783. This was no assurance of an\nharmonious future, however. That solidarity which the colonies had felt\nin the face of a common enemy now gave way to petty jealousies and\noppositions, and the inner weakness of the new Union was revealed. In\nitself the Union had no legal authority over the several states, and\nwhile during the war the affairs of the country had fallen into\ndisorder, yet the Union had no power to conduct foreign diplomacy or\neven to collect customs.\n\nIt was rather in their zeal for self-direction that at first\nconsiderable portions of the population seemed disinclined to enlarge\nthe authority of the central organization. Self-direction begins with\nthe individual or some group of individuals. The true self-direction of\nsociety as a whole was not to be allowed to encroach on the rights of\nthe individual, and this was the danger feared. Each state, with its\nseparate interests and powers, would not give up its autonomy in favour\nof an impersonal central power which might easily come to tyrannize over\nthe single state in much the same way as the hated English throne had\ndone. And yet the best men of the country were brought at length more\nand more to the opposite view; a strong central authority, in which the\nstates as a whole should become a larger self-directing unit, carrying\nout and ensuring the self-direction of the component members, was seen\nto be a necessity. Another congress of representatives from all the\nstates was convened in Independence Hall, at Philadelphia, and this body\nof uncommonly able men sat for months deliberating ways by which the\nopposing factions of federalism and anti-federalism could be brought\ntogether in a satisfactory alliance. It was obvious that compromises\nwould have to be made. So, for instance, it was conceded that the\nsmallest state, like the largest, should be represented in the senate by\ntwo delegates: and the single state enjoyed many other rights not usual\nin a federation. But, on the other hand, it was equally certain that the\nchief executive must be a single man with a firm will, and that this\noffice must be refilled at frequent intervals by a popular election. A\nfew had tentatively suggested making Washington king, but he stood firm\nagainst any such plan. The republican form of government was in this\ninstance no shrewdly devised system which was adopted for the sake of\nnicely spun theoretical advantages\u2014it was the necessity of the time and\nplace, the natural culmination of a whole movement. It was as absolutely\nnecessary as the consolidation of the German states, eighty years later,\nunder an imperial crown. The congress eventually submitted a\nconstitutional project to the several state legislatures, for their\nsummary approval or rejection. Whereon the anti-federalistic factions\nmade a final effort, but were outvoted, and the Constitution was\nadopted. In 1789 George Washington was elected the first president of\nthe United States.\n\nIt would take a lively partisan to assert, as one sometimes does, that\nthis Constitution is the greatest achievement of human intellect, and\nyet the severest critics have acknowledged that a genius for\nstatesmanship is displayed in its text. Penned in an age which was given\nover to bombastic declamation, this document lays down the fundamental\nlines of the new government with great clearness and simplicity. \u201cWe,\nthe people of the United States,\u201d it begins, \u201cin order to form a more\nperfect union, establish justice, insure domestic tranquillity, provide\nfor the common defence, promote the general welfare, and secure the\nblessings of liberty to ourselves and our posterity, do ordain and\nestablish this Constitution for the United States of America.\u201d This is\nthe entire introduction. The contents come under seven articles. The\nfirst article provides for the making of laws, this power to be vested\nin a Congress consisting of a Senate and House of Representatives; for\nthe business and daily routine of this Congress, as well as its powers\nand obligations. The second article provides for the executive power, to\nbe vested in the person of the President, who is elected every fourth\nyear; the third article provides for a judiciary; the fourth defines the\nmutual relations of separate states; and the last three articles concern\nthe adoption of the Constitution and the conditions under which it may\nbe amended.\n\nThe need of amendments and extensions to this Constitution was foreseen\nand provided for. How profoundly the original document comprehended and\nexpressed the genius of the American people may be seen from the fact\nthat during a century which saw an unexampled growth of the country and\nan undreamed-of transformation of its foreign policy, not a single great\nprinciple of the Constitution was modified. After seventy-seven years\none important paragraph was added, prohibiting slavery; and this change\nwas made at a tremendous cost of blood. Otherwise the few amendments\nhave been insignificant and concerned matters of expediency or else, and\nmore specially, further formulations of what, according to American\nconceptions, are the rights of the individual. Although the original\nConstitution did not contain a formal proclamation of religious freedom,\nfreedom of speech, of the press, and of public assemblage, this was not\nbecause those who signed the document did not believe in these things,\nbut because they had not aimed to make of the Constitution of the Union\neither a treatise on ethics or yet a book of law. But as early as 1789\nthe states insisted that all the rights of the individual, as endorsed\nby the national ideals, should be incorporated in the articles of this\ndocument. In the year 1870 one more tardy straggler was added to the\nlist of human rights, the last amendment; the right of the citizens to\nvote was not to be abridged on account of race, colour, or previous\ncondition of servitude.\n\nOf the other amendments, the tenth had been tacitly assumed from the\nfirst year of the Republic; this was that \u201cThe powers not delegated to\nthe United States by the Constitution, nor prohibited by it to the\nStates, are reserved to the States respectively, or to the people.\u201d This\nprinciple also was surely in no way at variance with the spirit of the\noriginal document. It was, indeed, the lever that ensured the great\nefficacy of the Constitution, so that by its provisions the centrifugal\nforces were never disturbed by centripetal ones; an equilibrium was\neffected between the tendencies that made for unity and those that made\nagainst it, in such a way that the highest efficiency was ensured to the\nwhole while the fullest encouragement was given to the enterprise and\ninitiative of the parts. In no direction, probably, would an improvement\nhave been possible. More authority concentrated at the head would have\nimpeded general activity, and less would have lost the advantages of\nconcerted action; in neither case would material growth or the\nreconciliation of conflicting opinions have been possible. Constant\ncompensation of old forces and the quickening of new ones were the\nsecret of this documented power, and yet it was only the complete\nexpression of the spirit of self-direction, which demands unremittingly\nthat the nation as a whole shall conduct itself without encroaching on\nthe freedom of the individual, and that the individual shall be free to\ngo his own ways without interfering with the unfettered policy of the\nnation.\n\nUnder the auspices of this Constitution the country waxed and throve. As\nearly as 1803 its land area was doubled by the accession of Louisiana,\nwhich had been ceded by Spain to France, and was now purchased from\nNapoleon for fifteen million dollars\u2014an event of such far-reaching\nimportance that the people of St. Louis have not inappropriately invited\nthe nations of the earth to participate in a Louisiana Purchase\nExposition. In 1845 Texas was taken into the Union, it having broken\naway from Mexico just previously and constituted itself an independent\nstate. The large region on the Pacific slope known as Oregon came in\n1846 to the United States by treaty with England, and when finally, in\n1847, after the war with Mexico, New Mexico and California became the\nspoils of the victor and in 1867 Russia relinquished Alaska, the domain\nof the country was found to have grown from its original size of 324,000\nsquare miles to one of 3,600,000. The thirteen states had become\nforty-five, since the newly acquired lands had to be divided. But all\nthis growth brought no alteration in the Constitution, whose spirit of\nself-direction, rather, had led to this magnificent development, had\nfortified and secured the country, and inspired it with energy and\ncontentment. The population also has grown under this benevolent\nConstitution. Millions have flocked hither to seek and to find\nprosperity on this new and inexhaustible soil. The area has increased\ntenfold, but the population twenty-fold; and the newcomers have been\ndisciplined in the school of self-direction and educated to the spirit\nof American citizenship.\n\n                  *       *       *       *       *\n\nThere is a certain kind of character which must be developed in this\nschool. It is true, of course, that there is no one model which just\nfits every one, the native-born Yankee as well as the European\nimmigrant, the farmer as well as the resident in cities. The\nIrish-American is not the German-American, nor is the New Englander like\nthe Virginian, nor the son of the East like his brother in the West. The\ninfinite shadings of personal character, temperament, and capacity which\nnature has produced, have, of course, not been lost. And, nevertheless,\njust as the human race in America has begun to differentiate into a\nspecies which is anthropologically distinct, and this partly under the\ninfluence of the climate since the species has several characters in\ncommon with the aboriginal Indian, so also in the moral atmosphere of\nthis body-politic a distinct type of human character is undoubtedly\nbeing evolved; and one may note with perpetual surprise how little the\nother great divisions of social life, as of rich and poor, cultivated\nand ignorant, native-born and immigrant, manual labourer and\nbrain-worker\u2014how little these differentiate the American citizen in his\npolitical capacity. Of course only the political life is in question\nhere; that new groupings and divisions are being continually formed in\nthe economic, intellectual, and social life need not concern us for the\npresent. In the individual it may not be easy to follow the threads\nthrough the tissue of his psychic motions, but in the abstract and\nschematic picture of the type it is by no means impossible to trace them\nout.\n\nWhat is it, then, which the American has gotten from his training? Many\nand apparently unrelated lessons are taught in the school of\nself-direction, and perhaps none of them are without their dangers. For\nit is here not a matter of theoretical knowledge, which may be\nremembered or forgotten and may be well or ill selected, but which in\nitself involves no scale of excellence and, therefore, has no need to be\ntempered or restrained. Theoretical knowledge cannot be overdone or\nexaggerated into untruth. But the practical conduct which is here in\nquestion is different; it involves an ideal, and in such a way that a\nman may not only misapprehend or forget what is the best course of\naction, but also he may err in following it, he may give it undue place\nand so neglect opposing motives which in their place are no less\nrequisite. In short, conduct, unlike knowledge, demands a fine tact and\nunflagging discernment for the fitness of things. In this sense it\ncannot be denied that the teaching of American democracy is itself the\nsource of serious errors, and that the typical American citizen is by no\nmeans free from the failings of his virtues. His fundamental traits may\nbe briefly sketched, and from the excellencies which he strives for many\nof his defects can be understood.\n\nThere is, firstly, a group of closely related impulses, which springs\nfrom the American\u2019s unbounded belief in his own strength, a trait which\nin the last analysis must be, of course, the foundation-stone of any\ndoctrine of self-direction. He will not wait for others to look out for\nhim, counsel him, or take cognizance of his interests, but relies wholly\non his own judgment and his own strength, and believes no goal too high\nfor his exertions to attain. Every true American will have found in\nhimself some trace of this spirit. Each day of his life has suggested it\nto him, and all the institutions of his country have reinforced the\nteaching. Its most immediate result is such a strength of initiative as\nno other people on earth possesses, an optimism, a self-reliance and\nfeeling of security which contribute more than half to his success.\nFaint heart is not in the American\u2019s dictionary. Individual,\ncorporation, or country may be undecided, and dispute whether a certain\nend is desirable or whether a certain means is best to a given end, but\nno one ever doubts or goes into his work with misgivings lest his\nstrength be not enough to traverse the road and reach the goal. And such\nan attitude encourages every man to exert himself to the utmost. The\nspirit of self-direction is here closely allied with that\nself-initiative which is the mainspring of the economic life of America.\nBut the initiative and optimistic resolution shown in the political\narena astonish the stranger more than the same traits displayed in the\neconomic field. It is shown in the readiness for argument, in which\nevery one can express himself accurately and effectively; in the\nindefatigable demand that every public office shall be open to the\nhumblest incumbent, and in the cool assurance with which thousands and\nthousands of persons, without any technical knowledge or professional\ntraining, assume the most exacting political offices, and become\npostmasters, mayors, ministers and ambassadors, without even pausing\nbefore their grave responsibilities. But most of all, American\ninitiative is shown in the structure of all her institutions, great or\nsmall, which minimizes transitions and degrees between higher and lower,\nand so facilitates the steady advance of the individual. Each and all\nmust have the chance to unfold and there must be no obstacles to hinder\nthe right ambition from its utmost realization. Every impulse must be\nutilized; and however far toward the periphery a man may be born he must\nhave the right of pressing forward to the centre. The strength of this\nnation lies at the periphery, and the American government would never\nhave advanced so unerringly from success to success if every village\nstable-lad and city messenger-boy had not known with pride that it\ndepends only on himself if he is not to become President of the United\nStates.\n\nBut the transition is easy and not well marked from such strength to a\ndeplorable weakness. The spirit of initiative and optimism is in danger\nof becoming inexcusable arrogance as to one\u2019s abilities and sad\nunderestimation of the value of professional training. Dilettanteism is\ngenerally well-meaning, often successful, and sometimes wholly\nadmirable; but it is always dangerous. When brawny young factory-hands\nsit on a school committee, sturdy tradesmen assume direction of a\nmunicipal postal service, bankers become speakers in legislature, and\njournalists shift over to be cabinet ministers, the general citizen may\nsometimes find cold comfort in knowing that the public service is not\nroped off from private life, nor like to become effete through stale\ntraditions. It is very evident that America is to-day making a great\neffort to ward off the evils of amateurish incompetence and give more\nprominence to the man of special training. And yet it cannot be denied\nthat very noticeably in the intellectual make-up of the American his\nfree initiative and easy optimism are combined with a readiness to\noverestimate his own powers and with a bias for dilettanteism.\n\nAnother psychological outcome of this individualism seems inevitable.\nWhen every member of a nation feels called on to pass judgment on all\nsubjects for himself, it will come about that public opinion reaches an\nuncommonly high mean level, but it will also happen that the greatest\nintellects are not recognized as being above this mean. The genius, who\nin his day is always incomprehensible to the masses, goes to waste; and\nthe man who sees beyond the vulgar horizon fights an uphill battle. The\nglittering successes are for the man whose doings impress the multitude,\nand this fact is necessarily reflected in the mind of the aspirant, who\nunconsciously shapes his ambitions to the taste of the many rather than\nof the best. Wherever the spirit of initiative possesses all alike, a\ntruly great individual is of course insufferable; any great advance must\nbe a collective movement, and the best energies of the country must be\nfutilely expended in budging the masses. It is no accident that America\nhas still produced no great world genius. And this is the other side of\nthe vaunted and truthful assertion, that whenever in a New England town\na question is brought to an open debate, the number of those who will\ntake a lively, earnest, orderly, and intelligent part in the discussion\nis perhaps greater in proportion to the total number of inhabitants than\nin any place in Europe.\n\nThis leads us to a second consequence of the desire for self-direction.\nIt stimulates not only initiative and self-reliance, but also the\nconsciousness of duty. If a man earnestly believes that the subject must\nalso be potentate, he will not try to put off his responsibilities on\nany one else but will forthwith set himself to work, and prescribe as\nwell his own due restrictions. If a neighbourhood or club, town, city,\nor state, or yet the whole federation sees before it some duty, the\nAmerican will not be found waiting for a higher authority to stir him\nup, for he is himself that authority; his vote it is which determines\nall who are to figure in the affair. Wherefore he is constrained by the\nwhole system to an earnest and untiring co-operation in everything. This\nis not the superficial politics of the ale-house, with its irresponsible\nbandying of yeas and nays. When Secretary of the Navy under McKinley,\nMr. Long said that when the cabinet at Washington was in conference,\nevery member was of course better posted on the matter than the average\ncitizen; but that nevertheless a dozen villagers, say in northern Maine,\nwould read their New York and Boston papers and talk over the affairs\nwith as much intelligence and as good a comprehension of the points at\nissue as would appear at any cabinet debates. This was by no means meant\nas a reflection on his colleagues of the cabinet, but as a frank\nrecognition of an aspect of American life which invariably surprises the\nforeigner. One needs only to recall the discussion which preceded the\nlast presidential election, and more especially the one preceding that;\nthe silver question was the great issue, and evening after evening\nhundreds of thousands listened to technical arguments in finance such as\nno European orator could hope to lay before a popular assembly. Huge\naudiences followed with rapt attention for hours lectures on the most\ndifficult points of international monetary standards. And this\nintellectual seriousness springs from the feeling of personal\nresponsibility which is everywhere present. The European is always\nastonished at the exemplary demeanour of an American crowd; how on\npublic occasions great multitudes of men and women regulate their\nmovements without any noticeable interference by the police, how the\ngreat transportation companies operate with almost no surveillance of\nthe public, trusting each person to do his part, and how in general the\nwhole social structure is based on mutual confidence to a degree which\nis nowhere the case in Europe. The feeling that the ruler and the ruled\nare one pervades all activities, and its consequences are felt far\nbeyond the political realm. Especially in the social sphere it makes for\nself-respect among the lower classes; they adapt themselves readily to\ndiscipline, for at the same time they feel themselves to be the masters;\nand the dignity of their position is the best security for their good\nbehaviour.\n\nBut here, too, excellence has its defects. Where every one is so\nintensely aware of an identity between political authority and political\nsubject, it is hard for the feeling of respect for any person whatsoever\nto find root. The feeling of equality will crop out where nature\ndesigned none, as for instance between youth and mature years. A certain\nlack of respect appears in the family and goes unpunished because\nsuperficially it corresponds to the political system of the land.\nParents even make it a principle to implore and persuade their children,\nholding it to be a mistake to compel or punish them; and they believe\nthat the schools should be conducted in the same spirit. And thus young\nmen and women grow up without experiencing the advantages of outer\nconstraint or discipline.\n\nHitherto we have considered only those intellectual factors derived from\nthe spirit of self-direction which bear on the will of the individual,\nhis rights and duties; but these factors are closely bound up with the\nothers which concern the rights and privileges of one\u2019s neighbour. We\nmay sketch these briefly. Deeply as he feels his own rights, the\nAmerican is not less conscious of those of his neighbour. He does not\nforget that his neighbour may not be molested and must have every\nopportunity for development and the pursuit of his ambitions, and this\nwithout scrutiny or supervision. He recognizes the other\u2019s equal voice\nand influence in public affairs, his equally sincere sense of duty and\nfidelity to it. This altruism expresses itself variously in practical\nlife. Firstly, in a complete subordination to the majority. In America\nthe dissenting minority displays remarkable discipline, and if the\nmajority has formally taken action, one hears no grumbling or quibbling\nfrom the discontented, whether among boys at play or men who have\neverything at stake. The outvoiced minority is self-controlled and\ngood-natured and ready at once to take part in the work which the\nmajority has laid out; and herein lies one of the clearest results of\nthe American system and one of the superior traits of American\ncharacter.\n\nClosely related to this is another trait which lends to American life\nmuch of its intrinsic worth\u2014the unconditional insistence in any\ncompetition on equal rights for both sides. The demand for \u201cfair play\u201d\ndominates the whole American people, and shapes public opinion in all\nmatters whether large or small. And with this, finally, goes the belief\nin the self-respect and integrity of one\u2019s neighbour. The American\ncannot understand how Europeans so often reinforce their statements with\nexplicit mention of their honour which is at stake, as if the hearer is\nlikely to feel a doubt about it; and even American children are often\napt to wonder at young people abroad who quarrel at play and at once\nsuspect one another of some unfairness. The American system does not\nwait for years of discretion to come before exerting its influence; it\nmakes itself felt in the nursery, where already the word of one child is\nnever doubted by his playmates.\n\nHere too, however, the brightest light will cast a shadow. Every\nintelligent American is somewhat sadly aware that the vote of a majority\nis no solution of a problem, and he realizes oftener than he will admit\nthat faith in the majority is pure nonsense if theoretical principles\nare at issue. This is a system which compels him always where a genius\nis required to substitute a committee, and to abide by the majority\nvote. The very theory of unlimited opportunity has its obvious dangers\narising, here as everywhere, from extremes of feeling and so\nexaggeration of the principle. The recognition of another\u2019s rights leads\nnaturally to a sympathy for the weaker, which is as often as not\nunjustified, and easily runs over into sentimentalism, not to say an\nactual hysteria of solicitude. And this is in fact a phase of public\nopinion which stands in striking contrast to the exuberant health of the\nnation. What is even worse, the ever-sensitive desire not to interfere\nin another\u2019s rights leads to the shutting of one\u2019s eyes and letting the\nother do what he likes, even if it is unjust. And in this way a\nsituation is created which encourages the unscrupulous and rewards\nrascality.\n\nFor a long time the blackest spot on American life, specially in the\nopinion of German critics, has been the corruption in municipal and\nother politics. We need not now review the facts. It is enough to point\nout that a comparison with conditions in Germany, say, is entirely\nmisleading if it is supposed to yield conclusions as to the moral\ncharacter of the American people. Unscrupulous persons who are keen for\nplunder, are to be found everywhere; merely the conditions under which\nthe German public service has developed and now maintains itself make it\nalmost impossible for a reprobate of that sort to force his entrance.\nAnd if a German official were discovered in dishonest practices it would\nbe, in fact, discrediting to the people. In America the situation is\nalmost reversed. The conditions on which, according to the American\nsystem, the lesser officials secure their positions, specially in\nmunicipal governments, and the many chances of enriching oneself\nunlawfully and yet without liability to arrest, while the regular\nremuneration and above all the social dignity of the positions are\nrelatively small, drive away the better elements of the population and\ndraw on the inferior. The charge against the Americans, then, should not\nbe that they make dishonest officials, but that they permit a system\nwhich allows dishonest persons to become officials. This is truly a\nserious reproach, yet it is not a charge of contemptible dishonesty but\nof inexcusable complacency; and this springs from the national weakness\nof leniency toward one\u2019s neighbour, a trait which comes near to being a\nfundamental democratic virtue. It cannot be denied, moreover, that the\nwhole nation is earnestly and successfully working to overcome this\ndifficulty.\n\nThe denunciations of the daily papers, however, must not be taken as an\nindication of this, for the uncurbed American press makes the merest\nunfounded suspicion an occasion for sensational accusations. Any one who\nhas compared in recent years the records of unquestionably impartial\njudicial processes with the charges which had previously been made in\nthe papers, must be very sceptical as to the hue and cry of corruption.\nEven municipal politics are much better than they are painted. The\neasiest way of overcoming every evil would be to remove the public\nservice from popular and party influences, but this is, of course, not\nfeasible since it would endanger the most cherished prerogatives of\nindividualism. Besides, the American is comforted about his situation\nbecause he knows that just this direct efficiency of the people\u2019s will\nis the surest means of thoroughly uprooting the evil as soon as it\nbecomes really threatening. He may be patient or indifferent too long,\nbut if he is once aroused he finds in his system a strong and ready\ninstrument for suddenly overturning an administration and putting\nanother in its stead. Moreover, if corruption becomes too unblushing an\n\u201ceducational campaign\u201d is always in order. James Bryce, who is of all\nEuropeans the one most thoroughly acquainted with American party\npolitics, gives his opinion, that the great mass of civil officials in\nthe United States is no more corrupt than that of England or Germany. An\nAmerican would add, however, that they excel their European rivals in a\nbetter disposition and greater readiness to be of service.\n\nBut the situation is complicated by still another tendency which makes\nthe fight for clean and disinterested politics difficult. The spirit of\nself-direction involves a political philosophy which is based on the\nindividual; and the whole commonwealth has no other meaning than an\nadding up of the rights of separate individuals, so that every proposal\nmust benefit some individual or other if it is to commend itself for\nadoption. Now since the state is a collection of numberless individuals\nand the law merely a pledge between them all, the honour of the state\nand the majesty of the law do not attach to a well organized and\npeculiarly exalted collective will, which stands above the individual.\nSuch a thing would seem to an individualist a hollow abstraction, for\nstate and law consist only in the rights and responsibilities of such as\nhe. From this more or less explicitly formulated conception of political\nlife there accrue to society both advantages and dangers. The advantages\nare obvious: the Mephistophelian saying, \u201cVernunft wird Unsinn, Wohltat\nPlage,\u201d becomes unthinkable, since the body-politic is continually\ntested and held in check by the lively interests of individuals. Any\nobvious injustice can be righted, for above the common weal stands the\ngreat army of individuals by whom and for whom both state and law were\nmade.\n\nBut the disadvantages follow as well. If state and law are only a mutual\nrestraint agreed on between individuals, the feeling of restraint\nbecomes lively in proportion as the particular individuals in question\ncan be pointed to, but vanishingly weak when, in a more intangible way,\nthe abstract totality requires allegiance. So one finds the finest\nfeeling for justice in cases of obligation to an individual, as in\ncontracts, for instance, and the minimum sense of right where the duty\nis toward the state. There is no country of Europe where the sense of\nindividual right so pervades all classes of the inhabitants, a fact\nwhich stands in no wise contradictory to the other prevalent tendency of\nesteeming too lightly one\u2019s righteous obligations to city or state. Men\nwho, in the interests of their corporations, try to influence in\nirregular ways the professional politicians in the legislatures, observe\nnevertheless in private life the most rigid principles of right; and\nmany a one who could safely be trusted by the widows and orphans of his\ncity with every cent which they own, would still be very apt to make a\nfalse declaration of his taxable property.\n\nThere is a parallel case in the sphere of criminal law. Possibly even\nmore than the abuses of American municipal politics, the crimes of lynch\ncourts have brought down the condemnation of the civilized world.\nCorruption and \u201clynch justice\u201d are usually thought of as the two\nblemishes on the nation, and it is from them that the casual observer in\nEurope gets a very unfavourable impression of the American conception of\njustice. We have already tried to rectify this estimate in so far as it\nincludes corruption, and as regards lynching it is perhaps even more in\nerror. Lynch violence is of course not to be excused. Crime is crime;\nand the social psychologist is interested only in deciding what rubric\nto put it under. Now the entire development of lynch action shows that\nit is not the wanton violence of men who have no sense of right, but\nrather the frenzied fulfillment of that which we have termed the\nindividualistic conception of justice. The typical case of lynching is\nfound, of course, in Southern States with a considerable negro\npopulation. A negro will have attempted violence on a white woman,\nwhereon all the white men of the neighbourhood, assuming that through\nthe influence of his fellow negroes the criminal would not be duly\nconvicted, or else feeling that the regular legal penalty would not\nsuffice to deter others from the same crime, violently seize the culprit\nfrom out the jurisdiction of the law, and after a summary popular trial\nhang him. But these are not men who are merely seeking a victim to their\nbrutal instinct for murder. It is reported that after the deed, when the\nhorrid crime has been horribly expiated, the participants will quietly\nand almost solemnly shake one another by the hand and disperse\npeacefully to their homes, as if they had fulfilled a sacred obligation\nof citizenship. These are men imbued with the individualistic notion of\nsociety, confident that law is not a thing whose validity extends beyond\nthemselves, but something which they have freely framed and adopted, and\nwhich they both may and must annul or disregard as soon as the\nconditions which made it necessary are altered. It is a matter of course\nthat such presumption is abhorred and condemned in the more highly\ncivilized states of the Union, also by the better classes in the\nSouthern States; and a lyncher is legally a murderer. His deed, however,\nis not to be referred psychologically to a deficient sense of justice.\nThat which is the foundation of this sense, resentment at an\ninfringement of the individual\u2019s rights and belief in the connection\nbetween sin and expiation, are all too vividly realized in his soul.\n\nWe have dwelt on these two offshoots of the individualistic idea of law\nbecause they have been used constantly to distort the true picture of\nAmerican character. Rightly understood, psychologically, these phenomena\nare seen to be black and ugly incidents, which have little to do with\nthe national consciousness of right and honour; they are the regrettable\naccompaniments of an extreme individualism, which in its turn, to be\nsure, grows naturally out of the doctrine of self-direction. Every\nAmerican knows that it is one of the most sacred duties of the land to\nfight against these abuses, and yet the foreigner should not be deceived\ninto thinking, because so and so many negroes are informally disposed of\neach year, and the politicians of Philadelphia or Chicago continue to\nstuff their pockets with spoils in ways which are legally unpunishable,\nthat the American is not thoroughly informed with a respect for law. He\nhas not taken his instruction in the system of self-direction in vain.\nAnd the German who estimates the tone of political life in America by\nthe corruption and lynch violence narrated in the daily papers, is like\nthe American who makes up his opinion of the German army, as he\nsometimes does, from the harangues of social democrats on the abuses of\nmilitary officers, or from sensational disclosures of small garrisons on\nthe frontier.\n\nOne more trait must be mentioned, finally, which is characteristic of\nevery individualistic community, and which, having been impressed on the\nindividual by the American system, has now reacted and contributed much\nto the working out of this system. The American possesses an astonishing\ngift for rapid organization. His highest talents are primarily along\nthis line, and in the same way every individual has an instinct for\nstationing himself at the right place in any organization. This is true\nboth high and low, and can be observed on every occasion, whether in the\nconcerted action of labouring men, in a street accident, or in any sort\nof popular demonstration. For instance, one has only to notice how\nquickly and naturally the public forms in orderly procession before a\nticket-office. This sure instinct for organization, which is such an\nadmirable complement to the spirit of initiative, gives to the American\nworkman his superiority over the European, for it is lamentably lacking\nin the latter, and can be replaced only by the strictest discipline. But\nthis instinct finds its fullest expression in the political sphere. It\nis this which creates parties, guarantees the efficiency of\nlegislatures, preserves the discipline of the state, and is in general\nthe most striking manifestation of the spirit of self-direction. But we\nhave seen that none of the merits of this system are quite without their\ndrawbacks, and this gift for organization has also its dangers. The\npolitical parties which it fosters may become political \u201cmachines,\u201d and\nthe party leader a \u201cboss\u201d\u2014but here we are already in the midst of those\npolitical institutions with which we must deal more in detail.\n\n\n\n\n                              CHAPTER TWO\n                          _Political Parties_\n\n\nThe Presidency is the highest peak in the diversified range of political\ninstitutions, and may well be the first to occupy our attention. But\nthis chief executive office may be looked at in several relations:\nfirstly, it is one of the three divisions of the Government, which are\nthe executive, the legislative, and the judicial. And these might well\nbe considered in this order. But, on the other hand, the President\nstands at the head of the federation of states; and the structural\nbeauty of the American political edifice consists in the repetition of\nthe whole in each part and of the part in every smaller part, and so on\ndown. The top governmental stratum of the federation is repeated on a\nsmaller scale at the head of each of the forty-five states, and again,\nstill smaller, over every city. The governor of a state has in narrower\nlimits the functions of the President, and so, within still narrower,\nhas the mayor of a city. We might, then, consider the highest office,\nand after that its smaller counterparts in the order of their\nimportance.\n\nBut neither of these methods of treatment would bring out the most\nimportant connection. It is possible to understand the President apart\nfrom the miniature presidents of the separate states, or apart from the\nSupreme Court, or even Congress, but it is not possible to understand\nthe President without taking account of the political parties. It is the\nparty which selects its candidate, elects him to office, and expects\nfrom him in return party support and party politics. The same is true,\nmoreover, of elections to Congress and to the state legislatures. For\nhere again the party is the background to which everything is naturally\nreferred, and any description of the President, or Congress, or the\ncourts, which, like the original Constitution, makes no mention of the\nparties, appears to us to-day as lacking in plastic reality, in\nhistorical perspective. We shall, therefore, attempt no such artificial\nanalysis, but rather describe together the constitutional government and\nthe inofficial party formations. They imply and explain each other. Then\non this background of party activities we can view more comprehensively\nthe President, Congress, the Supreme Court, and the entire politics of\nthe federation and the states.\n\nWe must not forget, however, that in separating any of these factors\nfrom the rest, we deal at once with highly artificial abstractions, so\nthat this description will have continually to neglect many facts and\ncut the threads that cross its path. The history of the American\nPresidency shows at all times its close connection with other\ninstitutions. A treaty or even a nomination by the President requires\nthe ratification of the Senate before it is valid; and on the other\nside, the President can veto any bill of Congress. Even the Supreme\nCourt and the President can hardly be considered apart, as was seen, for\ninstance, in the time of Cleveland, when his fiscal policy took final\nshape in an income tax which the Supreme Court declared\nunconstitutional, and therefore unlawful; or again when the colonial\npolicy of McKinley was upheld and validated by a decision of the same\ncourt. Again, the party politics of state and town are no less\nintimately related to the federal government and the Presidency. Here,\ntoo, the leadings are in both directions; local politics condition the\nnational, and these in turn dominate the local. Cleveland was a man who\nhad never played a part in national politics until he became the\nexecutive head of the nation. As Mayor of Buffalo he had been so\nconspicuous throughout the State of New York as to be elected Governor\nof that state, and then in the state politics so won the confidence of\nhis party as to be nominated and elected to the highest national office.\nMcKinley, on the other hand, although he, too, had been the Governor of\na state, nevertheless gained the confidence of his party during his long\nterm of service in Congress.\n\nSimilarly it may be said that local politics are the natural path which\nleads to any national position, whether that of senator or\nrepresentative. And inversely the great federal problems play an often\ndecisive r\u00f4le in the politics of the states with which they strictly\nhave no connection. Federal party lines divide legislatures from the\nlargest to the smallest, and even figure in the municipal elections.\nUnreasonable as it may seem, it is a fact that the great national\nquestions, such as expansion, free trade, and the gold standard, divide\nthe voters of a small village into opposing groups when they have to\nelect merely some one to the police or street-cleaning department. It\nis, therefore, never a question of a mechanical co-ordination and\nindependence of parts, but of an organic interdependence, and every\nleast district of the Union is thoroughly _en rapport_ with the central\ngovernment and doings of the national parties.\n\nThere are political parties in every country, but none like the American\nparties. The English system presents the nearest analogy, with its two\ngreat parties, but the similarity is merely superficial and extends to\nno essential points. Even in the comparison between America and Germany\nit is not the greater number of the German parties that makes the real\ndifference. For the German his party is in the narrower sense a group of\nlegislators, or, more broadly, these legislators together with the\ngeneral body of their constituents. The party has in a way concrete\nreality only in the act of voting and the representation in parliament\nof certain principles. Of course, even in Germany there exists some\norganization between the multitude of voters and the small group which\nthey return to the Reichstag. Party directors, who are for the most part\nthe representatives themselves, central committees and local directors,\nlocal clubs and assemblies are all necessary to stir up the voters and\nto attend to various formalities of the election; but no one has dreamt\nof a horde of professional politicians who are not legislators, of party\nleaders who are more powerful than the representative to be elected, or\nof parties which are stronger than either the parliament or the people.\nThe American party is first of all a closely knit organization with\nextensive machinery and rigid discipline; to be represented in Congress\nor legislature is only one of its many objects.\n\nThis situation is, however, no accident. One may easily understand the\nincomparable machinery and irresistible might of the parties, if one but\nrealizes a few of the essential factors in American party life. First,\nof course, comes the tremendous extent of the field in which the\ncitizens\u2019 ballots have the decision. If it were as it is in the German\nelections to the imperial diet, the American party organization would\nnever have become what it is. But besides the elections to Congress, the\nstate legislatures and local assemblies, there is the direct choice to\nbe made for President, vice-president, governor, the principal state\nofficials and deputies, judges of the appellate court, mayor and city\nofficials, and many others. The entire responsibility falls on the\nvoters, since the doctrine of self-direction ordains that only citizens\nof the state shall vote for state officials, and of the city for city\nofficers. The governor, unlike an \u201cOberpr\u00e4sident,\u201d is not appointed by\nthe Government, nor a mayor by any authority outside his city. The voter\nis nowhere to be politically disburdened of responsibility. But, with\nthe direct suffrage, his sphere of action is only begun. Almost every\none of the men he elects has in turn to make further appointments and\nchoices. The members of a state legislature elect senators to Congress,\nand both governor and mayor name many officials, but most of all, the\nPresident has to give out offices from ambassadors and ministers down to\nvillage postmasters and light-house keepers, in all of which there is\nample chance to put the adherents of one\u2019s party in influential\npositions. Thus the functions of the American voter are incomparably\nmore important and far-reaching than those of the German voter.\n\nBut even with this, the political duties of the American citizen in\nconnection with his party are not exhausted. The spirit of\nself-direction demands the carrying out of a principle which is unknown\nto the German politician. The choice and nomination of a candidate for\nelection must be made by the same voting public; it must be carried on\nby the same parliamentary methods, and decided strictly by a majority\nvote. There are in theory no committees or head officials to relieve the\nvoting public of responsibility, by themselves benignly apportioning the\nvarious offices among the candidates. A party may propose but one\ncandidate for each office, whereas there will often be several men\nwithin the party who wish to be candidates for the same office, as for\ninstance, that of mayor, city counsellor, or treasurer. In every case\nthe members of a party have to select the official nominee of their\nparty by casting ballots, and thus it may happen that the contest\nbetween groups within the party may be livelier than the ultimate battle\nbetween the parties.\n\nNow on a large scale such transactions can be no longer carried on\ndirectly. All the citizens of the state cannot come together to nominate\nthe party candidate for governor. For this purpose, therefore, electors\nhave to be chosen, every one by a strict majority vote, and these meet\nto fix finally on the candidates of the party. And when it comes to the\nPresident of the whole country, the voting public elects a congress of\nelectors, and these in turn choose other electors, and this twice-sifted\nbody of delegates meets in national convention to name the candidate\nwhom the party will support in the final, popular elections. Through\nsuch a strict programme for nominations the duties of the voters towards\ntheir party are just doubled, and it becomes an art considerably beyond\nthe ability of the average citizen to move through this regressive chain\nof elections without losing his way. It requires, in short, an\nestablished and well articulated organization to arrange and conduct the\npopular convocations, to deliberate carefully on the candidates to be\nproposed for nomination, and to carry the infinitely complicated and yet\nunavoidable operations through to their conclusion.\n\nFinally, another factor enters in, which is once more quite foreign to\nthe political life of Germany. Every American election is strictly\nlocal, in the sense that the candidate is invariably chosen from among\nthe voters. In Germany, when a provincial city is about to send a\nrepresentative to the Reichstag, the party in power accounts it a\nspecially favourable circumstance if the candidates are not men of that\nvery city, to suffer the proverbial dishonour of prophets in their own\ncountry, and prefers to see on the ballot the names of great party\nleaders from some other part of the empire. And when Berlin, for\nexample, selects a mayor, the city is glad to call him from Breslau or\nK\u00f6nigsberg. This is inconceivable to the American. It is a corollary to\nthe doctrine of self-determination that whenever a political district,\nwhether village or city, selects a representative, the citizens shall\nnot only nominate and elect their candidate, but that they shall also\nchoose him from their own midst. But this makes it at once necessary for\nthe party to have its organized branches in every nook and corner of the\ncountry. A single central organization graciously to provide candidates\nfor the whole land is not to be thought of. The party organization must\nbe everywhere efficient, and quick to select and weigh for the purposes\nof the party such material as is at hand. It is obvious that this is a\nvery intricate and exacting task, and that if the organization were\nsentimental, loose, or undisciplined, it would go to pieces by reason of\nthe personal and other opposing interests which exist within it. And if\nit were less widely branched or less machine-like in its intricate\nworkings, it would not be able to do its daily work, pick candidates for\nposts of responsibility, nominate electors, and elect its nominees; and\neventually it would sink out of sight. The American political party is\nthus an essentially complete and independent organization.\n\nTwo evils are necessarily occasioned by this invulnerable organization\nof party activities, both of which are peculiar and of such undoubtedly\nbad consequences as to strike the most superficial observer, and\nspecially the foreigner; and yet both of which on closer view are seen\nto be much less serious than one might have supposed at first. After a\nparty has grown up and become well organized in its purpose of\nrepresenting these or those political principles and of defending and\npropagating them, it may at length cease to be only the means to an end,\nand become an end unto itself. There is the danger that it will come to\nlook on its duties as being nothing else than to keep itself in power,\neven by denying or opposing the principles with which it has grown up.\nMoreover, such an organization exacts a colossal amount of labour which\nmust be rewarded in some form or other; and so it will find it\nexpedient, quite apart from the political ideals of the party, to exert\nits influence in the patronage of state and other offices. The result is\nthat the rewards and honours conferred necessarily draw men into the\nservice of the party who care less for its ideals than for the\nemoluments they are to derive. And thus two evils spring up together;\nfirstly, the parties lose their principles, and, secondly, take into\ntheir service professional politicians who have no principles to lose.\nWe must consider both matters more in detail, the party ideals and the\npoliticians.\n\nAmerica has two great parties, the Republican, which is just now in\npower, and the Democratic. Other parties, as, for instance, the\nPopulist, are small, and while they may for a while secure a meagre\nrepresentation in Congress, they are too insignificant to have any\nchance of success in the presidential elections: although, to be sure,\nthis does not prevent various groups of over-enthusiastic persons from\nseizing the politically unfitting and impracticable occasion to set up\ntheir own presidential candidate as a sort of figure-head. Any political\namateur, who finds no place in the official parties, may gather a few\nfriends under his banner and start a new, independent party; but the\nbubble bursts in a few days. And even if it is a person like Admiral\nDewey, whose party banner is the flag under which he has sent an enemy\u2019s\nfleet to the bottom, he will succeed only in being amusing. The regular,\norganized parties are the only ones which seriously count in politics.\nIt sometimes happens, however, that a few months before the elections a\nsmall band of politically or industrially influential men will meet to\nconsider the project of a third party, while their real aim is to create\na little organization whose voting power will be coveted by both of the\ngreat parties. In this way the founders plan to force one or both of\nthese to make concessions to the principles of their little group, since\nthe most important feature is that Republicans and Democrats are so\nnearly equally balanced that only a slight force is needed to turn the\nscales to either side. In recent elections McKinley and Cleveland have\neach been elected twice to the Presidency, and no one can say whether\nthe next presidential majority will be Republican or Democrat. On\nCleveland\u2019s second election the Democrats had 5,556,918, and the\nRepublicans 5,176,108 votes, while the Populists made a showing of one\nmillion votes. But four years later the tables were turned, and McKinley\nwon on 7,106,199 votes, while Bryan lost on 6,502,685. It is clear,\ntherefore, that neither of the parties has to fear that a third party\nwill elect its candidate; nor can either rest on old laurels, for any\nremission of effort is a certain victory for the other side. A third\nparty is dangerous only in so far as it is likely to split up one of the\ntwo parties and so weaken it in an otherwise almost equal competition.\n\nWhat, now, are the principles and aims of the Republican and Democratic\nparties? Their names are not significant, since neither do the\nRepublicans wish to do away with American democracy, nor do the\nDemocrats have any designs on the republican form of government. At the\nopening of the nineteenth century the present Democrats were called\n\u201cDemocratic-Republicans,\u201d and this long abandoned name could just as\nwell be given to all surviving parties. Neither aristocracy nor monarchy\nnor anarchy nor plutocracy has ever so far appeared on a party\nprogramme, and however hotly the battle may be waged between Republicans\nand Democrats, it is forever certain that both opponents are at once\nDemocrats and Republicans. Wherein, then, do they differ?\n\nThe true party politician of America does not philosophize overmuch\nabout the parties; it is enough for him that one party has taken or is\nlikely to take this, and the other party that position on the living\nquestions, and beyond this his interest is absorbed by special problems.\nHe is reluctant enough when it comes to taking up the nicer question of\ndeducing logically from the general principles of a party what attitude\nit ought to take on this or that special issue. The nearest he would\ncome to this would be conversely to point out that the attitude of his\nopponents directly refutes their party\u2019s most sacred doctrines. Those\nwho philosophize are mostly outsiders, either sojourners in the country,\nor indigenous critics who are considerably more alive to the unavoidable\nevils of party politics than to the merits. From such opponents of\nparties as well as from foreigners, one hears again and again that the\nparties do not really stand for any general principles at the present\ntime, that their separate existence has lost whatever political\nsignificance it may have had, and that to-day they are merely two\norganizations preserving a semblance of individuality and taking such\nattitude toward the issues of the day as is likely to secure the largest\nnumber of votes, in order to distribute among their members the fruits\nof victory. The present parties, say these critics, were formed in that\nstruggle of intellectual forces which took place during the third\nquarter of the last century; it was the dispute over slavery which led\nto the Civil War. The Republican party was the party of the Northern\nStates in their anti-slavery zeal; the Democratic was the party of the\nslave-holding Southern States; and the opposition had political\nsignificance as long as the effects of the war lasted, and it was\nnecessary to work for the conciliation and renewed participation of the\ndefeated Confederacy. But all this is long past. Harrison, Cleveland,\nBlaine, Bryan, McKinley, and Roosevelt became the standard-bearers of\ntheir respective parties long after the wounds of the war had healed.\nAnd it is no outcome from the original, distinguishing principles of the\nparties, if the slave-holding party takes the side of free-trade, silver\ncurrency and anti-imperialism, while the anti-slavery elements stay\ntogether in behalf of the gold standard, protection, and expansion.\n\nIt looks, rather, as if the doctrines had migrated each to the other\u2019s\nhabitat. The party which was against slavery was supporting the rights\nof the individual; how comes it, then, to be bitterly opposing the\nfreedom of trade? And how do the friends of slavery happen to champion\nthe cause of free-trade, or, more remarkably, to oppose so passionately\nto-day the oppression of the people of the Philippines? And what have\nthese questions to do with the monetary standard? It looks as if the\norganization had become a body without a soul. Each party tries to keep\nthe dignity of its historic traditions and at every new juncture bobs\nand ducks before the interests and prejudices of its habitual client\u00e8le,\nwhile it seeks to outwit the opposite party by popular agitation against\npersistent wrongs and abuses or by new campaign catch-words and other\ndevices. But there is no further thought of consistently standing by any\nfundamental principles. This hap-hazard propping up of the party\nprogramme is evinced by the fact that either party is divided on almost\nevery question, and the preference of the majority becomes the policy of\nthe party only through the strict discipline and suppression of the\nminority. The Republicans won in their campaign for imperialism, and yet\nno anti-imperialist raised his voice more loudly than the Republican\nSenator Hoar. The Democrats acclaimed the silver schemes of Bryan, but\nthe Gold Democrats numbered on their side really all the best men of the\nparty. Again, on other important issues both parties will adopt the same\nplatform as soon as they see that the masses are bound to vote that way.\nThus neither party will openly come out for trusts, but both parties\nboast of deprecating them; and both profess likewise to uphold\ncivil-service reform. This is so much the case that it has often been\nobserved that within a wide range the programmes of the two parties in\nno way conflict. One party extols that which the other has never\nopposed, and the semblance of a difference is kept up only by such\ninsistent vociferation of the policy as implies some sly and powerful\ngainsayer. And then with the same histrionic rage comes the other party\nand pounces on some scandal which the first had never thought of\nsanctioning. In short, there are no parties to-day but the powerful\nelection organizations which have no other end in view than to come into\npower at whatever cost. It should seem better wholly to give up the\noutlived issues, and to have only independent candidates who, without\nregard to party pressure, would be grouped according to their attitude\non the chief problems of the day.\n\nAnd yet, after the worst has thus been said, we find ourselves still far\nremoved from the facts. Each separate charge may be true, but the whole\nbe false and misleading: even although many a party adherent admits the\njustness of the characterization, and declares that the party must\ndecide every case \u201con its merits,\u201d and that to hold to principles is\ninexpedient in politics. For the principles exist, nevertheless, and\nhave existed, and they dominate mightily the great to and fro of party\nmovements. Just as there have always been persons who pretend to deduce\nthe entire history of Europe from petty court intrigues and jealousies\nof the ante-room or the boudoir, so there will always be wise-heads in\nAmerica to see through party doings, and deduce everything from the\nspeculative manipulations of a couple of banking houses or the private\nschemes of a sugar magnate or a silver king. Such explanations never go\nbegging for a credulous public, since mankind has a deep-rooted craving\nto see lowness put on exhibition. No man is a hero, it is said, in the\neyes of his valet. Nations, too, have their valets; and with them, too,\nthe fact is not that there are no heroes, but that a valet can see only\nwith the eyes of a valet.\n\nIt is true that the party lines of to-day have developed from the\nconflicting motives of the Civil War. But the fundamental error which\nprevents all insight into the deeper connections, lies in supposing that\nthe anti-slavery party was first inspired by the individual fate of the\nnegro, or in general the freedom of the individual. We must recall some\nof the facts of history. The question of slavery did not make its first\nappearance in the year 1860, when the Republican party became important.\nThe contrast between the plantation owners of the South, to whom slave\nlabour was apparently indispensable, and the industry and trade of the\nNorth, which had no need of slaves, had existed from the beginning of\nthe century and was in itself no reason for the formation of political\nparties. It was mainly an economic question which, together with many\nother factors, led to a far-reaching opposition between the New England\nStates and the South, an opposition which was strengthened, to be sure,\nby the moral scruples of the Puritanical North. But the earlier parties\nwere not marked off by degrees of latitude, and furthermore the\nSoutherner was by no means lacking in personal sympathy for the negro.\nThe question first came into politics indirectly. It was in those years\nwhen the Union was pushing out into the West, taking in new territories\nand then making them into states by act of Congress, according to the\nprovisions of the Constitution. In 1819 the question came up of\nadmitting Missouri to the Union, and now for the first time Congress\nfaced the problem as to whether slavery should be allowed in a new\nstate. The South wished it and the North opposed it. Congress finally\ndecided that Missouri should be a slave state, but that in the future\nslavery should be forbidden north of a certain geographical line. Thus\nslavery came to be recognized as a question within the jurisdiction of\nthe federal Congress. Wherewith, if Congress should vote against slavery\nby a sufficient majority, it could forbid the practice in all the\nSouthern states. And this would mean their ruin.\n\nIt came thus to be for the interest of the Southern states, which at\nthat time had a majority, to see to it that for every free state\nadmitted to the Union there should be at least one new slave state; this\nin order to hold their majority in Congress. Now it happened at that\ntime that the territories which, by reason of their population, would\nhave next to be admitted, lay all north of the appointed boundary and\nwould, therefore, be free states. Therefore the slave-holders\npromulgated the theory that Congress had exceeded its jurisdiction and\ninterfered with the rights of the individual states. The matter was\nbrought before the Supreme Court, and in 1857 a verdict was given which\nupheld the new theory. Thus Congress, that is, the Union as a whole,\ncould not forbid slavery in any place, but must leave the matter for\neach state to decide. Herewith an important political issue was created,\nand a part of the country stood out for the rights of the Union, a part\nfor those of the individual states. The group of men who at that time\nforesaw that the whole Union was threatened, if so far-reaching rights\nwere to be conceded to the states, was the Republican party. It rose up\ndefiantly for the might and right of the federation, and would not\npermit one of the most important social and economic questions to be\ntaken out of the hands of the central government and left to local\nchoice. It was, of course, not a matter of chance that slavery became\nthe occasion of dispute, but the real question at issue was the\njurisdiction of the Federal Government. The federal party won, under the\nleadership of Abraham Lincoln. His election was the signal for the slave\nstates to secede, South Carolina being the first. In February, 1861,\nthese states formed a Confederation, and the Union was formally cleft.\nIn his inaugural speech of the following March, Lincoln firmly declared\nthat the Union must be preserved at all cost. The Civil War began in\nApril, and after fearful fighting the secessionists were returned to the\nUnion, all slaves were freed, and the Southern states were reconstructed\nafter the ideas of the Republican party. The opposing party, the\nDemocratic, was the party of decentralization. Its programme was the\nfreedom of the individual state but not the servitude of the individual\nman.\n\nWhen one understands in this way the difference between the two parties,\none sees that the Republicans were not for freedom nor the Democrats for\nslavery, but the Republicans were for a more complete subordination of\nthe states to the federation and the Democrats were for the converse.\nThis is a very different point of view, and from it very much which\nseems incompatible with the attitude of the two parties toward the\nquestion of slavery may now be seen as a necessary historical\nconsequence.\n\nIf we cast a glance at foregoing decades, we see that ever since the\nearly days of the republic there has been hardly a time when these two\nforces, the centralizing and the decentralizing, have not been in play.\nIt has lain deep in the nature of Teutonic peoples to pull apart from\none another, while at the same time the struggle for existence has\nforced them to strong and well unified organization, so that scarcely a\nsingle Teutonic people has been spared that same opposition of social\nforces which is found in America. The origin of the Constitution itself\ncan be understood only with reference to these antagonistic tendencies.\nThe country wanted to be free of the miserable uncertainty, the internal\ndiscord and outward weakness which followed the Declaration of\nIndependence; it wanted the strength of unity. And yet every single\nstate guarded jealously its own rights, suspected every other state, and\nwished to be ensured against any encroachment of the federal power. And\nso the Constitution was drawn up with special precautions ensuring the\nequilibrium of power. At once, in Washington\u2019s cabinet, both tendencies\nwere distinctly and notably represented. There sat the distinguished\nHamilton, the minister of finance and framer of the Constitution, who\nwas a tireless champion of the federal spirit, and beside him sat\nJefferson, the minister of state, who would have preferred to have the\nfederation transact nothing but foreign affairs and who believed in\ngeneral the less the legislation the better for the people. The\nadherents of Hamilton\u2019s policy formed the federalist party, while\nJefferson\u2019s supporters were called the Democratic Republicans. The names\nhave changed and the special issues have altered with the progress of\nevents; indeed, apparently the centralist party has gone twice out of\nexistence, yet it was actually this party of which Lincoln became the\nleader. Jefferson\u2019s party, on the other hand, in spite of its change of\nname, has never as an organization ceased to exist. The Democrats who,\nin 1860, wished to submit the question of slavery to the individual\nstates, were the immediate heirs of the anti-federalists who had elected\ntheir first president in 1800.\n\nNow if the centralizing and decentralizing character of the two parties\nis borne in mind, their further development down to the present day can\nbe understood. This development seems disconnected and contradictory\nonly when the slavery question is thought to be the main feature and the\nRepublicans are accounted the champions of freedom and the Democrats of\nslavery. Even Bryce, who has furnished by far the best account of the\nAmerican party system, underestimates somewhat the inner continuity of\nthe parties. Even he believes that the chief mission of the Republican\nparty has been to do away with slavery and to reconstruct the Southern\nstates, and that since this end was accomplished as far back as in the\nseventies, new parties ought naturally to have been formed by this time.\nAlthough the old organizations have in fact persisted, a certain\nvagueness and lack of vitality can be detected, he says, in both\nparties. According to that conception, however, it would be\nincomprehensible why those who formerly went forth to put an end to\nslavery now advance to bring the Filipinos into subjection, and to\ndetain the poor man from purchasing his necessities where they are the\ncheapest.\n\nAs we have seen, the Democrats were the party which was true to the\nJeffersonian principles, and in opposition to the supporters of\ncongressional authority defended the rights and free play of the\nindividual states. And the Republicans were those who wished to exalt\nbeyond any other the authority of the Federal Government. This is the\nkey to everything which has since come to pass. At the last presidential\nelections there were three great party issues\u2014the tariff, the currency,\nand the question of expansion. In deciding on all three of these points,\nthe parties have conformed to their old principles. Free-trade versus\nprotective tariff was not a new bone of contention. Jefferson\u2019s party\nhad urged free-trade with all the nations of the earth at the very\nbeginning of the century, and, of course, a decentralizing party which\nlikes as little supervision and paternalism as possible, will always\nconcede to the individual his right to buy what he requires where it\nwill cost the least. The Democrats did not oppose a tariff for revenue,\nto help defray the public expenses, but they objected on principle to\nthat further tariff which was laid on goods in order to keep the prices\nof them high and so to protect home industries. The centralists, that\nis, the whigs or the Republicans, on the contrary, by their supreme\nconfidence in the one national government, had early been led to expect\nfrom it a certain protection of the national market and some regulation\nof the economic struggle for existence. And protective tariff was one of\nthe main planks in their platform early in the century.\n\nIt is clear, once more, that the anti-centralists had a direct and\nnatural interest in the small man, his economic weaknesses and burdens;\nevery member of society must have equal right and opportunity to work\nout his career. It does not contradict this that the Democrats believed\nin slavery. In the Southern states the negro had come in the course of\ngenerations to be looked on as property, as a possession to be held and\nutilized in a special way, and any feeling of personal responsibility\nwas of a patriarchal and not a political nature. The peculiarly\ndemocratic element in the position taken was the demand that the slavery\nquestion be left with the separate states to decide. As soon as fellow\ncitizens were concerned, the anti-centralist party held true to its\nprinciples of looking out for the members on the periphery of society.\nIn this way the party favoured the progressive income tax, and has\nalways espoused any cause which would assist the working-man against the\nsuperior force of protected capital, or the farmer against the\nmachinations of the stock market. The exaggerated notions as to the\nsilver standard of currency originated outside of the Democratic party,\nand have intrinsically nothing to do with democracy. But as soon as a\nconsiderable part of the people from one cause or another began really\nto believe that nothing but a silver currency could relieve the\ncondition of the artisans and farmers, it became logically necessary for\nthe party which opposed centralization to adopt and foster this panacea,\nhowever senseless it might seem to the more thoughtful elements within\nthe party. And it was no less necessary for the party which upholds\nfederal authority to oppose unconditionally anything which would\nendanger the coinage and credit of the country. The gold standard is\nspecifically a Republican doctrine only when it is understood to\nrepudiate and oppose all risky experimenting with bimetallism.\n\nIn the new imperialistic movement, on the other hand, it was the\nDemocrats who were put on the defensive. Any one who leans toward\nindividualism must instinctively lean away from militarism, which makes\nfor strength at the centre; from aggressive movements to annex new\nlands, whereby the owners are deprived of their natural rights to manage\ntheir own affairs, and from any meddling with international politics,\nfor this involves necessarily increased discretionary powers for the\ncentral government. It is not that the Democrats care less for the\ngreatness of their fatherland, but they despise that jingo patriotism\nwhich abandons the traditions of the country by bringing foreign peoples\ninto subjection. It is left for the centralists to meet the new\nsituation squarely, undertake new responsibilities, and convince the\nnation that it is strong and mature enough now to play a decisive r\u00f4le\nin the politics of the world. And thus the two great parties are by no\nmanner of means two rudderless derelicts carried hither and thither by\nthe currents ever since the Civil War, but, rather, great three-deckers\nfollowing without swerve their appointed courses.\n\nThe parties have sometimes been distinguished as conservative and\nliberal, but this is rather a reminiscence of conditions in Europe. Both\nof the parties are really conservative, as results from both the\nAmerican character and the nature of the party organization. Even in the\nmost radical Democratic gathering the great appeal is never made in\nbehalf of some advantageous or brilliant innovation but on the grounds\nof adherence to the old, reliable, and well-nigh sacred party\nprinciples. If either party is at present departing from the traditions\nof the past, it is the Republican party, which has always figured as the\nmore conservative of the two. Yet such a distinction is partly true,\nsince the centralists in conformity to their principles must specially\nmaintain the Federal authority and precedent, while the Democratic party\nis more naturally inclined to give ear to discontented spirits, clever\ninnovators, and fantastic reformers, lest some decentralizing energy\nshould be suppressed. So the Republican party gains a fundamental and\ncheerful complacence with the prevailing order of things, while the\nDemocratic party, even when it is in power, can never come quite to\nrest. The contrast is not that between rich and poor; the Democratic\nparty has its quota of millionaires, and the Republican has, for\ninstance, in its negro clientage many of the poorest in the land. But\nthe Republican party is filled with self-satisfaction and the\nconsciousness of power and success, while the Democrats are forever\nmeasuring the actual according to an ideal which can never be realized.\nLike all centralists, the Republicans are essentially opportunists and\nmatter-of-fact politicians; and the Democrats, like all\nanti-centralists, are idealists and enthusiasts. It has been well said\nthat a Democratic committee is conducted like a debating club, but a\nRepublican like a meeting of the stockholders in a corporation.\n\nThese facts clearly hint at a certain personal factor which influences\nthe citizen\u2019s allegiance to one or other of the parties. In meeting a\nman on a journey one has very soon the impression, though one may often\nbe mistaken, as to what party he belongs to, although he may not have\nspoken a word about politics. But more distinctive than the personal\nbias are the groupings by classes and regions which have come about\nduring the course of time. In the North and West the Republicans have\nthe majority among the educated classes, but in the South the educated\npeople are Democrats, particularly since the negro population there\nholds to the old abolition party, so that the whites are the more ready\nto be on the other side. The lower classes are moved by the most diverse\nmotives; the farmer is inclined to be Republican and the artisan of the\ncities Democratic; Protestants are more often Republicans and Catholics\nDemocrats, a partition which began with the early identification of the\nPuritan clergy of New England with the Republican party. This resulted\nin an affiliation of Catholicism and Democracy which has had very\nimportant consequences, particularly in municipal politics; the Irish,\nwho are invariably Catholics, vote with the Democratic party. The\nGermans and Swedes, specially in the West, are mostly Republicans. In\nthese ways the most complicated combinations have come about,\nparticularly in the Middle West, where many of the larger states are\nalways uncertain at election time. In the elections of the State of New\nYork, the Democrats and Republicans have been alternately successful.\nVery often the capital city votes differently from the rural districts,\nas in Massachusetts, which is a stalwart Republican state, although\nBoston, owing to the Irish population, is Democratic.\n\n                  *       *       *       *       *\n\nThese considerations as to the groupings of the party adherents bring us\ndirectly to our second question\u2014who are the party politicians? We have\naimed to refute the assertion that the parties are without their\nprinciples, but there is the further assertion that the politicians are\nwithout principles. In asking whether politics are really in the hands\nof unscrupulous men, one should first ascertain whether there are any\nhonourable motives which would lead a man to devote himself thereto. And\nit appears that nowhere else are there such powerful inducements for a\nconscientious man to go into politics. First of all there is the best\npossible motive, the wish to see one\u2019s country governed according to\none\u2019s own ideas of justice and progress, and the desire to work in this\nway for the honour, security, and welfare of the nation. Any one who has\nwitnessed the American presidential elections once or twice will be\nconvinced that the overwhelming majority of voters casts its votes in a\ntruly ethical spirit, although, of course, the moral feeling is now\nmore, now less, profound. At times when technical matters are chiefly\nthe order of the day, or at best matters of expediency, enthusiasm for a\nparty victory has to be kept up in other ways; but when it comes to\nquestions of the national solidarity and honour, or of justice and\nfreedom, then really high ethical enthusiasm holds place before all\nother political motives. In fact, the keen party spirit of the American\nis rather in danger of making him feel a virtuous indignation against\nthe opposing party, even in regard to purely technical issues, as if it\nhad fallen into mere frivolity or been criminally irresponsible. And in\nthis way the American is never at a loss for a moral stream of some sort\nto keep the political mill-wheel turning.\n\nAfter patriotic enthusiasm come the economic and social motives which\neven the most high-flown idealist would not designate as corrupt. It is\nnot only just, but it is actually the ideal of politics that every\nportion of the population, every class and calling, as well as every\ngeographical section, should see its peculiar interests brought up for\npolitical debate. It is possible for an equilibrium of all existing\nforces to be reached only when all elements alike are aware of their\nchance to assert themselves. Nothing could be gained if agriculture were\nto become political sponsor for the industrial interests, or if industry\nwere to assume the care and protection of agriculture. A due and proper\nemphasis by the respective interests of their own needs will always be\nan honourable and, for the public welfare, useful incentive to political\nefficiency. It is not to be doubted that in this way American politics\nhave always induced millions of citizens to the liveliest participation.\nAs we have seen, free-trade and protective tariff grew out of the chief\ndemands of the two parties; but this does not prevent the same party\nopposition from standing in a way for the diverse and partly\ncontradictory interests of Northern industry and Southern plantation\nlife. Hence the parties are immediately interested in trade and\ncommerce. In a similar way the interests of the West have been bound up\nin bimetallism schemes, while the commercial integrity of the East\ndepends on a gold currency. Legislation affecting trusts and banks and\nthe policy of expansion touch some of the deepest economic problems, and\nsummon all those concerned to come forward and play their part. The same\nholds true of social interests. The negro, struggling against\nlegislation aimed directly at himself, seeks social protection through\nthe Republican party, while the Irish, Swedes, and Russians also look\nfor political recognition to advance their social interests.\n\nNow these moral, social, and economic motives interest the citizen of\nevery land in politics; but there are other considerations here in\nplay, which, although no less honourable, figure less importantly in\nGermany for example. First of all stands loyalty to the traditions of\none\u2019s party. The son joins the party of his father, and is true to it\nfor life. In this way many are held in the party net who otherwise\nmight not agree to its general tenets. In a country where there are\nmany parties with only slight shades of difference, where, say, the\nnational-liberals are only a step removed from the independents or the\nindependent-conservatives, each new election period offers the voter a\nfree choice between parties. But where there are only two camps a\nparty loyalty is developed which leaves very much less to personal\ninclination, and makes possible a firm party discipline. Then the\ncitizen may come to say of his party as of his fatherland, \u201cIt may be\nright or wrong, it is still my party.\u201d A man like Hoar may use all the\nforce of his rhetoric to condemn imperialism and to stigmatize it as a\ncrime, and he may leave no stone unturned to bring his own Republican\nparty to abandon the imperialistic policy, and yet, if his\nrecommendations are officially outvoiced, he will not falter in\nsupporting the regular candidates of his party, imperialists though\nthey be, as against the anti-imperialist Democratic candidates. The\ntypical American will rather wait for his own party to take up and\ncorrect the evils which he most deplores than go over to the other\nparty which may be already working for the same reforms.\n\nTo be sure, there are Americans who account this point of view narrow or\neven culpable, and who reserve the right of judging the programmes of\nboth parties afresh each time and of casting their lot on the side which\nthey find to be right. The example of Carl Schurz will be readily\nrecalled, who in 1896 delivered notable speeches in favour of McKinley\nagainst Bryan, but came out in 1900 for Bryan as against McKinley. He\nwas a Republican on the first occasion, because at that time the\nquestion of currency was in the foreground, and he thought it paramount\nto preserve the gold standard, while in the next election he went over\nto the Democrats because the question of expansion had come to the fore,\nand he preferred the short-sighted silver policy to the unrighteous\nprogramme of war and subjugation. The number of such independent\npoliticians is not small, and among them are many of the finest\ncharacters in the land. Behind them comes the considerable class of\nvoters who may be won over to either party by momentary considerations\nof business prosperity, by any popular agitation for the sake of being\nwith the crowd, by personal sympathies or antipathies, or merely through\ndiscontent with the prevailing r\u00e9gime. If there were not an appreciable\npart of the people to oscillate in this way between the parties, the\nelections would fall out the same way from year to year, the result\ncould always be told beforehand, and neither party would have any\nincentive to active effort; in short, political life would stagnate.\nThus the citizens who owe no party allegiance but take sides according\nto the merits of the case are very efficient practically: in a way they\nrepresent the conscience of the country, and yet three-fourths of the\npopulation would look on their political creed with suspicion, or,\nindeed, contempt. They would insist that the American system needs great\nparties, and that parties cannot be practically effective if there is no\ndiscipline in their organization\u2014that is, if the minority of their\nmembership is not ready to submit cheerfully to the will of the\nmajority. If any man wishes to make reforms, he should first set about\nto reform his party. Whereas, if on every difference of opinion he goes\nover to the enemy\u2019s camp, he simply destroys all respect for the weight\nof a majority, and therewith undermines all democracy. It is as if a\nparty, which found itself defeated at the polls, should start a\nrevolution; whereas it is the pride of the American people to accept\nwithout protest the government which the majority has chosen. And so\nparty allegiance is taken as the mark of political maturity, and the men\nwho hold themselves superior to their parties are influential at the\npolls, but in the party camps they see their arguments held in light\nesteem. They are mistrusted by the popular mind.\n\nIn addition to all this the American happens to be a born politician. On\nthe one hand the mere technique of politics fascinates him; every boy is\nacquainted with parliamentary forms, and to frame amendments or file\ndemurrers appeals vastly to his fancy. It is an hereditary trait. On the\nother hand, he finds in the party the most diversified social\nenvironment which he may hope to meet. Aside from his church, the farmer\nor artisan finds his sole social inspiration in his party, where the\npolitical assemblies and contact with men of like opinions with himself\nmake him feel vividly that he is a free and equal participant in the\nmighty game. Moreover, local interests cannot be separated from those of\nthe state, nor these from the affairs of the whole country; for the\nparty lines are drawn even in the smallest community, and dominate\npublic discussions whether great or small, so that even those who feel\nno interest in national questions but are concerned only with local\nreforms, perhaps the school system or the police board, find themselves,\nnevertheless, drawn into the machinery of the great national parties.\n\nYet another motive induces the American to enter politics, a motive\nwhich is neither good nor bad. Party politics have for many an aspect of\nsport, as can be easily understood from the Anglo-Saxon delight in\ncompetition and the nearly equal strength of the two parties. All the\nmarks of sport can be seen in the daily calculations and the ridiculous\nwagers which are made, and in the prevalent desire to be on the side of\nthe winner. Not otherwise can the parades, torch-light processions, and\nother demonstrations be explained, which are supposed to inspire the\nindifferent or wavering with the conviction that this party and not the\nother will come out victorious.\n\nThe American, it is seen, has ample inducements to engage in the\nactivities of party, from the noblest patriotic enthusiasm down to the\nmere excitement over a sport. And it is doubtless these various motives\nwhich sustain the parties in their activity and supply such an\ninexhaustible sum of energy to the nation\u2019s politics. By them the masses\nare kept busily turning the political wheels and so provided with a\npolitical schooling such as they get in no other country.\n\nBut we have seen that to enlist in the service of a political party\nmeans more than to discuss and vote conscientiously, to work on\ncommittees, or to contribute to the party treasury. Every detail of\nelections, local or national, in every part of the country, has to be\nplanned and worked out by the party organization; and particularly in\nthe matter of nomination of candidates by the members of the party, the\nwork of arranging and agitating one scheme or another has become a\nveritable science, demanding far more than merely amateur ability. It\nmust not be forgotten that in questions of a majority the American\ncomplacent good humour is put aside. The party caucuses are managed on\nsuch business-like methods that even in the most stormy debates the\nminutest points of expediency are kept well in mind. If the several\ninterests are not represented with all that expertness with which an\nattorney at court would plead the cause of a client, their case is as\ngood as lost. The managers have to study and know the least details, be\nacquainted with personal and local conditions, with the attitude of the\npress, of the officials, and of the other party leaders. Those members\nof the organization who conduct the large federal sections and so deal\nwith more than local affairs, have to be at once lawyers, financiers,\ngenerals, and diplomats. Shrewd combinations have to be devised in which\ncity, state, and national questions are nicely interwoven and matters of\npersonal tact and abstract right made to play into each other; and these\narrangements must be carried out with an energy and discretion that will\nrequire the undivided attention of any man who hopes to succeed at the\nbusiness. Thus the American conditions demand in the way of organization\nand agitation such an outlay of strength as could not be expected of the\ncitizens of any country, except in times of war, unless in addition to\npatriotic motives some more concrete inducements should be offered. And\nthus there are certain advantages and rewards accruing to the men who\ndevote themselves to this indispensable work.\n\nThe first of these inducements is, presumably, honour. The personal\ndistinctions which may be gotten in politics cannot easily be estimated\nafter German standards. There are both credits and debits which the\nGerman does not suspect. To the former belongs the important fact that\nall offices up to the very highest can be reached only by the way of\nparty politics. The positions of president, ambassadors, governors,\nsenators, ministers, and so forth are all provided with salaries, but\nsuch inadequate ones as compared with the scale of living which is\nexpected of the incumbents that no one would even accept any of these\npositions for the sake of the remuneration. In most cases an actual\nfinancial sacrifice has to be made, since the holding of office is not\nan assured career, but rather a brief interruption of one\u2019s private\nbusiness. It is to be remembered, moreover, that a civil office carries\nno pension. And thus it frequently happens that a man ends his political\ncareer because he has spent all of his money, or because he feels it a\nduty to secure his financial position. Reed, who was in a way the most\nimportant Republican leader, gave up his position as speaker of the\nHouse of Representatives and broke off all political entanglements in\norder to become partner in a law firm. In the same way Harrison, on\nretiring from the presidency, resumed his practice of law, and Day\nresigned the secretaryship of state because his financial resources were\nnot adequate. An ambassador hardly expects his salary to be more than a\nfraction of his expenditures. Now this circumstance need excite no pity,\nsince there is an abundance of rich men in America, and the Senate has\nbeen nicknamed the Millionaire\u2019s Club; but it should serve to show that\nhonour, prestige, and influence are the real incentives to a political\ncareer, and not the \u201calmighty dollar,\u201d as certain detractors would have\none believe. There are persons, to be sure, who have gotten money in\npolitics, but they are few and insignificant beside those who have been\nin politics because they had money. The political career in America thus\noffers greater social rewards than in Germany, where the holding of\noffice is divorced from politics, where the government is an hereditary\nmonarchy and strongly influenced by an hereditary aristocracy, and where\neven the merest mayor or city councilman must have his appointment\nconfirmed by the government.\n\nSince the social premiums of the political life are so many and so\nimportant it may seem astonishing that this career does not attract all\nthe best strength of the nation, and even embarrass the parties with an\noverplus of great men. The reasons why it does not are as follows:\nFirstly, distinctions due merely to office or position have not in a\ndemocratic country the same exclusive value which they have with an\naristocratic nation. The feeling of social equality is much stronger,\nand all consideration and regard are paid to a man\u2019s personal qualities\nrather than to his station. A land which knows no nobility, titles, or\norders is unschooled in these artificial distinctions, and while there\nis some social differentiation it is incomparably less. One looks for\none\u2019s neighbour to be a gentleman, and is not concerned to find out what\nhe does during office hours. The reputation and influence which are\nearned in political life are much more potent than any honour deriving\nfrom position. But here is found a second retarding factor: the\nstructure of American politics does not conduce to fame. In Germany the\nparty leaders are constantly in the public eye; they deliver important\nspeeches in the Reichstag or the Landtag, and their oratorical\nachievements are read in every home. In America the debates of Congress\nare very little read, and those of the state legislatures almost not at\nall; the work of government is done in committees. The speeches of the\nSenate are the most likely to become known, and yet no one becomes\nfamous in America through his parliamentary utterances, and public\nsentiment is seldom influenced by oratorical performances at Washington.\n\nIn the third place, every American party officer must have served in the\nranks and worked his way up. It is not every man\u2019s business to spend his\ntime with the disagreeable minuti\u00e6 of the local party organization; and\neven if he does not dislike the work, he may well object to the society\nwith which he is thrown in these lower political strata. A fourth and\nperhaps the principal item comes in here. In its lowest departments\npolitics can be made to yield a pecuniary return, and for this reason\nattracts undesirable and perhaps unscrupulous elements whose mere\nco-operation is enough to disgust better men and to give the purely\npolitical career a lower status in public opinion than might be expected\nin such a thoroughly political community.\n\nThis question of the pecuniary income from political sources is even by\nthe Americans themselves seldom fairly treated. There are three possible\nsources of income. Firstly, the representatives of the people are\ndirectly remunerated; secondly, the politician may obtain a salaried\nfederal, state, or municipal office; and, thirdly, he may misuse his\ninfluence or his office unlawfully to enrich himself. It is a\nregrettable fact that the first source of revenue attracts a goodly\nnumber into politics. It is not the case with Congress, but many a man\nsits in the state legislatures who is there only for the salary, while\nin reality the monetary allowance was never meant as an inducement but\nas a compensation, since otherwise many would be deterred altogether\nfrom politics. But the stipend is small and attracts no one who has\ncapacity enough to earn more in a regular profession. It attracts,\nhowever, all kinds of forlorn and ill-starred individuals, who then\nscramble into local politics and do their best to bring the calling into\ndisrepute. And yet, after all, these are so small a fraction of the\npoliticians as to be entirely negligible. There would be much worse\nevils if the salaries were to be abolished. There are others who make\nmoney in criminal ways, and of course they have ample opportunity for\ndeception, theft, and corruption in both town and country. Their case is\nnot open to any difference of opinion. It is easy for a member of the\nschool committee to get hold of the land on which the next school-house\nis to be built, and to sell it at a profit; or for a mayor to approve a\nstreet-car line which is directly for the advantage of his private\nassociates; or for a captain of police to accept hush money from\nunlawful gambling houses. Everybody knows that this sort of thing is\npossible, and that the perpetrators can with difficulty be convicted,\nyet they occasionally are and then get the punishment which they\ndeserve. But this is no more a part of the political system than the\nfalse entries of an absconding cashier are a part of banking. And even\nif every unproved suspicion of dishonesty were shown to be well founded,\nthe men who so abuse their positions would be as much the exceptions as\nare those who enter politics for the sake of the salary. We shall return\nlater to these excrescences.\n\nOf the three sources of income from politics, only one remains to be\nconsidered\u2014the non-legislative but salaried offices with which the\npolitician may be rewarded for his pains. This is the first and surest\nmeans by which the party keeps its great and indispensable army of\nretainers contentedly at work. And here the familiar evils enter in\nwhich are so often held up for discussion in Germany. An American\nreformer, in criticizing the condition of the parties, is very apt not\nto distinguish between the giving out of offices to professional\npoliticians as rewards and the later corrupt using of these offices by\ntheir incumbents. And as soon as the politician receives an income from\nthe public treasury, the reformer will cry \u201cstop thief.\u201d The so-called\n\u201cspoils system,\u201d by which the federal offices in the patronage of the\nPresident are distributed to those who have worked hardest in the\ninterests of the victorious party, will occupy our attention when we\ncome to the political problems of the day. We shall have then to mention\nthe advantages and disadvantages of civil service reform. But it must be\nsaid right here that, however commendable this reform movement may be in\nmany respects, and in none more than in the increased efficiency which\nit has effected in the public service, nevertheless the spoils system\ncannot be called dishonourable, and no one should characterize\nprofessional politicians as abominable reprobates because they are\nwilling to accept civil positions as rewards from the party for which\nthey have laboured.\n\nIt is a usage which has nothing to do with the corrupt exploitation of\noffice, and the German who derives from it the favourite prejudice\nagainst the political life of the United States must not suppose that he\nhas thereby justified the German conception of office. Quite on the\ncontrary, no one ever expects the German government to bestow offices,\ntitles, or orders on members of the political opposition, to confirm,\nfor instance, an independent for the position of Landrat or a social\ndemocrat for city councillor, while co-operation in the plans of the\ngovernment never goes unrewarded. Above all, a German never looks on his\nofficial salary as a sort of present taken from the public treasury, but\nas the ordinary equivalent of the work which he does, while the American\nhas a curious conception of the matter quite foreign to the German,\nwhich is the ground for his contempt of the \u201cspoils system.\u201d To\nillustrate by a short example: a state attorney who had been elected to\nthe same office time after time, was asked to renew his candidacy at the\ncoming elections. But he declined to do so, and explained that he had\nbeen supported for twenty years out of the public funds, and that it was\ntherefore high time for him to earn his own living by the ordinary\npractice of law. A German cannot understand this conception, traditional\nthough it is in America, but he can easily see that the man who shares\nsuch views as to public salaries will naturally consider it an act of\nplunder when the party in power distributes the best public posts to its\nown followers.\n\nThe case would be somewhat different if the politicians who step into\noffices were essentially incapable or indolent, though this is aside\nfrom the principle in question. Germans have recently become used to\nseeing a general or a merchant become minister. In America it is a\nmatter of course that a capable man is qualified, with the aid of\ntechnically trained subordinates, for any office. And no one denies that\npoliticians make industrious office-holders. And yet the same remarkable\ncharge is always made, that the holder of an office receives a gift from\nthe public chest.\n\nThese considerations are not meant as an argument against civil service\nreform, which is supported by the best men of both parties, although\nthey are not exactly the most zealous party \u201cheelers.\u201d But the\nsuperficial assertion must be refuted, that the spoils system shows lack\nof morality in party politics. No unprejudiced observer would find\nanything improper in the attitude of those who endure the thankless and\narduous labours imposed by the party for the sake of a profitable\nposition in the government service. It would be equally just to reproach\nthe German official with lack of character because he rises to a high\nposition in the service of the government. If this were the true idea,\nGrover Cleveland, who has done more than any other president for the\ncause of civil service reform, could be said actually to have favored\nthe spoils system. In an admirable essay on the independence of the\nexecutive, he says:\u2014\n\n\u201cI have no sympathy with the intolerant people who, without the least\nappreciation of the meaning of party work and service, superciliously\naffect to despise all those who apply for office as they would those\nguilty of a flagrant misdemeanor. It will indeed be a happy day when the\nascendancy of party principles and the attainment of wholesome\nadministration will be universally regarded as sufficient rewards of\nindividual and legitimate party service.... In the meantime why should\nwe indiscriminately hate those who seek office? They may not have\nentirely emancipated themselves from the belief that the offices should\npass with party victory, but in all other respects they are in many\ninstances as honest, as capable, and as intelligent as any of us.\u201d\n\nThere are such strong arguments for separating public office from the\nservice of party, that every reformer is amply justified if on his\nnative soil he stigmatizes the present usage as corrupt. But the\nrepresentation that all professional politicians are despicable scamps\nbecause they work for their party in the hope of being preferred for\npublic office, is unjust and misleading when it is spread abroad in\nother countries. Abuses there are, to be sure, and the situation is such\nas to attract swarms of worthless persons. It is true, moreover, that\neven in the higher strata of professional politics there is usually less\nof broad-minded statesmanship than of ingenious compromise and clever\nexploitation of the opposing party\u2019s weaknesses and of popular whims and\nprejudices. Petty methods are often more successful than enlightened\nones, and cunning men have better chances than those who are more\nhigh-minded. In the lower strata, moreover, where it is important to\ncajole the voting masses into the party fold, it may be inevitable that\nmen undertake and are rewarded for very questionable services.\nNevertheless the association of party and office is not intrinsically\nimproper.\n\nIn the same category of unjust reproaches, finally, belongs the talk\nover the money paid into the party treasury. It is, of course, true that\nthe elections both great and small eat up vast sums of money; the\nmountains of election pamphlets, the special trains for candidates who\njourney from place to place in order to harangue the people at every\nrural railway station, from the platform of the coach\u2014Roosevelt is said\nat the last election in this way to have addressed three million\npersons\u2014the banquet-halls and bands of music, and the thousand other\nrequisites of the contest are not to be had for nothing. It is taken as\na matter of course that the supporters of the party are taxed, and of\ncourse just those will be apt to contribute who look for further\nmaterial benefit in case of victory; it is also expected that, of\ncourse, the larger industries will help the propaganda of the\nhigh-tariff party, that the silver mine owners will generously support\nbimetallism, and that the beer brewers will furnish funds when it is a\nquestion between them and the Prohibitionists. But in the endeavour to\nhurt the opposing party some persons make such contributions a ground of\ndespicable slander. Any one who considers the matter really without\nprejudice will see not only that the American party politics are a\nnecessary institution, but also that they are infinitely cleaner and\nbetter than the European newspaper reader will ever be inclined to\nbelieve.\n\n\n\n\n                             CHAPTER THREE\n                            _The President_\n\n\nThe President of the United States is elected by the people every four\nyears. He may be re-elected and, so far as the Constitution provides, he\nmay hold the first position in the land for life, by terms always of\nfour years at a time. A certain unwritten law, however, forbids his\nholding office for more than two terms. George Washington was elected\nfor two terms, and after him Thomas Jefferson, James Madison, James\nMonroe, Andrew Jackson, Abraham Lincoln, Ulysses Grant, Grover\nCleveland, and William McKinley; that is, nine out of twenty presidents\nhave received this distinction. No president has served a third term of\noffice, because since Washington declined to be nominated for a third\ntime the conservative sense of the Americans has cherished the doctrine\nthat no man should stand at the helm of the nation longer than eight\nyears.\n\nAt the present day it is urged from many sides that the provisions of\nthe Constitution ought to be changed. It is said that the frequently\nrecurring presidential elections, with the popular excitement which they\ninvolve during the months immediately preceding, are an appreciable\ndisturbance to economic life and that the possibility of being\nre-elected is too apt to make the President in the first term of office\ngovern his actions with an eye to his second election. It is proposed,\ntherefore, that every President shall be elected for six years and that\nre-election shall be forbidden by the Constitution. Experience of the\npast, however, hardly speaks for such a plan. The inclination shown by\nthe President to yield to popular clamours or the instances of his party\nhas been very different with different presidents, but on the whole it\nhas not been noticeably greater in the first than in the second term of\noffice. More especially, the disadvantages which come from the\nexcitement over elections are certainly made up for by the moral\nadvantage which the act of election brings to the people. The\npresidential election is a period of considerable reflection and\nexamination of the country\u2019s condition, and everybody is worked up to\nconsiderable interest; and the more changeable the times are so much the\nmore rapidly new problems come up. Therefore there should be no thought\nof putting the decisive public elections, with their month-long\ndiscussions, at further intervals apart.\n\nThe most important duties and prerogatives of the President involve\nforeign as well as domestic affairs, and of the latter the most\nimportant concern the administration; a less important, although by no\nmeans an insignificant, part of his duties relates to legislation. The\nPresident is commander-in-chief of the army and of the navy, and with\nthe approval of a majority of the Senate he appoints ambassadors,\nconsuls, judges of the Supreme Court, and all the higher federal\nofficials. Subject to the ratification of two-thirds of the Senate, he\nconcludes treaties with foreign powers and regulates diplomatic\nrelations. He has, moreover, the right to send back inside of ten days,\nwith his veto, any bill which Congress has passed, and in this case the\nbill can become law only by being once more voted on by Congress and\nreceiving in both houses a two-third\u2019s majority. The President has the\npower to convene both houses in special sessions, and is expected to\nsend messages to both houses when they meet, in which he describes the\npolitical situation of the country and recommends new measures. In\naddition to this he has the right of pardon and the right to afford\nprotection to individual states against civil violence, if they cannot\nthemselves quell the disturbance.\n\nSuch are the principal features of the presidential office, and it is\nclear that here as everywhere in American civil law the spirit of\nprecaution has tried from the outset to limit the possibilities of\nabuse. Although he is commander-in-chief of the army, the President has\nnot the right to declare war, this right being given to Congress. The\nPresident negotiates with foreign representatives and signs all\ntreaties, but these are not valid until the Senate has approved them\nwith a two-thirds vote. He nominates government officials, but once\nagain only with the sanction of the Senate. The President convenes\nCongress and recommends matters for its legislative consideration, but\nthe President cannot, like the German Government, lay bills before\nCongress for its ratification. While the President sends his message to\nCongress his ministers have not, as in Germany, a seat in parliament,\nand cannot, therefore, in the debates actively support the President\u2019s\npolicy.\n\nThe President is authorized to veto any bill that is passed through\nCongress, but his veto is not final since the bill can still become a\nlaw if Congress is sufficiently of one accord to override his veto.\nTherefore a whimsical or arbitrary president would find small scope for\nhis vagaries so long as he keeps within his powers, while if he exceeds\nthem he can be impeached, like a king under old English law. The House\nof Representatives can at any time file complaint against the President\nif he is suspected of treason or corruption or any other crime. In such\ncase the Senate, under the chairmanship of a judge of the Supreme bench,\nconstitutes a court of trial which is empowered to depose the President\nfrom office. Up to the present time but one president, Andrew Johnson,\nhas been impeached, and he was acquitted. The seditionary ambition of a\nman who should try to gain complete control, to overthrow the\nConstitution, and at the head of the army, or of the populace, or, as\nmight be more likely, of the millionaires, to institute a monarchy,\nwould have no chance of success. Neither a Napoleon nor a Boulanger\nwould be possible in America.\n\nIn spite of these provisions, it is to be observed that tremendous power\nis in the hands of this one man. Thousands and thousands of officials\nappointed by his predecessor can be removed by a stroke of his pen, and\nnone can take their places except those whom he nominates. And he can\nput a barrier before any law such as Congress could only in exceptional\ncases ride over. Cleveland, for instance, who to be sure made the freest\nuse of his authority in this respect, vetoed more than three hundred\nbills, and only twice did Congress succeed in setting aside his veto.\nThe President may negotiate with foreign powers up to the point where a\nloyal and patriotic Congress has hardly any choice but to acquiesce. The\nPresident can virtually force Congress to a declaration of war, and if\ninsurrection breaks out in any state he can at his pleasure employ the\nfederal troops on behalf of one or the other faction, and when war has\nonce been declared the presidential authority grows hourly in\nimportance. The army and navy stand under his direction, and since the\nConstitution makes him responsible for the maintenance of law and order\nin the country he becomes virtually dictator in case of an insurrection.\nBryce says very justly that Abraham Lincoln exercised more power than\nany man in England since Oliver Cromwell, and the anti-imperialistic\npapers of America always assert that in their Philippine policy McKinley\nand Roosevelt have taken on themselves more authority than any European\nmonarch, excepting the Czar, could acquire.\n\nIn two respects the President is more important as compared with the\nrepresentatives of the people, even in times of peace, than the king of\nEngland or the President of France. Firstly, his cabinet is entirely\nindependent of the voice of parliament, and it has often been the case\nthat while a majority in Congress sharply opposed the party policy of\nthe President, this has not influenced the composition of his cabinet.\nThe cabinet ministers are the representatives of the presidential\npolicy, and they do not even take part in the doings of Congress.\n\nSecondly, the President is not less but rather more than Congress a\nrepresentative of the people. A monarch who takes up a position against\nthe parliament thereby antagonizes the people. The President of France\nis elected by the people, but only through their parliamentary\nrepresentatives; the chambers elect him, and therefore he is not an\nindependent authority. The President of the United States, on the other\nhand, is in his own person a symbol of the collective will of the\npeople, as opposed to the different members of Congress, which is of\ndiverse composition and chosen on more local issues. There is moral\nauthority, therefore, vested in the President. He is the true will of\nthe people and his veto is their conscience. It is almost astonishing\nthat a Republican democracy should have put such tremendous power into\nthe hands of a single man. It is the more striking inasmuch as the\nDeclaration of Independence related at length the sins of the English\nmonarch. But we must bear in mind that the framers of the Constitution\nhad to make a new and dangerous experiment, wherein they were much more\nafraid of that so far unknown and incalculable factor, the rule of the\npeople, than the power of that single person whose administrative\npossibilities they had, in the colonial days, been able to observe in\nthe governors of the several states. These had been diminutive but, on\nthe whole, encouraging examples. Before all else the great and\nincomparable George Washington, the popular, dashing, and yet cautious\naristocrat, had presided at the deliberations in which the Constitution\nwas discussed, and had himself stood tangibly before the popular mind as\nthe very ideal of a president.\n\nThus the President stands with tremendous powers at the helm of the\nnation. Who has sought him out for this position from the hundreds of\nthousands, whose hot ambition has led them to dream of such a\ndistinction, and who has finally established him in this highest\nelective office on the face of the earth? The Constitution makes no\nother provision for the selection of a candidate than that he shall have\nbeen born in the land, that he shall be at least thirty-five years old,\nand shall have resided at least fourteen years in this his native\ncountry. On the other hand, the Constitutional provisions for his\nelection are highly complicated, much more so indeed than the\ncircumstances really call for. In fact, while the electoral procedures\nstill comply with the wording of the original Constitution, actual\nconditions have so changed since the establishment of the Union that the\nprescribed machinery is not only partly unnecessary, but in some cases\neven works in opposition to what had been originally intended, and\ninconsistently with itself. The law requires, merely to mention the main\npoint, that every state shall elect by popular vote a certain number of\nmen who are called electors, and that a majority of the electors shall\nchoose the President. For each state the number of electors is the same\nas that of the representatives which it sends to both houses of Congress\ntogether; it depends, therefore, on the number of inhabitants. Out of\nthe 447 electors, 36 come from the State of New York, 32 from\nPennsylvania, 24 from Illinois, 23 from Ohio, 15 from Massachusetts, but\nonly 4 from Colorado, Florida, or New Hampshire; and only 3 from\nDelaware, Idaho, North Dakota, Utah, and several others. In case the\nvote of the electors should give no absolute majority to any candidate,\nthe House of Representatives has to elect the President from among the\nthree candidates who have received the greatest number of electoral\nvotes.\n\nThe intention of the men who framed the Constitution in making these\nroundabout electoral provisions is clear enough; the election was not\nmeant to be made directly by the people. When in the first discussions\nof the Constitution it was suggested that the President be elected\ndirectly by the people, some of the framers called the scheme chimerical\nand others called it impracticable. Indeed, some even doubted whether\nthe people would be competent to choose the electors since, it was said,\nthey would know too little about the persons and so would be liable to\ngrave errors. This mistrust went so far, it is said, that leaving the\nelection of the highest executives directly to the people seemed as\nunnatural as asking a blind man to match colors. The first plan which\nwas at all approved by the Assembly was that Congress should elect the\nPresident; and not until later did it adopt the system of electors. It\nwas hoped that for the electoral college the people would select the\nbest, most experienced, and most cautious men of the country, and that\nthese men should be left quite free to choose the highest executive as\ncarefully and conscientiously as possible: and so it really happened\nwhen the electors met for the first time and fixed unanimously on George\nWashington.\n\nBut the situation is somewhat changed to-day: for a hundred years it has\nbeen the case that the electors have inevitably been deprived of all\nfree choice. They are as passive as a printed ballot. They are no longer\nelected in order to come to a decision as to the best President, but\nmerely to vote for this or that special candidate as designated, and for\na hundred years not a single elector has disappointed this expectation.\nThus the election of the President is practically accomplished on the\nday in November when the electors are voted for. McKinley defeated Bryan\nfor the Presidency on the ninth of November, 1900, although no elector\nhad officially voted for either one or the other; nor would he have a\nchance to vote until the first day of January, when he was mechanically\nto deposit his ballot.\n\nThe indirect election prescribed by the Constitution has therefore\nbecome to all intents and purposes a direct one, and the whole machinery\nof electors is really superfluous. It may, indeed, be said to have\nbecome contradictory in itself.\n\nSince the original intention to make an electoral college of the\nbest citizens has been frustrated by the popular spirit of\nself-determination, the electoral apparatus can have to-day no other\nsignificance than to give expression to the voice of the majority.\nBut now just this it is in the power of the electoral system\ncompletely to suppress. Let us suppose that only two candidates are\nin question. If the election were simply a direct one, of course\nthat candidate would win who received the most votes; but with\nelectors this is not the case, because the number of electors who\nare pledged to vote for these two candidates need not at all\ncorrespond to the number of ballots cast on the two sides. If in the\nState of New York, for instance, three-fifths of the population are\nfor the first candidate and two-fifths for the second, the\nthree-fifths majority determines the whole list of 36 electors for\nthe first candidate, and not an elector would be chosen for the\nother. Now it can very well happen that a candidate in those states\nin which he secures all the electors will have small majorities,\nthat is, his opponent will have large minorities, while his opponent\nin the states which vote for him will have large majorities; and in\nthis way the majority of electors will be pledged for that candidate\nwho has received actually the smaller number of votes. It is a fact\nthat both Hayes in 1877 and Harrison in 1889 were constitutionally\nelected for the Presidency by a minority of votes.\n\nWhile in form the voters choose only the electors from their state,\nnevertheless these ballots thus actually count for a certain candidate.\nAt the last election 292 electors voted for McKinley, and 155 for Bryan,\nwhile for the McKinley electors 832,280 more votes were cast than for\nthe Bryan electors. We have already seen how it is that the best man\nwill no longer, as in Washington\u2019s time, be unequivocally elected by the\npeople, and why, although a unanimous choice of President has not taken\nplace since Washington\u2019s time, nevertheless no more than two candidates\nare ever practically in question. It was for this that we have discussed\nthe parties first. The parties are the factor which makes it impossible\nfor a President to be elected without a contest, and which, as early as\n1797, when the successor of Washington had to be nominated, divided the\npeople in two sections, the supporters of Jefferson and of Adams. At the\nsame time, however, the parties prevent the division from going further,\nand bring it about that this population of millions of people compactly\norganizes itself for Presidential elections in only two groups, so that\nalthough never less than two, still never more than two candidates\nreally step into the arena.\n\nFor both great parties alike, with their central and local committees,\nwith their professional politicians, with their leaders and their\nfollowers, whether engaging in politics out of interest or in hope of\ngain, as an ideal or as sport\u2014for all alike comes the great day when the\nPresident is to be elected. For years previous the party leaders will\nhave combined and dissolved and speculated and intrigued, and for years\nthe friends of the possible candidates have spoken loudly in the\nnewspapers, since here, of course, not only the election but also the\nnomination of the candidate depends on the people. Although the election\nis in November, the national conventions for nominating the party\ncandidates come generally in July. Each state sends its delegation,\nnumbering twice as many as the members of Congress from that state, and\neach delegation is once more duly elected by a convention of\nrepresentatives chosen by the actual voters out of their party lists. In\nthese national conventions the great battles of the country are fought,\nthat is, within the party, and here the general trend of national\npolitics is determined. It is the great trial moment for the party and\nthe party heroes. At the last election McKinley and Bryan were the\nopposing candidates, and it is interesting to trace in their elections\nby the respective conventions two great types of party decision.\n\nMcKinley had grown slowly in public favour; he was the accomplished\npolitician, the interesting leader of Congress, the sympathetic man who\nhad no enemies. When the Republican convention met at Chicago, in 1888,\nhe was a member of the delegation from Ohio and was pledged to do his\nutmost for the nomination of John Sherman. The ballots were cast five\ndifferent times and every time no one candidate was found to have a\nmajority. On the sixth trial one vote was cast for McKinley, and the\nannouncement of this vote created an uproar. A sudden shifting of the\nopinions took place amid great acclamation, and the delegations all went\nover to him. He jumped up on a stool and called loudly through the hall\nthat he should be offended by any man who voted for him since he himself\nhad been pledged to vote for Sherman. Finally a compromise was found in\nBenjamin Harrison. At the convention in Minneapolis four years later\nMcKinley was chairman, and once more the temptation came to him. The\nopponents of Harrison wished to oppose his re-election by uniting on the\nOhio statesman, and again it was McKinley himself who turned the vote\nthis time in favour of Harrison. His own time came finally in 1896. In\nthe national convention at St. Louis 661 votes were cast in the first\nballot for McKinley, while 84 were cast for Thomas Reed, 61 for Quay, 58\nfor Morton, and 35 for Allison. And when, in 1900, the national\nconvention met in Philadelphia, 926 votes were straightway cast for\nMcKinley, and none opposing. His was the steady, sure, and deserved rise\nfrom step to step through tireless exertions for his party and his\ncountry.\n\nBryan was a young and unknown lawyer, who had sat for a couple of years\nin the House of Representatives like any other delegate, and had warmly\nupheld bimetallism. At the Democratic national convention at Chicago in\n1896 almost nobody knew him. But it was a curious crisis in the\nDemocratic party. It had been victorious four years previous in its\ncampaign for Cleveland against Harrison, but the party as such had\nenjoyed no particular satisfaction. The self-willed and determined\nCleveland, who had systematically opposed Congress tooth and nail, had\nfallen out with his party and nowhere on the horizon had appeared a new\nleader. And after a true statesman like Cleveland had come to grief, the\npetty politicians, who had neither ideas nor a programme, came to their\nown. Every one was looking for a strong personality when Bryan stepped\nforth to ingratiate himself and his silver programme in the affections\nof his party. His arguments were not new, but his catch-words were well\nstudied, and here at last stood a fascinating personality with a\nforceful temperament which was all aglow, and with a voice that sounded\nlike the tones of an organ. And when he cried out, \u201cYou must not nail\nhumanity to a cross of gold,\u201d it was as if an omen had appeared. He\nbecame at once the Democratic candidate for the Presidency, and six\nmonths later six and one-half million votes were cast for him against\nthe seven million for McKinley. Nor did the silver intoxication succumb\nto its first defeat. When the Democrats met again in 1900, all the\nendeavours of those who had adhered to a gold currency were seen to be\nfutile. Once again the silver-tongued Nebraskan was carried about in\ntriumph, and not until its second defeat did the Democratic party wake\nup. Bryanism is now a dead issue, and before the next Presidential\nelection the programme of the Democratic party will be entirely\nreconstructed.\n\nThus the presidents of the nation grow organically out of the party\nstructure, and the parties find in turn their highest duty and their\nreward in electing their President. The people organized in a party and\nthe chief executive which that party elects belong necessarily together.\nThey are the base and the summit. Nothing but death can overthrow the\ndecision of the people; death did overthrow, indeed, the last decision\nafter a few months, in September, 1901, when the cowardly assassination\naccomplished by a Polish anarchist brought the administration of\nMcKinley to an end. As the Constitution provides, the man whom the\npeople had elected to the relatively insignificant office of\nVice-President became master in the White House.\n\nThe Vice-Presidency is from the point of view of political logic the\nleast satisfactory place in American politics. Very early in the history\nof the United States the filling of this office occasioned many\ndifficulties, and at that time the provisions of the Constitution\nreferring to it were completely worked over. The Constitution had\noriginally said that the man who had the second largest number of votes\nfor the Presidency should become Vice-President. This was conceived in\nthe spirit of the time when the two-party system did not exist and when\nit was expected that the electors should not be restricted by the voting\npublic in their choice of the best man. As soon, however, as the\nopposition between the two parties came into being, the necessary result\nof such provision was that the presidential candidate of the defeated\nparty should become Vice-President, and therefore that President and\nVice-President should always represent diametrically opposed tendencies.\nA change in the Constitution did away with this political impossibility.\nEach elector was instructed to deposit separate ballots for President\nand Vice-President, and that candidate became Vice-President who\nreceived the largest number of votes for that office, both offices being\nthus invariably filled by candidates of the same party.\n\nIn spite of this the position has developed rather unsatisfactorily for\nan obvious reason. The Constitution condemns the Vice-President, so long\nas the President holds office, to an ornamental inactivity. It is his\nduty to preside at sessions of the Senate, a task which he for the most\npart performs silently, and which has not nearly the political\nsignificance enjoyed by the Speaker of the House of Representatives. On\nthe other hand, men still in the prime of life are almost always elected\nto the Presidency; the possibility is therefore almost always lost sight\nof that the President can die before the expiration of his four years\u2019\nterm of office. The result has been that less distinguished men, who\nhave, nevertheless, served their parties, are usually chosen for this\ninsignificant and passive r\u00f4le. The office is designed to be an honour\nand a consolation to them, and sometimes for one reason or another their\ncandidacy is supposed otherwise to strengthen the outlook of the party.\nIt is not accident that while in the several states the\nLieutenant-Governor is very often the next man to be elected Governor,\nit has never so far happened that a Vice-President has been elected to\nthe Presidency.\n\nNow in the unexpected event of the President\u2019s death a man stands at the\nhelm whom no one really wants to see there; and it has five times\nhappened that the chief executive of the nation has died in office, and\nfour times, indeed, only a few months after being installed, so that the\nVice-President has had to guide the destinies of the country for almost\nfour years. When Tyler succeeded to the place of Harrison in 1841, there\narose at once unfavourable disputes with the Whig party, which had\nelected him. When, after the murder of Lincoln in 1865, Johnson took the\nreins, it was his own Republican party which regretted having elected\nthis impetuous man to the Vice-Presidency; and when, in 1881, after the\nassassination of Garfield, his successor, Arthur, undertook the office,\nand filled it indeed by no means badly, considerable consternation was\nfelt throughout the country when people saw that so ordinary a\nprofessional politician was to succeed Garfield, on whom the country had\npinned its faith.\n\nOn the death of McKinley a Vice-President succeeded him toward whom, in\none respect at least, the feeling was very different. If ever a man was\nborn to become President that man was Theodore Roosevelt. Nevertheless,\nhe had not been elected in expectation of becoming President, and at\nfirst the whole country felt once more that it was a case which had lain\noutside of all reasonable calculations. Roosevelt\u2019s friends had asked\nhim to make a sacrifice and to accept a thankless office because they\nknew that his name on the ballot of the Republican party\u2014for his Rough\nRider reputation during the war was still fresh\u2014would be pretty sure to\nbring about the election of McKinley. The opponents also of this strong\nand energetic young man, against his stoutest protestations, upheld his\ncandidacy with every means in their power. Firstly because they wanted\nto get rid of him as Governor of the State of New York, where he made\nlife too hard for the regular politicians, and secondly because they\nrelied on the tradition that holding the Vice-Presidency would\ninvalidate him as a Presidential candidate in 1904. Neither friends nor\nenemies had thought of such a possibility as McKinley\u2019s death.\nRoosevelt\u2019s friends had rightly judged; the hero of San Juan did bring\nvictory to his party. His enemies, on the other hand, had entirely\nmissed their mark not only on the outcome, but from the very beginning.\nOdell became Governor of New York, and quite unexpectedly he stood out\neven more stoutly against the political corruptionists. And, on the\nother hand, Roosevelt\u2019s impulsive nature quickly found ways to break the\ntraditional silence of the Vice-President and to keep himself before the\neyes of the world. There is no doubt that in spite of all traditions his\nincumbency would have been a preparation for the presidential candidacy.\nBut when, through the crime committed at Buffalo, everything came out so\ndifferently from that which the politicians expected, it seemed to the\nadmirers of Roosevelt almost like the tragic hand of fate; he had done\nhis best to attain on his own account the Presidency, and now it came to\nhim almost as the gift of chance. Only the next election may be expected\nto do him full justice.\n\nThe successive moments in his rapid rise are generally known. Roosevelt\nwas born in New York in 1858, his father being a prosperous merchant and\nwell-known philanthropist, and a descendant of an old Knickerbocker\nfamily. The son was prepared for college and went to Harvard, where he\nmade a special study of history and political economy. After that he\ntravelled in Europe, and when he was still only twenty-four years old,\nhe plunged into politics. He soon obtained a Republican seat in the\nstate legislature of New York, and there commenced his tireless fight\nfor reform in municipal and state administration. In 1889 President\nHarrison appointed him Commissioner of the Civil Service, but he\nresigned this position in 1895 in order to become Chief of Police in New\nYork. Only two years later he was once more called from municipal to\nnational duties. He was appointed Assistant Secretary of the Navy. All\nthis time his administrative duties did not interrupt his literary,\nhistorical, and scientific work. He had begun his career as an author\nwith his studies in the history of the navy and his admirable\nbiographies of American statesmen. When he was thirty years old he wrote\nthe first part of his great work, \u201cThe Winning of the West,\u201d and often\nbetween the publication of his scientific works he published lesser\nbooks, describing his adventures as huntsman in the primeval wilderness,\nand later on volumes in which his social and political essays were\ncollected.\n\nThen the Spanish War arose and the Assistant Secretary could not bear to\nsit at his desk while others were moving to the field of battle. He\ngathered about him a volunteer regiment of cavalry, in which the\ndare-devil cow-punchers of the prairie rode side by side with the\nadventurous scions of the most distinguished families in Boston and New\nYork. Roosevelt\u2019s friend, Wood, of the regular army, became Colonel in\nthis soon-famous regiment, and Roosevelt himself Lieutenant-Colonel. A\nfew days after they had successfully stormed the hill at San Juan, Wood\nbecame General and Roosevelt Colonel.\n\nHis native State of New York received him on his home-coming with\ngeneral rejoicing, and he found himself a few months later Governor of\nthe State. At Albany he showed tremendous energy, put through popular\nreforms, and fought against the encroachments of the industrial\ncorporations. It had been his personal wish to be Governor for a second\nyear, but this was denied him by the admirable doings of his Eastern\nenemies and Western admirers at the national convention of June, 1900,\nheld in Pennsylvania, where he was forced to become candidate for the\nposition of Vice-President. On the 14th of September, 1901, in Buffalo,\nhe took the Presidential oath of office.\n\nAt that time a quiet anxiety for the future was mingled with the honest\nsorrow which the whole land felt for the death of McKinley. A nation\nwhich had been sunning itself in peace suddenly found itself under the\nleadership of an impulsive colonel of cavalry, who carried in his hand\nthe banner of war. The nation was in the midst of an economic\ndevelopment which needed before everything else to have a mature and\ncareful leader who was honoured and trusted by all classes, and who\nwould be able to effect some work of reconciliation between them; when\nsuddenly there stood in the place of a most conservative statesman an\nimpetuous young man who was not intimately connected with industrial\nlife, who had for a long time made himself unpopular with party\npoliticians, and whom even his admirers in the land seemed hardly to\ntrust on account of his hasty and determined impetuosity. Roosevelt had\nbeen envisaged by the masses, through the cinematograph of the press, in\ncampaign hat and khaki uniform, just in the attitude of taking San Juan\nhill. Nearly everybody forgot that he had for a long time quietly\ncarried on the exacting labours of Police Commissioner in the largest\ncity of the country; and forgot how, from his first year of study at\nHarvard on, every day had been given to preparing himself for public\nservice and for acquiring a thorough understanding of all the political,\nsocial, and economic problems which the country had to face; they forgot\nalso that he had wielded the sword for only a few months, but the pen of\nthe historian for about two decades. Roosevelt\u2019s first public utterance\nwas a pledge to continue unchanged the peaceful policy of his\npredecessor and always to consider the national prosperity and honour.\nStill, people felt that no successor would be able to command that\nexperience, maturity, and party influence which McKinley had had.\n\nThere have been differences of opinion, and, as was to be expected,\ncomplaints and criticisms have come from the midst of his own party. Yet\nanyone who looks at his whole administration will see that in those\nfirst years Roosevelt won a more difficult and brilliant victory than he\nhad won over the Spanish troops.\n\nHe had three virtues which especially overcame all small criticism. The\npeople felt, in the first place, that a moral force was here at work\nwhich was more powerful than any mere political address or diplomatic\nsubtlety. An immediate ethical force was here felt which owned to ideas\nabove any party, and set inner ideals above merely outward success.\nRoosevelt\u2019s second virtue was courage. A certain purely ethical ideal\nexalted above all petty expediencies was for him not only the nucleus of\nhis own creed, but was also his spring of action; and he took no account\nof personal dangers. Here was the keynote of all his speeches\u2014it is not\nenough to approve of what is right, it is equally necessary to act for\nit fearlessly and unequivocally. Then he went on to his work, and if,\nindeed, in complicated political situations the President has had at\ntimes to clinch some points by aid of compromise, nevertheless the\nnation has felt with growing confidence that at no serious moment has he\nwavered a hair\u2019s breadth from the straight line of his convictions, and\nthat he has had the courage to disregard everything but what he held to\nbe right. And, thirdly, Roosevelt had the virtue of being sincere.\n\nMcKinley also had purposed to do right, but he had hardly an occasion\nfor displaying great courage since so incomparably discreet a politician\nas he was could avoid every conflict with his associates, and he was\never the leader on highways which the popular humour had indicated. Thus\nthe masses never felt that he was at bottom lacking in courage or that\nhe always put off responsibility on others. The masses did, however,\ninstinctively feel that McKinley\u2019s astute and kindly words were not\nalways sincere; his words were often there to conceal something which\nwas locked up behind his Napoleonic forehead. And now there succeeded\nhim an enthusiast who brimmed over with plain expressions of what he\nfelt, and whose words were so convincingly candid and so without\nreservation that every one had the feeling of being in the personal\nconfidence of the President.\n\nThere was a good deal more besides his moral earnestness, his courage,\nand his frank honesty which contributed to Roosevelt\u2019s entire success.\nHis lack of prejudice won the lower classes, and his aristocratic\nbreeding and education won the upper, while the middle classes were\nenthusiastic over his sportsmanship. No President had been more\nunprejudiced or more truly democratic. He met the poor miner on the same\nfooting as he met the mine owner; he invited the negro to the White\nHouse; he sat down and broke bread with the cow-boys; and when he\ntravelled he first shook the sooty hand of the locomotive engineer\nbefore he greeted the gentlemen who had gathered about in their silk\nhats. And, nevertheless, he was in many years the first real aristocrat\nto become President. The changes in the White House itself were typical.\nThis venerable Presidential dwelling had been, up to Roosevelt\u2019s time,\nin its inner arrangements a dreary combination of bare offices, somewhat\ncrudely decorated private dwelling, and cheerless reception-halls.\nTo-day it is a very proper palace, containing many fine works of art,\nand office-seekers no longer have access to the inner rooms. His\npredecessors, the Clevelands and Harrisons and McKinleys, had been, in\nfact, very respectable philistines. They had come from the middle\nclasses of the country, which are in thought and feeling very different\nfrom that upper class which, up to a short time ago, had bothered itself\nless about practical politics than about general culture, literature,\nart, criticism, and broadly conceived industrial operations, combined\nwith social high-life. This class, however, had begun at length to feel\nthat it ought not to disdain to notice political abuses, to walk around\nthe sea of troubles; but had begun to take up arms and by opposing end\nthem. Aristocracy had too long believed in political mercenaries.\n\nRoosevelt was the first to lift himself from these circles and become a\ngreat leader. Not alone the nobility of his character but also of his\nculture and traditions was shown in his entire habit of mind. Never in\nhis speeches or writings has he cited that socially equalizing\nDeclaration of Independence, and while his speeches at banquets and\nsmall gatherings of scholarly men have been incomparably more\nfascinating than his strenuous utterances to the voters, which he has\nmade on his public tours, it has been often less the originality of his\nthoughts and still less the peculiarly taking quality of his delivery,\nthan the evidences of ripe culture, which seem to pervade his political\nthought. Thus the smaller the circle to which he speaks the greater is\nhis advantage; and in speaking with him personally on serious problems\none feels that distinction of thought, breadth of historical outlook,\nand confidence in self have united in him to create a personality after\nthe grand manner.\n\nThe impression which Roosevelt has made on his own country has not been\nmore profound than his influence on the galaxy of nations. At the very\nhour when the United States by their economic and territorial expansion\nstepped into the circle of world powers, they had at their head a\npersonality who, for the first time in decades, had been able to make a\ngreat, characteristic, and, most of all, a dramatic impression on the\npeoples of Europe. And if this hour was to be made the most of it was\nnot enough that this leader should by his impulsiveness and self-will,\nby his picturesque gestures and effective utterance, chain the attention\nof the masses and excite all newspaper readers, but he must also win the\nsympathies of the keener and finer minds, and excite some sympathetic\nresponse in the heads of monarchies. A second Lincoln would never have\nbeen able to do this, and just this was what the moment demanded. The\nnation\u2019s world-wide position in politics needed some comparable\nexpansion in the social sphere. Other peoples were to welcome their new\ncomrades not only in the official bureau but also in the reception-room,\nand this young President had always at his command a graceful word, a\ntactful expedient, and a distinguished and hospitable address. He was,\nin short, quite the right man.\n\nAny new person taking hold so firmly has to disturb a good many things;\nbusied with so much, he must overturn a good deal which would prefer to\nbe left as it was. The honest man has his goodly share of enemies. And\nit is not to be denied that Roosevelt has the failings of his virtues,\nand these have borne their consequences. Many national dangers, which\nare always to be feared from officials of Roosevelt\u2019s type, are largely\nobviated by the democratic customs of the country. He lives amid a\npeople not afraid to tell him the whole truth, and every criticism\nreaches his ear. And there is another thing not less important:\ndemocracy forces every man into that line of activity for which the\nnation has elected him. A somewhat overactive mind like Roosevelt\u2019s has\nopinions on many problems, and his exceptional political position easily\nbetrays one at first into laying exceptional weight on one\u2019s own\nopinions about every subject. But here the traditions of the country\nhave been decisive; it knows no President for general enlightenment, but\nonly a political leader whose private opinions outside politics are of\nno special importance. In this as in other respects Roosevelt has\nprofited by experience. There is no doubt that when he came to the White\nHouse he underestimated the power of Senators and party leaders. The\ninvisible obstructions, which were somehow hidden behind the scenes,\nhave no doubt given him many painful lessons. In his endeavour to\nrealize so many heartfelt convictions, he has often met with arbitrary\nopposition made simply to let the new leader feel that obstructions can\nbe put in his way unless he takes account of all sorts of factors. But\nthese warnings have really done him no harm, for Roosevelt was not the\nman to be brought by them into that party subserviency which had\nsatisfied McKinley. They merely held him back from that reckless\nindependence which is so foreign to the American party spirit, and which\nin the later years of Cleveland\u2019s administration had worked so badly.\nIndeed, one might say that the outcome has been an ideal synthesis of\nCleveland\u2019s consistency and McKinley\u2019s power of adaptation.\n\nFor the fanatics of party Roosevelt has been, of course, too\nindependent, while to the opponents of party he has seemed too yielding.\nBoth of these criticisms have been made, in many different connections,\nsince everywhere he has stood on a watch tower above the fighting lines\nof any party. When in the struggles between capital and labour he\nseriously took into account the just grievances of the working-man he\nwas denounced as a socialist. And when he did not at once stretch out\nhis hand to demolish all corporations he was called a servant of the\nstock exchange. When he appointed officials in the South without\nreference to their party allegiance, the Republicans bellowed loudly;\nand when he did not sanction the Southern outrages against the negro the\nDemocrats became furious. When everything is considered, however, he has\nobserved the maxim of President Hayes, \u201cHe best serves his party who\nserves his country best.\u201d\n\nIn this there has been another factor at work. Roosevelt may not have\nhad McKinley\u2019s broad experience in legislative matters, nor have known\nthe reefs and bars in the Congressional sea, but for the executive\noffice, for the administration of civil service and the army and navy,\nfor the solution of federal, civil, and municipal problems his years of\nstudy and travel have been an ideal preparation. Behind his practical\ntraining he has had the clear eye of the historian. The United States\nhad their proverbial good luck when the Mephistos of the Republican\nparty prevailed on the formidable Governor of New York to undertake the\nthankless office of Vice-President. If this nomination had gone as the\nbetter politicians wished it to go, the death of McKinley would have\nplaced a typical politician at the helm instead of the best President\nwhich the country has had for many years.\n\n                  *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe President is closely associated with the Cabinet, and he is entirely\nfree in his choice of advisers. There is no question here of the\ninfluence of majorities on the composition of the ministry, as there is\nin England or France. In this way Cleveland, in his second term, had\nalready announced by his choice of cabinet ministers that he should go\nhis own ways regardless of the wire-pullers of the party. He gave the\nSecretaryship of War to his former private secretary; the position of\nPostmaster-General to his former partner in law; the Secretaryship of\nJustice to a jurist who had never taken any interest in politics. His\nSecretary of the Interior was a personal friend, and the Secretary of\nForeign Affairs a man who shortly before had left the ranks of the\nRepublican party to become a Cleveland Democrat. The Secretaryships of\nCommerce and the Treasury were the sole cabinet positions which were\ngiven to well-known party leaders. The very opposite was to have been\nexpected from a man of McKinley\u2019s disposition. Even when he became the\nchief executive of the country he remained the devoted servant of his\nparty, and just as his success was owing in large part to his\nsympathetic relations with all the important factions in Congress, so\nthe success of his Cabinet was due to his having chosen none but men who\nhad enjoyed for a long time the confidence of the party.\n\nRoosevelt did at the outset an act of political piety when he left the\nCabinet, for the time being, unchanged. It was at the same time a\ncapital move toward reassuring public opinion, which had stood in fear\nof all sorts of surprises, owing to his impetuous temperament. Slowly,\nhowever, characteristic readjustments were made and a new cabinet office\nwas created under his administration, the Secretaryship of Commerce and\nLabour. This was entrusted to Cortelyou, who had been the private\nsecretary of two presidents, and who, through his tact, discretion, and\nindustry, had contributed not a little to their practical success.\n\nThe highest minister in order of rank is the Secretary of State, who is\nthe Minister for Foreign Affairs, and who, in the case that both the\nPresident and Vice-President are unable to complete their term of\noffice, assumes the Presidency. He is responsible for the diplomatic and\nconsular representation of the United States and he alone negotiates\nwith representatives of foreign powers at Washington; moreover, it is\nthrough him that the President treats with the separate states of the\nUnion. He publishes the laws passed by Congress and adds his signature\nto all of the President\u2019s official papers. He is, next to the President,\nso thoroughly the presiding spirit of the administration that it is\nhardly a mistake to compare him to the Chancellor of the German Empire.\nIt happens at the moment that the present incumbent makes this\ncomparison still more apt, since John Hay, the present Secretary of\nForeign Affairs, resembles Count von B\u00fclow in several ways. Both have\nbeen in former years closely affiliated to the national heroes of the\ncentury, both have gotten their training in various diplomatic\npositions, both are resourceful, accommodating, and brilliant statesmen,\nand both have a thoroughly modern temperament, intellectual independence\nbred of a broad view of the world, both are apt of speech and have fine\nliterary feeling. Hay was the secretary of President Lincoln until\nLincoln\u2019s death, and has been secretary of the embassies in France,\nAustria, and Spain, has taken distinguished place in party politics, has\nbeen Assistant Secretary of State, Ambassador to England, and in 1898\nwas placed at the head of foreign affairs. His \u201cBallads,\u201d \u201cCastilian\nDays,\u201d and \u201cLife of Lincoln,\u201d call to mind his literary reputation.\n\nHow far foreign affairs are really conducted by the President and how\nfar by the Secretary of State is, of course, hard to say, but, at any\nrate, the representatives of foreign powers treat officially only with\nthe Secretary, who has his regular days for diplomatic consultation, so\nthat the relations of foreign representatives to the President, after\ntheir first official introduction, remain virtually social. Yet all\nimportant measures are undertaken only with the approval of the\nPresident, and on critical questions of international politics the whole\ncabinet deliberates together. Hay\u2019s personal influence came clearly\nbefore the public eye especially in his negotiations regarding the\nCentral American canal, and in his handling of the Russian and Asiatic\nproblems. Particularly after the Chinese imbroglio he came to be\ngenerally reputed the most astute and successful statesman of the day.\nIt will probably not be far wrong to ascribe such tendencies in American\npolitics as are friendly toward England chiefly to his influence. On the\nother hand, he is supposed to feel no special leanings toward Germany.\n\nThe Secretary of the Treasury is next in rank. He administers the\nFederal finances to all intents and purposes like a large banker, or,\nrather, like a bank president who should have Congress for his board of\ndirectors. Since customs and international revenues are levied by the\nFederal Government, and not by the several states, and since the\nexpenditures for the army and navy, for the postal service, and for the\nFederal Government itself, the national debt and the mints come under\nFederal administration, financing operations are involved which are so\nextensive as to have a deciding influence on the banking system of the\nentire country.\n\nThe third official in rank is the Secretary of War, while the Secretary\nof the Navy holds only the sixth place, with the Attorney-General and\nthe Postmaster-General in between. The General Staff of the Secretary of\nWar, which was organized in 1903, is composed of officers of high rank,\nalthough the Secretary himself is a civilian. In the case of the army,\nas well as of the navy, the functions of the secretary are decidedly\nmore important than those, say, of a Prussian Minister. They concern not\nonly administration, but also, in case of war, are of decisive weight on\nthe movements of all the forces, since the President as\ncommander-in-chief has to act through these ministers. Elihu Root was\nfor almost five years Secretary of War; and on his retirement in\nJanuary, 1904, Roosevelt declared: \u201cRoot is the greatest man who has\nappeared in our times in the public life of any country, either in the\nNew World or the Old.\u201d\n\nThe position of Attorney-General is less comparable with a corresponding\noffice in the German state. This minister of the President has no\ninfluence on the appointment of judges or the administration of the\ncourts. The official representative of justice in the Cabinet is really\nan exalted lawyer, who is at the same time the President\u2019s legal\nadviser. So far as appointments to office go, the Secretary of the Post\nOffice Department has practically no influence regarding those who are\nunder him, since the tremendous number of postal officials of any\nconsiderable importance have to be confirmed in their appointments by\nthe Senate, so that the appointing power has virtually gone over to that\nbody. On the other hand, the whole postal service is under his\ndirection; but it is here not to be forgotten that the American\nrailroads and, what the German may think more extraordinary, the\ntelegraph lines, are not government property.\n\nThe Secretary of the Interior is merely a name for a great many\nunrelated administrative functions. In the long list of duties which\nfall to this office comes education, although this seemingly most\nimportant responsibility is really rather slight, since all educational\nmatters fall to the separate states and the Federal Government has\nnothing to do but to give out statistics and information, to collect\nmaterial, and to offer advice. The national Bureau of Education is not\nempowered to institute any practical changes. A much more important\nfunction, practically, of the Secretary of the Interior is the Pension\nBureau, since the United States pay yearly about $138,000,000 in\npensions. Other divisions are the Patent Office, which grants every year\nabout 30,000 patents, the Railroad Bureau, the Indian Bureau, and the\nGeological Survey. The Secretary of Agriculture has not only certain\nduties connected with agriculture, but is also in charge of the Weather\nBureau, and of zo\u00f6logical, botanical, and chemical institutes, and\nespecially of the large number of scientific departments which\nindirectly serve the cause of agriculture. Last in rank comes the\nrecently created Secretary of Commerce and Labour, who has charge of the\nCorporation Bureau, the Labour Bureau, the Census Bureau, and the\nBureaus of Statistics, Immigration, and Fisheries.\n\nThere are some 240,000 positions under the direction of these ministers;\nand all of these, from ambassadors to letter-carriers, are in the\nnational service and under the appointment of the President, and are\nentirely independent of the government of the separate states in which\nthe offices are held.\n\n\n\n\n                              CHAPTER FOUR\n                               _Congress_\n\n\nThere is an avenue which leads from the White House in a direct line to\nthe Capitol, the dominating architectural feature of Washington. On\nwalking up the broad terraces one comes first to the great central hall,\nover which rises the dome; to the right one passes through the Hall of\nFame and comes finally to the uncomfortably large parliamentary chamber,\nin which 386 Representatives sit together as the direct delegates of the\npeople. Going from the central hall to the left one passes by the\napartments of the Supreme Court, and comes finally to the attractive\nroom in which the ninety state delegates hold their sessions. The room\non the right is called the \u201cHouse,\u201d on the left the Senate; both\ntogether make up Congress, the law-giving body of the nation. When the\nthirteen states which first formed the Union in the year 1778 adopted\nthe Articles of Federation, it was intended that Congress should be a\nsingle body, in which each state, although it might be represented by a\nvarying number of members, should nevertheless have the right to only\none vote. Nine years later, however, the final Constitution of the\nUnited States replaced this one simple system by dividing Congress into\nSenate and House of Representatives, doing this simply by analogy with\nthe traditions of the state governments. Pennsylvania was the only state\nwhich had but one legislative chamber, while the others had taken over\nfrom England the system of double representation and had carried out the\nEnglish tradition, although probably nothing was further from their\nintention than to divide their legislators into lords and commoners.\n\nFor the United States the dual division inevitably seemed the shortest\nway to balance off conflicting requirements. On the one side every\nstate, even the smallest, should have the same prerogatives and equal\ninfluence: on the other side, every citizen must count as much as every\nother, so that the number of inhabitants must be duly represented. It\nwas necessary, therefore, to create one chamber in which all States\nshould have the same number of Representatives, and another in which\nevery delegate should represent an equal number of voters. Furthermore,\non the one hand a firm and conservative tradition was to be built up,\nwhile on the other the changing voice of the people was to be reflected.\nIt was, therefore, necessary to remove one chamber from popular election\nand leave it to the appointment of the separate state legislatures. It\nwas also necessary to put the age for candidacy for this chamber high,\nand to make the term of office rather long, and finally to contrive that\nat any one time only a fraction of the numbers should be replaced, so\nthat a majority of the members could carry on their work undisturbed.\nThe other chamber, however, was to be completely replaced by frequent\ndirect popular elections. Thus originated the two divisions of Congress\nwhich so contrast in every respect. A comparison with European double\nlegislative systems is very natural, and yet the Senate is neither a\nBundestag, nor a Herrenhaus, nor a House of Lords; and the House of\nRepresentatives is fundamentally different from the Reichstag. One who\nwishes to understand the American system must put aside his\nrecollections of European institutions, since nothing except emphasis on\nthe difference between the American and European legislatures will make\nclear the traditions of Washington.\n\nAs has been said, the Senators are representatives of the several\nstates; every state sends two. The State of New York, with its seven\nmillion inhabitants, has no more representatives in the Senate than the\nState of Wyoming, which has less than one hundred thousand inhabitants.\nEvery Senator is elected for six years by the law-giving body of the\nindividual state. Every second year a third of the Senators retire, so\nthat the Senate as a whole has existed uninterruptedly since the\nfoundation of the Union. Curiously enough, however, the Senators vote\nindependently, and thus it often happens that the two Senators from one\nState cast opposite votes. A candidate for the Senate has to be thirty\nyears old.\n\nThe members of the House are elected every two years and by direct\npopular vote. The number of delegates is here not prescribed by the\nConstitution. It is constantly modified on the basis of the ten-year\ncensus, since every state is entitled to a number of delegates\nproportionate to its population. While there were slaves, who could not\nvote, the slave states nevertheless objected to the diminution in the\nnumber of their representatives, due to the fact that the negro was not\nconsidered an inhabitant, and it was constitutionally provided to\ncompute the number of Representatives on the basis that every slave was\nequivalent to three-fifths of a man. To-day neither colour nor race\nconstitutionally affects the right to vote. On the other hand, the\nnation as such does not concern itself to consider who is allowed to\nvote, but leaves this completely to the different states, and requires\nonly that for the national elections in every state the same provisions\nare observed which are made for the elections to the state legislature.\nMoreover, it is left to every state in what wise it shall choose the\nallotted number of Representatives at Washington. Thus, for instance, in\nthose four Western States in which women are allowed to vote for members\nof the legislature, women have also the right to vote for Congressmen.\n\nThe first House of Representatives had 65 members, while the House of\n1902 had 357, and the political centre of gravity of the country has so\nshifted that the states which originally made up Congress send now only\n137 of the members. The number of delegates has recently been increased\nto 386. The age of candidacy is 25, and while a Senator must have lived\nin the country for nine years, only seven years are required of a\nRepresentative.\n\nThe differences in the conditions of election are enough to bring it\nabout that the personal make-up of the two Houses, as had been\noriginally intended, give very different impressions. The dignity of\nbeing Senator is granted to but few, and to these for a long time, and\nas it is bestowed by that somewhat small circle of the legislators of\nthe state, is naturally accounted the highest political honour; it is\nthus desired by the most successful leaders of public life and the most\nrespected men of the several states. The ideal condition is, to be sure,\nsomewhat frustrated, since in reality the members of a state legislature\nare generally pledged, when they themselves are elected, to support this\nor that particular candidate for the Senate. Thus the general body of\nvoters exerts its influence after all pretty directly; and, moreover,\nthis distinction depends not a little, in the West and especially in the\nthinly populated states, on the possession of great wealth. Since,\nhowever, in these cases such wealth has generally been won by\nexceptional energy and keen insight, even in this way men come to\nWashington who are a good deal above the average voter, and who\nrepresent the most significant forces in American popular life\nearnestly, worthily, and intelligently.\n\nIn the last Senate the average age of ninety Senators was sixty years,\nand seventeen were more than seventy years old. Sixty-one of them were\njurists, eighteen were business men, three were farmers, and two had\nbeen journalists. As to the jurists, they are not men who are still\nactive as attorneys or judges. Generally men are in question who went\nover early from the legal profession into politics, and who have lived\nalmost entirely in politics. Indeed, not a few of these lawyers who have\nbecome legislators have been for some years in commercial life at the\nhead of great industrial or railroad corporations, so that the majority\nof jurists is no indication whatsoever of any legal petrifaction. All\nsides of American life are represented, and only such professions as\nthat of the university scholar or that of the preacher are virtually\nexcluded because circumstances make it necessary for the Senator to\nspend six winters in Washington. It will be seen that politics must have\nbecome a life profession with most of these men, since many are elected\nfour and five times to the Senate. Among the best known Senators,\nAllison, Hoar, Cockrell, Platt, Morgan, Teller, and several others have\nbeen there for more than twenty-five years. Of course the conservative\ntraditions of the Senate are better preserved by such numerous\nre-elections than by any possible external provision.\n\nIt is also characteristic of the composition of the Senate that, with a\nsingle exception, no Senator was born on the European continent. Nelson,\nthe Senator from Minnesota, came from Norway when he was a boy. Thus in\nthis conservative circle there is little real representation of the\nmillions who have immigrated to this country. In the autobiographies of\nthe Senators, two relate that, although they were born in America, they\nare of German descent; these are Wellington, the Senator from Maryland,\nand Dietrich, the Senator from Nebraska. The Senators are notoriously\nwell-to-do, and have been called the \u201cMillionaires\u2019 Club\u201d; and yet one\nis not to suppose that these men have the wealth of the great industrial\nmagnates. Senator Clarke, of Montana, whose property is estimated at one\nhundred million dollars, is the single one who, according to American\nstandards, could be called rich. Most of the others have merely a few\nmodest millions, and for many the expensive years of residence in\nWashington are a decided sacrifice. And, most of all, it is certain that\nthe Senators who are materially the least well-off are among the most\nrespected and influential. The most highly educated member of the Senate\nwould probably be the young delegate from Massachusetts, the historian\nLodge, who is the President\u2019s most intimate friend; but the most worthy\nand dignified member has been the late Senator from Massachusetts, the\nimpressive orator, Hoar.\n\nIt is a matter of course that the social level of the House of\nRepresentatives lies considerably lower. Here it is intended that the\npeople shall be represented with all their diverse interests and\nambitions. The two-thirds majority of lawyers is found, however, even\nhere; of the 357 members of the last House, 236 had been trained in law,\n63 were business men, and 17 were farmers. The House is again like the\nSenate, since, in spite of the fact that the membership is elected\nentirely anew, it remains in good part made up of the same people. The\nfifty-eighth Congress contained 250 members who had already sat in the\nfifty-seventh. About one-tenth of the Representatives have been in the\nHouse ten years. The general physiognomy is, however, very different\nfrom that of the Senate. It is more youthful, less serene and\ndistinguished, and more suggestive of ordinary business. The average age\nis forty-eight years, while there are some men under thirty. The total\nimpression, in spite of several exceptions, suggests that these men come\nfrom the social middle class. However, it is from just this class that\nthe notably clear-cut personalities of America have come; and the number\nof powerful and striking countenances to be seen in the House is greater\nthan that in the German Reichstag. The Representatives, like Senators,\nhave a salary of $5,000 and their travelling expenses.\n\nWhat is now the actual work of these two chambers in Congress, and how\ndo they carry it on? The work cannot be wholly separated from its manner\nof performance. Perhaps the essentials of this peculiar task and method\ncould be brought together as follows: on the basis of committee reports,\nCongress decides whether or not to accept bills which have been proposed\nby its members. This is indeed the main part of the story. Congress thus\npasses on proposed bills; its function is purely legislative, and\ninvolves nothing of an executive nature. On the other hand, these bills\nhave to be proposed by members of Congress; they cannot be received from\nthe President or from members of his Cabinet. Thus the Executive has no\ninfluence in the law-giving body. The method of transacting business,\nfinally, consists of laying the emphasis on the deliberations in\ncommittees, and it is there that the fate of each bill is virtually\nsettled. The committee determines whether the proposed measure shall\ncome before the whole House; and both House and Senate have finally to\ndecide about accepting the measure. Each of these points requires\nfurther comment.\n\nSo far as the separation of the legislative and executive functions of\nthe government is concerned, it is certainly exaggeration to say that it\nis complete, as has often been said. There is, to be sure, a somewhat\nsharper distinction than is made in Germany, where the propositions of\nthe Executive form the basis of legislative activity; and yet even in\nthe United States the ultimate fate of every measure is dependent on the\nattitude taken by the President. We have seen that a bill which is sent\nby Congress to the President can be returned with his veto, and in that\ncase becomes a law only when on a new vote in both Houses it receives a\ntwo-thirds majority. A law which obtains only a small majority in either\none of the Houses can thus easily be put aside by the Executive.\n\nOn the other hand, Congress has a very important participation in\nexecutive functions, more particularly through the Senate, inasmuch as\nall appointments of federal officers and the ratification of all\ntreaties require the approval of the Senate. International politics,\ntherefore, make it necessary for the President to keep closely in touch\nwith at least the Senate, and in the matter of appointments the right of\nthe Senators to disapprove is so important that for a large number of\nlocal positions the selection has been actually left entirely to the\nSenators of the respective states. The Constitution gives to Congress\neven a jurisdictional function, in the case that any higher federal\nofficers abuse their office. When there is a suspicion of this, the\nHouse of Representatives brings its charges and the Senate conducts the\ntrial. The last time that this great machinery was in operation was in\n1876, when the Secretary of War, Belknap, was charged and acquitted;\nthus suspicion has not fallen on any of the higher officials for\ntwenty-eight years.\n\nThe separation of the Legislative from the Executive is most\nconspicuously seen in the fact that no member of the Cabinet has a seat\nin Congress. At the beginning of the Congressional session the President\nsends his message, in which he is privileged politically to pour out his\nentire heart. Yet he may only state his hopes and desires, and may not\npropose definite bills. The Cabinet ministers, however, are responsible\nsolely to the President, and in no wise to Congress, where they have no\nright to discuss measures either favourably or unfavourably. They do not\ncome into contact with Congress. This is in extreme contrast with the\nsituation in England, where the ministers are leaders of the\nParliamentary party. The American sees in this a strong point of his\npolitical system, and even such a man as the former ambassador to\nGermany, Andrew D. White, who admired so much of what he saw there,\nconsiders the ministerial benches in the German and French\nrepresentative chambers a mistake. It occasions, he says, a constant and\nvexatious disagreement between the delegates of the people and the\nministers, which disturbs the order and effectiveness of parliamentary\ntransactions. The legislative work should be transacted apart, and the\npopular representatives ought to have only one another to take care of.\n\nWe must not, however, understand that there are practically no relations\nexisting between Congress and the ministry. A considerable part of the\nbills, which have to be discussed, consist, of course, in appropriations\nfor public expenditures, so far as these come out of the federal rather\nthan the state treasuries. Such appropriations included at the last time\n$139,000,000 for pensions, $138,000,000 for the post office, $91,000,000\nfor the army, $78,000,000 for the navy, $26,000,000 for rivers and\nharbours, and so on; making in all $800,000,000 for the annual\nappropriations, besides $253,000,000 for special contracts. Thus the\ntotal sum of appropriations in one session of Congress amounted to over\n$1,000,000,000, in America called a billion. This authorized\nappropriation has to be made on the basis of proposals, submitted by the\nmembers of Congress; but it is a matter of course that every single\nfigure of such propositions has to come originally from the bureau of\nthe army or navy, or whatever department is concerned, if it is to serve\nas the basis of discussion. Thus while the Executive presents to\nCongress no proposals for the budget, it hands over to the members of\nCongress so empowered the whole material; and this is, after all, not\nvery different from the European practice. However, the voice of the\nExecutive is indeed not heard when the budget is under debate. The\nmembers of Congress who are to receive the ministerial propositions\nthrough mediation of the Treasury, must belong to the House; for one of\nthe few advantages which the House of Representatives has over the\nSenate is that it has to initiate all bills of appropriation. This is a\nremnant of the fundamental idea that all public expenditures should be\nmade only at the instance of the taxpayers themselves, wherefore the\ndirectly elected members of the House are more fitted for this than are\nthe Senators, who are indirectly elected. This single advantage is less\nthan it looks to be, since the Senate may amend at will all bills of\nappropriation that it receives from the House.\n\nThus every measure which is ever to become law must be proposed by\nmembers of Congress. One can see that this privilege of proposing bills\nis utilized to the utmost, from the simple fact that during every\nsession some fifteen thousand bills are brought out. We may here\nconsider in detail the way in which the House transacts its affairs. It\nis clear that if more than three hundred voluble politicians are set to\nthe task of deliberating in a few months on fifteen thousand laws,\nincluding all proposed appropriations, that a perfect babel of argument\nwill arise which can lead to no really fruitful result, unless sound\ntraditions, strict rules and discipline, and autocratic leadership hold\nthis chaotic body within bounds. The American instinct for organization\nintroduced indeed long ago a compact orderliness. Here belongs first of\nall that above-mentioned committee system, which in the House is\ncompleted by the unique institution of the Speaker. But one thing we\nmust constantly bear in mind: the whole background of Congressional\ndoings is the two-party system. If the House or the Senate were to break\nout in the prismatic variegation of the German parliamentary parties, no\nspeaker and no system of committees would be able to keep the elements\nin hand. It is, after all, the party in majority which guarantees order,\nmoulds the committees into effective machines, and lends to the Speaker\nhis extraordinary influence.\n\nThe essential feature of the whole apparatus lies in the fact that a\nbill cannot come up before the House until it has been deliberated in\ncommittee. The chairman of the committee then presents it personally at\nsome meeting. The presiding officer, the so-called Speaker, exerts in\nthis connection a threefold influence; firstly, he appoints the members\nof all the committees, of which, for instance, there were in the last\nCongress sixty-three. The most important, and, therefore, the largest,\nof these committees are those on appropriations, agriculture, banking,\ncoinage, foreign and Indian affairs, interstate and foreign commerce,\npensions, the post office, the navy, railroads, rivers and harbours,\npatents, and finance. Both the majority and minority parties are\nrepresented in every committee, and its chairman has almost unlimited\ncontrol in its transaction of business. All members of the more\nimportant committees are experienced men, who have been well schooled in\nthe traditions of the House.\n\nThe Speaker is allowed further to decide as to what committee each bill\nshall be referred. In many cases, of course, there is no choice; but it\nnot seldom happens that there are several possibilities, and the\ndecision between them often determines the fate of the bill. In the\nthird place, the Speaker, as chairman of the Committee on Rules, decides\nwhat reports, of those which have been so far prepared by the\ncommittees, shall come up for discussion at each meeting of the House.\nAs soon as the committee has agreed on recommendations, its report is\nput on the calendar; but whether it then comes up for debate in the\nHouse depends on a good many factors. In the first place, of course,\nmany of the proposed matters take naturally first rank, as for instance,\nthe appropriations. The chairman of the Committee on Appropriations is\ngiven the floor whenever he asks for it; thus there are express trains\non this Congressional railroad which have the right-of-way before\nsuburban trains, and then, too, there are special trains which take\npreference before everything else. But aside from such committee reports\nas are especially privileged, a very considerable opportunity of\nselection exists among those which remain.\n\nIt is here that the really unlimited influence of the Speaker comes in.\nHe is in no way required to give the floor to the committees which ask\nfor it first. If the chairman of the committee is not called on by the\nSpeaker for his report, he is said to be not \u201cnoticed\u201d and he is\nhelpless. Of course, whether he is noticed or not depends on the most\nexact prearrangement. If now a bill is finally reported to the House, it\nis still not allowed an endless debate, for the Speaker is once more\nempowered to appoint a particular time when the debate must end, and\nthereby he is able to come around any efforts at obstruction. If,\nhowever, the minority wishes to make itself heard by raising the point\nof no quorum, then not only those who are voting, but all those who are\npresent in the House, are counted, and if these are not enough the\ndelinquents can be hunted out and forced to come in. But in most cases\nthere is little or no debate, and the resolutions of the committee are\naccepted by the House without a word. In certain of the most important\ncases, as in matters of appropriation or taxation, the House constitutes\nitself a so-called committee of the whole. Then the matter is seriously\ndiscussed under a special chairman, as at the session of an ordinary\ncommittee. Even here it is not the custom to make long speeches, and the\nmembers are often contented with a short sketch of their arguments, and\nask permission to have the rest published in the Congressional Report.\nThe speeches which thus have never been delivered are printed and\ndistributed in innumerable copies through the district from which that\nspeaker comes and elsewhere as well.\n\nThus if an ordinary Representative proposes a measure, which perhaps\nexpresses the local wishes of his district, such a bill goes first to\nthe Secretary and from him to the Speaker. He refers it to a special\ncommittee, and at the same time every Representative receives printed\ncopies of it. The committee decides whether the bill is worth\nconsidering. If it has the good fortune to be deliberated by the\ncommittee it is often so amended by the members that little remains of\nits original substance. If it then has the further good fortune to be\naccepted by the committee, it comes on the House calendar, and waits\nuntil the Committee on Rules puts it on the order of the day. If it then\nhas the exceptional good fortune of being read to the House it has a\nfairly good chance of being accepted.\n\nBut of course its pilgrimage is not ended here. It passes next to the\nSenate, and goes through much the same treatment once more; first a\ncommittee, then the quorum. If it does not there come up before the\nquorum, it is lost in spite of everything; but if it does finally come\nup, after all hindrances, it may be amended once more by the Senate. If\nthis happens, as is likely, its consideration is begun all over again. A\ncomposite committee from both Houses considers all amendments, and if it\ncannot come to an agreement the measures are doomed. If the committee\ndoes agree, the close of the session of Congress may intervene and\nprevent its last hearing in the House, and in the next Congress the\nwhole process is repeated. But if a measure has passed through all these\ndangers and been approved by both Houses, the President then has the\nopportunity to put his veto on it.\n\nThus it comes about that hardly a tenth part of the bills which are\nintroduced each year ever become laws, and that they are sifted out and\namended surely and speedily. Indeed, it can hardly be doubted that a\nlarge part of the fifteen thousand bills are introduced out of personal\nconsideration for constituents, or even out of less worthy motives, with\nno expectation that they will possibly be accepted. Moreover, the\npopular tribunal, the House, spares itself too great pains, because it\nknows that the Senate will certainly amend all its provisions; and the\nSenate indulges itself in voting unnecessary favours to constituents\nbecause it relies on their negation by the House.\n\nThe Senate works on fundamentally the same plan. When a Senator brings\nhis proposition, it goes likewise to the appropriate committee, then is\nread before a quorum, and is passed on to the other chamber.\nNevertheless, there is a considerable difference in procedure; the House\nbehaves like a restless popular gathering, while the Senate resembles a\nconference of diplomats. The House is a gigantic room, in which even the\nbest orators can hardly make themselves heard, and where hundreds are\nwriting or reading newspapers without paying any attention to the man\nwho speaks. But the Senate is a parliamentary chamber, where a somewhat\nundue formality prevails. A strict discipline has to be observed in the\nHouse in order to preserve its organization, while the Senate needs no\noutward discipline because the small circle of elderly gentlemen\ntransacts its business with perfect decorum. Thus the Senate tolerates\nno Speaker over it, no president with discretionary powers. In the\nSenate both parties have the right to appoint the members of the\ncommittees. The Chairman of the Senate must also not fail to notice any\none who asks for the floor; whoever wishes to speak has every chance,\nand this freedom implies of course that the debates shall not be\narbitrarily terminated by the Chairman. A debate can be closed only by\nunanimous consent. The influence of the Chairman of the Senate is,\ntherefore, only a shadow beside that of the Speaker, and since the\nChairman is not elected by the Senate itself, but is chosen directly by\nthe people in the person of the Vice-President of the United States, it\nmay happen that this Chairman belongs to the party in minority, and that\nhe has practically no influence at all. Conformably with the extreme\nformality and courtesy of the Senate, majorities are counted on the\nbasis of the votes actually cast, and not, as in the House, on the basis\nof members actually present. For both Houses alike it is possible for\nthose who intend to be absent to be paired off beforehand, so that if\none absentee has announced himself for, and another against, a certain\nbill, they can both be counted as having voted.\n\nIt is clear what the consequences of this unlimited exchange of\nSenatorial courtesy must be; the concessions in outward form must lead\nimmediately to compromises and tacit understandings. If a debate can be\nclosed only by unanimous agreement, it is possible for a single opposing\npolitician to obstruct the law-making machinery. A handful of opponents\ncan take the stand for weeks and block the entire Senate. Such\nobstructionist policy has to be prevented at any cost, and therefore on\nall sides and in every least particular friendly sympathy must be\npreserved. Of course, the opposition between the two parties cannot be\nobviated; so much the more, then, it is necessary for each man to be\nbound by personal ties to every other, and to feel sure of having a free\nhand in his own special interests so long at least as he accords the\nsame right to others in theirs. Thus, merely from the necessity of\npreserving mutual good feeling, it too often happens that the other\nmembers close their eyes when some willing Senator caters to local greed\nor to the special wishes of ambitious persons or corporations, by\nproposing a Congressional bill.\n\nThis \u201cSenatorial courtesy\u201d is most marked in the matter of the\nappointment of officials, where matters go smoothly only because it has\nbeen agreed that no proposals shall be made without the approval of the\nSenators of the state concerned. Every Senator knows that if to-day one\nlocal delegate is outvoted, the rebellion may to-morrow be directed\nagainst another; and thus many a doubtful appointment, given as hush\nmoney or as a reward for mean political services, is approved with\ninward displeasure by courteous colleagues merely in order to save the\nprinciple of individual omnipotence. There is no doubt that in this way\nthe individual Senator comes to have much more power than does a single\nRepresentative. The latter is really the member of a party, with no\nspecial opportunities for satisfying his individual wishes; while the\nSenator may have his personal points of view, and is really an\nindependent factor.\n\nIf to-day the Senate, contrary to the expectation of former times,\nreally plays a much more important r\u00f4le before the public than the\nHouse, this is probably not because more important functions are given\nto the Senate, but because it is composed of persons of whom every one\nhas peculiar significance in the political situation, while the House is\nnothing but a mass-meeting with a few leaders. This increased importance\nbefore the public eye works back again on the Senator\u2019s opinion of\nhimself, and the necessary result is a steady increase in the Senate\u2019s\naspirations and the constant growth of its rights. Perhaps the most\ncharacteristic exhibition of this has been the gradual evolution of the\npart taken by the Senate in the matter of foreign treaties. The\nConstitution requires the ratification of the Senate, and the original\nconstruction was that the Administration should present a treaty all\nmade out, which the Senate had to accept or reject as it stood. But soon\nthe Senate arrogated to itself the right to amend treaties, and then it\ncame about that the Senate would never accept a treaty without injecting\na few drops of its own diplomatic wisdom. It might be that these would\nbe merely a change of wording, but just enough to let the President feel\nthe Senatorial power. The result has been that the treaties that are now\npresented to the Senate are called nothing but proposals.\n\nLooking behind the scenes one discovers that at bottom, even in the\nSenate, only a few have real influence. The more recently appointed\nSenators earn their spurs in unimportant committees, and even if they\nget into more important ones they are constrained by tradition to fall\nin line behind the more experienced members. In the House there is half\na dozen, and in the Senate perhaps a dozen men who shape the politics of\nthe country. Here, as in all practical matters, the American is ready to\nsubmit to an oligarchical system so long as he knows that the few in\nquestion derive their power from the free vote of the many. In fact\nnothing but oligarchy is able to satisfy the profoundly conservative\nfeeling of the American. Behind the scenes one soon discovers also that\nthe Senatorial courtesy, which neutralizes the party fanaticism and\nencourages compromises to spring up like mushrooms, still leaves room\nfor plenty of fighting; and even intrigue thrives better on this\nunctuous courtesy than in the coarser soil of the lower house. The\nsanctified older Senators, such as Allison, Frye, Platt, Aldrich, and\nHale, know where to place their levers so as to dislodge all opposition.\nPerhaps McKinley\u2019s friend, Hanna, who was the grand virtuoso in\nRepublican party technique, knew how always to overcome such political\nintrigue; but even Roosevelt\u2019s friend, Lodge, has sometimes found that\nthe arbitrarily shaped traditions of the seniors weigh more than the\nmost convincing arguments of the younger men.\n\nThe moral level of Congress is, in the judgment of its best critics,\nrather high. The fate of every one of the thousands of bills is settled\nvirtually in a small committee, and thus, time after time, the weal and\nwoe of entire industries or groups of interests depend on one or two\nvotes in the committee. The possible openings for corruption are thus\nmuch greater in Congress than in any other parliament, since no other\nhas carried the committee system to such a point. In former times\npolitical scoundrels went around in great numbers through the hotels in\nWashington and even in the corridors of the Capitol trying to influence\nvotes with every device of bribery. To be sure, it is difficult to prove\nthat there are no such hidden sins to-day; but it is the conviction of\nthose who are best able to judge that nothing of the sort any longer\nexists. To be sure, there are still lobbyists in Washington, who as a\nmatter of business are trying to work either for or against impending\nbills, but direct bribery is no longer in question. On the slightest\nsuspicion the House itself proceeds to an investigation and appoints a\ncommittee, which has the right of collecting sworn testimony; and time\nafter time these suspicions have been found to be unjust.\n\nA different verdict, however, would have to be passed if only that\ndelegate were to be called morally upright who surveys every question\nfrom the point of view of the welfare of the entire nation; for then\nindeed the purity of Congress will be by no means free from doubt. Few\nAmericans, however, would recognize such a political standard. When\ngreat national questions come up for discussion Congress has always\nshown itself equal to the occasion, and when the national honour is at\nstake, as it was during the Spanish War, party lines no longer exist;\nbut when the daily drift of work has to be put through it is the duty of\nevery man to uphold as obstinately as possible the interests of his\nconstituency. Especially the political interests of his party then\nbecome predominant, and, seen from a higher point of view, there are no\ndoubt many sins committed in this direction. Many a measure is given its\nquietus by one party, not because of any real inexpediency, but simply\nin order to embarrass the other party, to tie up the Administration, and\nthus to weaken the hopes of that party at the next election. In recent\nyears such party tactics on both sides have prevailed time after time.\nMost frequently it is the present minority, under its leader, Senator\nGorman, which has resorted to this policy and held out against the most\nreasonable propositions of the Republicans, simply because these\nmeasures would have increased the Republican respect before the nation.\n\nOn the other hand, party lines are all the time being broken through by\nthese or those local interests, and any one observing the distribution\nof votes cast in the House will see clearly how, oftentimes, the parties\nmingle while the issue lies perhaps between two different geographical\nsections. When oleomargarine is the order of the day the representatives\nof the farming districts are lined up against those from industrial\nsections. If it is a question of getting Congress to approve the great\nirrigation measures, whole troops of Democrats hasten to forget that,\naccording to their fundamental principles, such an undertaking belongs\nto the state, and not to the federal, government; the representatives\nfrom all the Democratic states which are to be benefited by such\nirrigation, fall into sweet accord with the Republicans. Thus the party\ndivisions are all the time being forgotten for the moment, and it looks\nas if this weakening of party bonds were on the increase. By supporting\nhis party principles each Congressman assists toward the next victory of\nhis party, but by working for the interests of his locality he is surer\nof his own renomination. The requirement that a candidate must reside in\nthe district that elects him naturally strengthens his consideration for\nthe selfish claims of his constituency. Thus it is only at notable\nmoments that the popular representative stands above all parties; he\ngenerally stands pat with his own party, and if the voters begin to nod\nhe may take his stand somewhat below the parties.\n\nYet, on looking at Congress as a whole, one has the impression that it\naccomplishes a tremendous amount of work, and in a more sober,\nbusiness-like, and efficient way than does any other parliament in the\nworld. There is less talking against time; in fact, there is less\ntalking of any kind, and because the Administration is not represented\nat all there is less fighting. The transactions as a whole are therefore\nsomewhat less exciting; a single Congressman has less opportunity to\nbecome personally famous. Yet no American would desire to introduce a\nministerial bench at the Capitol, or to have the next Congress adopt\nAustrian, French, German, or English methods.\n\n\n\n\n                              CHAPTER FIVE\n                               _Justice_\n\n\nGoing from the hall beneath the central dome of the Capitol toward the\nSenate, in the left wing one passes by an extraordinary room, in which\nthere is generally a crowd of people. The nine judges of the federal\ncourt, the Supreme Court of the United States, are sitting there in\ntheir black gowns, between Greek columns. The President and his Cabinet,\nthe Senate, and the House of Representatives fill the American with a\npride which is tempered by some critical judgment on this or that\nfeature, or perhaps by a lively party dissatisfaction. But every\nAmerican who is competent to judge looks on the Supreme Court with\nunqualified admiration. He knows very well that no force in the country\nhas done more for the peace, prosperity, and dignity of the United\nStates. In the constitutional make-up of the Federal Government, the\nSupreme Court is the third division, and co-ordinate with the\nLegislative and the Executive departments.\n\nThe jurisprudence of a nation forms a totality; and therefore it will\nnot do to discuss the work of the nine men sitting at the Capitol,\nwithout throwing at least a hasty glance at the administration of\njustice throughout this enormous country. There is hardly anything more\nconfusing to a European; and while the Englishman finds many features\nwhich are reminiscent of English law, the German stands helpless before\nthe complicated situation. It is, most of all, the extreme diversity of\nmethods which disquiets him. It will be quite impossible to give here\neven a superficial picture of the machinery of justice. A few hints must\nsuffice at this point, while we shall consider many features in other\nconnections, especially in discussing social problems.\n\nThe jurisprudence adopted by the United States comes from three sources.\nThe average American, on being asked what the law of his country is,\nwould say that it is \u201ccommon law.\u201d If we except the State of Louisiana,\nwhich by a peculiarity has the Napoleonic Code, this reply suffices for\na rough idea. But if a German, having in mind perhaps the two German law\nbooks, the penal and the civil codes, both of which he can put so easily\ninto his pocket, were to ask after some formulation of the common law,\nhe would be shown a couple of huge bookcases with several hundred stout\nvolumes. Common law is not a law book, nor is it a system of abstract\nformulations, nor yet a codification of the prevailing ideas of justice.\nIt is, in fact, the sum total of judicial decisions. The establishment\nof common law signifies that every new case as it comes up is decided in\nconformity with previous decisions. The earlier decision may be a bad\none, and very much offend one\u2019s sense of justice; but if no superior\nauthority has annulled it, it becomes historic law and determines the\nfuture course of things. American law came originally from the English.\nThe early English colonists brought with them across the ocean the ideas\nof the English judges, and the states which have sprung up lately have\ntaken their law from the thirteen original states. If to-day, in Boston\nor San Francisco, any one finds a piece of jewelry on the street and\nanother snatches it from him, he can have the thief arrested, although\nthe object found is not his property. The judge will decide that he has\na right to the object which he has found until the original owner\nappears, and the judge will so decide because in the year 1722 a London\nchimney-sweep found a valuable ornament, out of which a jeweler later\nstole a precious stone; and the English judge decided in favour of the\nchimney-sweep.\n\nThe disadvantages of such a system are obvious. Instead of a single book\nof law embodying the will of the nation, the decisions handed down by\nsingle insignificant judges in different parts of the world, decisions\nwhich originated under wholly other states of civilization and from\nother traditions, still have final authority. Again and again the judge\nhas to adapt himself to old decisions, against which his sense of right\nmorally rebels. Yet the deep, ethical motive behind this legal system is\ncertainly plainly evident. The Anglo-Saxon would say that a national\ncode cannot be constructed arbitrarily and artificially. Its only source\nis in the careful, responsible decisions given down by the accredited\nrepresentatives of the public will in actual disputes which have arisen.\nThere is no right or wrong, he would say, until two persons disagree and\nmake a settlement necessary, and the judge who decides the case creates\nthe right with the help of his own conscience; but as soon as he has\ngiven his decision, and it is set aside by no higher authority, the\nprinciple of the decision becomes justice for all times. Every day sees\nnew formulations of justice, because new conflicts between human wills\nare always arising and require new settlements; but up to the moment\nwhen a decision is made there exist only two conflicting desires\nexisting in the matter, but nothing which could be called justice.\n\nAlthough it seems at first sight as if a legal system, which is composed\nof previous decisions, would soon become antiquated and petrified, the\nAnglo-Saxon would say with firm conviction that just such justice is the\nonly one which can be living, because it springs not out of\nrationalistic preconceptions, but from actual experience. The\nAnglo-Saxon jurisprudence is full of historical reality and of\npicturesque individuality. It has grown as organically as language, and\nis, in the estimation of the Anglo-Saxon, as much superior to a mere\ncode as the ordinary speech of a people, in spite of all its historical\ninconsistencies, is superior to an artificially constructed speech like\nVolap\u00fck. And he would find many other points of superiority. He would\nsay, for instance, that this is the only system which gives to every man\non the judge\u2019s bench the serious sense of his responsibility; for the\njudge knows that in every case which he decides, he settles not only the\nfortunes of James and John there present, but he influences for all\ntimes the conception of justice of the entire nation. He feels\nespecially that the binding force of previous decisions reassures the\npublic sense of right, and lends a continuity which could never be\nafforded by the theoretical formulations of an abstract code.\n\nAnother factor must be taken into account. A judicial decision which is\nforgotten as quickly as the voice of the judge who speaks it, can never\nhave so considerable an influence on the public mind as one which itself\ncreates law. In one sense, to be sure, the German judge creates law too;\nthe penal code sets wide limits to the punishment of a criminal, and\nwithin these limits the judge assigns a certain penalty. He does in a\nsense create the right for this particular case; but the characteristic\ndifference is, that in the German Empire no subsequent decision is in\nthe least affected by such preceding decision. The German judge finds\njustice prescribed for him and he is its servant, while the American\nmakes it and is its master. This gives to the judicial utterance an\nhistorical weight and enduring significance, which contribute vastly\ntoward keeping judicial doings in the focus of the public consciousness.\n\nThe same is brought about in still another way. Since the decision of\nthe judge is largely dependent on previous cases, the fate of the\nparties contending may depend on whether they are able to point to\nprevious decisions which are favourable to their side. The layman cannot\ndo this, and it falls to the counsel. In this wise a sphere of action is\nopen to the American lawyer which is incomparably greater than that of\nany German Anwalt. The former has to concern himself not only with the\ncase in hand, but he has to connect this concrete instance with the\nwhole historic past. Thus the profession of the lawyer comes to have an\ninner importance which is unknown to the European, and which in many\ncases necessarily exceeds the importance of the judge, since he is bound\nto comply with the decisions adduced by the counsels for both sides. The\njudges are selected from the ranks of lawyers, and are, therefore,\nbrought up in the idea that law is composed of former decisions, and\nthat the decisions of the bench are admirable only so far as they are\nconsistent enough with the earlier ones to force the conviction and\nrespect of the lawyers. Thus barristers and judges are entirely at one,\nand are together entrusted with the public sense of right, as it has\ndeveloped itself historically, and as it is day by day added to and\nperpetuated, so that it shall be a never-failing source of quickening to\nthe conscience of the masses.\n\nIn the masses of the people, on the other hand, the natural tendencies\nare favourable anyhow for developing a lively sense of justice. It is a\nnecessity devolving naturally on the individualistic view of things. The\nprotection of individual rights and the inviolability of the individual\nperson, with all that belongs to it, are the individualist\u2019s most vital\nconcern. Many outward features of American life may seem, indeed, to\ncontradict this, but any one who looks more deeply will see that\neverywhere the desire for justice is the essential trait of both the\nindividual and the nation; and the public consciousness would rather\nendure the crassest absurdities and misunderstandings in public affairs\nthan the least conscious violation in the administration of justice.\nAgain and again important trials go to pieces on small technical errors,\nfrom which the severe sense of justice of the American is not able to\nfree itself. The public is always willing to endure any hardship rather\nthan to tolerate any maladministration of justice.\n\nOn the finest square in Boston stands a large and magnificent hotel,\nerected by rich capitalists. The building laws provide that structures\nfacing that square shall not exceed a height of ninety feet; but in\nviolation of the law certain cornices and balustrades were added to this\nbuilding above the ninety-foot line, in order to give an artistic finish\nto the structure, and still to turn practically every inch allowed by\nlaw to account for rentals, which are high in so palatial a building.\nEvery one agreed that this ornamental finish was highly decorative and\nsatisfactory in the \u00e6sthetic sense, but that it must, nevertheless, be\ntaken down, because it violated the law by some seven feet. The cornice\nand balustrades have, therefore, been demolished at great expense, and a\nhandsome structure has been made absolutely hideous\u2014a veritable\nmonstrosity. The best square in the city is disfigured, but every\nBostonian looks on this building with gratification. Beautiful\narchitectural detail may indeed have been sacrificed; but the public\nconscience has won, and it is on this that the nation rests.\n\nIt is merely incidental that very much, and indeed much too much, of\nthat which the Germans account matters of justice, is relegated by the\nAmerican point of view to other tribunals; some, for instance, are held\nto be political questions, and thus it often appears to the foreigner as\nif there had been a violation of justice where really there has been\nonly some political abuse. But matters of that sort loom up whenever any\nnation tries to form an opinion about another. In Germany, indeed, the\nAmerican seems to see many violations of justice, where the German would\nfind only an historically established social or political abuse.\n\nAs we have said, American justice is based on the decisions handed down\nin earlier cases. But this is, after all, only one of the three sources\nof law. That form of law-making is also here recognized which in Europe\nis the only form; the law-making by the majority of the people\u2019s\nrepresentatives. We have seen how Congress passes every year hundreds of\nlaws. Many of these are indeed special measures, with no universal\napplication; not a few, however, are of very broad application and\ninvolve an unlimited number of possible instances. And just as the\nCongress of the United States, so also can the legislature of each state\nprescribe general regulations, applicable within the state. Such laws\nmade by the legislature are technically called statutes. These are\nengrossed in the statute-books of the state, and supersede all opposed\ndecisions which may then exist. The federal judge, like the judge in a\nspecial state, is therefore bound to earlier decisions only so far as\nthese are not expressly annulled by statutes.\n\nHere we find one of the main reasons for the extraordinary complexities\nof the American law; forty-five legislatures are making laws for their\nseveral states, and in this way they of course give expression to the\ndiversity of local needs and the varying grades of culture. At the same\ntime, the principle of law, based on earlier decisions, is always\ncombined with the principle of the statute-book. In the cases, both of\nthe laws of Congress and those of the separate states, the judges who\nfirst come to apply the statutes in practice, are privileged to make\ntheir own interpretation; and here, too, the interpretation handed down\nin the judge\u2019s decision is valid for all future cases.\n\nIn both the federal and state courts a legal action may be carried from\nthe lower to the higher courts, and the decision of the highest tribunal\nbecomes definitely law. The forty-five-fold diversity refers thus not\nmerely to the statutes of the separate states, but also to the\ninterpretations of those statutes which have been given by the upper\ncourts of those states.\n\nThe third source of law is the only one that prescribes absolute\nuniformity for all parts of the country. This is the Constitution of the\nUnited States. The Constitution must not be conceived as the creation of\nCongress; Congress was created by the Constitution. Therefore every\nprovision of the Constitution is a higher law than any bill which\nCongress can pass, just as the law made by Congress is higher than the\ndecision of any judge. No Congress can modify a clause of the\nConstitution. The assent of the entire people is necessary for such a\nrevision. Congress can, however, propose an amendment to the\nConstitution, and a two-thirds majority in the Senate and the House\nsuffice to bring the proposed change before the nation, to be voted on.\nIt has then to be passed on by the forty-five state legislatures, and\nwill become a law with the approval of three-quarters of the states.\n\nAt first glance it seems as if this were a judicial machinery which\nwould be far too complicated to work smoothly; it seems as if sources of\nfriction had been arbitrarily devised, and as if continual collisions\nbetween the authorities of the several systems would be inevitable. This\nis true in two instances especially; firstly, the judicial machinery,\nwhich carries out the federal laws, sometimes collides with that of the\nseparate states. Then, secondly, the complicated system of\nConstitutional provisions, devised a hundred years since, may interfere\nwith the progressive measures of Congress or the separate states; and\nthis must be a source of much uncertainty in law. These are the actual\ndifficulties of a legal sort. Everything else, as for instance the\nenormous diversity of the laws in the separate states, is of course very\ninconvenient, but gives rise to no conflicts of principle.\n\nNeither of these two difficulties finds its counterpart in Germany. In\nno Prussian city is there a German tribunal side by side with the\nPrussian, no imperial judge beside the local judge; nor can one conceive\nof a conflict in the German Empire between the creators of the legal\ncode and the law-givers who frame the provisions of the Constitution.\nThis doubleness of the judicial officials is in every part of the Union,\nhowever, characteristic of the American system and necessary to it. The\nwonderful equilibrium between centripetal and centrifugal forces which\ncharacterizes the whole American scheme of things makes it impossible\nfrom the outset for either the whole Federation to become the sole\nadministrator of justice, or for such administration, on the basis of\nfederal law, to be left entirely to the separate states. As a matter of\ncourse, a clear separation of jurisdiction has been necessary. The\nConstitution provides for this in a way clearly made necessary by the\nconditions under which the Federation was formed. Justice in the army\nand navy, commercial policies, and political relations with other\ncountries; weights and measures, coinage, provisions, interstate\ncommerce, and the postal system, the laws of patents and copyrights, of\nbankruptcy, and of naturalization, the laws of river and harbour, cases\nof treason, and much else are left to the Federation as a whole. While\nall these matters fall naturally within the scope of federal law, there\nare, on the other hand, obvious reasons whereby certain classes of\npersons should be under the jurisdiction of the federal courts. These\nare, firstly, diplomatic ministers and consuls; secondly, either actual\nor legal parties when they belong in different states; thirdly, and most\nimportant, the states themselves. Wherever a state is party to an\naction, the Supreme Federal Court must hear the case and give the\ndecision. On the other hand, the Constitution declares expressly that,\nwherever jurisdiction is not explicitly conferred on the federal courts,\nit pertains to the individual states; therefore, much the larger part of\ncriminal law belongs to the states, and so the laws of marriage and\ninheritance, of contract, property ownership, and much else.\n\nFor the administration of cases within its jurisdiction, the Federation\nhas divided the whole country into twenty-seven districts, whose\nboundaries coincide partly with state lines, and of which each has a\ndistrict court. Groups of such districts form a circuit, of which each\nhas a circuit court, which sits on the more important cases, especially\ncivil cases involving large interests. And, finally, there is a court of\nappeals. These districts and circuits are now coincident with the\nregions lying in the jurisdiction of the several states. In their method\nof procedure the federal and the state courts resemble each other,\nespecially in the general conduct of criminal cases, which is everywhere\nthe same, because the Constitution itself has fixed the main features.\nBoth state and federal courts are alike bound by the extraordinarily\nrigid rules framed by the Constitution in order to protect the innocent\nman against the severity of the law.\n\nNo criminal can be condemned except by a jury which has been sworn to\nperform its duty, and before he comes before this jury a provisional\njury has to make the accusation against him. Thus one sworn jury must be\nconvinced of the justice of the suspicion before a second jury can give\nits verdict. A person cannot be brought up for trial twice for the same\ncrime; no one can be compelled to testify against himself; every one has\nthe right to be brought before a jury in the district where the crime\nwas committed, to hear all the testimony against him, to have counsel\nfor his own defence, and to avail himself of the strong arm of the law\nin bringing to court such witnesses as would speak in his favour; cruel\nor excessive penalties may not be fixed, nor a man\u2019s freedom or property\ninterfered with except after due process of law. The Constitution\nprovides this, and a good deal else, and thus makes the conduct of\ntrials uniform. In other respects, however, there are not a few\ndifferences which are not so obvious in the courts. Among these is the\ncircumstance that federal judges are appointed for life, while the\njudges of the separate states are elected for short periods of from four\nto seven years.\n\nThe relations between constitutional laws and legislative laws seem even\nmore complicated. Here, too, in a way, the same province is covered by a\ntwo-fold system of laws. The fixed letter of the Constitution and the\nliving decisions by a majority in Congress or in a state legislature,\nstand in opposition to each other. It is established that no legislature\ncan ride over the Constitution; and if the interpretation of a court\nbrings out a contradiction between the two systems, a conflict arises\nwhich in principle makes justice uncertain. If we now ask how it is\npossible that all such conflicts have disappeared without the least\nprejudice to the national sense of justice, how in spite of all these\npossibilities of friction no disturbance is seen, or how in a land which\nhas been overrun with serious political conflicts, a jurisprudence so\nlacking in uniformity has always been the north star of the nation\u2014the\nreply will be that the Supreme Court has done all this. The upper\nfederal court has been the great reconciling factor in the history of\nthe United States, and has left behind it a succession of honourable\nmemorials. Its most distinguished chief justice has been John Marshall,\nwho presided over it from 1801 to 1835. He was America\u2019s greatest\njurist, and contributed more than any one else toward impressing the\nspirit of the Constitution on the country.\n\nThe German reader who hears of the Supreme Court sitting at the Capitol,\nmust not turn back in his mind to the Imperial Court at Leipzig. The\nSupreme Court is by no means the sole court of highest instance, for the\nsuits in single states which properly fall within the jurisdiction of a\nstate can go no higher than the highest court of appeal of that state.\nThe Supreme Court in Washington is the court of last instance for\nfederal cases; but in order to disburden the judges in Washington, there\nare large classes of civil cases pertaining to the federal courts, which\ncan be carried no higher than the federal court of appeals of a given\ncircuit. Much more important than the cases in which the Supreme Court\nis really the court of highest instance for federal suits, are those\nothers in which it is at once the court of first and last instance;\nthese are the processes which the Constitution assigns immediately to\nthe Supreme Court. They are chiefly suits in which a single state, or in\nwhich the United States is itself a party, for the Supreme Bench alone\ncan settle disagreements between states and decide whether the federal\nor state laws conflict with the Constitution. In this sense the Supreme\nCourt is higher than both President and Congress. If it decides that a\ntreaty which the Executive has concluded, or a law which has been passed\nby the Legislative, violates the Constitution, then the doings of both\nCongress and the President are annulled. There is only one way by which\na decision of the Supreme Court can be set aside\u2014namely, by the vote of\na three-fourths majority of all the states; that is, by an amendment of\nthe Constitution. There are some instances of this in the history of the\nUnited States; but virtually the decision of the nine judges of the\nSupreme Court is the highest law of the land.\n\nThe Supreme Court has annulled Congressional measures twenty-one times\nand state statutes more than two hundred times, because these were at\nvariance with the Constitution. Many of these have been cases of the\ngreatest political importance, long and bitterly fought out in the\nlegislatures, and followed with excitement by the public. The whole\ncountry has often been divided in its opinion on a legal question, and\neven the decision itself of the nine judges has sometimes been handed\ndown with only a small majority. Nevertheless, for many years the\ncountry has every time submitted to the oracle of the Supreme Court, and\nconsidered the whole issue definitely closed.\n\nOne is not to suppose that the Supreme Court occupies itself with\nhanding down legal verdicts in the abstract and in a way declaring its\nveto whenever Congress or some legislature infringes the Constitution.\nSuch a thing is out of the question, since theoretically the Supreme\nCourt, although the equal is not the superior of Congress; most of all,\nit is a court and not a legislature. The question of law does not come\nup then before this tribunal until there is a concrete case which has to\nbe decided, and the Supreme Court has always declined to hand down a\ntheoretical interpretation in advance of an actual suit. As early as the\neighteenth century, Washington was unable to elicit from the Supreme\nCourt any reply to a hypothetical question. Even when the actual case\nhas come up, the Supreme Court does not say that a certain law is\ninvalid, but decides strictly on the one case before it, and announces\non what principle of the law it has based its decision. If there is a\ndisagreement between two laws, the decision of the Court simply lays the\npractical emphasis on one rather than on the other. It is true that in\nthis way nothing but one single case is decided; but here the principle\nof common law comes in\u2014one decision establishes a point of law, and the\nSupreme Court and all lower courts likewise must in future hand down\nverdicts conformable thereto. The legislative law so superseded is thus\npractically annulled and made non-existent. In the Supreme Court one\nsees again that the security of national justice rests on the binding\nforce of former decisions.\n\nIt will be enough to point out two decisions which have been given in\nrecent years and which have interested the whole country. In the year\n1894 Congress passed a new tax law; one clause of this law taxed every\nincome which was larger than a certain amount. It was taxation of the\nwealthy. So far as income was obtained by actual labour the tax was\nundoubtedly valid. But New York barristers doubted the constitutionality\nof this tax in so far as it was laid on the interest from securities or\non rents; because the Constitution expressly says that direct taxation\nfor the country must be levied by the separate states, and in such a way\nthat the whole sum to be raised shall be apportioned among the different\nstates according to their population. The counsels of the wealthy New\nYorkers said this provision ought to apply here. The difference would be\nfor every rich man in thickly populated states a very considerable one.\nIf the tax was to be apportioned according to population, the poor\nstates must also bear their share. While it came to be levied on the\nindividuals the largest part of the burden would fall to the\nmillionaires, who are grouped in a few states. The Supreme Court would\nsay nothing so long as the discussion was theoretical. Finally, a case\nwas tested; when the lawyers were prepared, a certain citizen refused to\npay the income tax and let the matter go to court. The first barristers\nin the country were divided on the question, as was also the Supreme\nCourt. The majority decided in favour of the citizen who refused to pay\nthe tax, because in its opinion the tax was a direct one, and therefore\nthe constitutional provision relating to direct taxation was in force.\nBy this one decision the income tax was set aside, and instead of ten\nthousand new suits being brought, of which the outcome was already\nclear, the excess taxes were everywhere paid back. At bottom this was\nthe victory, over both President and Congress, of a single eminent\nbarrister, who is to-day the ambassador to England.\n\nA still more important decision, because it involved the whole political\nfuture of the United States, was that on the island possessions. By the\ntreaty with Spain, Porto Rico had become a possession of the United\nStates, and was therefore subject to United States law; but Congress\nproceeded to lay a tariff on certain wares which were imported from the\nisland. There were two possible views. On the one hand, the Constitution\nprescribes that there shall be no customs duties of any sort between the\nstates which belong to the Union; and since Porto Rico is a part of the\nUnion the rest of the states may not levy a tariff on imports from the\nisland. On the other hand, the Constitution empowers Congress to\nregulate at its discretion the affairs of such territory as belongs to\nthe United States, but has not yet been granted the equal rights of\nstates; thus the other provision of the Constitution would not\nimmediately apply to this island. The question had never before been\ndecided, because the Indian territories, the Mexican accessions, and\nAlaska had never been treated as Porto Rico now was. Congress had\npreviously taken for granted that the Constitution was in force for\nthese territories, but now the imperialistic tendencies of politics had\ncreated a new situation, and one which had to be settled.\n\nHere too, of course, the Supreme Court did not try to settle the\ntheoretical question which was stirring the whole country; but presently\ncame the action of Downes vs. Bidwell, a simple suit in which a New York\ncommercial house was the complainant, and the New York Customs the\ndefendant. In case the provisions of the Constitution were to hold for\nthe entire domain of the United States, the tariff which Congress had\nenacted was unconstitutional, but if the Constitution was to hold only\nfor the states, while Congress was sovereign over all other possessions,\nthe tariff was constitutional. The Supreme Court decided for this latter\ninterpretation by five votes against four, and the commercial house paid\nits tax. Therewith the principle was decided for all time, and if\nto-morrow the United States should get hold of Asia and Africa, it is\nassured from the outset that the new domain would not be under the\nConstitution, but under the authority of Congress\u2014simply because Downes\nlost his case against Customs Inspector Bidwell, and had to pay six\nhundred dollars in duty on oranges.\n\nThis last case shows clearly that the decisions by no means always\nsupport the Constitution against legislative bodies; and statistics show\nthat although in two hundred cases the verdict has been against the\nlegislatures, it has been more often decided in their favour. The entire\nhistory of the Supreme Court shows that in a conservative spirit it has\nalways done full justice to both the centralizing and particularizing\ntendencies. It has shown this conciliatory attitude especially by the\nfirm authority with which it has decided the hazardous disputes over\nboundaries and other differences, between the several states, so that\nsuch disputes really come up no longer. For a century the Supreme Court\nhas been a shining example of a federal tribunal.\n\nSuch complete domination of the national life could not have been\nattained by the Supreme Bench if it had not remained well above all the\ndoings of the political parties, and that it does so may seem surprising\nwhen one considers the conditions under which the judges are appointed.\nThe President selects the new judge whenever, by death or retirement, a\nvacancy occurs among the nine judges; and the Senate confirms the\nselection. Party factors, therefore, determine the appointment, and in\npoint of fact Democratic Presidents have always appointed judges\nbelonging to their own party, and Republicans have done the same. The\nresult is that both parties are represented in the Supreme Court. That\nin political questions, such as the case of Porto Rico, which we have\nmentioned, party conceptions figure somewhat in the decision of the\njudges is undoubted. Yet they figure only in the sense that allegiance\nto one or the other party involves certain fundamental convictions, and\nthese necessarily come into play in the judicial verdict. On the other\nhand, there is never the least suspicion that the judges harbour\npolitical schemes or seek in their decision to favour either political\nparty. This results from the fact that it is a matter of honour with\nboth parties to place really the most distinguished jurists in these\nhighest judicial offices\u2014jurists who will be for all time an honour to\nthe administration which appointed them. They are almost exclusively men\nwho have never taken part in technical politics, but who have been\neither distinguished judges elsewhere or else leading barristers, and\nwho, from the day of their appointment on, will be only judges. Their\nposition is counted among the most honourable which there is, and it\nwould almost never happen that a jurist would decline his appointment,\nalthough the position, like all American official positions, is\ninadequately rewarded; the salary is ten thousand dollars, while any\ngreat lawyer is able to earn many times that sum. At the present moment\nthere sits on the Supreme Bench a group of men, every one of whom\nrepresents the highest kind of American spirit. The bustle and\nconfusion, which prevail in the two wings of the Capitol, does not\ninvade the hall where the nine judges hold their sessions. These men\nare, in the American public mind, the very symbol of conscience.\n\nWe shall have occasion to consider later on the administration of\njustice by the nation, under various points of view. While in many\nrespects this will appear less conscientious and more especially less\ndeliberate, it will, nevertheless, recall not a few admirable features\nof the Supreme Court.\n\n\n\n\n                              CHAPTER SIX\n                            _City and State_\n\n\nThe Constitution, the President and his Cabinet, the Senate, the House\nof Representatives, and the Supreme Court, in short all of those\ninstitutions which we have so far sketched, belong to the United States\ntogether. The European who pictures to himself the life of an American\nwill inevitably come to think that these are the factors which most\ninfluence the life of the political individual. But such is not the\ncase; the American citizen in daily life is first of all a member of his\nspecial state. The organization of the Union is more prominent on the\nsurface than that of the single state, but this latter is more often\nfelt by the inhabitants.\n\nThe quality of an American state can be more easily communicated to a\nGerman than to an Englishman, Frenchman, or Russian. The resident of\nBavaria or Saxony knows already how a man may have a two-fold\npatriotism, allegiance to the state and also to the empire; so that he\ncan recognize the duties as well as the privileges which are grouped\naround two centres. The essentials of the American state, however, are\nnot described by the comparison with a state in the German Empire, which\nis relatively of too little importance; for in comparison with the Union\nthe American state has more independence and sovereignty than the\nGerman. We have observed before that it has its own laws and its own\ncourt of last appeal; but these are only two of the many indications of\nits practical and theoretical independence. The significant organic\nimportance of the state shows itself not less clearly if one thinks of\nthe cities subordinate to it, rather than of the Federation which is\nsuperior to it. While the German state is more dependent on the\nFederation than is the American, the German city is more independent of\nthe state than is any city in the United States. The political existence\nof the American city is entirely dependent on the legislature of its\nstate. The Federation on the one hand and the cities on the other, alike\ndepend for their administrative existence on the separate states.\n\nIt is not merely an historical relic of that time when the thirteen\nstates united, but hesitated to give up their individual rights to the\nFederation; a time when there were only six cities of more than eight\nthousand inhabitants. Nothing has changed in this respect, and it is not\nonly the Democratic party to-day which jealously guards state rights;\nthe state all too often tyrannizes still over the large cities within\nits borders. There are some indications, indeed, that the state rights\nare getting even more emphasis than formerly\u2014perhaps as a reaction\nagainst the fact that, in spite of all constitutional precautions, those\nstates which have close commercial relations tend practically to merge\nmore and more with one another.\n\nOn observing the extraordinary tenacity with which the federal laws and\nthe local patriotism of the individual cling to the independence of each\none of the forty-five states, one is inclined to suppose that it is a\nquestion of extremely profound differences in the customs, ideals,\ntemperaments, and interests of the different states. But such is not at\nall the case. The states are, of course, very unlike, especially in\nsize; Texas and Rhode Island, for instance, would compare about as\nPrussia and Reuss. There are even greater differences in the density of\npopulation; and the general cast of physiognomy varies in different\nregions of the country. The Southerner shows the character bred by\nplantation life; the citizen of the North-east evinces the culture bred\nof higher intellectual interests; while the citizens of the West attest\nthe differences between their agricultural and mining districts. Yet the\ndivisions here are not states, but larger regions comprising groups of\nstates, and it sometimes happens that more striking contrasts are found\nwithin a certain state than would be found between neighbouring states.\nThe state lines were after all often laid down on paper with a ruler,\nwhile nature has seldom made sharp lines of demarcation, and the\ndifferent racial elements of the population are fairly well mixed. For\nthe last century the pioneers of the nation have carried it steadily\nwestward, so that in many states the number of those born in the state\nis much less than of those who have migrated to it; and of course the\nobstinate assertion of the prerogatives of such a state does not arise\nfrom any cherished local traditions to which the inhabitants are\naccustomed. The special complexion of any provincial district, moreover,\nis assailed from all sides and to a large extent obliterated, in these\ndays of the telegraph and of extraordinarily rapid commercial\nintercourse and industrial organization.\n\nThe uniformity of fashions, the wide-spread distribution of newspapers\nand magazines, the great political parties, and the intense national\npatriotism all work towards the one end\u2014that from Maine to California\nthe American is very much the same sort of man, and feels himself, in\ncontrast with a foreigner, to be merely an American. And yet in spite of\nall this each single state holds obstinately to its separate rights. It\nis the same principle which we have seen at work in the American\nindividual. The more the individuals or the states resemble one another\nthe more they seem determined to preserve their autonomy; the more\nsimilar the substance, the sharper must be the distinctions in form.\n\nThe inner similarity of the different states is shown by the fact that,\nwhile each one has its own statute-book and an upper court which\njealously guards its special constitution, nevertheless all of the\nforty-five state constitutions are framed very much alike. The\nConstitution of the United States would by no means require this, since\nit prescribes merely that every state constitution shall be republican\nin form; and yet not a single state has taken advantage of its great\nfreedom. The constitutions of the older states were modelled partly on\nthe institutions of the English fatherland, partly on those of colonial\ndays; and when many of these features were finally embodied in the\nFederal Constitution, they were reflected back once more in the\nconstitutions of the states which later came to be. The new states have\nsimply borrowed the general structure of the older states and of the\nFederation, without much statesmanlike imagination; although here and\nthere is some adaptation to special circumstances. There are indeed some\nodd differences at superficial points, and inasmuch as, in contrast to\nthe Federal Constitution, the state constitutions have frequently been\nreshaped by the people, a reactionary tendency or some radical and hasty\ninnovation has here and there been incorporated.\n\nThe principles, however, are everywhere the same. Each state has framed\na reduced copy of the Federal Constitution, and one finds a still more\ndiminutive representation of the same thing in the American city\ncharter. Yet we must not forget here that, although theoretically and\nconstitutionally the state is greater than the city, yet in fact the\ncity of New York has a population eighty times as large as the State of\nNevada, with its bare 40,000 inhabitants; or, again, that the budget of\nthe State of Massachusetts is hardly a quarter as large as that of\nBoston, its capital city.\n\nThus, like the Union, both city and state have a charter and an\nexecutive, a dual legislature, and a judiciary, all of which reproduce\non a small scale all the special features of the federal organization.\nThe city charter is different from that of the state, in that it is not\ndrawn up by the inhabitants of the city, but, as we have said, has to be\ngranted by the state legislature. The head of the state executive, the\ngovernor, is in a way a small president, who is elected directly by the\npeople, generally for a two years\u2019 term of office. In the city\ngovernment the mayor corresponds to him, and is likewise elected by the\ncitizens; and in the larger cities for the same period. A staff of\nexecutive officers is provided for both the mayor and the governor.\n\nUnder the city government are ranged the heads of departments, who are\ngenerally chosen by the mayor himself; New York, for instance, has\neighteen such divisions\u2014the departments of finance, taxation, law,\npolice, health, fire, buildings, streets, water-supply, bridges,\neducation, charities, penal institutions, park-ways, public buildings,\netc. The most important officials under the state government are always\nthe state secretary, the state attorney-general, and the treasurer.\nClose to the governor stands the lieutenant-governor, who, after the\npattern of the federal government, is president of the upper legislative\nchamber. The governor is empowered to convene the legislature, to\napprove or to veto all state measures, to pardon criminals, to appoint\nmany of the lower officials, although generally his appointment must be\nconfirmed by the upper legislative body, and he is invariably in sole\ncommand of the state militia. The legislature of the state is always,\nand that of the cities generally, divided into two chambers. Here again\nthe membership in the upper chamber is smaller than that of the lower\nand more difficult to obtain. Often the state legislature does not meet\nin the largest city, but makes for itself a sort of political oasis, a\ndiminutive Washington. The term of office in the legislature is almost\nalways two years, and everywhere the same committee system is followed\nas at the Capitol in Washington. Only a member of the legislative body\ncan propose bills, and such propositions are referred at once to a\nspecial committee, where they are discussed and perhaps buried. They can\ncome to the house only through the hands of this committee. The freedom\ngiven to the state legislature is somewhat less than that given by the\nConstitution to Congress. While all the parliamentary methods are\nstrikingly and often very na\u00efvely copied after those in use at\nWashington, the state constitutions were careful from the outset that\ncertain matters should not be subject to legislative egotism. On the\nother hand the state legislature hands down many of its rights to\ninferior bodies, such as district, county, and city administrations; but\nin all these cases in which there is a real transfer of powers, it is\ncharacteristic that these really pertain to the state as such, and can,\ntherefore, be withdrawn by the state legislatures from the smaller\ndistricts at any time.\n\nThe entire administration of the state falls to the state legislature;\nthat is, the measures for public instruction, taxation, public works,\nand the public debt, penal institutions, the supervision of railroads,\ncorporations, factories, and commerce. In addition to this there are the\ncivil and criminal statutes, with the exception of those few cases which\nthe Constitution reserves for federal legislation; and, finally, there\nis the granting of franchises and monopolies to public and industrial\ncorporations. Of course, within this authority there is nothing which\nconcerns the relation of one state to other states or to foreign powers,\nnor anything of customs revenues or other such matters as are enacted\nuniformly for all parts of the country by the federal government. The\nstate has, however, the right to fix the conditions under which an\nimmigrant may become a naturalized citizen; and a foreigner becomes an\nAmerican citizen by being naturalized under the law of any one of the\nforty-five states. All this gives an exceedingly large field of action\nto state legislatures, and it is astonishing how little dissimilar are\nthe provisions which the different states have enacted.\n\nThe city governments are very diverse in size, but in all the larger\ncities consist of two houses. The German reader must not suppose that\nthese work together like the German magistrate and the municipal\nrepresentative assembly. Since in America the legislative and executive\nare always sharply sundered, the heads of departments under the\nexecutive\u2014that is, the German Stadtr\u00e4te\u2014have no place in the law-making\nbody. The dual legislative is, therefore, in a way an upper and lower\nmunicipal representative assembly, elected in different ways and having\nsimilar differences in function as the two chambers of Congress. Here\ntoo, for instance, bills of appropriation have to originate in the lower\nhouse. Oddly enough, the city legislative is generally not entrusted\nwith education, but this is administered by a separate municipal board,\nelected directly by the people. One who becomes acquainted with the\nintellectual composition of the average city father, will find this\nseparation of educational matters not at all surprising, and very\nbeneficent and reasonable.\n\nIn general, one may say that the mayor is more influential in the city\ngovernment than that body which represents the citizens; this in\ncontrast to the situation in the state government, where the governor is\nrelatively less influential than the legislature. The chief function of\nthe governor is really a negative one, that of affixing his veto from\ntime to time on an utterly impossible law. The mayor, on the other hand,\ncan shape things and leave the stamp of his personality on his city. In\nthe state, as in the city, it often happens that the head of the\nexecutive and a majority of the legislative belong to opposite parties,\nand this not because the party issues are forgotten in the local\nelections, but because the methods of election are different.\n\nThe division of public affairs into city and state issues leaves, of\ncourse, room for still a third group, namely, the affairs of communities\nwhich are still smaller than cities. These, too, derive their authority\nentirely from the state legislature, but all states leave considerable\nindependence to the smaller political units. In local village government\nthe historic differences of the various regions show out more clearly\nthan in either state or city government. The large cities are to all\nintents and purposes cast in the same mould everywhere; their like needs\nhave developed like forms of life; and the coming together of great\nnumbers of people have everywhere created the same economic situation.\nBut the scattered population gets its social and economic articulation\nin the North, South, and West, in quite different ways; and this\ndifference, at an early time when the problems of a large city were so\nfar not known, led to different types of village organizations, which\nhave been historically preserved.\n\nWhen the English colonies were growing up, the differences in this\nconnection between the New England states and Virginia were extreme. The\ncolonies on the northern shores, with their bays and harbours, their\nhilly country and large forests, could not spread their population out\nover large tracts of land, and were concentrated within limited regions;\nand this tendency was further emphasized by Puritan traditions, which\nrequired the population to take active part in church services. There\nnaturally was developed a local form of government for small districts,\nwhich corresponded to old English traditions. The citizens gathered from\nall parts of every district to discuss their common affairs and to\ndecide what taxes should be raised, what streets built, and, most of\nall, what should be done for their churches and schools, and for the\npoor. In Virginia, on the other hand, where very large plantations were\nlaid out, there could be no such small communities; the population was\nmore scattered, and affairs of general interest had necessarily to be\nentrusted to special representatives, who were in part elected by small\nparishes and in part appointed by the governor. The political unit here\nwas not the town, but the county.\n\nThe difference in these two types is the more worthy of consideration\nbecause it explains how the North and South have been able to contribute\nsuch different and yet such equally valuable factors to all the great\nevents of American history. New England and Virginia were the two\ncentres of influence in Revolutionary times and when the Union was being\ncompleted, but their influences were wholly different. New England\nserved the country by effecting an extraordinarily thorough education of\nits masses by giving them a long schooling in local self-government;\neach individual was obliged to meditate on public affairs. Virginia,\nhowever, gave to the country its brilliant leaders; the masses remained\nbackward, but the county representatives practised and trained\nthemselves to the r\u00f4le of leading statesmen. Between these two extremes\nlay the Middle Atlantic States, where a mixed form of town and county\nrepresentation had necessarily developed from the social conditions; and\nthese three types, the Northern, Southern, and mixed, worked slowly back\nduring the nineteenth century from the coast toward the West. Settlers\nin the new states carried with them their familiar forms of local\ngovernment, so that to-day these three forms may still be found through\nthe country. To-day the chief functions of town governments are public\ninstruction, care for the poor, and the building of roads. Religious\nlife is, of course, here as in the city, state, and Union, wholly\nseparated from the political organization. The police systems of these\nlocal governments in town and village are wholly rudimentary. While the\npolice system is perhaps the most difficult chapter in American city\ngovernment, the country districts have always done very well with almost\nnone. This reflects the moral vigour of the American rural population.\nThe people sleep everywhere with their front doors open, and everywhere\npresuppose the willing assistance of their neighbours. It was not until\ngreat populations commenced to gather in cities, that those social evils\narose, of which the police system, which was created to obviate them, is\nitself not the least.\n\nAny one overlooking this interplay of public forces sees that in town\nand city, state and Union, it is not a question of forcing\nadministrative energies into a prescribed sphere of action. They expand\neverywhere as they will, both from the smaller to the larger sphere and\nfrom the larger to the smaller. Therefore, the Union naturally desires\nto take on itself those functions of state legislation in which a lack\nof uniformity would be dangerous; as, for instance, the divorce laws,\nthe discrepancies in which between different states are so great that\nthe necessity of more uniform divorce regulations is ever becoming more\nkeenly felt. At present it is a fact that a man who is divorced under\nthe laws of Dakota and marries again can be punished in New York for\nbigamy. A similar situation exists in regard to certain trade\nregulations, where there are unfortunate discrepancies. Many opponents\nof the trusts want even an amendment to the Constitution which will\nbring them under federal law, and prevent these huge industrial concerns\nfrom incorporating under the too lax laws of certain states.\n\nStill easier is it for the states to interfere in the city governments.\nIf the Union wishes to make new regulations for the state, the Federal\nConstitution has to be amended; while if the state wants to hold a\ntighter rein on city government it can do so directly, for, as we have\nseen, the cities derive all their powers from the state legislature.\nThere is, indeed, considerable tendency now to restrict the privileges\nof cities, and much of this is sound, especially where the state\nauthority is against open municipal corruption. The general tendency is\nincreasing to give the state considerable rights of supervision over\nmatters of local hygiene, industrial conditions, penal and benevolent\ninstitutions. The advantages of uniformity which accrue from state\nsupervision are emphasized by many persons, and still more the advantage\nderived from handing over hygienic, technical, and pedagogical questions\nto the well-paid state experts, instead of leaving them to the\ninexperience of small districts and towns. There is no doubt that on\nthese lines the functions of the state are being extended slowly but\nsteadily.\n\nThen again the cities and towns in their turn are tending to absorb once\nmore such forces as are subordinate to them, and thus to increase the\nmunicipal functions. The fundamental principles which have dominated the\neconomic life in the United States and brought it to a healthful\ndevelopment, leave the greatest possible play for private initiative;\nthus not very long ago it was a matter of course that the water supply,\nthe street lighting, the steam and electric railways should be wholly in\nthe hands of private companies. A change is coming into these affairs,\nfor it is clearly seen that industries of this sort are essentially\ndifferent from ordinary business undertakings, not only because they\nmake use of public roads, but also because such plants necessarily gain\nmonopolies which find it easy to levy tribute upon the public. In recent\nyears, therefore, city governments have little by little taken over the\nwater supplies, and tend somewhat to limit the sphere of other private\nundertakings of this sort\u2014as, for instance, that of street-lighting. At\nthe same time there is an unmistakable tendency for city and town to\nundertake certain tasks which are not economically necessary, and which\nhave been left hitherto to private initiative. Cities are building\nbath-houses and laundries, playgrounds and gymnasiums, and more\nespecially public libraries and museums, providing concerts and other\nkinds of amusements and bureaus for the registration of those needing\nemployment; in short, are everywhere taking up newly arisen duties and\nperforming them at public expense.\n\nThere is, on the other hand, a strong counter-current to these\ntendencies of the large units to perform the duties of the small\u2014the\nstrong those of the weak, the city those of the individual, the state\nthose of the city, and the Union those of the state. The opposition\nbegins already in the smallest circle of all, where one sees a strong\nanti-centralizing tendency. The county or city is not entitled, it is\nsaid, to expend the taxpayers\u2019 money for luxuries or for purposes other\nthan those of general utility. It should be generous philanthropists or\nprivate organizations that build museums and libraries, bath-houses and\ngymnasiums, but not the city, which gets its money from the pockets of\nthe working classes. Although optimists have proposed it, there will\ncertainly be for a long time yet no subsidized municipal theatres; and\nit is noticeable that the liberal offers of Carnegie to erect public\nlibraries are being more and more declined by various town councils,\nbecause Carnegie\u2019s plan of foundation calls for a considerable\naugmentation from the public funds. And wherever it is a question of\nindispensable services, such as tramways and street-lighting, the\nmajority generally says that it is cheaper every time to pay a small\nprofit to a private company than to undertake a large business at the\npublic expense. From the American point of view private companies are\noften too economical, while public enterprises are invariably\nshamelessly wasteful.\n\nThe city pays too dear and borrows at too high a rate; in short,\nregulates its transactions without that wholesome pressure exerted by\nstockholders who are looking for dividends. Worst of all, the\nundertakings which are carried on by municipalities are often simply\nhanded over to political corruption. Instead of trained experts,\npolitical wire-pullers of the party in office are employed in all the\nbest-paid positions, and even where no money is consciously wasted, a\ngradual laxness creeps in little by little, which makes the service\nworse than it would ever be in a private company, which stands all the\ntime in fear of competition. For this reason the American is absolutely\nagainst entrusting railroads and telegraph lines to the hands of the\nstate. When a large telegraph company did not adequately serve the needs\nof the public, another concern spread its network of wires through the\nwhole country; and since then the Western Union and Postal Telegraph\nhave been in competition, and the public has been admirably served. But\nwhat relief would there have been if the state had had a monopoly of the\ntelegraph lines, with politicians in charge who would have been\nindifferent to public demands? The wish to be economical, to keep\nbusiness out of politics, and to keep competition open, all work\ntogether, so that the extension of municipal functions, although\nardently wished on many sides, goes on very slowly; and it is justly\npointed out that whenever private corporations in any way abuse their\nprivileges the community at large has certainly plenty of means for\nsupervising them, and of giving them franchises under such conditions as\nshall amply protect public interests. When a private company wishes to\nuse public streets for its car-tracks, gas or water pipes, or electric\nwires, the community can easily enough grant the permission for a\nlimited length of time, reserving perhaps the right to purchase or\nrequiring a substantial payment for the franchise and a portion of the\nprofits, and can leave the rest to public watchfulness and to the\nregular publication of the company\u2019s reports. It is not to be doubted\nthat the tendencies in this direction are to-day very marked.\n\nJust as private initiative is trying not to be swallowed up by the\ncommunity, so the community is trying to save itself from the state. So\nfar as the village, town, or county is concerned, nobody denies that\nstate experts could afford a better public service than the\ninexperienced local boards, and, nevertheless, it is felt that every\nplace knows best after all just what is adapted to its own needs. The\nclosest adaptation to local desires, as, say, in questions of public\nschools and roads, has been always a fundamental American principle.\nThis principle started originally from the peculiar conditions which\nexisted in the several colonies and from the needs of the pioneers; but\nit has led to such a steady progress in the country\u2019s development that\nno American would care to give it up, even if here and there certain\nadvantages could be had by introducing greater uniformities. There is a\nstill more urgent motive; it is only this opportunity of regulating the\naffairs of the small district which gives to every community, even every\nneighbourhood, the necessary schooling for the public duties of the\nAmerican citizen. If he is deprived of the right to take care of his own\ndistrict, that spirit of self-determination and independence cannot\ndevelop, on which the success of the American experiment in democracy\nentirely depends. Political pedagogy requires that the state shall\nrespect the individuality of the small community so far as this is in\nany way possible.\n\nThe relation between the city and the state is somewhat different; no\none would ask the parliamentarians of the state legislature to hold off\nin order that the population of the large city may have the opportunity\nto keep their political interests alive and to preserve their spirit of\nself-determination. This spirit is at home in the streets of the great\ncity; it is not only wide-awake there, but it is clamorous and almost\ntoo urgent. When, now, the municipalities in their struggle against the\ndictation of the state, meet with the sympathies of intelligent people,\nthis is owing to the simple fact that the city, in which all cultured\ninterests are gathered generally, has in all matters a higher point of\nview than the representatives of the entire state, in which the more\nprimitive rural population predominates. When, for instance, the\nprovincial members which the State of New York has elected meet in\nAlbany, and with their rural majority make regulations for governing the\nthree million citizens of New York City, regulations which are perhaps\npaternally well meant, but which sometimes show a petty distrust and\ndisapproval of that great and wicked place, the result is often\ngrotesque. The state laws, however, favour this sort of dictation.\n\nThe state constitutions still show in this respect the condition of\nthings at a time in which the city as such had hardly come into\nrecognition. The nineteenth century began in America with six cities of\nover eight thousand inhabitants, and ended with 545. Moreover, in 1800\nthose six places contained less than four per cent. of the population,\nwhile in 1900 the 545 cities contained more than thirty-three per cent.\nthereof. Since only a twenty-fifth part of the nation lived in cities,\nthe greater power of the scattered provincial population seemed natural;\nbut when now a third of the nation prefers city life, and especially the\nmore intelligent, more educated, and wealthy third, the limitations to\nindependent municipal rights become an obstacle to culture.\n\nFinally, the states themselves are opposing on good grounds every\nassumption of rights by the Federation\u2014the same good grounds, indeed,\nwhich the community has for opposing the state, and many others besides.\nIt is felt that historically it has been the initiative of individuals\nrather than of the central government which has helped the nation to\nmake its tremendous strides forward, and that this initiative should not\nonly be rewarded with privileges, but should also be stimulated by\nduties. The more nearly one state is like another, so much the more\nenergetically does it forbid the others to interfere in its affairs; and\nthe more it is like the Union the more earnestly it seeks not to let its\ndistinct individuality be swallowed up. Besides the moral effort toward\nstate individuality, there is a powerful state egotism at work in many\nstates which makes for the same end. Back of everything, finally, there\nis the fear of the purely political dangers which are involved in an\nexaggerated centralization. We have seen in this a fundamental sentiment\nof the Democratic party.\n\nThus at every step in the political organization centrifugal and\ncentripetal forces stand opposite each other in the Federal Union, in\nthe state, in the county, and in the city. And public opinion is busy\ndiscussing the arguments on both sides. Every day sees movements in one\nor the other direction, and there is never any let up. In all these\ndiscussions it is a question of conflicting principles, which in\nthemselves seem just. There is, however, another contrast\u2014that between\nprinciple and lack of principle. In the Union, the state, and the city,\ncentralists and anti-centralists meet on questions of law; but in each\none of these places there are groups of people working against the law\nand trying in every way to get around it. In these discussions there is\na true and false, but in the conflicts there is a right and wrong; and\nhere argumentation is not needed, but sheer resistance. If one does not\npurposely close one\u2019s eyes, one cannot doubt that the public life of\nAmerica holds certain abuses, which are against the spirit of the\nConstitution and which too often come near to being criminal. One can\nask, to be sure, if that lack of conscience does not have place in every\nform of state in one way or another, and if the necessity of developing\na sound public spirit to fight against abuse may itself not be an\nimportant factor in helping on the spirit of self-determination to\nvictory.\n\nAny one who should write the history of disorganizing forces in American\npublic life will have the least to say about federal politics, a good\ndeal more about those of the state, and most of all about those of the\ncity. Certain types of temptation are repeated at every stage. There is,\nfor instance, the legislative committee, which is found alike in\nCongress, in the state legislatures, and in the city councils. Bills are\nvirtually decided at first by two or three persons who exert their\ninfluence behind the closed doors of the committee room; and naturally\nenough corrupt influences can much more easily make their way there than\nin the discussions of the whole house. If a municipal committee has a\nbill under discussion, the acceptance of which means hundreds of\nthousands of dollars saved or lost to the street railway company, then\ncertainly, although the president and directors of the company will not\nthemselves take any unlawful action, yet in some way some less\nscrupulous agent will step in who will single out a bar-keeper or hungry\nadvocate or fourth-class politician in the committee, who might be\namenable to certain gilded arguments. And if this agent finds no such\nperson he will find some one else who does not care for money, but who\nwould like very well to see his brother-in-law given a good position in\nthe railway company, or perhaps to see the track extended past his own\nhouse.\n\nOf course the same thing happens when a measure is brought before the\nstate legislature, and the vote of some obscure provincial attorney on\nthe committee means millions of dollars to the banking firm, the trust,\nthe mining company, or the industrial community as a whole. Here the\nlobby gets in its work. The different states are, of course, very\ndifferent in this respect; the cruder forms of bribery would not avail\nin Massachusetts and would be very dangerous; but they feel differently\nabout such things in Montana. As we have already said, Congress is free\nof such taints.\n\nAnother source of temptation, which likewise exists for all American\nlaw-giving bodies, arises from the fact that all measures must be\nproposed by the members of such body. Thus local needs are taken care of\nby the activity of the popular representatives, and, therefore, the\nnumber of bills proposed becomes very large. Just as during the last\nsession of Congress, 17,000 measures were proposed in the lower house,\nhundreds of thousands of bills are brought before the state legislatures\nand city councils. There is never a lack of reasons for bringing up\nsuperfluous bills. And since the system of secret committees makes it\ndifficult for the individual representative to appear before the whole\nhouse and to make a speech, it follows that the introduction of a few\nbills is almost the only way in which the politician can show his\nconstituency that he was not elected to the legislature in vain, and\nthat he is actually representing the interests of his supporters. A\nmilder form of this abuse consists of handing in bills which are framed\nby reason of personal friendships or hatreds; and the same thing appears\nin uglier form when it is not a question of personal favour, but of\nservices bought and paid for, not of personal hatred, but of a\nsystematic conspiracy to extort money from those who need legislation.\nThe milder form of wrongdoing, in which it is only a question of\npersonal favours, can be found everywhere, even in the Capitol at\nWashington, and the much-boasted Senatorial courtesy lends a sort of\nsanction to the abuse.\n\nThis evil is strengthened, as it perhaps originated, by the tacit\nrecognition of the principle that every legislator represents, first of\nall, his local district. It is not expected of a senator that he shall\nlook at every question from the point of view of the general welfare,\nbut rather that he shall take first of all the point of view of his\nstate. It has indeed been urged that the senator is nothing but an\nambassador sent to represent his state before the federal government. If\nthis is so, it follows at once that no state delegate ought to have any\ncontrol over the interests of another state, and so the wishes of any\nsenator should be final in all matters pertaining to his own state. From\nthis it is only a small step to the existing order of things, in which\nevery senator is seconded on his own proposals by his colleagues, if he\nwill second them on theirs. In this way each delegate has the chance to\nplace the law-giving machinery at the service of those who will in any\nway advance his political popularity among his constituents, and help\nhim during his next candidacy. And then, too, a good deal is done merely\nfor appearances; bills are entered, printed, and circulated in the local\npapers to tickle the spirits of constituents, while the proposer himself\nhas not supposed for a moment that his proposition will pass the\ncommittee. Things go in the state legislatures in quite the same way.\nEach member is first of all the representative of his own district, and\nhe claims a certain right of not being interfered with in matters which\nconcern that district. In this way he is accorded great freedom to grant\nall sorts of legislative favours which will bring him sufficient\nreturns, or to carry through legal intrigues to the injury of his\npolitical opponents. And here in the state legislature, as in the city\ncouncil, where the same principles are in use, there is the best\npossible chance of selling one\u2019s friendly services at their market\nvalue. If a railroad company sees a bill for public safety proposed\nwhich is technically senseless and exaggerated, which will impede\ntraffic in the state, and involve ruinous expenditures, it will\nnaturally be tempted not to sit idle in the hope that a majority of the\ncommittee will set the bill aside; for that course would be hazardous.\nIt may be that all sorts of prejudices will work together toward\nreporting the bill favourably. If the company wants to be secure, it\nwill rather try such arguments as only capitalists have at their\ncommand. And it has here two ways open: either to \u201cconvince\u201d the\ncommittee or else to make arrangements with the man who proposed the\nbill, so that he shall recall it. If the possibility of such doings once\nexists in politics, there is no means of preventing dishonourable\npersons from making money in such ways; not only do they yield to\ntemptation after they have been elected, but also they seek their\nelections solely in order to exploit just such opportunities.\n\nHere we meet that factor which distinguishes the state legislature,\nparticularly of those states whose traditions are less firmly grounded,\nand still more the city councils, so completely from the federal\nchambers in Washington. The chance to misuse office is alike in all\nthree places, but men who have entered the political arena with\nhonourable motives very seldom yield to criminal temptation. The usual\nabuses are committed almost wholly by men who have sought their\npolitical office solely for the sake of criminal opportunities; and this\nclass of pseudo-politicians can bring itself into the city council very\neasily, in the state legislature without much difficulty, but almost\nnever into Congress. If it were attractive or distinguished or\ninteresting to be in the state legislature, or on the board of aldermen,\nthere would be a plenty of worthy applicants for the position, and all\ndoubtful persons would find the door closed; but the actual case is\nquite different.\n\nTo be a member of Congress, to sit in the House of Representatives or\nperhaps in the Senate, is something which the very best men may well\ndesire. The position is conspicuous and picturesque, and against the\nbackground of high political life the individual feels himself entrusted\nwith an important r\u00f4le. And although many may hesitate to transfer their\nhomes to the federal capital, nevertheless the country has never had\ndifficulty in finding sufficient Representatives who are imbued with the\nspirit of the Constitution. On the other hand, to serve as popular\nrepresentative in the state legislature means for the better sort of\nman, unless he is a professional politician, a considerable sacrifice.\nThe legislature generally meets in a remote part of the state, at every\nsession requires many months of busy work on some committee, and most of\nthis work is nothing but disputing and compromising over the thousand\npetty bills, in which no really broad political considerations enter. It\nis a dreary, dispiriting work, which can attract only three kinds of\nmen: firstly, those who are looking forward to a political career in the\nservice of the party machine and undergo a term in the state legislature\nonly as preparation for some more important office; secondly, those who\nare glad of the small and meagre salary of a representative; and\nfinally, those whose modest ambition is satisfied if they are delegated\nby their fellow-citizens in any sort of representative capacity.\nTherefore the general level of personality in the state legislature is\nlow. Men who have important positions will seldom consent to go, and\nwhen influential persons do enter state politics it is actually with a\ncertain spirit of renunciation, and not so much to take part in the\nbusiness of the legislature as to reform the legislature itself. Since\nthis is the case, it is not surprising that the most unwholesome\nelements flock thither, extortioners and corrupt persons who count on\nit, that in regard to dishonourable transactions, the other side will\nhave the same interest in preserving silence as themselves.\n\nWe must also not forget that the American principle of strictly local\nrepresentation works in another way to keep down the level of the\nsmaller legislative bodies. If the Representative of a certain locality\nmust have his residence there, the number of possible candidates is very\nmuch restricted. This is even more true of the city government, where\nthe principle of local representation requires that every part of the\ncity, even the poorest and most squalid, shall elect none but men who\nreside in it. To be sure, there is a good deal in this that is right;\nbut it necessarily brings a sort of people together in public committee\nwith whom it is not exactly a pleasure for most men to work. The\nquestions which have to be talked over here are still more trivial, and\nmore than that, the motives which attract corrupt persons are somewhat\nmore tangible here; since in the rapid growth of the great city the\nawarding of monopolies and contracts creates a sort of spoilsman\u2019s\nparadise. As the better elements hold aloof from this city government,\nby so much more do corrupt persons have freer play.\n\nThe relation of the city to both the state and Federation is even more\nunfavourable when one comes to consider not the legislative, but the\nexecutive, department. Whereas in Washington, for example, a single man\nstands at the head of every department in the administration, and is\nentirely responsible for the running of things, there has frequently\nbeen in the city administrations, up to a short time ago, a committee\nwhich is so responsible\u2014this in agreement with the old American idea\nthat a majority can decide best. Where, however, a single man was\nentrusted with administrative powers, he was selected generally by the\nmayor and the city council together, and they seldom called a real\nexpert to such a position. In any case, since the administration depends\nwholly on party politics, and the upper staff changes with each new\nparty victory, there is no such chance for a life career here as would\ntempt competent men to offer their services.\n\nIn this part of the government, moreover, there is more danger from the\nadministration by committees than anywhere else. The responsibility of a\nmajority cannot be fixed anywhere; and where the mayor and aldermen work\ntogether in the selection of officials, neither of the two parties is\nquite responsible for the outcome\u2014which is naturally not to be compared\nwith the closely guarded election of officials under German conditions.\nFor in Germany the selection of the head of a city department will lie\nbetween a few similarly trained specialists, while the administration of\na New York or a Chicago department, as, say, that of the police or of\nstreet-cleaning, is thought to presuppose no special preparation, and\ntherefore the number of possible candidates is unlimited. It is not\nsurprising that such irresponsible committees are not above corruption,\nand that many a man who has received a well-paid administrative position\nin return for his services to the party, proceeds to make his hay while\nthe sun shines. It is true that there are many departments where no such\ntemptation comes in question. It is, for example, universally believed\nthat the fire departments of all American cities are admirably managed.\nThe situation is most doubtful in the case of the police departments,\nwhich, of course, are subject to the greatest temptations; and here,\ntoo, there can be the worst abuses in some ways along with the highest\nefficiency in others. The service for public protection in a large city\nmay be admirably organized and crime strenuously followed up, and\nnevertheless the police force may be full of corruption. Thieves and\nmurderers are punctiliously suppressed, while at the same time the\npolice are extorting a handsome income from bar-rooms which evade the\nSunday laws, from public-houses which exist in violation of city\nstatutes, and from unlawful places of amusement.\n\nTo be sure, we must again and again emphasize two things. In the first\nplace, it is probable that nine-tenths of the charges are exaggerated\nand slanderous. The punishments are so considerable, the means of\ninvestigation so active, and the public watchfulness so keen, both on\naccount of the party hostility and by virtue of a sensational press,\nthat it would be hardly comprehensible psychologically, if political\ncrime in the lowest strata of city or state were to be really anything\nbut the exception. The many almost fanatically conducted investigations\nproduce from their mountains of transactions only the smallest mice, and\nthe state attorney is seldom able to make out a case of actual bribery.\nIn this matter the Anglo-Americans are pleased to point out that\nwherever investigations have ended in making out a case which could\nreally be punished, the person has been generally an Irishman or some\nother European immigrant. In any case, the collection of immigrants from\nEurope in the large cities contributes importantly to the unhappy\ncondition of city politics.\n\nIn the second place, we must urge once more that the mere distribution\nof well-paid municipal positions to party politicians is not necessarily\nin itself an abuse. When, for instance, in a large city, a Republican is\nsucceeded by a Democratic mayor, he can generally bestow a dozen\nwell-paid and a hundred or two more modest commissions to men who have\nhelped in the party victory. But he will be careful not to pick out\nthose who are wholly unworthy, since that would not only compromise\nhimself, but would damage his party and prevent its being again\nvictorious. If he succeeds, on the other hand, in finding men who will\nserve the city industriously, intelligently, and ably in proportion to\ntheir pay, it is ridiculous to call the promise of such offices by way\nof party reward in any sense a plundering of the city, or to make it\nseem that the giving of positions to colleagues of one\u2019s party is\nanother sort of corruption.\n\nThe evils of public life and the possibility of criminal practices are\nnot confined to legislative and executive bodies. The judiciary also has\nits darker side. One must believe fanatically in the people in order not\nto see what judicial monstrosities occasionally come out of the emphasis\nwhich is given to the jury system. The law requires that the twelve men\nchosen from the people to the jury must come to a unanimous decision;\nthey are shut in a room together and discuss and discuss until all\ntwelve finally decide for guilty or not guilty. If they are not\nunanimous, no verdict is given, and the whole trial has to begin over\nagain. A single obstinate juryman, who clings to his particular ideas,\nis able, therefore, to outweigh the decision of the other eleven. And it\nis to be remembered that every criminal case is tried before a jury. The\ncase is still worse if all twelve agree, but agree only in their\nprejudices. Especially in the South, but also in the West sometimes,\njuries return decisions which simply insult the intelligence of the\ncountry. It is true that the unfairness is generally in the direction of\ndeclaring the defendant not guilty.\n\nThe law\u2019s delay is also exceedingly regrettable, as well as the extreme\nemphasis on technicalities, in consequence of which no one dares, even\nin the interests of justice, to ignore the slightest inaccuracy of\nform\u2014a fact whose good side too, of course, no one should overlook. It\nis most of all regrettable that the choice of judges depends to so large\nan extent on politics, and that so many judicial appointments are made\nby popular elections and for a limited term. The trouble here is not so\nmuch that a faithful party member is often rewarded with a judicial\nposition, since for the matter of that there are equally good barristers\nto be chosen from either party for vacant positions on the bench; the\nreal evil is that during his term of office the judge cannot help having\nan eye to his re\u00eblection or promotion to some higher position. This\nbrings politics into his labours truly, and it too often happens that a\nready compliance with party dictates springs up in the lower judicial\npositions. Only the federal and the superior state courts are entirely\nfree from this.\n\nIn a similar way, politics sometimes play a part in the doings of the\nstate attorney. He is subordinate to the state or federal executive,\nthat is, to a party element which has contracted obligations of various\nsorts, and it may so happen that the state attorney will avoid\ninterfering here and there in matters where a justice higher than party\ndemands interference. Especially in the quarrels between capital and\nlabour, one hears repeatedly that the state attorney is too lenient\ntoward large capitalists. Then there are other evils in judicial matters\narising from the unequal scientific preparation of jurists; the failing\nhere is in the judicial logic and pregnancy of the decision.\n\nFinally, one source which is a veritable fountain of sin against the\ncommonwealth is the power of the party machine. We have traced out\nminutely how the public life of the United States demands two parties,\nhow each of these may hope for victory only if it is compactly\norganized, and how such organizations need an army of more or less\nprofessional politicians. They may be in the legislature or out of it;\nit is their position in the party machine which gives them their\ntremendous powers\u2014powers which do not derive from constitutional\nprinciples nor from law, but which are in a way intangible, and\ntherefore the more liable to abuse.\n\nRichard Croker has never been mayor of New York, and yet he was for a\nlong time dictator of that city, no matter what Democratic mayor was in\noffice, and remained dictator even from his country place in England. He\nruled the municipal Democratic party machine, and therefore all the\nmayors and officials were merely pawns in his hands. Millions of dollars\nfloated his way from a thousand invisible sources, all of which were\nsomehow connected with municipal transactions; and his conscience was as\nelastic as his pocket-book. That is what his enemies say, while his\nfriends allege him to be a man of honour; and nothing has really been\nproved against him. But at least one thing is incontestable, that the\nsystem of the party machine and the party boss makes such undemonstrable\ncorruption possible. Almost every state legislature is in the clutches\nof such party mandarins, and even men who are above the suspicion of\nvenality misuse the tempting power which is centred in their hands in\nthe service of their personal advantage and reputation, of their\nsympathies and antipathies, and transform their Democratic leadership\ninto autocracy and terrorism. In the higher sense, however, every\nvictory which they win for their party is like the victory of Pyrrhus,\nfor their selfish absolutism injures the party more than any advantage\nwhich it wins at the polls benefits it. Their omnipotence is, moreover,\nonly apparent, for in reality there is a power in the land which is\nstronger than they, and stronger than Presidents or legislatures, and\nwhich takes care that all the dangers and evils, sins and abuses that\nspring up are finally thrown off without really hindering the steady\ncourse of progress. This power is public opinion.\n\n\n\n\n                             CHAPTER SEVEN\n                            _Public Opinion_\n\n\nWe have spoken of the President and Congress, of the organization of\ncourt and state, and, above all, of the parties, in order to show the\nvarious forms in which the genius of the American nation has expressed\nitself. It may seem almost superfluous to recognize public opinion as a\nseparate factor in political affairs. It is admitted that public opinion\nis potent in \u00e6sthetic, literary, moral, and social problems, with all of\nwhich parties and constitutions have nothing to do. But it might be\nsupposed that when a people has surrounded itself with a network of\nelectoral machinery, supports hundreds of thousands of representatives\nand officials, has perfected parties with their armies of politicians\nand legislatures which every year discuss and pass on thousands of\nlaws\u2014it might be supposed that in regard to political questions public\nopinion would have found its complete expression along official\nchannels, and in a sense would have exhausted itself. Yet this is not\nthe case. The entire political routine, with its paraphernalia, forms a\nclosed system, which is distinct in many ways from the actual public\nopinion of the country.\n\nIt is indeed no easy matter to find under what conditions the will of a\npeople can most directly express itself in the official machinery of\npolitics. Many Germans, for instance, entertain the notion that no\ngovernment is truly democratic except the cabinet be in all matters\ndependent on a majority in parliament; and they are astonished to learn\nthat in democratic America Congress has no influence on the election of\nthe highest officials; that the President, in fact, may surround himself\nwith a cabinet quite antagonistic to the political complexion of\nCongress. But no American believes that politics would represent public\nopinion any better if this independence of the Executive and his cabinet\nwere to be modified, say in conformity with the English or French idea.\nThe reasons for a discrepancy between public opinion and official\npolitics lie anyhow not in the special forms prescribed by the\nConstitution, but in the means by which the forms prescribed by the\nConstitution are practically filled by the nation. In the English\nConstitution, for instance, there is nothing about a cabinet; and yet\nthe cabinet is the actual centre of English politics. American politics\nmight keep to the letter of the Constitution, and still be the truest\nreflection of public opinion. That they are not such a reflection is due\nto the strong position of the parties. The rivalry of these encourages\nkeen competition, in which the success of the party has now become an\nend in itself quite aside from the principles involved. Personal\nadvantages to be derived from the party have become prominent in the\nminds of its supporters; and even where the motives are unselfish, the\ntactics of the party are more important than its ideals. But tactics are\nimpossible without discipline, and a party which hopes to be victorious\nin defending its own interests or in opposing others\u2019 will be no mere\ndebating club, but a relentlessly strict and practical organization.\nWherewith the control must fall to a very few party leaders, who owe\ntheir positions to professional politicians\u2014that is, to men who for the\nmost part stand considerably below the level of the best Americans.\n\nThe immense number of votes cast in the Presidential elections is apt to\nhide the facts. Millions vote for one candidate and millions for the\nother, without knowing perhaps that a few months before the national\nconvention some ten or twelve party leaders, sitting at a quiet little\nluncheon, may have had the power to fix on the presidential candidate.\nAnd these wise foreordainings are even less conspicuous in the case of\ngovernors, senators, or representatives. Everywhere the masses believe\nthat they alone decide, and so they do between the nominees of one party\nand of the other, or sometimes between several candidates within the\nparty; but they are not aware that a more important choice is made\nbehind the scenes before these candidates make their appearance.\n\nAs with the incumbents, so it is with the platform. The party leaders\npractically decide what questions shall be made the political issues;\nand this is the most important function of all. We have seen that\ndissenting groups can hardly hope on ordinary occasions to make a break\nin the firm party organization, and though they may vigorously discuss\nquestions which have not been approved by the party leaders, they will,\nnevertheless, arrive at no practical results. It therefore happens very\noften that voters are called on to decide issues which seem to them\nindifferent, or to choose between two evils, and can expect nothing from\neither candidate in the matters which they think most vital. They go to\nthe polls merely out of consideration for their party. Thus, in reality,\nthe people do not decide the issues on which they are to vote, nor on\nthe candidates whom they elect, nor yet on the party leaders who do\ndecide these things. Nor can the people, if discontented with the party\nin power, recall that party during its term of office. In Germany the\ngovernment can dissolve parliament if new issues arise; in England the\nCabinet resigns if it fails to carry a measure; but in America the party\nwith a congressional majority has nothing to fear during its appointed\nterm. In short, the political life of America is dominated by those\nforces which rule the parties, and only in so far as the nation is\nfilled with the party spirit, is the official political hierarchy an\nexpression of the nation\u2019s will.\n\nNow it is not in the nature of public opinion to nerve itself up to\nclear and definite issues. Unless worked on by party demagogues, it\nnever formulates itself in a mere yes or no, but surveys the situation\nimpartially, seeing advantages and disadvantages on both sides, and\npasses a conservative judgment. The man who thinks only of parties will\noften agree to a compromise which is unjust to both parties and in\ngeneral unworthy of them; but the man who takes his stand above the\nparties knows that many problems are not fathomed with a yea or nay; he\ndoes not see two opposite sides between which an artificial compromise\nis to be found, but he appreciates the given situation in its organic\nunity and historical perspective. Historical understanding of the past\nand moral seriousness for the future guarantee his right judgment. He\nsees the practical opposition of interests, which is always more complex\nthan the two-horned dilemma that the parties advertise, in a true light,\nand testimony of experts instead of politicians suggests to him the\nrational solution of the problem. The actual course of action to be\nfollowed may coincide with the plan of one or the other party, or may be\na compromise between them, and yet it will be a distinct policy. In such\ndecisions there lives ever the spirit of immediate reality; no\nartificial dichotomy nor any political tactics are involved, and the\nnatural moral feeling of a healthy nation is then sufficient for every\nissue. Nowhere is this na\u00efve moral sense more potent among the masses\nthan in America; will then these unpartisan convictions have no weight\nin political life? Will they not rather strive to have an independent\neffect on the destinies of the nation? The centre and real expression of\nthese politics for essentials is the system of public opinion.\n\nWe have seen that every American legislature has two parts, an upper and\na lower house, which have different ways of procedure and different\nprerogatives. One might similarly say that the parties with all their\nparaphernalia are merely the lower house of the nation, while Public\nOpinion is the upper house; and only the two houses together constitute\nthe entire national political life. The nation is represented in each\nbranch, but in different senses. In a way the parties express\nquantitatively the will of the nation, and public opinion does it\nqualitatively. Whenever a quantitative expression is wanted, the issues\nmust be sharply contrasted in order to separate clearly the adherents of\neach; all fine shades and distinctions have to be sacrificed to an\nartificial clearness of definition, much as is done in mechanics, when\nany motion is schematically represented, as the diagonal in a\nparallelogram of two other forces. As a quantity any yea or nay is as\ngood as any other, and the intensity of any party movement is due to the\naccumulation of small increments. The great advantage of this lower\nhouse is, as of every lower house, that its deliberations can be brought\nto an end and its debates concluded. Every political election is such a\nprovisional result.\n\nIt is very different in the upper house. Public opinion accepts no\nabstract schematizations, but considers the reality in all its\ncomplication, and in its debates no weight is given to any show of hands\nor other demonstration of mere numbers. Crass contrasts do not exist\nhere, but only subtle shadings; men are not grouped as friends and foe,\nbut they are seen to differ merely in their breadth of outlook, their\nknowledge, their energy, and in their singleness of heart. The end in\nview is not to rush politics, but to reform politics and in all matters\nto shape public events to national ideals. Here one vote is not like\nanother, but a single word wisely and conscientiously spoken is heard\nabove the babel of thousands. And here the best men of the nation have\nto show themselves, not with programmes nor harangues, but with a quiet\nforce which shapes and unites public opinion and eventually carries all\nparties before it.\n\nPublic opinion may be responsible now for a presidential veto on a bill\nof Congress, now for the sudden eclipse of a party leader, or the\ndropping of a list of candidates, or again it may divide a party in the\nlegislature. Public opinion forces the parties, in spite of themselves,\nto make mere party advantage secondary to a maturer statesmanship.\n\nGermans will not readily appreciate this double expression of the\npopular will; they would find it more natural if party life and public\nopinion were one. For in Germany the conditions are quite different. In\nthe first place there are a dozen parties, which express the finer\nshades of public opinion more adequately than the two parties can in\nAmerica. And this division into many small parties prevents the\ndevelopment of any real party organization such as would be needed by a\nparty assuming entire responsibility for the affairs of the nation. The\nnearest approach to two great parties is the opposition between all the\n\u201cb\u00fcrgerliche\u201d parties on the one hand and the social democrats on the\nother. But the development of really responsible parties is hardly to be\nexpected, since the German party is allowed only a small degree of\ninitiative. The representatives of the people have the right to accept\nor reject or to suggest improvements in the proposals of the government;\nbut with the government rest the initiative and the responsibility. The\ngovernment stands above the parties, and is not elected by the people\nnor immediately dependent on them. It originates most of the legislative\nand executive movements, and therewith represents exactly that moral\nunity of the nation which is above all parties, and which is represented\nin America by public opinion; while in America the government is the\ncreature of the parties.\n\nOne should not draw the conclusion that the public opinion of America is\nthe quintessence of pure goodness. Public opinion in the United States\nwould be no true indication of the forces at work in the nation if it\ndid not represent all the essentials of the typical American. In order\nto find this typical man, it would be misleading simply to take the\naverage of the millions; one leaves out of account the great herd of\ncolourless characters, and selects the man who harmoniously combines in\nhimself, without exaggeration, the most striking peculiarities of his\ncountrymen. He is not easy to find, since eccentricity is frequent; one\nman is grotesquely patriotic, another moral to intolerance, another\ninsipidly complacent, and another too optimistic to be earnest or too\nacquisitive to be just.\n\nAnd yet if one goes about much in American society, one finds oneself\nnow and then, not only in New York or Boston or Washington, but quite as\nwell in some small city of the West, in a little circle of congenial men\nwho are talking eagerly, perhaps over their cigars after dinner; and one\nhas the feeling that the typical American is there. His conversation is\nnot learned nor his rhetoric high-flown; but one has the feeling that he\nis alive and worth listening to, that he sees things in sharp\nperspective, is sincerely moral, and has something of his own to say.\nParty politics do not interest him specially, although as citizen he\ngoes to a few meetings, contributes to the party funds, and votes on\nelection day if the weather permits. But he speaks of politics generally\nwith a half-smile, and laughs outright at the thought of himself running\nfor the legislature. He sees the evil about him, but is confident that\neverything will come around all right; the nation is young, strong, and\npossessed of boundless resources for the future. Of course he\nunderstands the prejudices of the masses, and knows that mere slap and\ndash will not take the place of real application in solving the problems\nwhich confront the nation; he knows, too, that technical proficiency,\nwealth, and luxury alone do not constitute true culture. And herewith\nhis best energies are enlisted; he contributes generously to libraries\nand universities, and very likely devotes much of his time to the city\nschools. But he is frank to confess, as well, that he has a weakness for\ngood-fellowship and superficiality, preferring operetta to tragedy every\ntime. He is not niggardly in anything; to be so is too un\u00e6sthetic. At\nfirst one is astonished by his insouciance and the optimism with which\nhe makes the best of everything. One feels at once his good nature and\nreadiness to help, and finds him almost preternaturally ready to be just\nto his opponents and overlook small failings. He envelops everything\nwith his irrepressible sense of humour, and is always reminded of a good\nstory, which he recounts so drolly and felicitously that one is ready to\nbelieve that he never could be angry. But this all changes the instant\nthe talk turns from amusing stupidities or little weaknesses and goes\nover to indecency or corruption or any baseness of character. Then the\ntypical American is quite changed; his genuine nobility of soul comes\nout and he gives his unvarnished opinion, not blusteringly, but with\nself-controlled indignation. One feels that here is the real secret of\nhis character; and one is surprised to see how little he cares for\npolitical parties or social classes. He will fiercely condemn the\ndelinquencies of his own party or the unfair dealings of his own social\nset. It now appears how honestly religious he is, and how far the inner\nmeaning of his life lies beyond the merely material.\n\nSuch a good fellow it is, with all his greater and lesser traits, who\nmay at any time voice undiluted public opinion. Thousands who are\nbetter, wiser, more learned, or less the spendthrift and high-liver, and\nthe millions of inferior natures, will show one trait or another of the\nnational character in higher relief. And yet the type is well marked; it\nis always optimistic and confident in the future of America, indifferent\nto party tactics, but enthusiastically patriotic. It is anxious to be\nnot merely prosperous but just and enlightened as well; it is almost\nhilariously full of life, and yet benevolent and friendly; conservative\nalthough sensitive, without respect for conventions and yet religious,\nsanguine but thoughtful, scrupulously just to an opponent but\nunrelenting toward any mean intent. Probably the most characteristic\ntraits of public opinion are a patient oversight of mistakes and\nweaknesses, but relentless contempt and indignation for meanness and\nlack of honour. This is in both respects the very reverse of the party\nspirit, which is too apt to hinge its most boasted reforms on trivial\nevils, and pass over the greatest sins in silence.\n\nOne element of public opinion should be suggested in even the briefest\nsketch\u2014its never-failing humour. It is the antiseptic of American\npolitics, although it would be better, to be sure, if political doings\ncould be aseptic from the outset. But probably dirty ambition and\nselfishness are harder to keep down in a democracy than anywhere else.\nThe humour of public opinion stands in striking contrast, moreover, to\nparty life; as one cannot fail to discover on looking closely. Party\ntactics demand that the masses have hammered into them the notion that\nthe sacred honour of the nation lies with their party, but that on the\nother side there lies hopeless ruin. The man who urges this dogma must\nkeep a very solemn face, for if he were to bring it out with a twinkle\nin his eye, he would destroy the force of his suggestion. The voter,\ntoo, is serious in his duties as a citizen, and demands of the\ncandidates this extremely practical mien and solemn party arrogance. But\nwhen the same citizen talks the matter over with his friends, he is no\nlonger a stickler for party, but a voicer of public opinion, and he sees\nat once the humour of the situation. He punctures the party bubbles with\nwell-aimed ridicule. So it happens that the population is more ruled by\nhumour here than anywhere else, while the party leaders stand up, at\nleast before the public, in the most solemn guise. Just as in some\nAmerican states the men drink wine at home, but at official banquets\ncall for mineral water; so out of the political harness one may commit\nexcesses of humour, but in it one must be strictly temperate. This is,\nof course, the reverse of the well-known English method, where the\nmasses are rather dull, while the leaders are famous wits and cynics.\nAmerica would never allow this. When one meets leading politicians or\nmembers of the Cabinet in a social way, one is often amazed at their\nready wit, and feels that these men have decidedly the capacity to shine\nas do their English colleagues. But that would wreck the party service.\nThe people are sovereign; public opinion has, therefore, the right to\nironical humour, and can smilingly look down on the parties from a\nsuperior height; while those who play the party game of government have\nstill to keep demure and sober. In England it is the Cabinet, in America\npublic opinion, which assumes the gentle r\u00f4le of wit. Hardly could the\ncontrast between aristocracy and democracy be more clearly exemplified.\n\nIf some one should ask who makes public opinion, he might well be\nreferred at first to that class which at present does not enjoy the\nsuffrage, and presumably will not for some time to come\u2014the women. The\nAmerican woman cares little enough for party politics, and this is not\nso much because she has no rights. If she had the interest she probably\nwould have the rights. But while the best people have no wish to see the\nwomen mix in with the routine of party machinery, this is not at all in\norder that they may not concern themselves with the public problems of\nthe day. On the contrary, women exert a marked influence on public\nopinion; and here, as might be expected, it is not the organized\ncrusades, like the temperance movement, which count, but rather their\nless noisy demonstrations, their influence in the home and their general\nrightness of feeling. Every reform movement which appeals to moral\nmotives is advanced by the public influence of women, and many a bad\npiece of jobbery is defeated by their instrumentality.\n\nIf the boundaries between the sexes are forgotten in the matter of\npublic opinion, so even more are those between the various classes.\nPublic opinion is not weakened by any class antipathies. To be sure,\nevery profession and occupation has its peculiar interests, and in\ndifferent quarters the public opinion takes on somewhat different hues;\nthe agricultural states have other problems than the industrial; the\nSouth others than the North; and the mining districts still others of\ntheir own. But these are really not differences of public opinion, but\ndifferent sectors of the one great circle. In spite of the diverse\nelements and the prejudices which go to make up public opinion, it is\neverywhere remarkably self-consistent. This is because it is the voice\nof insight, conscience, and brotherly feeling, as against that of\ncarelessness, self-interest, and exclusiveness. The particular interests\nof capital and labour, of university and primary school, of city and\ncountry, have not their special representatives at the court of public\nopinion. And least in evidence of all, of course, are the officials and\nprofessional politicians. These men are busy in strictly party affairs,\nand have no time to dabble in the clear stream of public opinion. At\nbest, a few distinguished senators or governors, together with the\nPresident and an occasional member of the Cabinet, come to have an\nimmediate influence on public opinion.\n\nThe springs of public opinion flow from the educated and substantial\nmembers of the commonwealth, and are often tinged at first with a very\npersonal colouring; but the streamlets gather and flow far from their\nsources and every vestige of the personal is lost. Ideas go from man to\nman, and those which are typically American find as ready lodgment with\nthe banker, the manufacturer, or the scholar as with the artisan or the\nfarm-hand. Any man who appeals to the conscience, morality, patriotism,\nor brotherly feeling of the American, or to his love of progress and\norder, appeals to no special parties or classes, but to the one public\nopinion, the community of high-minded citizens to the extent of their\ndisinterestedness.\n\nYet even such a public opinion requires some organization and support.\nBold as the statement may sound, the American newspaper is the main ally\nof public opinion, serving that opinion more loyally than it serves\neither official politics or the party spirit. The literary significance\nof the newspaper we shall consider in another connection, but here only\nits public influence. An American philosophizing on the newspapers takes\nit as a matter of course that they serve the ends of party politics; and\nit is true enough that party life as it is would not be possible without\nthe highly disseminated influence of the newspaper. A German coming to\nthe country is apt to deny it even this useful function. He is\nacquainted in Europe with those newspapers which commence on the first\npage with serious leading articles, and relegate the items of the day to\na back page along with the advertisements. But here he finds newspapers\nwhich have on the first pages not a word of editorial comment and hardly\neven a serious piece of politics\u2014nothing, in fact, but an unspeakable\nmuddle of undigested news items; and as his eye rests involuntarily on\nthe front page, with its screaming headlines in huge type, he will find\nnothing but crimes, sensational casualties, and other horrors. He will\nnot before have realized that the devouring hunger of the American\npopulace for the daily news, has brought into existence sheets of large\ncirculation adapted to the vulgar instincts of the millions, the giant\nheadlines of which warn off the educated reader from as far as he can\nsee them; that paper is not for him. But a foreigner does not realize\nthe injustice of estimating the political influence of the press from a\nglance at these monstrosities, which could not thrive abroad, not so\nmuch because the masses are better and more enlightened as because they\ncare less about reading. Moreover, he will come slowly to realize that\nwhat he missed from the front page is somewhere in the middle of the\npaper; that the street-selling makes it necessary to make the most of\nsensations on the outside, and to put the better things where they are\nbetter protected. And so he learns that the American newspaper does\nexpress opinions, although its looks belie it.\n\nThe better sort of American newspaper is neither a party publication nor\nyet merely a news-sheet, but the conscious exponent of public opinion.\nIts columns contain a tiresome amount of party information, it is true;\nbut a part of this is directly in the interests of an intelligent public\nopinion, since every citizen needs to be instructed in all the phases of\nparty life, of political and congressional doings, and in regard to the\ncandidates who are up for office. It is to be admitted, moreover, that\nsome of the better newspapers, although not the very best, are\nunreservedly committed to the leaders of some party\u2014in short, are party\norgans. In the same way several newspapers are under the domination of\ncertain industrial interests and cater to the wishes of a group of\ncapitalists. But any such policy has to be managed with the utmost\ndiscretion, for the American newspaper reader is far too experienced to\nbuy a sheet day after day which he sees to be falsified; and he has\nenough others to resort to, since the competition is always keen, and\neven middle-sized cities have three or four large daily papers.\n\nIt is perhaps fortunate that any such extreme one-sidedness is not to\nthe commercial advantage of the newspapers, for in America they are\npre\u00ebminently business enterprises. Their financial success depends in\nthe first place on advertisements, and only secondarily on their sales\nin the streets. The advertising firm does not care whether the\neditorials and news items are Republican or Democratic, but it cares\nvery much about the number of copies which are circulated; and this\ndepends on the meritorious features which the paper has over competing\nsheets. Newspapers like the German, which count on only a small circle\nof readers, and these assured, at least for the time being, by\nsubscriptions, can far more readily treat their readers cavalierly and\nconstrain their attention for a while to a certain party point of view.\nIn an American city the daily sales are much greater than the\nsubscriptions, and the sheets which get the most trade are those which\nhabitually treat matters from all sides, and voice opinions which fall\nin with every point of view. Of course, this circumstance cannot prevent\nevery paper from having its special political friends and foes, its\nspecial hobbies, its own style, and, above all, its peculiar material\ninterests. But, on the whole, the American newspaper is extraordinarily\nnon-partisan on public questions, notwithstanding the statements in many\nGerman books to the contrary; and the ordinary reader might peruse a\ngiven paper for weeks, except just on the eve of an election, without\nreally knowing whether it was Republican or Democratic. Now one party\nand now the other is brought up for criticism, and even when the sheet\nis distinctly in favour of a certain side, it will print extracts from\nthe leading articles of opposing journals, and so well depict the entire\nsituation that the reader can form an opinion for himself.\n\nWhile the newspapers are in this way largely emancipated from the yoke\nof parties, they are the exponents of a general set of tendencies which,\nin opposition to party politics, we have called public opinion. In other\nwords, the papers stand above the parties with their crudely schematic\nprogrammes and issues, and aspire to measure men and things according to\ntheir true worth. Though ostensibly of one party, a journal will treat\nmen of its own side to biting sarcasm, and magnanimously extol certain\nof its opponents. The better political instincts, progress and reform,\nare appealed to; and if doubtful innovations are often brought in and\npraised as reforms, this is not because the newspaper is the organ of a\nparty, but rather of public sentiment, as it really is or is supposed to\nbe. The newspaper reflects in its own way all the peculiarities of\npublic opinion\u2014its light-heartedness and its often nervous restlessness,\nits conservative and prudent traits, its optimism, and its ethical\nearnestness; above all, its humour and drastic ridicule. It is well\nknown that the American newspaper has brought the art of political\ncaricature to perfection. The satirical cartoon of the daily paper is of\ncourse much more effective than that of the regular comic papers. And\nthese pictures, although directed at a political opponent, are generally\nconceived in a broader spirit than that of any party. The cap and bells\nare everywhere in evidence, and there is nothing dry or pedantic. From\nthe dexterous and incisive leading article to the briefest jottings, one\nnotes the same good humour and playful satire which are so\ncharacteristic of public opinion. This general humorous turn makes it\npossible to give an individual flavour to the most ordinary pieces of\ndaily news, so that they have a bearing considerably broader than the\nbare facts of the case, and may conceivably add their mite to public\nopinion. And herewith a special newspaper style has come in, a\ncombination of a photographically accurate report and the whimsical\nfeuilleton. Thus it happens that the best papers editorially persuade\nwhere they cannot dictate to their readers, and so, apart from party\npolitics, nourish public opinion and create sentiment for or against\npersons, and legislative and other measures, while ostensibly they are\nmerely giving the news of the last twelve hours.\n\nThere is another distinctly American invention\u2014the interview. Doubtless\nit was first designed to whet the reader\u2019s curiosity with the piquant\nsuggestion of something personal or even indiscreet. In Europe, where\nthis form of reporting is decidedly rudimentary, it usually evinces\nneither tact nor taste; whereas in America it is really a literary form,\nand so familiar now as to excite no remark. It has come to be peculiarly\nthe vehicle of public opinion, as opposed to party politics. The person\ninterviewed is supposed to give his personal opinions, and it is his\nauthority as a human personality which attracts the reader. A similar\nfunction is served by the carefully selected letters to the editor,\nwhich take up a considerable space in the most serious sheets.\n\nThe outer form of the newspaper is a matter really of the technical\nability of the American, rather than of his political tastes; and it is\nto be observed at once that the general appearance, and above all, the\nwhole system of getting and printing news rapidly, is astonishing. Every\none has heard of the intrepid and fertile reporters, and how on\nimportant occasions they leave no stone unturned to obtain the latest\nintelligence for their papers. But the persistence of these men is less\nworthy of note than the regular system by which the daily news is\ngathered and transmitted to every paper in the land. With an infallible\nscent, a pack of reporters follows in the trail of the least event which\nmay have significance for the general public. A good deal of gossip and\nscandal is intermingled, to be sure, and much that is trivial served up\nto the readers; but granted for once, that millions in the lower\nclasses, as members of the American democracy, wish, and ought to wish,\nto carry home every night a newspaper as big as a book, then, of course,\nsuch a hunger for fresh printed matter can be satisfied only by mental\npabulum adapted to the vulgar mind. The New York _Evening Post_ will\nhave nothing of this sort; it appeals more to bank directors and\nprofessors; but shop-hands prefer the _World_. It is the same as with\nthe theatres; if the ordinary citizen is prosperous enough to indulge\nfrequently in an evening at the theatre, then, of course, melodrama and\nfarce will become the regular thing, since the common man must always\neither laugh or cry.\n\nThe lightning news service is, of course, somewhat superficial and\nfrequently in error, not to say that it is served up often with the\nminimum of taste; but the readers gladly take the risk of mistakes for\nthe sake of the greater advantage it is to public opinion to have a\nsearchlight which penetrates every highway and byway, showing up every\nsign of change in the social or political situation, and every\nintimation of danger.\n\nAnd if reporters are accused of being indiscreet, one must first inquire\nwhether the fault does not really lie with some one or other who, while\npretending to shrink from publicity, really wants to see his name in the\npaper. Anyone familiar with the newspapers of the country knows that he\nis perfectly safe in telling any editor, and even any reporter, whatever\nhe likes if he adds the caution that he does not wish it given out. It\nwill not be printed. The American journalist is usually a gentleman, and\ncan be relied on to be discreet. The principal journalists and editors\nof the leading newspapers are among the ablest men of the country, and\nthey often go over to important political positions and become even\nministers and ambassadors.\n\nThe powerful influence of the American newspapers is outwardly displayed\nin the sumptuous buildings which they occupy. While in Europe the\nnewspapers are published generally in very modest quarters, where the\neditors have to sit in dingy rooms, the buildings of the American\nnewspapers compare favourably with the best commercial edifices; and the\nwhole business is conducted on an elaborate scale. Scarcely less\nastonishing are their achievements in the way of illustration. While the\nmost select papers decline on principle to appeal to the taste for\nsensation, many large papers have yielded to the demand, and have\nbrought the technique of illustration nearly to perfection. A few hours\nafter any event they will have printed a hundred thousand copies of the\npaper with pictures taken on the spot, and reproduced in a manner of\nwhich any European weekly might well be proud.\n\nTaken all in all, the American press very worthily represents the\nenergy, prosperity, and greatness of the American nation; and at the\nsame time with its superficial haste, its vulgarity and excitability,\nwith its lively patriotism and irrepressible humour, it clearly evinces\nthe influence of democracy. The better the paper the more prominent are\nthe critical and reflective features; while the wider the circulation,\nthe more noticeable are the obtrusive self-satisfaction and\nprovincialism, and the characteristic disdain of things European. Going\nfrom the East to the West, one finds a fairly steady downward gradation\nin excellence, although some samples of New York journalism can vie for\ncrude sensationalism with the most disgusting papers of the Wild West.\nAnd yet the best papers reach a standard which in many respects is\nhigher than that of the best journals of the Old World. A paper like the\n_Boston Transcript_ will hardly find its counterpart in the German\nnewspaper world; and much good can be said of the _Sun_, _Tribune_,\n_Times_, and _Post_ in New York, the _Star_ in Washington, the _Public\nLedger_ in Philadelphia, the _Sun_ in Baltimore, the _Eagle_ in\nBrooklyn, the _Tribune_ in Chicago, the Herald in Boston, the _Evening\nWisconsin_ in Milwaukee, and many others which might be named. Even\nsmall cities like Springfield, Massachusetts, produce such large and\nadmirable papers as the _Springfield Republican_. And to be just, one\nmust admit that the bad papers could be condensed into tolerably good\nones by a liberal use of the blue pencil. For their mistakes lie not so\nmuch in their not having good contributions as in their inclusion of\ncrude and sensational material by way of spice. Very often the front\npage of a paper will be overrun with the most offensive scandals,\ncaricatures, and criminal sensations, while the ninth and tenth pages\nwill offer editorials and other articles of decided merit. The\nnewspapers which care only for a large circulation will have something\nfor everybody; and they are not far out of the way in calculating that\nthe educated reader who looks first at the editorials and political\ndispatches, will have enough that is unregenerate in his soul to make\nhim relish a sideward glance at the latest sensational reports. The\nnewspaper is content on the whole not to bore its readers, and to hold a\nclose rein on public opinion rather than on party politics.\n\nWith all this, it is not to be denied that there are lower motives which\ndegrade journalism. One of the chief temptations lies in the\namalgamation of newspaper politics and party activities. The editor who,\nin the interests of public opinion, scans all the parties with a\ncritical eye and professes to be impartial, is for this very reason the\nmore tempted to misuse his position for private gain. He may diligently\nsupport one party in the name of impartiality and fairness, while in\nreality he counts on a remunerative office if that party is successful;\nand from this point the steps are few to the moral state of those who\nattack a certain party or an industrial enterprise in order to discover\nthe error of their position on receipt of a sufficient compensation. The\nenergy with which some newspapers stand up for certain financial\ninterests casts grave doubt on their personal independence; and yet\ndirect bribery plays an exceedingly small role, and the government or a\nforeign country is never the corrupting influence. Very much more\nimportant are the vanity and selfishness of newspaper proprietors, who\nfor one reason or another choose to lead the public astray. But such\nperversities are less dangerous than one might think, for the American\nnewspaper reader reads too much and is politically too discerning to\ntake these newspapers at their face value. The mood induced by one paper\nis corrected by another; and while the journalist is tickled at his own\nshrewdness in writing only what his readers will like, the reader slyly\npreserves his self-respect and belief in his own critical ability, by\nhunting out everything with which he does not agree and reading that\ncarefully. If the journal is above the party, the reader is above the\njournal, and thus it is that the newspapers are the most influential\nsupport of public opinion.\n\nIn this, however, they do not enjoy a monopoly; beside them are the\nweekly and monthly papers. Here again we shall consider their literary\nmerits in another connection, but their greatest significance lies in\ntheir influence on public opinion. The political efforts of the weekly\npapers are mostly indirect; they deal primarily with practical\ninterests, religious and social problems, and literary matters; but the\nserious discussions are carried on as it were against a political\nbackground which lends its peculiar hue to the whole action. The monthly\nmagazines are somewhat more ambitious, and consider politics more\ndirectly. In their pages, not merely professional politicians, but the\nvery ablest men of the nation, are accustomed to treat of the needs and\nduties of city and state; and these discussions are almost never from a\none-sided point of view. A magazine like the _North American Review_\nusually asks representatives of both parties to present their opinions\non the same question; and a similar breadth of view is adopted by the\n_Atlantic Monthly_, the _Review of Reviews_, and other leading\nmonthlies, whose great circulation and influence are hardly to be\ncompared with similar magazines of Europe. The point of view common to\nall is that of a very critical public opinion, well above party politics\nand devoted to national reform and everything which makes for progress\nand enlightenment. Much the same can be said of those magazines which\ncombine politics with literature and illustrations, such as the\n_Century_, _Harper\u2019s_, _Scribner\u2019s_, _McClure\u2019s_, and many others. When\n_McClure\u2019s Magazine_, for example, presents to its half-million readers\nmonth after month an illustrated history of the Standard Oil Trust,\nevery page of which is an attack on secret evasions of the law, it is\nnot serving the interests of any party, but is reading public opinion a\nlesson.\n\nThe spoken word vies with the printed. The capacity of Americans, and\nespecially of the women, to listen to lectures is well-nigh abnormal.\nAnd in this way social and political propagandas find a ready hearing,\nalthough a purely party speech would not be effective outside of a party\nconvention. The wit and pathos of the speaker generally reach a level\nconsiderably above mere matters of expediency, and appeal to public\nopinion from a broadly historical point of view. The dinner speaker is\nalso a power, since he is not constrained, as in Germany, to sandwich\nhis eloquence in between the fish and game or to make every speech wind\ncraftily around and debouch with the inevitable \u201cdreimal Hoch.\u201d He is\nquite at liberty to follow either his whims or his convictions, and\nherein has come to be a recognized spring of public opinion.\n\nFinally, somewhat the same influence is exerted by the countless clubs\nand associations, and the various local and national societies which are\norganized for specific ends. Every American of the better sort belongs\nto any number of such bodies, and although concerning two-thirds of them\nhe knows no more than that he pays his dues, there is left a third for\nwhich he sincerely labours. There is much in these organizations which\nis one-sided, egotistical, and trivial, and yet in the most of them\nthere is something which is sound and right. There is not one at least\nwhich fails to strengthen the conviction that every citizen is called to\nbe the bearer of public opinion. Just as the parties complain that the\nvoters neglect the routine duties of the organization, so to be sure do\nthe strenuous reformers of the country complain that the ranks behind\nthem informally break step. But the main thing is that behind them there\nis a host, and that public opinion is to-day as thoroughly organized as\nthe official parties, and that it sees each day more clearly that its\nqualitative effect on the national life is at least equally important\nwith the quantitative efficacy of the parties.\n\nEvery important question is treated by both organizations, public\nopinion, and the parties. At the approach of a great election the\nparties create such a stir and bustle that for a couple of months the\nvoice of public opinion seems hushed. Party tactics rule the day. But on\nthe other hand, public opinion has its own festivals, and above all,\nworks on tirelessly and uninterruptedly, except for the short pause just\nbefore elections. Public opinion reacts equally on both parties, forces\nthem to pass laws that the politicians do not relish, and to repeal\nothers that the politicians would gladly keep; and, ignoring these men,\nit brings the public conscience to bear on the issues to be pressed, the\ncandidates to be nominated, and the leaders to be chosen.\n\n\n\n\n                             CHAPTER EIGHT\n                        _Problems of Population_\n\n\nWe have surveyed public opinion and party politics as two distinct\nfactors in the American national consciousness, as two factors which are\nseldom in complete agreement, and which are very often in sharp\nopposition, but which finally have to work together like an upper and\nlower legislative chamber in order to solve the problems of the day. We\nhave not the space to speak minutely of all these problems themselves\nwith which the American is at the present moment occupied; since the\npolitics of the day lie outside of our purpose. This purpose has been to\nstudy that which is perennial in the American spirit, the mental forces\nwhich are at work, and the forms in which these work themselves out. But\nthe single questions on which these forces operate, questions which are\nto-day and to-morrow are not, must be left to the daily literature. It\nis our task, however, to indicate briefly in what directions the most\nimportant of these problems lie. Every one of them would require the\nbroadest sort of handling if it were to be in the least adequately\npresented.\n\nSo many problems which in European countries occupy the foreground, and\nwhich weigh particularly on the German mind, are quite foreign to the\nAmerican. Firstly, the church problem as a political one is unknown to\nhim. The separation of church and state is so complete, and the results\nof this separation are viewed on all sides with so much satisfaction,\nthat there is nowhere the least desire to introduce a change. It is\nprecisely in strictly religious circles that the entire independence of\nthe church is regarded as the prime requisite for the growth of\necclesiastical influence. Even the relations between the church and\nparty politics are distinctly remote, and the semi-political movements\nonce directed against the Catholic Church are already being somewhat\nforgotten. There is no Jesuit question, and the single religious order\nwhich has precipitated a real political storm has been the sect of\nMormons, which ecclesiastically sanctions an institution that the\nmonogamous laws of the nation forbid. Even here the trouble has been\ndispelled by the submission of the Mormon Church.\n\nAs a matter of course, America has also never known a real conflict\nbetween the executive and the people. The government being always\nelected at short intervals by the people and the head of the state with\nhis Cabinet having no part in legislation, while his executive doings\nmerely carry out the wishes of the dominant political party, of course\nno conflicts can arise. To be sure, there can be here and there small\npoints of friction between the legislative and executive, and the\nPresident can, during his four years of office, slowly drift away from\nthe party which elected him, and thus bring about some estrangement; but\neven this would only be an estrangement from the professional\npoliticians of his party. For experience has shown that the President,\nand on a smaller scale the governor of a state, is successful in\nbreaking with his party only when he follows the wishes of public\nopinion instead of listening to the dictates of his party politicians.\nBut in that case the people are on his side. One might rather say that\nthe conflicts between government and people, which in Europe are\npractically disputes between the government and the popular\nrepresentatives of political parties, repeat themselves in America in\nthe sharp contrast between public opinion on the one hand and the united\nlegislative and executive on the other; since the government is itself\nof one piece with the popular representation. Public opinion, indeed,\npreserves its ancient sovereignty as against the whole system of\nelections and majorities.\n\nThere is another vexation spared to the American people; it has no\nAlsace-Lorraine, no Danish or Polish districts; that is, it has no\nelements of population which seek to break away from the national\npolitical unity, and by their opposition to bring about administrative\ndifficulties. To be sure, the country faces difficult problems of\npopulation, but there is no group of citizens struggling to secede; and\nin the same way the American has nothing in the way of emigration\nproblems. Perhaps one may also say finally that social democracy,\nespecially of the international variety, has taken such tenuous root\nthat it can hardly be called a problem, from the German point of view.\nFor although there is a labour question, this is not the same as social\ndemocracy. The labour movements, as part of the great economic upheaval,\nare certainly one of the main difficulties to be overcome by the New\nWorld; but the social democratic solution, with its chiefly political\nsignificance, is essentially unknown to the American. All this we shall\nhave to consider in other connections. Although this and that which\nworry the European appear hardly at all in American thought, there is,\non the other hand, a great sea of problems which have mercifully been\nspared to the European. It is due to the transitional quality of our\ntime that on this sea of problems the most tempestuous are those of an\neconomic character. The fierce conflicts of recent Presidential\nelections have been waged especially over the question of currency, and\nit is not until now that the silver programme may be looked on as at\nleast provisionally forgotten. These conflicts were immediately preceded\nby others which concerned protection and free-trade, and the outlook is\nclear that these two parties will again meet each other in battle array.\n\nMeanwhile the formation of large trusts has loomed up rapidly as a\nproblem, and in this one sees the real influence of public opinion as\nagainst that of party politics, since both parties would doubtless have\npreferred to leave the trusts alone. At the same time the great strikes,\nespecially that of the Pennsylvania coal districts, have brought the\nconflicts between capital and labour so clearly to the national\nconsciousness that the public attention is strained on this point.\nOthers say that the most serious economic problem of the United States\nis the irrigation of the parched deserts of the West, where whole tracts\nof land, larger than Germany, cannot be cultivated for lack of water;\nwhile American engineers, however, now think it entirely possible with a\nsufficient outlay of money to irrigate this region artificially. Still\nothers regard the tax issue as of prime importance; and the circle of\nthose who believe in single-tax reform is steadily growing. Every one\nagrees also that the status of national banks needs to be extensively\nmodified; that the reckless devastation of forests must be stopped; and\nthat the commercial relations between the states must be regulated by\nnew laws. Some are hoping for new canals, others for the subvention of\nAmerican ships. In short, the public mind is so filled with important\neconomic questions that others which are merely political stand in the\nbackground; and, of course, political questions so tremendous as was\nonce that of independence from England and the establishment of the\nFederation, or later, the slave question and the secession of the South,\nhave not come up through four happy decades.\n\nBesides the economic problems there are many social problems which\nappear in those quarters where public opinion is best organized, and\nspread from there more and more throughout political life; such are the\nquestion of woman\u2019s suffrage, and the half economic and half social\nproblem of the extremes between poor and rich, extremes which were\nunknown to the New World in the early days of America and even until\nvery recent times. The unspeakable misery in the slums of New York and\nChicago, in which the lowest immigrants from Eastern Europe have herded\nthemselves together and form a nucleus for all the worst reprobates of\nthe country, is an outcome of recent years and appeals loudly to the\nconscience of the nation. On the other side, the fatuous extravagance of\nmillionaires threatens to poison the national sense of thrift and\neconomy.\n\nAmong these social problems there belongs specially the earnest desire\nof the best citizens to develop American art and science at a pace\ncomparable with the extraordinary material progress of the country.\nDoubtless the admirable results which have here been obtained, came from\nthe extraordinary earnestness with which public opinion has discussed\nthese problems. The great development of universities, the increase in\nthe number of libraries and scientific institutions, the creation of\nmuseums, the observance of beauty in public buildings, and a hundred\nother things would never have come about if public opinion had let\nthings go their own way; here public opinion has consciously done its\nduty as a governing power. Somewhat nearer the periphery of public\nthought there are various other social propagandas, as that for the\nrelief of the poor and for improving penal institutions; the temperance\nmovement is flourishing, and the more so in proportion as it gives up\nits fanatical eccentricities. Also the fight against what the American\nnewspaper reader calls the \u201csocial evil,\u201d attracts more and more serious\nattention.\n\nBesides all these, there is a considerable number of purely political\nproblems; first among these are the problems of population, and notably\nthe questions of immigration and of the negro; then come internal\nproblems of government, such as civil service and municipal reforms,\nwhich especially engage the public eye; finally, the problems of\nexternal politics, in which the watchwords of imperialism and the Monroe\nDoctrine can be heard shouted out above all others. At least we must\nbriefly take our bearings, and see why these problems exist, although\nthe treatment cannot be exhaustive.\n\nThe first issue in the problem of population is, as we have said, that\nwhich concerns immigration; and this is just now rather up before public\nopinion since the last fiscal year which was closed with the beginning\nof July, 1903, showed the largest immigration ever reached, it being\none-tenth greater than the previous record, which was for the year\nending in 1882. The facts are as follows: The total immigration to the\nUnited States has been twenty million persons. The number of those who\nnow live in the United States, but were born in foreign countries, is\nmore than ten millions; and if we were to add to these those who,\nalthough born here, are of foreign parentage, the number comes up to\ntwenty-six millions. Last year 857,000 immigrants came into the country.\nOut of the ten millions of the foreign-born population, 2,669,000 have\ncome from Germany, and 1,619,000 from Ireland.\n\nThe fluctuations in immigration seem to depend chiefly on the amount of\nprosperity in the United States, and, secondly, on the economic and\npolitical conditions which prevail from year to year in Europe. Up to\n1810 the annual immigration is estimated to have been about 6,000; then\nit was almost wholly interrupted for several years, owing to the\npolitical tension between the United States and England; as soon as\npeace was assured the immigration increased in 1817 to 20,000; and in\nthe year 1840 to 84,000. The hundred thousand mark was passed in 1842,\nand from then on the figure rose steadily, until in 1854 it amounted to\n427,000. Then the number fell off rapidly. It was a time of business\ndepression in the United States, and, moreover, the slavery agitation\nwas already threatening a civil war. The immigration was least in 1861,\nwhen it had sunk to 91,000. Two years later it began to rise again, and\nin 1873 was almost half a million. And again there followed a few years\nof business depression, with its correspondingly lessened immigration.\nBut the moment economic conditions improved, immigration set in faster\nthan ever before, and in 1882 was more than three-quarters of a million.\nSince 1883 the average number of persons coming in has been 450,000, the\nvariation from year to year being considerable. The business reverses of\n1893 cut the number down to one-half, but since 1897 it has steadily\nrisen again.\n\nSuch bare figures do not show that which is most essential from the\npoint of view of public opinion, since the quality of the immigration,\ndepending as it does on the social condition of the countries from which\nit comes, is the main circumstance. In the decade between 1860 and 1870,\n2,064,000 European wanderers came to the American shores; of these\n787,000 were Germans, 568,000 English, 435,000 Irish, 109,000\nScandinavians, 38,000 Scotch, and 35,000 French. Now for the decade\nbetween 1890 and 1900 the total number was 3,844,000; of these Germany\ncontributed 543,000, Ireland 403,000, Norway and Sweden 325,000, England\n282,000, Scotland 60,000, and France 36,000. On the other hand, we find\nfor the first time three countries represented which had never before\nsent any large number of immigrants; Italy, Russia, and Austria-Hungary.\nIn the decade ending 1870 there were only 11,000 Italians, 7,000\nAustrians, and 4,000 Russians, while in the decade ending in the year\n1900 the Russian immigrants, who are mostly Poles and Jews, numbered\n588,000, the Austrian and Hungarian 597,000, and the Italian no less\nthan 655,000; and the proportion of these three kinds of immigrants is\nsteadily increasing. In the year 1903 Germany sent only 40,000, Ireland\n35,000, and England 26,000; while Russia sent 136,000, Austria-Hungary\n206,000, and Italy 230,000. Herein lies the problem.\n\nA few further figures may help to make the situation clearer. For\ninstance, it is interesting to know what proportion of the total\nemigration from Europe came to America. In round numbers we may say that\nsince 1870 Europe has lost 20,000,000 souls by emigration, and that some\n14,000,000 of these, that is, more than two-thirds, have ultimately made\ntheir homes in the United States of America. Of the German emigrants\nsome 85 or 90 per cent. have gone to the United States; of the\nScandinavian as many as 97 per cent.; while of the English and Italian\nonly 66 and 45 per cent. respectively. It is worth noting, moreover,\nthat in spite of the extraordinary increase in immigration, the\npercentage of foreign-born population has not increased; that is, the\nincrease of native-born inhabitants has kept up with the immigration. In\n1850 there were a few more than two million foreign-born inhabitants, in\n1860 more than four millions, in 1870 there were five and a half\nmillions, in 1880 six and a half millions, in 1890 nine and a quarter\nmillions, and in 1900 ten and one-third millions. In 1850 these\nforeigners amounted, it is true, to only 11 per cent. of the population;\nbut in 1860 they had already become 15 per cent. of the whole, and\ndiminished in 1870 to 14.4 per cent., in 1880 to 13.3 per cent.; in 1890\nthey were 14.8 per cent., and in 1900 13.6 per cent.\n\nThe State of New York has the largest number of foreigners, and in the\nlast fifty years the percentage of foreigners has risen steadily from 21\nper cent. to 26 per cent. Pennsylvania stands second in this respect,\nand Illinois third. On the other hand, the small states have the largest\npercentage of foreign population. North Dakota has 35 per cent. and\nRhode Island 31 per cent. The Southern states have fewest foreigners of\nany. These figures are, of course, greatly changed if we add to them the\npersons who were not themselves born in other countries, but of whom one\nor both parents were foreigners. In this way the foreign population in\nthe so-called North Atlantic States is 51 per cent., and is 34 per cent.\nthroughout the country. If a foreigner is so defined, the cities of New\nYork and Chicago are both 77 per cent. foreign.\n\nThese figures are enough by way of mere statistics. The thing which\narouses anxiety is not the increasing number of immigrants, but the\nquality of them, which grows continually worse. Just fifty years ago the\nso-called Know-Nothings made the anti-foreign sentiment the chief plank\nof their programme, but the \u201cpure\u201d American propaganda of the\nKnow-Nothings was forgotten in the excitement which waged over slavery;\nand the anti-foreign issue has never since that time been so brutally\nstated. There has always been much objection to the undeniable evils\ninvolved in this immigration, and the continual cry for closer\nsupervision and restriction of immigration has given rise to several new\nlegal measures. Partly, this movement has been the expression of\nindustrial jealousy, as when, for instance, Congress in 1885, in an\naccess of protectionist fury, forbade the immigration of \u201ccontract\nlabour,\u201d that is, forbade any one to land who had already arranged to\nfill a certain position. This measure was meant to protect the workmen\nfrom disagreeable competition. But right here the believers in free\nindustry object energetically. It is just the contract labour from the\nOld World which brings new industries and a new development of old\nindustries into the country, and such a quickening of industry augments\nthe demand for labour to the decided advantage of native workmen. The\nlaw still stands in writing, but in practice it appears to be\nextensively corrected, since it is very easily evaded.\n\nThe more important measures, however, have arisen less from industrial\nthan from social and moral grounds. Statistics have been carefully\nworked up again and again in order to show that the poor-houses and\nprisons contain a much larger percentage of foreigners than their\nproportionate numbers in the community warrant. In itself this will be\nvery easy to understand, owing to the unfavourable conditions under\nwhich the foreigner must find himself, particularly if he does not speak\nEnglish, in his struggle for existence in a new land. But most striking\nhas been the manner in which the magic of statistics has shown its\nability to prove anything it will; for other statistics have shown that\nif certain kinds of crime are considered, the foreign-born Americans are\nthe best children the nation has. The question of illiteracy has been\ndiscussed in similar fashion. The percentage of immigrants who can\nneither read nor write has seemed alarmingly high to those accustomed to\nthe high cultivation of the northeastern states, but gratifyingly small\nto those familiar with the negro population in the South. One unanimous\nopinion has been reached; it is that the country is bound to keep out\nsuch elements from its borders as are going to be a public burden. At\nfirst idiots and insane persons, criminals, and paupers made up this\nundesirable class, but the definition of those who are not admitted to\nthe country has been slowly broadened. And since the immigration laws\nrequire the steamship companies to carry back at their own expense all\nimmigrants who are not allowed to land, the selection is actually made\nin the European ports of embarkation. In this wise the old charge that\nthe agents of European packet companies encouraged the lowest and worst\nindividuals of the Old World to expend their last farthing for a ticket\nto the New World, has gradually died out. Nevertheless, in the last\nyear, 5,812 persons were sent back for lack of visible means of support,\n51 because of criminal record, and 1773 by reason of infectious\ndiseases.\n\nThe fact remains, however, that the social mires of every large city\nteem with foreigners, and that among these masses the worst evils of\nmunicipal corruption find favourable soil, that all the sporadic\noutbreaks of anarchy are traceable to these foreigners, and that the\narmy of the unemployed is mostly recruited from their number. These\nopinions were greatly strengthened when that change in the racial\nmake-up set in which we have followed by statistics, and which a census\nof the poorer districts in the large cities quickly proves: Italians,\nRussian Jews, Galicians, and Roumanians everywhere. The unprejudiced\nAmerican asks with some concern whether, if this stream of immigration\nis continued, it will not undermine the virility of the American people.\nThe American nation will continue to fulfil its mission so long as it is\ninspired with a spirit of independence and self-determination; and this\ninstinct derives from the desire of freedom possessed by all the\nGermanic races. In this way the German, Swedish, and Norwegian newcomers\nhave adapted themselves at once to the Anglo-Saxon body politic, while\nthe French have remained intrinsically strangers. Their number, however,\nhas been very small. But what is to happen if the non-Germanic millions\nof Italians, Russians, and Turks are to pour in unhindered? It is feared\nthat they will drag down the high and independent spirit of the nation\nto their low and unworthy ideals. Already many citizens wish to require\nof the immigrants a knowledge of the English language, or to make a\ncertain property qualification by way of precaution against unhappy\nconsequences, or perhaps to close entirely for awhile the portals of the\nnation, or, at least, to make the conditions of naturalization\nconsiderably harder in order that the Eastern European, who has never\nhad a thought of political freedom, shall not too quickly receive a\nsuffrage in the freest democracy of the world. And those most entitled\nto an opinion unconditionally demand at the least the exclusion of all\nilliterates.\n\nAgainst all this there stand the convictions of certain rather broader\ncircles of people who point with pride at that great American\ngrist-mill, the public school, which is supposed to take the foreign\nyouth into its hopper, grind him up quickly and surely, and turn him out\ninto good American material. It is, in fact, astonishing to look at the\nclasses in the New York schools down on the East Side, where there is\nnot a child of American parentage, and yet not one who will admit that\nhe is Italian, Russian, or Armenian. All these small people declare\nthemselves passionately to be \u201cAmerican,\u201d with American patriotism and\nAmerican pride; and day by day shows that in its whole system of public\ninstitutions the nation possesses a similar school for the foreign-born\nadult. Grey-haired men and adolescent youths, who in their native\ncountries would never have emerged from their dull and cringing\nexistence, hardly touch the pavement of Broadway before they find\nthemselves readers of the newspaper, frequenters of the political\nmeetings, and in a small way independent business men; and they may, a\nfew years later, be conducting enterprises on a large scale. They wake\nup suddenly, and although in this transformation every race lends its\nown colour to the spirit of self-determination, nevertheless the\nuniversal trait, the typical American trait, can appear in every race of\nman, if only the conditions are favourable.\n\nIn the same direction it is urged once more that America needs the\nlabour of these people. If Southern and Eastern Europe had not given us\ntheir cheaper grades of workmen, we should not have been able to build\nour roads or our railroads, nor many other things which we have needed.\nIn former decades this humble r\u00f4le fell to the Germans, the\nScandinavians, and the Irish, and the opposition against their admission\nwas as lively as it now is against the immigrants from the south and\neast of Europe; while the development of the country has shown that they\nhave been an economic blessing; and the same thing, it is said, will be\ntrue of the Russians and Poles. There are still huge territories at our\ndisposal which are virtually unpopulated, untold millions can still\nemploy their strength to the profit of the whole nation, and it would be\nmadness to keep out the willing and peaceable workers. Moreover, has it\nnot been the proud boast of America that her holy mission was to be a\nland of freedom for every oppressed individual, an asylum for every one\nwho was persecuted? In the times then of her most brilliant prosperity\nis she to be untrue to her noble role of protectress, and leave no hope\nto those who have been deprived of their human rights by Russian or\nTurkish despots, by Italian or Hungarian extortionists, to disappoint\ntheir belief that at least in the New World even the most humble man has\nhis rights and will be received at his true value? Thus the opinions\ndiffer, and public opinion at large has come as yet to no decision.\n\nA curious feature in the immigration problem is the Chinese question,\nwhich has occasioned frequent discussion on the Pacific coast. The\nChinaman does not come here to enjoy the blessings of American\ncivilization, but merely in order to earn a competence in a short time\nso that he can return to his Asiatic home and be forever provided for.\nHe does not bring his family with him, nor attempt in any way to adapt\nhimself; he keeps his own costume, stays apart from his white\nneighbours, and lives, as for instance in the Chinese Quarter of San\nFrancisco, on such meagre nourishment and in such squalid dwellings that\nhe can save up wealth from such earnings as an American workman could\nhardly live on. A tour through the Chinese sleeping-rooms in California\nis in fact one of the most depressing impressions which the traveller on\nAmerican soil can possibly experience. The individuals lie on large\ncouches, built over one another in tiers, going quite up to the ceiling;\nand in twenty-four hours three sets of sleepers will have occupied the\nbeds. Under such conditions the number of newcomers steadily increased\nbecause large commercial firms imported more and more coolie labour.\nBetween 1870 and 1880 more than 122,000 had come into the country. Then\nCongress began to oppose this immigration, and since 1879 has\nexperimented with various laws, until now the Chinese workman is almost\nwholly excluded. According to the last census there were only 81,000\nChinese in the whole United States.\n\nMore attractive than the yellow immigrants to these shores are the\nred-skinned aborigines of the land, the Indians, whom the Europeans\nfound when they landed. The world is too much inclined, however, to\nconsider the fate of the Indian in a false light, just because his\nmanner of life captures the fancy and his picturesque barbarity has\noften attracted the poet. The American himself is rather inclined to see\nin his treatment of the Indian a grave charge against his own nation,\nand to find himself guilty of the brutal extermination of a native race.\nTo arrive at such an opinion he assumes that in former centuries great\ntribes of Indians scoured the tremendous hunting-grounds of the land.\nBut science has done away with this fanciful picture, and we know to-day\nthat these millions of natives never existed. There are to-day about\n270,000 Redskins, and it is very doubtful whether the number was ever\nmuch greater. It is true, of course, that between Central America and\nthe Arctic Sea, hundreds of different Indian languages were spoken, and\nmany of these languages have twenty or thirty different dialects. But\nthe sole community in which such a dialect developed would include only\na few hundred persons, and broad tracts of land would lie between the\nneighbouring communities. They used to live in villages, and wandered\nover the country only at certain seasons of the year in order to hunt,\nfish, and collect fruits.\n\nAs soon as the European colonies established themselves in the country\nthe Indians used to take part in their wars, and on such occasions were\nsupplied by the colonists with arms and employed as auxiliary forces.\nBut the delights of these new methods of warfare, which they learned\nquickly, broke up their own peaceful life. The new weapons were employed\nfor war between the Indian races, and eventually were turned by the\nIndians against the white settlers themselves. But, after all, the\npeaceful contact of Indians and whites was more productive of results.\nOnly the French and Spanish permitted a mixture of the races, and in\nCanada especially to-day there is a mixed race of French and Indians;\nwhile in Mexico a large part of the inhabitants is Spanish and Indian.\nThe truly American population sought above all else peaceably to\ndisseminate its own culture; some Indian races became agricultural and\ndevoted themselves to certain industrial pursuits.\n\nSince the time when the United States gained actual possession of a\nlarger part of the continent, a systematic Indian policy has been\npursued, although administered largely, it must be admitted, in the\nAmerican interests, and yet with considerable consideration of the\nnatural inclinations of these hunting peoples. In various states,\nterritories were set apart for them, which were certainly more than\nadequate to afford their sustenance; schools were built, and even\ninstitutions of higher learning; and through solemn treaties with their\nchiefs important rights were assigned to different races. To be sure,\nthe main idea has always been to persuade the Indians to take up\nagricultural pursuits; to live merely by hunting flesh and eating wild\nfruits seemed hardly the thing at a time when millions of people were\nflocking westward out of Europe. Therefore, with every new treaty, the\nIndian reservations have been made smaller and smaller. The Indians, who\nwould have preferred always to keep up their wild hunting life, felt,\nand still feel, that this has been unjust, and certainly many of their\nracial peculiarities have made it difficult to adapt American legal\ntraditions fairly to their needs. The Indians had no idea of the private\nownership of the soil; they considered everything as belonging to their\ntribe, and least of all had they any notion of the inheritance of\nproperty in the American sense. The Indian children belonged to the\nmother\u2019s family and the mother never belonged to the tribe of the\nfather.\n\nAlthough all these sources of friction have led the Indian to feel\nunjustly treated, it is still true that there has been scarcely any\nactually destructive oppression. The very races which have been\ninfluenced most by American culture have developed favourably. Last year\nthe Indian mortality was 4,728, and the number of births 4,742; the\nIndians are, therefore, not dying out. The largest community is in the\nso-called Indian Territory and consists of 86,000 people, while there\nare 42,000 in Arizona. The several Indian reservations together embrace\n117,420 square miles.\n\n                  *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe Indian question is the least serious problem of all those which\nconcern population in America; by far the most difficult is the negro\nquestion. The Indian lives within certain reservations, but the negro\nlives everywhere side by side with the American. So also the Indian\ntroubles are narrowly confined to a small reservation in the great field\nof American problems, but the negro question is met everywhere in\nAmerican thought, and in connection with every American interest. There\ncould hardly be a greater contrast than that between the Indian and the\nnegro; the former is proud, self-contained, selfish and revengeful,\npassionate and courageous, keen and inventive. The negro, on the other\nhand, is subservient, yielding, almost childishly good natured, lazy and\nsensual, without energy or ambition, outwardly apt to learn, but without\nany spirit of invention or intellectual independence. And still one\nought not to speak of these millions of people as if they were of one\ntype. On the Gulf of Mexico there are regions where the black population\nlives almost wholly sunk in the superstitions of its African home; while\nin Harvard University a young negro student has written creditable\nessays on Kant and Hegel. And between these opposite poles exists a\npopulation of about nine millions.\n\nThe negro population of America does not increase quite so rapidly as\nthe white, and yet in forty years it has increased two-fold. In the year\n1860, before the slaves were freed, there were 4,441,000 blacks; in\n1870, 4,880,000; in 1880, 6,580,000; in 1890, 7,470,000; in 1900,\n8,803,000. In view of this considerable increase of the negro, it is not\nto be expected that the problem will lose anything of its urgency by the\nmore rapid growth of the white population. And at the same time the\nphysical contrast between the races is in no wise decreasing, because\nthere is no mixing of the white and black races to-day, as there very\nfrequently was before the war. It will not be long before the coloured\npopulation will be twice the entire population which Canada to-day has.\nThese people are distributed geographically, so that much the largest\npart lives in those states which before the war practised slavery. To be\nsure, an appreciable part has wandered into the northern states, and the\npoorer quarters of the large cities are well infiltrated with blacks.\nFour-fifths, however, still remain in the South, owing probably to\nclimatic conditions; the negro race thrives better in a warm climate.\nBut it belongs there economically also, and has nearly every reason for\nstaying there in future.\n\nNevertheless, the negro question is by no means a problem for the South\nalone; the North has its interests, and it becomes clearer all the time\nthat the solution of the problem will depend in large part on the\nco-operation of the North. In the first place it was the North which set\nthe negro free, and which, therefore, is partly responsible for what he\nis to-day; and it must lie with the North to decide whether the great\ndangers which to-day threaten can in any way be obviated. Europe has so\nfar considered only one feature of the negro question\u2014that of slavery.\nAll Europe read \u201cUncle Tom\u2019s Cabin,\u201d and thought the difficulty solved\nas soon as the negro was freed from his chains and the poorest negro\ncame into his human right of freedom. Europe was not aware that in this\n*wise still greater problems were created, and that greater springs of\nmisery and misfortune for the negro there took their origin. Nor does\nEurope realize that opposition between whites and blacks has never been\nin the history of America so sharp and bitter and full of hatred as it\nis to-day. Just in the last few years the hatred has grown on both\nsides, so that no friend of the country can look into the future without\nmisgivings. \u201cDas eben ist die Frucht der b\u00f6sen Tat.\u201d\n\nYet where did the sin begin? Shall the blame fall on the English\nParliament, which countenanced and even encouraged the trade in human\nbodies, or shall it fall on the Southern States, which kept the slaves\nin ignorance, and even threatened to punish any one who should instruct\nthem? Or shall it fall on the Northern States, which were chiefly\nresponsible for immediately granting to the freedmen, for the sake of\nparty politics, all prerogatives of fellow-citizenship? Or shall the\nfault be put on the negro himself, who saw in his freedom from slavery\nan open door to idleness and worthlessness?\n\nFor generations the white man has regarded the black man as merchandise,\nhas forcibly dragged him from his African jungles to make him work in\nignorance and oppression on the cotton, rice, and tobacco fields of a\nwhite master. Then all at once he was made free and became an equal\ncitizen in a country which, in its abilities, its feelings, its laws,\nand its Constitution, had the culture of two thousand years behind it.\nHow has this emancipation worked on these millions? The first decade was\na period of unrest and of almost frightened awakening to the\nconsciousness of physical freedom, in the midst of all the after-effects\nof the fearful war. The negro was terrified by Southern secret societies\nwhich were planning vengeance, and confused by the dogmas of\nunscrupulous politicians who canvassed the states which had been so\nsavagely shaken by the war, in order to gather up whatever might be\nfound; and he was confused by a thousand other contradictions in public\nsentiment. Nowhere was there a secure refuge. Then followed the time in\nwhich the negroes hoped to employ their political power to advantage;\nthe negroes were to be prospered by their ballot. But they found this to\nbe a hopeless mistake. Then they believed a better way was to be found\nin the public schools and books. But the negro was again turned back; he\nneeded not knowledge but the power to do, not books but a trade. So his\nrallying-cry has shifted. The blacks have never lost heart, and in a\ncertain sense it must in justice be added the whites have never lacked\ngood-will. And yet, after forty years of freedom, the results are highly\ndiscouraging.\n\nOn the outside there is much that speaks of almost brilliant success.\nThe negroes have to-day in the United States 450 newspapers and four\nmagazines; 350 books have been written by negroes; half of all the negro\nchildren are regularly taught in schools; there are 30,000 black\nteachers, school-houses worth more than $10,000,000, forty-one\nseminaries for teachers, and churches worth over $25,000,000. There are\nten thousand black musicians and hundreds of lawyers. The negroes own\nfour large banks, 130,000 farms, and 150,000 homes, and they pay taxes\non $650,000,000 worth of real and personal property. The four past\ndecades have therefore brought some progress to the freedman. And yet,\nin studying the situation, one is obliged to say that these figures are\nsomewhat deceptive. The majority of negroes are still in such a state of\npoverty and misery, of illiteracy and mental backwardness, that the\nnegroes who can be at all compared with the middle class of Americans\nare vanishingly few. Even the teachers and the doctors and pastors seem\nonly very little to differ from the proletariat; and although there is\nmany a negro of means, it is still a question whether he is able to\nenjoy his property, whether the dollar in his hand is the same as in the\nhand of a white man.\n\nA part of the black population has certainly made real progress, but a\nlarger part is humanly more degraded than before the slaves were freed;\nand if one looks at it merely as a utilitarian, considering only the\namount of pleasure which the negroes enjoy, one cannot doubt that the\ngeneral mass of negroes was happier under slavery. Their temperament is\ncrueller to them than any plantation master could have been. The\nnegro\u2014we must have no illusions on that point\u2014has partly gone backward.\nThe capacity for hard work which he acquired in four generations of\nslavery, he has in large part lost again during forty years of freedom;\nalthough, indeed, the tremendous cotton harvests from the Southern\nStates are gathered almost wholly by negro labour. It must be left to\nanthropology to find out whether the negro race is actually capable of\nsuch complete development as the Caucasian race has come to after\nthousands of years of steady labour and progress. The student of social\npolitics need not go into such speculations; he faces the fact that the\nAfrican negro has not had the thousands of years of such training, and\ntherefore, although he might be theoretically capable of the highest\nculture, yet practically he is still unprepared for the higher duties of\ncivilization. Under the severe discipline of slavery he overcame his\nlazy instincts and learned how to work both in the field and in the\nshop, according as the needs of his master required, and became in this\nway a useful member of society; but he was relieved of all other cares.\nHis owner provided him with house and nourishment, cared for him in\nillness, and protected him like any other valuable piece of property.\n\nAll this was suddenly changed on the great day when freedom was\ndeclared; no one compelled the negro to work then; he was free to follow\nhis instinct to do nothing; no one punished him when he gave himself\nover to sensuality and indolence. But on the other side nobody now took\ncare of him; in becoming his own master he remained his own slave. He\nwas suddenly pushed into the struggle for existence, and the less he was\nforced to learn the less he was ready for the fight. There thus grew up\nan increasing mass of poverty-stricken negroes, among whom immorality\nand crime could thrive; and oftentimes the heavy weight of this mass has\ndragged down with it those who would have been better. Worst of all, it\nhas strengthened the aversion of the whites a hundred-fold, and the best\nmembers of the negro race have had to suffer for the laziness, the\nsensuality, and the dishonesty of the great masses.\n\nThe real tragedy is not in the lives of the most miserable, but in the\nlives of those who wish to rise, who feel the mistakes of their\nfellow-negroes and the injustice of their white opponents, who desire to\nassimilate everything high and good in the culture about them, and yet\nwho know that they do not, strictly speaking, belong to such a culture.\nThe negroes of the lower type are sunk in their indifference; they while\naway the hours in coarse enjoyments, and are perfectly content with a\nfew watermelons while they dance and sing. The onlooker is disheartened,\nbut they themselves laugh like children. The better negroes, on the\nother hand, feel all the hardship and carry the weight of the problem on\ntheir souls. They go through life fully conscious of an insoluble\ncontradiction in their existence; they feel that it is denied them to\nparticipate immediately in life, and that they must always see\nthemselves with the eyes of others, and lead in a way a double\nexistence. As one of them has recently said, they are always conscious\nof being a problem.\n\nThey themselves have not chosen their lot, they did not come of their\nown accord from Africa, nor gladly take on the yoke of slavery; nor were\nthey by their own efforts saved from slavery. They have been passive at\nevery turn of fortune. Now they wish to commence to do their best and to\ngive their best, and they have to do this in an environment for which\nthey are wholly unprepared and which is wholly beyond them in its\nculture They have not themselves worked out this civilization; they\nbelong historically in another system, and remain here at best mere\nimitators. And the better they succeed in being like their neighbours,\nthe more they become unlike what they ought naturally to develop into.\n\nThis feeling of disparateness leads directly to the feeling of\nembitterment. In the general masses, however, it is the feeling of\nincompetence to support the struggle for existence successfully which\nturns necessarily into a bitter hatred of the whites. And the more the\nlack of discipline and the laziness of the black cause the whites to\nhold him in check, so much the more brightly burns this hatred. But all\nstudents of the South believe that this hatred has come about wholly\nsince the negro was declared free. The slave was faithful and devoted to\nhis master, who took care of him; he hated work, but did not hate the\nwhite man, and took his state of slavery as a matter of course, much as\none takes one\u2019s inability to fly. A patriarchal condition prevailed in\nthe South before the war, in spite of the representations made by\npolitical visionaries. Indeed, it is sometimes difficult not to doubt\nwhether it was necessary to do away with slavery so suddenly and\nforcibly; whether a good deal of self-respect would not have been saved\non both sides, and endless hatred, embitterment, and misery spared, if\nthe Northern States had left the negro question to itself, to be solved\nin time through organic rather than mechanical means. Perhaps slavery\nwould then have gone gradually over into some form of patriarchal\nrelation.\n\nIt is too late to philosophize on this point; doctrinarianism has shaped\nthe situation otherwise. The arms of the Civil War have decided in\nfavour of the North. It is dismal, but it must be said that the actual\nevents of the ensuing years of peace have decided rather in favour of\nthe view of the South. To comprehend this fully, it is not enough to ask\nmerely, as we have done so far, how the negro now feels; but more\nspecially to ask what the American now thinks.\n\nWhat is to-day the relation between the white man and the negro? There\nis a difference here between the North and the South, and yet one thing\nis true for both: the American feels that the cleft between the white\nand black races is greater now than ever before. So far as the North is\nconcerned, the political view of the problem has probably changed very\nlittle. Specially the New England States, whose exalted ethical motives\nwere beyond all doubt\u2014as perhaps is not so certain of the Middle\nStates\u2014still sympathize to-day with the negro as a proper claimant of\nhuman rights. But unfortunately one may believe in the negro in the\nabstract, and yet shrink from contact with him in the concrete. The\npersonal dislike of the black man, one might even call it an \u00e6sthetic\nantipathy, is really more general and wide-spread in the North than in\nthe South. South of Washington one can scarcely be shaved except by a\nnegro, while north of Philadelphia a white man would quite decline to\npatronize a coloured barber. A Southerner is even not averse to having a\nblack nurse in the house, while in the Northern States that would never\nbe thought of. Whenever the principle is to be upheld, the negro is made\nwelcome in the North. He is granted here and there a small public\noffice; he delivers orations, and is admitted to public organizations;\nhe marches in the parades of war veterans, and a few negroes attend the\nuniversities. And still there is no real social intercourse between the\nraces. In no club or private house and on no private occasions does one\nmeet a negro. And here the European should bear specially in mind that\nnegroes are not seldom men and women whose faces are perhaps as white as\nany Yankee\u2019s, and who often have only the faintest taint of African\nblood.\n\nAt the very best the Northerner plays philanthropist toward the negro,\ntakes care of his schools and churches, helps him to help himself, and\nto carve out his economic freedom. But even here the feeling has been\ngrowing more and more in recent years that the situation is somehow\nfundamentally false, and that the North has acted hastily and\nimprudently in accepting the emancipated negro on terms of so complete\nequality. The feeling of dissatisfaction is growing in the North, and it\nis not an accident that the negro population of the North grows so\nslowly, although the negro is always ready to wander, and would crowd in\ngreat numbers to the North if he might hope to better his fortunes\nthere. The negro feels, however, intensely that he is still less a match\nfor the energetic Northerner in the industrial competition than for the\nwhite man of the South, and that it is often easier to endure the hatred\nof the Southerner than the coldly theoretical sufferance of the\nNortherner when joined, as it is, with a personal distaste so\npronounced.\n\nIn the South it is quite different. There could hardly be an \u00e6sthetic\naversion for the race, when for generations blacks and whites have lived\ntogether, when all the servants of the home have been coloured, and the\nchildren have grown up on the plantations with their little black\nplaymates. There has been a good deal in the easy good-nature of the\nnegro which the Southern white man has always found sympathetic, and he\nresponded in former times to the disinterested faithfulness of the\nslaves with a real attachment. And although this may have been such\nfondness as one feels for a faithful dog or an intelligent horse, there\nwas in it, nevertheless, no trace of that physical repulsion felt by the\nNortherner. The same is fundamentally true to-day, and the rhetorical\nemphasis of the physical antipathy toward the black which one finds in\nSouthern speeches is certainly in part hypocritical. It is true that\neven to-day the poorest white man would think himself too good to marry\nthe most admirable coloured woman; but the reason of this would lie in\nsocial principles, and not, as politicians would like to make it appear,\nin any instinctive racial aversion, since so long as the negroes were in\nslavery the whites had no aversion to such personal contamination.\n\nThe great opposition which now exists is two-fold: it is on the one hand\npolitical and on the other social. The political situation of the South\nhas been indeed dominated in the last forty years by the negro question.\nThere have been four distinct periods of development; the first goes\nfrom the end of the Civil War to 1875. It was the time when the negro\nhad first received the suffrage and become a political factor, the most\ndreary time which the South ever knew. It was economically ruined, was\noverrun with a disgusting army of unscrupulous politicians, who wanted\nnothing but to pervert the ignorant coloured voters for the lowest\npolitical ends. The victorious party in the North sent its menials down\nto organize the coloured quarry, and by mere numbers to outdo all\nindependent activities of the white population.\n\nOne can easily understand why a Southern historian should say that the\nSouthern States look back without bitterness on the years of the war,\nwhen brave men met brave men on the field of battle; but that they are\nfurious when they remember the years which followed, when the victors,\npartly out of mistaken philanthropy, partly out of thoughtlessness and\nindifference, and partly out of evil intent, hastened to put the reins\nof government into the hands of a race which was hardly out of African\nbarbarism; and thus utterly disheartened the men and women who had built\nup the splendid culture of the Old South. Perhaps there was no phase of\nAmerican history, he says, so filled with poetry and romantic charm as\nthe life of the South in the last ten years before the war; and\ncertainly no period has been so full of mistakes, uncertainties, and\ncrime as the decade immediately following. A reaction had to come, and\nit came in the twenty years between 1875 and 1895. The South betook\nitself to devious methods at the ballot-box. It was recognized that\nfalsification of election returns was an evil, but it was thought to be\na worse evil for the country to be handed over to the low domination of\nilliterate negroes. The political power of the negro has been broken in\nthis way. Again and again the same method was resorted to, until finally\nthe public opinion of the South approved of it, and those who juggled\nwith the ballot-box were not pursued by the arm of the law, because the\ngeneral opinion was with them.\n\nThere has been another and more important fact. Slowly all party\nopposition between the whites vanished, and the race question became the\nsole political issue. To be sure, there have been free-traders and\nprotectionists in the South, and representatives of all other party\nprinciples; but all genuine party life flagged and all less important\ndistinctions vanished at the ballot-box when the whites rallied against\nthe blacks, and since the negroes voted invariably with the Republican\nparty, which had set them free, the entire white population of the South\nhas become Democratic. By this political consolidation, the power of the\nnegro has been further restricted.\n\nPeople have gradually become convinced, however, that political life\nstagnates when large states have only the one fixed idea, as if\nhypnotized by the race issue. The need has been felt anew of\nparticipating once more in all the great problems which interest the\nnation and which create the parties. The South looks back longingly on\nthe time when it used to furnish the most brilliant statesmen of the\nnation. The South has become also aware that so soon as public opinion\nallows a systematic corruption of the ballot-box, then every kind of\nselfishness and corruption has an easy chance to creep in.\n\nLet once the election returns be falsified in order to wipe out a negro\nmajority, and they may be falsified the next time in favour of some\ncommercial conspiracy. An abyss opens up which is truly bottomless. So a\nthird period has arrived. In place of nullifying the negro suffrage by\nillegal means, the South has been thinking out legal measures for\nlimiting it. The Constitution prescribes merely that no one shall be\ndeprived of his vote by reason of his colour, but it has been left to\nthe several states to determine what the other conditions shall be which\ngovern the right to vote. Thus any state is free to place a certain\nproperty condition, or to require a certain degree of education from\nevery man who votes; but all such conditions must apply to all\ninhabitants of the state alike; thus, for instance, in four states, and\nonly in those four, do women enjoy the suffrage. Now the Southern States\nhave commenced to make extensive use of this state privilege. They are\nnot allowed to exclude the negro as a negro since the Northern States\nhave added the Fifteenth Amendment of the Constitution, and there would\nbe no hope of altering this. But so long as the educational status of\nthe negro is so far behind that of the white man, the number of those\nwho cannot read is still so large that a heavy blow is struck at negro\npolitical domination when a state decides to restrict the suffrage to\nthose who can read and understand the Constitution. It is clear that at\nthe same time the test of this which necessarily has to be made leaves\nthe coveted free-play to the white man\u2019s discretion.\n\nThe last few years have witnessed a great advance of this new movement.\nThe political power of the negro is less than ever, and the former\nillegal measures to circumvent it are no longer needed. It cannot be\ndenied that in two ways this works directly in the interests of\ncivilization. On the one hand, it incites the negro population to take\nmeasures for the education of its children, since by going to school the\nnegro can comply with the conditions of suffrage. On the other hand, it\nfrees Southern politics from the oppressive race question, and allows\nreal party problems to become once more active issues among the whites.\nThe political contrast is, therefore, to-day somewhat lessened, although\nboth parties regard it rather as a mere cessation of hostilities; since\nit is by no means certain that Northern political forces at Washington\nwill not once more undo this infringement on the negroes\u2019 rights, and\nwhether once more, in case of a real party division between the Southern\nwhites, the negroes will not have the deciding vote. If the\ndoctrinarianism of the North should actually prevail and be able to set\naside these examinations in reading and in intelligence which have been\naimed against the negro, on the ground that they are contrary to the\nConstitution, it would indeed frustrate a great movement toward\npolitical peace. When the abolitionists at the end of the Civil War\ngranted the suffrage to the negroes, they were at least able to adduce\none very good excuse; they claimed that the Southern States would\ncontinue in some new form to hold the negro in subjection if he was not\nprotected by either a military guard or by his right to vote, and since\nthe army was to be disbanded the right to vote was given him. To-day\nthere is no such danger; the legal exclusion of the Southern negro from\nthe ballot-box must be accounted an advance.\n\nThe social question, however, is even more important to-day than the\npolitical one, and it is one which grows day by day. We have said\nalready that the Southerner has no instinctive aversion to the negro\nrace, and his desire for racial purity is not an instinct but a theory,\nof which the fathers of the present white man knew nothing. To be sure,\nthe situation cannot be simply formulated, but it probably comes nearest\nto the truth to say that the white man\u2019s hatred is the inherited\ninstinct of the slave-holder. In all his sentiments the Southerner is\ndominated by the once natural feeling that the negro is his helpless\nsubject. The white man is not cruel in this; he wants to protect the\nnegro and to be kind, but he can allow him no will of his own. He has\naccustomed himself to the slavish obedience of the negro, as the\nopium-eater is accustomed to his opium. And to give up the paralyzing\ndrug is intolerable to his nervous system.\n\nThe everywhere repeated cry that the purity of the race is in danger, if\nsocial equality is established, is only a pretext; it is in truth the\nsocial equality itself which calls forth the hysterical excitement. No\nwhite man, for instance, in the South would go into the dining-room of a\nhotel in which a single negro woman should be sitting; but this is not\nbecause a mere proximity would be disagreeable, as it would actually be\nto the Northerner, but because he could not endure such appearance of\nequality. So soon as a little white child sits beside the negro woman,\nso that she is seen to be a servant and her socially inferior station is\nmade plain, then her presence is no longer felt to be at all\ndisagreeable.\n\nIn his fight against social equality with the negro, the Southerner\nresorts to more and more violent means; and while he works himself up to\nan increasing pitch of excitement by the energy of his opposition, the\nresulting social humiliation increases the embitterment of the negro.\nThat no white hotel, restaurant, theatre, or sleeping-car is open to the\nblack is a matter of course; this is virtually true also in the North.\nBut it has contributed very much to renewed disaffection, that also the\nordinary railroad trains and street cars begin to make a similar\ndistinction.\n\nThe South is putting a premium on every kind of harsh social affront to\nthe black man, and relentlessly punishes the slightest social\nrecognition. When the president of a negro college was the guest of a\nNorthern hotel and the chamber-maid refused to put his room to rights\nand was therefore dismissed, the South got together, by a popular\nsubscription, a large purse for this heroine. It is only from this point\nof view that one can understand the great excitement which swept through\nthe South when President Roosevelt had the courage to invite to his\ntable Booker T. Washington, the most distinguished negro of the country.\nProfessor Basset, the historian, has declared, amid the fierce\nresentment of the South, that, with the exception of General Lee, Booker\nWashington is the greatest man who has been born in the South for a\nhundred years. But who inquires after the merits of a single man when\nthe principle of social inequality is at stake? If the President had\nworked for several months from early to late at his desk with Booker T.\nWashington, the fact would have passed unnoticed. But it is simply\nunpardonable that he invited him to the luncheon table, and even very\nthoughtful men have shaken their heads in the opinion that this affront\nto the social superiority of the white man will very sadly sharpen the\nmutual antagonism.\n\nWe must not overlook in this connection the various minor circumstances\nwhich have strengthened the lingering feeling of the slave-owner. First\nof all, there is the unrestrained sensuality of the negro, which has led\nhim time after time to attempt criminal aggressions on white women, and\nso contributed infinitely to the misery of his situation. It is a gross\nexaggeration when the Southern demagogue reiterates again and again that\nno man in the South can feel that his wife, his sister, or daughter is\nsecure from the bestiality of the blacks; and yet it cannot be denied\nthat such crimes are shockingly frequent, and they are the more\nsignificant, since the continual fear of this danger seriously threatens\nthe growth of farming life with its lonely farm-houses. Here the\nbarbarities of lynch law have come in, and the rapid growth of racial\nhatred may be seen in the increased number of lynchings during recent\nyears. But every lynching reacts to inoculate hatred and cruel ferocity\nin the public organism, and so the bestial instincts and the lawless\npunishments work together to debase the masses in the Southern States.\n\nIt is not only a question of the immorality of the negro and the lynch\ncourts of the white man, but in other ways the negro shows himself\ninclined to crime, and the white man to all sorts of lawless acts\nagainst him. The negroes are disproportionately represented in Southern\nprisons, although this comes partly from the fact that the black man is\npunished for the slightest misdemeanour, while the white man is readily\nlet off. In fact, it is difficult in the South to find a jury to convict\na white man of any crime done against a negro. This application of a\ntwo-fold standard of justice leads quickly to a general arbitrariness\nwhich fits only too well with the natural instincts of the slave-holder.\nArbitrary privileges in place of equal rights have always been the\nessential point in his existence, and so it happens that even where no\nnegroes are in question Southern juries hand down verdicts which\nscandalize the whole country. Indeed, there is no doubt that secret\nattempts have even been made, in all sorts of devious forms, to\nre-establish the state of slavery. For some small misdemeanour negroes\nare condemned to pay a very heavy fine, and to furnish this they have to\nlet themselves out to some sort of contract labour under white masters,\nwhich amounts to the same thing as slavery. Here again the whole country\nis horrified when the facts come to be known. But no means have yet been\nthought of for lessening the bitter hatred which exists, and so long as\nthe sharp social contrast remains there will continue to be evasions and\nviolations of the law, to give vent to the hatred and bitter feeling.\n\nWhat now may one look for, that shall put an end to these unhappy\ndoings? The Africans have had their Zionists, who wish to lead them back\nto their native forests in Africa, and many people have recently fancied\nthat the problem would be solved by forcible deportation to the\nPhilippines. These dreams are useless; nine million people cannot be\ndumped on the other side of the ocean, cannot be torn from their homes.\nLeast of all could they be brought to combine with the entirely\ndifferent population of the Philippines. More than that, the South\nitself would fight tooth and nail against losing so many labourers; it\nwould be industrially ruined, and would be more grievously torn up than\nit was after the Civil War, if in fact some magic ship could carry every\nblack to the negro republic of Liberia, on the African coast. For the\nsame reason it is impracticable to bring together all negroes in one or\ntwo Southern States and leave them to work out their own salvation. In\nthe first place, no state would be willing to draw this black lot, while\nthe white population of the other Southern States would suffer fully as\nmuch. The student of social politics, finally, cannot doubt for a moment\nthat the negro progresses only when he is in constant contact with white\nmen, and degenerates with fearful speed when he is left to himself.\n\nAmong those negroes who have been called to be the leaders of their\npeople, and who form an independent opinion of the situation, one finds\ntwo very different tendencies. One of these is to reform from the top\ndown, the other from the bottom up. The energies of Dubois are typical\nof the first tendency, Booker Washington\u2019s of the second. Dubois, and\nmany of the most educated and advanced negroes with him, believe in the\nspecial mission of the negro race. The negro does not want to be, and\nought not to be, a second order of American, but the United States are\ndestined by Providence to develop two great and diverse but co-operating\npeoples, the Americans and the negroes. It is therefore the work of the\nAfrican not simply to imitate the white man\u2019s culture, but to develop\nindependently a special culture suited to his own national traits. They\nfeel instinctively that a few great men of special physiognomy, two or\nthree geniuses coming from their race, will do more for the honour of\ntheir people and for the belief in its possibilities, than the slow\nelevation of the great mass. They lay strong emphasis on the fact that\nin his music, religion, and humour the negro has developed strongly\nindividual traits, and that the people who forty years ago were in\nslavery have developed in a generation under unfavourable circumstances\na number of shining orators, politicians, and writers. Thus they feel a\nmost natural ambition to make away for the best and strongest, to\nelevate them, and to incite them to their highest achievements. The\nideal is thus, in the work of the most gifted leaders to present to the\nworld a new negro culture, by which the right of independent existence\nfor the black race in America may be secured.\n\nBooker Washington and his friends wish to go a quieter road; and he has\nwith him the sympathies of the best white people in the country. They\nlook for salvation not from a few brilliantly exceptional negroes, but\nfrom the slow and steady enlightenment of the masses; and their real\nleaders are to be not those who accomplish great things as individuals,\nbut rather they who best serve in the slow work of uplifting their\npeople. These men see clearly that there are to-day no indications of\nreally great accomplishments and independent feats in the way of\nculture, and that such things are hardly to be looked for in the\nimmediate future. At the very best it is a question of an unusual talent\nfor imitating an alien culture.\n\nIf, then, one can hardly speak of brilliant genius in the upper\nstrata\u2014and it is to be admitted that Booker Washington himself is not a\nreally great, independent, and commanding personality\u2014it would be on the\nother hand much more distorted to estimate the negro from his lowest\nstrata, from the lazy and criminal individuals. The great mass of\nnegroes is uneducated and possesses no manual training for an\noccupation; but it is honest, healthy, and fit social material, which\nonly needs to be trained in order to become valuable to the whole\ncommunity. First of all, the negro ought to learn what he has once\nlearned as a slave\u2014a manual trade; he should perfect himself in work of\nthe hands or in some honest agricultural occupation, not seek to create\na new civilization, but more modestly to identify his race with the\ndestinies of the white nation by real, honest, thoughtful, true, and\nindustrious labour. Brilliant writers they do not need so much as good\ncarpenters and school-teachers; nor notable individual escapades in the\ntourney-field of culture so much as a general dissemination of technical\ntraining. They need schools for manual training and institutes for the\ndevelopment of technical teachers.\n\nBooker Washington\u2019s own institution in Tuskegee has set the most\nadmirable example, and the most thoughtful men in the North and South\nalike are very ready to help along all his plans. They hope and believe\nthat so soon as the masses of coloured people have begun to show\nthemselves somewhat more useful to the industry of the country as\nhand-workers, expert labourers, and farmers, that then the mutual\nembitterment will gradually die out and the fight for social equality\nslowly vanish. For on this point the more thoughtful men do not deceive\nthemselves; social equality is nothing but a phrase when it is applied\nto the relation of millions of people to other millions. Among the\nwhites themselves no one ever thinks of any real social equality; the\nowner of a plantation no more invites his white workmen in to eat with\nhim than he would invite a coloured man. And when the Southern white\nreplies scornfully to any one who challenges his prejudices, with the\nconvincing question, \u201cWould you let your sister marry a nigger?\u201d he is\nforgetting, of course, that he himself would not let his sister marry\nnine-tenths of the white men of his community. Social equality can be\npredicated only of small groups, and in all exactness only of\nindividuals.\n\nThus it might be said that peace is advanced to-day chiefly by the\nincreasing exertions for the technical industrial education of the black\nworkman. But it is not to be forgotten that the negro himself, and with\nhim many philanthropists of the North, comprehends the whole situation\nvery differently from the Southern supporters of the movement. These\nlatter are contented with recent tendencies, because the negro\u2019s vote is\ncurtailed in the political sphere, and because he comes to be classed\nsocially with the day-labourer and artisan. The negro, however, looks on\nthis as a temporary stage in his development, and hopes in good time to\noutgrow it. He is glad that the election returns are no longer falsified\non his account, and that legal means have been resorted to. But of\ncourse he hopes that he will soon grow beyond these conditions, and be\nfinally favoured once more with the suffrage, just as any white man is.\n\nIt is much the same in the social sphere. He may be satisfied for the\npresent that the advantages of manual training and farm labour are\nbrought to the fore, but this must only be to lead his race up step by\nstep until it has developed from a mere working class to entire social\nequality. That which the negro approves for the moment is what any white\nman in the Southern States would fix as a permanent condition. And so it\nappears that even in this wise no real solution of the problem has been\nreached, although a cessation of hostilities has been declared. But all\nthese efforts on the part of leaders and philanthropists, these\ndeliberations of the best whites and blacks in both the North and South,\nare still far from carrying weight with the general public; and thus,\nalthough the beginnings toward improvement are good, it remains that on\nthe outside the situation looks to-day darker than ever before.\n\nWhoever frees himself from theoretical doctrines will hardly doubt that\nthe leading whites of the Southern States have to-day once more the\nbetter insight, since they know the negro better than the Northerners\ndo. They demand that this limitation of the negro in his political\nrights and in his daily occupation shall be permanent, and that thus an\norganic situation shall come about in which the negro, although far\nremoved from an undeserved slavery, shall be equally far from the\ncomplete enjoyment of that civilization which his own race has not\nworked out. That is, he is to be politically, economically, and socially\ndependent. If this had happened at the outset, the mutual hatred which\nnow exists would never have been so fierce; and if the African succeeds\nmaterially he will hardly notice the difference, while the white man\nwill feel with satisfaction that his superiority has been vindicated.\nThe condition of the island of Jamaica is a good instance in point. Its\ninhabitants are strikingly superior to the debased negroes of the\nRepublic of Hayti.\n\nBut it is not to be forgotten that history has repeatedly shown how\nimpossible it is for a people numbering millions, with limited rights,\nto dwell in the midst of an entirely free race. Oppression and injustice\nconstantly arise from the limitation of rights, and thence grow\nretaliation and crime. And the hour in which the American people narrow\ndown the rights of ten million blacks may be the starting-point for\nfearful struggles. The fact remains that the real solution of the\nquestion is nowhere in sight. The negro question is the only really dark\ncloud on the horizon of the American nation.\n\n\n\n\n                              CHAPTER NINE\n                     _Internal Political Problems_\n\n\nThe problems of population, especially those concerning the immigration\nand the negro, have taken considerable of our attention. We shall be\nable to survey problems of internal politics more quickly, since we have\nalready met most of them in considering the American form of government.\nThe insane programme of those who desire no government at all, that is,\nanarchy, is one of the American\u2019s political problems only when the deed\nof some foreign assassin gives him a sudden fright. Then all sorts of\npropositions are on foot to weed out anarchism stem and root; but after\na little time they subside. One sees how difficult it is to draw the\nlines, and the idea of suppressing free political speech is too much\nagainst the fundamental principles of the American democracy. But the\nfundamental principles of anarchism, or rather its fundamental\nconfusions, have so little hope of influencing the conservative ideas of\nthe Americans, that there need be no fear of anarchism creeping into the\nnational mind. In so far as there is any such problem in America, it is\nconnected solely with the question of immigration. Up to the present\ntime, the government has been content to forbid acknowledged anarchists\nto land; but this involves such an un-American intermeddling with\nprivate convictions that the regulation will hardly be tolerated much\nlonger. The true American, in any case, believes in state ordinances and\nloves his governmental machinery.\n\nThis apparatus itself of government has many details which offer\nproblems, indeed, and are much discussed. Some of its elements have been\nadded recently by President Roosevelt; the most important of them is the\nnewly created Department of Commerce and Labour. This new division of\nthe government, with over ten thousand officials, embraces also the\nBureau of Corporations, which is designed to collect statistics\nregarding trusts and the overcoming of their influence; but the struggle\npromises to be a two-sided one. To the present administration belongs\nalso the creation of a general staff for the Army, and on this head\nthere seems to be a unanimous opinion that the Army is distinctly\nbenefited by the measure. In some other directions, moreover, the\nmake-up of the Army has become more similar to European models; new\nschools of war have been founded and the plan of holding great man\u0153uvres\nintroduced. The weakness of the military system is that preferments go\naccording to seniority. It is clear to all that a merely mechanical\nadvancement of officers is not advantageous to the military service; and\nyet everybody is afraid, if the uniform principle is given up and\npersonal preferment is introduced, that all sorts of regrettable\npolitical and social influences will be brought to bear in the matter.\nMany persons see a difficult problem here; the young officer has almost\nno incentive to-day to special exertions.\n\nThe government has more and various plans with regard to the Navy.\nThere, too, it seems as if a general staff similar to that of the Army\nis indispensable. The steady growth of the Navy itself is assured, since\neveryone recognizes that America could not carry out its present policy\nwithout a strong fleet. The fleet, which dates virtually from 1882, won\nthe hearts of the imperialistic public by its victories at Manila and\nSantiago; and its growth is nowhere seriously opposed. Likewise, the\nNavy is introducing more large man\u0153uvres. The real difficulty lies in\nlack of men; it becomes more and more difficult to get officers and\nsailors; and even in the question of manning a ship, the inevitable\nnegro question plays a part.\n\nThere are many open questions also in regard to the diplomatic and\nconsular service. The United States maintains an uncommonly large number\nof consuls, whose enterprise is nowhere contested, but whose\npreparation, tact, and personal integrity often leave a good deal to be\ndesired. Their remuneration through fees contributes a good deal toward\ncreating unwholesome conditions. The personnel of the diplomatic service\nis perhaps still more unequal than that of the consular. Since early\ntimes the United States has had the discernment to send some of its most\ndistinguished men to fill important ambassadorial positions. At a time\nwhen the international relations of the country were still\ninsignificant, such a position was often given to distinguished authors\nand poets, who represented their country at a foreign court in an\nintellectual and cultivated way, and contributed much to its esteem.\nThis can happen no longer, and yet America has had again and again the\ngood fortune to send to diplomatic positions men of uncommon caliber;\nscholars like Andrew D. White, statesmen like John Hay, and brilliant\njurists like Choate. The danger still subsists, however, that men who\nare merely rich, and who have done small services to Senators, expect in\nreturn a diplomatic appointment, for the sake of the social glory. There\nis a growing desire to make the diplomatic service a regular career, in\nwhich a man progresses step by step.\n\nAs to the postal service, the foremost problem is now that of free\ndelivery in rural districts. The tremendous extent of the country and\nthe thinness of its population had at first made it a matter of course\nthat the farmer should fetch his own mail from the nearest village. The\nrural letter-carrier was unknown, as he is still unknown in small towns;\nevery man in the village goes to the post-office to get his newspapers\nand letters. But like every country at the present time, the United\nStates is trying to check the continual afflux of population into the\ncities. It is obvious that specially with the intellectual make-up of\nthe American, every effort must be made to make rural life less\nmonotonous and tiresome, and that it is necessary most of all to\nestablish ready communication between the remote farm-houses and the\nrest of the world. The more frequently and easily the farming people\nreceive their letters and magazines, so much the less do they feel\ntempted to leave the soil. For this reason the very expensive rural\ndelivery has spread rapidly. In the last year nine thousand new\nappointments were made in this service. Another important problem\nconnected with the Post-Office is the fact that it does not pay for\nitself, because it carries printed matter at unprofitably low rates, and\nin this way has stimulated to an extraordinary degree the sending of\ncatalogues and advertising matter. One can see how far this goes from\nthe fact that a short time ago a factory for medicine sent out so many\ncopies of a booklet advertising its specific through the so-called\n\u201ctestimonials,\u201d that a railway train with eight large freight cars was\nnecessary to carry them to the nearest post-office. Part of the\ndifficulty comes from the private ownership of the railroads, whose\ncontracts with the government for carrying the mails involve certainly\nno loss to the stockholders.\n\nIn similar wise, all of the great departments of government have their\nproblems, large or small, and the most important of these must be dealt\nwith when we come to speak of the economic situation. But there is one\nproblem that is common to all branches of the government; it is the most\nimportant one which concerns internal affairs, and although it is\ndiscussed somewhat less actively to-day than in former years, it\ncontinues none the less in some new form or other to worry the parties,\nthe government, and more especially public opinion. It is the question\nof civil-service reform.\n\nWe have touched on this question before when we spoke of the struggles\nbetween parties, and of the motives which bring the individual into the\nparty service. Some things remain to be said by way of completely\nelucidating one of the most important problems of American public life.\nTo commence with, if we abstract from the civil service in city and\nstate\u2014although the question is much the same there\u2014that is, if we take\ninto account only the federal service\u2014we find over a hundred thousand\nofficial appointments: and the question is\u2014Shall these appointments,\nwith their assured salaries, be distributed to adherents of the party in\npower, chiefly with reference to their services to the party, or shall\nthese positions be removed from all touch with the parties and given to\nthe best and ablest applicants? It is clear that the problem could\neasily be so exhibited that the appointment of the best and most capable\napplicant, without reference to his party, should seem to be absolutely\nand unequivocally necessary, and as if any other opinion could proceed\nonly from the desire to work corruption. The situation is not quite so\nsimple, however.\n\nIn the first place, every one is aware that the highest administrative\npositions are invariably places of confidence, where it is very\nnecessary that the incumbent shall be one in thought and purpose with\nthe Executive; and this is more than ever necessary in a democracy\ncomposed of two parties. If the majority of the people elects a certain\nPresident in order to carry out the convictions of one party in\nopposition to the other, the will of the people would be frustrated if\nthe upper members of the governmental staffs were not to be imbued with\nthe same party ideas. A Republican President could not work together\nwith a Democratic Secretary of State without sacrificing the efficiency\nof his administration, and struggling along on such compromises as would\nultimately make meaningless the existence of two organized parties. A\nRepublican Secretary of State must have, however, if he is to be spared\na good deal of friction, an assistant secretary of state with whom he is\npolitically in harmony; and so it goes on down.\n\nBut if we begin at the bottom and work up, the situation looks\ndifferent. The book-keeper to the ministry, the small postal clerk, or\nthe messenger boy in the treasury, has no opportunity to realize his\npersonal convictions. He has merely his regular task to perform, and is\nnot immediately concerned whether the policy of state is Republican or\nDemocratic, imperialistic or anti-imperialistic. We have then to\nask\u2014Where lie the boundaries between those higher positions in which the\nprivate convictions of the incumbents ought properly to be with the\nadministration, and those lower positions where party questions are in\nno way involved?\n\nOpinions vary very widely as to where this boundary lies. Some put it\nrather low, and insist that the American by his whole political training\nis so thoroughly a creature of the party, that true harmony in state\noffices can be had only if the whole service from top to bottom is\npeopled with adherents of the ruling party; and this opinion, although\nit may be refuted on good grounds, is neither absurd nor dishonest. The\npopulation of Germany is divided to-day into a civil and a\nsocial-democratic party, and it appears to the dominant civil party by\nno means unnatural to exclude the social-democrats so far as possible\nfrom participation in the public service.\n\nIt is quite possible, moreover, for each party to furnish competent\nincumbents for all the leading positions; and so long as capable men can\nbe found who will acquit themselves well in office, there is of course\nno reason for charging the party with greed or spoils-gathering, as if\nthe public funds were a pure gift, and it were unworthy to accept an\nofficial appointment given in recognition of services to the party. We\nhave already emphasized how extremely German conceptions differ from\nAmerican on this point, and how the customary reiteration in Germany of\nthe unfavourable comments made by certain American reform enthusiasts,\nleads to much misunderstanding. It is well-known that Germany has, for\ninstance, for the university professors a system of state appointment,\nwhich rests wholly on personal recommendation; this in sharp contrast to\nEngland, where the candidates for every vacant chair must compete, and\nwhere no one can be called who does not compete; or with France, where\nthe positions are awarded on the basis of an examination.\n\nThe considerations which we have stated are not at all to be taken as an\nargument against civil-service reform, but only as an indication that\nthe problem is complicated and has its pros and cons. In fact, the\ngrounds for the widest possible extension of a civil-service independent\nof party are many and urgent. In the first place, the service itself\ndemands it. The appointments by party are really appointments on the\nbasis of recommendations and wishes of political leaders. The Senators,\nfor instance, from a certain state advise the President as to who should\nbe appointed for postmasters in the most important post-offices; and the\nsmaller positions are similarly filled on the recommendation of less\ninfluential politicians.\n\nTherefore, it is only to a limited extent that there is any real\nestimation of the capacity and fitness of the proposed incumbent. Public\nopinion is always watchful, however, and the politician is generally\nafraid to press an appointment which he knows would be disapproved by\npublic opinion, or which would later be seen to be absurd, would damage\nhis own political credit, and perhaps even wreck his political future.\n\nIt is equally true that the political parties have become expert in\nsifting human material and finding just the right people for the places;\nand that, moreover, the American with his extraordinary capacity for\nadaptation and organization easily finds himself at home in any position\nand fills it creditably. And yet it remains, that in this way the best\nintentioned appointer works in the dark, and that a technical\nexamination would more accurately select the fittest man from among the\nvarious candidates.\n\nMost of all, by this method of appointment on the ground of political\ninfluence, where the petitions of the incumbent\u2019s local friends,\ncommendatory letters from well-known men, and the thousand devices of\nthe wire-puller play an important part, the feeling of individual\nresponsibility is always largely lost. The head of the department must\nrely on local representatives, and these politicians again know that\nthey do not themselves actually make the appointments; and the candidate\nis put into office with no exertion on his own part\u2014almost passively.\n\nIt is not to be denied that in this way many an unworthy man has come to\noffice. The very lowest political services have been rewarded with the\nbest positions. Political candidates have had to promise before their\nelection to make certain appointments to office which had nothing at all\nto do with the fitness of the appointee; and such appointee, when\nactually instated, has not only neglected his office, but sometimes\ncriminally misused it for embezzlement and fraudulent contracts, for\ngovernment deals in which he has had some personal advantage, or for the\nsmuggling in of friends and relatives to inferior positions. Politicians\nhave too often sought to exact all sorts of devious personal and\npolitical services from those whom they have previously recommended for\noffice in order to hush them up. Through the intrigues of such men all\nsorts of unnecessary positions have been created, in order to provide\nfor political friends from the public treasury; and the contest for\nthese personal nominations has consumed untold time and strength in the\nlegislative chambers. No one can fail to see that such sores will\ndevelop over and over in the political organism so long as the principle\nis recognized of making official appointments on the basis of party\nallegiance. While criminal misuse of such a practice is the exception,\nand the honourable endeavour to pick out the best candidates and their\nhonest performance of duty are the rule, nevertheless every thoughtful\nfriend of the country\u2019s welfare must wish to make all such exceptions\nimpossible.\n\nThere is another unfavourable effect which such a system must have,\nwithin the party itself. A man who is put into office by politicians,\nunless he is a strong man, will labour in the interests of his\nbenefactors, will carry party politics into places where they do not\nbelong, and be ready to let the party rob him of a certain portion of\nhis salary as a contribution to the party treasury, as has been\ncustomary for a long time. In this way salaries have been increased in\norder that a considerable portion might redound to the party treasury,\nand thus the means be won for bringing the party victoriously through\nthe next elections; and in this way the official has been able to assure\nhimself as good an office, or perhaps a better one, in the future. The\nsame thing happens once more in city politics where the funds levied on\ncity officials have made a considerable share of the party\u2019s assets.\nThere has been good reason, therefore, why public opinion has for a long\ntime demanded, and with increasing energy, an entire change in such a\nstate of things; and aside from the positions of actual confidence, in\nwhich in fact only men of a certain political faith could be of any\nservice, it has demanded that public offices be put on a non-partisan\nbasis and given out with a view solely to the efficiency of the\nappointee.\n\nSuch a problem hardly existed during the first forty years of American\nconstitutional government; officials were appointed in a business-like\nway. A man in office stayed there as long as he did his duties well, and\nthe advent of a new party in the higher positions had very little\ninfluence on the lower ones. It was deemed tyranny to dismiss a\ncompetent official in order to put a party adherent in his position. The\nstatistics show that at that time not more than forty-two changes on the\naverage were made on such political grounds every year. The opposite\npractice first arose in the cities, and especially in New York, whence\nit spread to the state, where in 1818 a whole regiment of party\nfollowers was established in the government offices of the state by Van\nBuren. And under President Jackson the principle finally became adopted\nin the federal government. About the year 1830, it became an unwritten\nlaw that official positions should be the spoils of victory at the\nelections and go to the favoured party. People were aware that there was\nno better way of getting party adherents to be industrious than to\npromise them positions if they would help the party to gain its victory.\nThe reaction commenced at about the middle of the last century, closely\nfollowing on a similar movement in England.\n\nAs the power of the English Parliament grew, popular representatives had\ndemanded their share in the distributing of offices, and an obnoxious\ntrading in salaries had become prevalent. When at last the abuses became\ntoo frequent, just before the middle of the last century, England\ninstituted official examinations in order to weed out the obviously\nunfit candidates. It was not really a true competition, since the\ncandidate was still appointed to office by the politicians. But the\nexamination made sure of a minimal amount of proper training.\n\nThe American Congress followed this example during the fifties. Certain\ngroups of minor positions were made, for which appointment could be had\nonly after an examination. England now went further on the same course,\nand America followed her lead. On both sides of the ocean the\ninsignificant examination of the candidate who had backing, became a\ngeneral examination for all who wished to apply; so that the position\ncame to be given to the best candidate. The Civil-Service Commission was\ninstituted by President Grant, and for thirty years its beneficent\ninfluence has steadily grown, and it has made great inroads on the old\nsystem. The regular politicians who could not endure being deprived of\nthe positions which they wished to pledge to their campaign supporters\nhave naturally tried time after time to stem the current, and with some\nsuccess. In 1875 Congress discontinued the salaries which had been paid\nthe Commissioners; then competitive examinations were given up, and in\ntheir stead single examinations instituted for candidates who had been\nrecommended by political influence.\n\nBut here, if anywhere, public opinion has been stronger than party\nspirit. Under President Hayes, and then under Garfield and Arthur, the\ncompetitive system was partly reinstated, and while the number of\npositions which were open only to those who had successfully passed the\npublic examinations increased, at the same time the reprehensible\ntaxation of officials for party ends was finally stopped. This did not\nprevent a certain smaller number of positions from retaining their\npartisan complexion; and the opinions and party creed of these\nincumbents continued to be important, so that whenever one party\nsucceeded another, a certain amount of change was still necessary. So\nthere remain two great divisions of the public service\u2014the political\noffices which the President fills by appointment in co-operation with\nthe Senate, and the so-called \u201cclassified\u201d offices which are given out\non the basis of public examinations. Public opinion and the sincere\nsupporters of civil-service reform, among whom is President Roosevelt\nhimself, are working all the time for an increase in the number of\nclassified positions and a corresponding decrease in the political\ngroup.\n\nThe open opponents of this movement, of whom there are many in both\nparties, are hard at work in the opposite direction, and are too often\nsupported by the faint-hearted friends of the reform, who recognize its\ntheoretical advantages, but have some practical benefit to derive by\npursuing the methods which they decry. There is no doubt that again in\nthe last ten years some steps have been taken backward, and on various\npretexts many important positions have been withdrawn from the\nclassified service and restored to Senatorial patronage.\n\nThe actual situation is as follows. There are 114,000 non-classified\npositions, with a total salary of $45,000,000, and 121,000 classified\npositions which bring a salary of $85,000,000. Among the former, where\nno competition exists, over 77,000 are postmasterships; then there are\nconsular, diplomatic, and other high positions, and a large number of\nplaces for labourers. In the classified service, there are 17,000\npositions for officials who live in Washington, 5,000 of which are in\nthe treasury. The committees on the commission have about 400 different\nkinds of examinations to give. Last year 47,075 persons were examined\nfor admission to the civil service; 21,000 of these for the government\nservice, 3,000 for the customs, and 21,000 for the postal service. There\nwere about 1,000 examinations more for advancements in office and\nexchange from one part of the service to another, and 439 persons were\nexamined for service in the Philippines. Out of all these applicants\n33,739 passed the examinations, and of these 11,764 obtained positions\nwhich are theirs for life, independent of any change which may take\nplace at the White House. It is a matter of course that the security\nwhich these positions give of life-long employment is the highest\nincentive to faithful service and conscientious and industrious labour.\n\nThe difference between the two services was again clearly brought out in\nthe last great scandal, which greatly stirred up the federal\nadministration. The Post-Office Department had closed a number of\ncontracts for certain utensils from which certain officials, or at least\ntheir relatives, made considerable profits. Everything had been most\ndiscreetly hidden, and it took an investigation of several months to\nuncover the crookedness. But when everything had come out, it appeared\nthat the officials who were seriously involved all belonged to the\nunclassified service, while the classified service of the Post-Office\nwas found to be an admirable example of conscientious and faithful\noffice-holding. Certain it is that such criminal misuse, even among the\nconfidential positions, is a rare exception; it is no less sure that the\ntemptations are much greater there. A man who holds office, not because\nhe is peculiarly fitted for it, but because he has been generally useful\nin politics, knowing as he does that the next time the parties change\nplaces his term of office will be up, will always be too ready to use\nhis position for the party rather than for the country, and finally for\nhimself and his pocket-book rather than for his party.\n\nNow, if civil-service reform is to spread or even to take no steps\nbackward, public opinion must be armed for continual battle against\nparty politicians. But it is an insult to the country when, as too often\nhappens, some one tries to make it appear that the opponents of reform\nare consciously corrupt. The difficulty of the problem lies just in the\nfact that most honourable motives may be uppermost on both sides; and\none has to recognize this, although one may be convinced that the\nreformer has the better arguments on his side. The filling of positions\nby party adherents, as a reward for their services, puts an\nextraordinary amount of willing labour at the service of the party. And\nundoubtedly the party system is necessary in America, and demands for\nits existence just such a tremendous amount of work. The non-classified\npositions are to the American party politicians exactly what the orders\nand titles which he can award are to the European monarch; and the\ndyed-in-the-wool party leader would in all honesty be glad to throw\noverboard the whole \u201chumbug\u201d of civil-service reform, since he would\nrather see his party victorious\u2014that is, his party principles\nacknowledged in high federal places\u2014than see his country served as\neconomically, faithfully, and ably as possible. In fact, the regular\nparty politician has come to look on the frequent shake-up among\noffice-holders as an ideal condition. Just as no President can be\nelected more than twice, he conceives it to be unsound and un-American\nto leave an official too long in any one position.\n\nThe full significance of the problem comes out when one realizes that\nthe same is true once more in the separate state, and again in every\nmunicipality. The states and cities have their classified service,\nappointment to which is independent of party allegiance, as of governor\nor mayor, and in addition to this confidential positions for which the\ngovernor and legislature or the mayor and city council are responsible.\nMunicipal service has attracted an increasing amount of public attention\nin recent years, owing to the extremely great abuses which it can\nharbour.\n\nFraudulent contracts, the grant of handsome monopolies to street\nrailway, gas, electric-light, telephone, and pier companies, the\npurchase of land and material for public buildings, and the laying out\nof new streets\u2014all these things, owing to the extraordinarily rapid\ngrowth of municipalities, afford such rich opportunities for theft, and\nthis can be so easily hidden from the state attorney, that frightfully\nlarge numbers of unscrupulous people have been attracted into public\nlife. And the more that purely municipal politics call for a kind of\nparty service which is very little edifying or interesting to a\ngentleman in frock and silk hat, so much the more other kinds of men\nforce their way into politics in large cities and get control of the\npopular vote, not in order to support certain principles, but to secure\nfor themselves positions from the winning party, of which the salary is\nworth something and the dishonest perquisites may be \u201cworth\u201d a great\ndeal more. Even here again the service to the city is not necessarily\nbad, and certainly not so bad as the scandal-mongering press of the\nopposite party generally represents it. Most of the office-holders are\ndecent people, who are contented with the moderate salary and modest\nsocial honour of their positions. Nevertheless, a good deal that is\nimpure does creep in, and the service would be more efficient if it\ncould be made independent of the party machine. Public opinion is sure\nof this.\n\nEach party is naturally convinced that the greatest blame belongs with\nthe other, and in strict logic one can no more accuse one party of\ncorruption than the other. The Republican party in a certain sense whets\nthe general instinct for greed more than the Democratic, so that its\nopponents like to call it \u201cthe mother of corruption.\u201d It is a part of\nthe Republican confession of faith, in consequence of its centralizing\nspirit, that the state cannot leave everything to free competition, but\nmust itself exert a regulating influence; thus the Republican does not\nbelieve in free-trade, and he thinks it quite right for an industry or\nany economic enterprise which is going badly, or which fancies that it\nis not prospering enough, or which for any reason at all would like to\nmake more money, to apply to the state for protection, and to be\nfavoured at the expense of the rest of the community. The principle of\ncomplete equality is here lost, and the spirit of preference, of favours\nfor the few against the many, and of the employment of public credit for\nthe advantage of the avaricious, is virtually recognized. And when this\nspirit has once spread and gone through all party life, there is no way\nof preventing a situation in which every one applies to the public funds\nfor his own enrichment, and the strongest industries secure monopolies\nand influence the legislatures in their favour by every means which the\nparty has at its disposal.\n\nThe Democrats, on the other hand, desire equal rights for all, and free\ncompetition between all economic enterprises; they approve of all\ncentrifugal and individualistic tendencies. And yet if the state does\nnot exert some regulative influence, the less moral elements of society\nwill misuse their freedom, and they will be freer in the end than the\ncitizens who scrupulously and strictly govern themselves. And the spirit\nof unrestraint and immorality will be ever more in evidence. The\nDemocratic party will be forced to make concessions to this idea if it\ndesires to retain its domination over the masses, and any one who first\nbegins to make concessions to individual crookedness is necessarily\ninoculated. Thus it happens that in the Republican party there is a\ntendency to introduce corruption from above, and in the Democratic party\nfrom below.\n\nIf in a large town, say, the Republican party is dominant, the chief\npublic enemies will be the industrial corporations, with their\ntremendous means and their watered securities; but if the Democratic\nparty is uppermost, the worst enemies will be the liquor dealers,\nprocurers, and gamblers. Correspondingly, in the former case, the honour\nof the city council which closes huge contracts with stock companies\nwill succumb, while in the latter it will be the conscience of the\npoliceman on the corner who pockets a little consideration when the\nbar-keeper wants to keep open beyond the legal hour. And since the\ntemptation to take small bribes are ten thousand times more frequent\nthan the chances for graft on a large scale, the total damage to public\nmorals is about the same in both cases. But we must repeat once more\nthat these delinquencies are after all the exception rather than the\nrule, and happily are for the most part expiated behind the bars of a\npenitentiary.\n\nMost of all, it must be insisted that public opinion is all the time\nfollowing up these excrescences on party life, and that public opinion\npresses forward year by year at an absolutely sure pace, and purifies\nthe public atmosphere. All these evil conditions are easy to change.\nWhen Franklin came to England he was alarmed to see what fearful\ncorruptions prevailed in English official life; such a thing was unknown\nat that time in America. Now England has long ago wiped out the blot,\nand America, which fell into its political mire a half-century later,\nwill soon be out again and free; just as it has got rid of other\nnuisances. Every year brings some advance, and the student of American\nconditions should not let himself be deceived by appearances.\n\nOn the surface, for instance, the last mayoralty election in New York\nCity would seem to indicate a downward tendency. New York two years\npreviously had turned out the scandalous Tammany Hall gang with Van Wyck\nand his brutal extortionist, Chief of Police Devery, by a non-partisan\nalliance of all decent people in the city. New York had elected by a\nhandsome majority Seth Low, the President of Columbia University, to be\nits mayor, and thereby had instated the principle that, the best\nmunicipal government must use only business methods and be independent\nof political parties. Seth Low was supported by distinguished reformers\nin both parties, and was brilliantly successful in placing the entire\ncity government on a distinctly higher level. The public schools, the\ngeneral hygiene, the highways, and the police force were all thoroughly\ncleansed of impure elements and reformed without regard to party, on the\npurest and most business-like principle.\n\nAnd then came the day for another election. Once more the independent\nvoters, including the best men in both parties, the intellectual leaders\nand the socially dominant forces of the city, were banded together again\nto save their city of three million inhabitants from party politics, and\nto insure by their co-operation a continuance of the honest,\nbusiness-like administration. They made Seth Low their candidate again;\nhe was opposed by McClellan, the candidate of Tammany Hall, the party\nwhich loudly declares that \u201cTo the victors belong the spoils,\u201d and that\nthe thousands of municipal offices are to be the prey of party\nadherents. This was the candidate of the party which admitted that all\nthe hopes of the worst proletariat, of prostitution and vagabondage,\ndepended on its success; the candidate of a party which declared that it\nwould everywhere rekindle the \u201cred light,\u201d that it would not enforce the\nunpopular temperance laws, and that it would leave the city \u201cwide open.\u201d\nOn the day of election 251,000 votes were cast for Mayor Low, but\n313,000 for Colonel McClellan.\n\nNow, does this really indicate that the majority of the city of New York\nconsists of gamblers, extortioners, and criminals? One who read the\nRepublican campaign literature issued before the election might suppose\nso. After reading on every street corner and fence and on giant banners\nthe campaign cry, \u201cVote for Low and keep the grafters out,\u201d one might\nthink that 300,000 pick-pockets had united to force out a clean\nadministration and to place corruption on the throne. But on looking\nmore closely at the situation one must see that no such thing was in\nquestion. Seth Low had furnished a clean administration, yet not a\nperfect one, and his mistakes had so seriously disaffected many citizens\nthat they would rather endure the corruption of Tammany Hall than the\nbrusqueness and various aggravations which threatened from his side.\n\nOf these grievances, a typical one was the limitation of German\ninstruction in the public schools. From the pedagogical point of view,\nthis was not wholly wrong; and leading educationists, even German ones,\nhad recommended the step. But at the same time the great German\npopulation was bitterly offended, and the whole discussions of the\nschool board had angered the German citizens enough to cool off\nconsiderably their enthusiasm for reform. Then on top of this, Low\u2019s\nadministration had rigorously enforced certain laws of Sunday observance\nwhich the German part of the population cordially hated. Here, too,\nMayor Low was undoubtedly right; he was enforcing the law; but when two\nyears previously he had wished to win over the German vote, he had\npromised more than he could fulfill. But, most of all, Seth Low was\nsocially an aristocrat, who had no common feeling with the masses; and\nwhenever he spoke in popular assemblies he displayed no magnetism. Every\none felt too keenly that he looked down on them from his exalted social\nheight.\n\nAgainst him were the Tammany people, of whom at least one thing must be\nsaid: they know the people and their needs. They have grown up among the\npeople. In contrast to many a Republican upstart who, according to the\nEuropean fashion, is servile to his superiors and harsh with his\ninferiors, these Tammany men are harsh to their superiors\u2014that is, they\nshake the nerves of the more refined\u2014but are servile before the masses\nand comply with every wish. And most of all, they are really the friends\nof the populace, sincerely true and helpful to it. Moreover, just these\ngreat masses have more to suffer under a good administration than under\nthe corrupt government which lets every one do as he likes. These people\ndo not notice that the strict, hygienic administration reduced the\ndeath-rate and the list of casualties, and improved the public schools;\nbut they notice when for such improvements they have to pay a cent more\nin taxation, or have to put safer staircases or fire-escapes on their\nhouses, or to abandon tottering structures, or if they are not allowed\nto beg without a permit, or are forbidden to throw refuse in the\nstreets. In short, these people notice a slight expense or an\ninsignificant prohibition, and do not see that in the end they are\ngreatly benefited. And so, when the day of reckoning comes, when the\nelection campaigns are fought, in which distinguished reformers deliver\nscholarly addresses on the advantages of a non-partisan administration\nwhile the candidates of the people excite them with promises that they\nshall be free from all these oppressive burdens\u2014it is no wonder that\nSeth Low is not returned to the City Hall, and that McClellan, who by\nthe way is a highly educated and cultured politician, is entrusted with\nthe city government.\n\nSuch an outcome is not a triumph for vice and dishonour. In two years\nthe reformers will probably conquer again, since every administration\nmakes its enemies and so excites opposition. But there can be no doubt\nthat even on this occasion public opinion, with its desire to reform,\nhas triumphed, although the official friends of reform were outdone;\nsuch a man as the former Chief of Police, Devery, will be impossible in\nthe future. Public opinion sees to it that when the two parties stand in\nopposition the fight is fought each successive time on a higher level.\nAnd Tammany of to-day as compared with the Tammany of years gone by is\nthe best evidence for the victory of public opinion and the reformers.\n\n\n\n\n                              CHAPTER TEN\n                     _External Political Problems_\n\n\nThe attitude of America in international affairs can hardly be referred\nto any one special trait of mind. If one were to seek a simple formula,\none would have to recognize in it a certain antithesis of mood; an\nopposition which one encounters in the American people under the most\nvaried circumstances, and which perhaps depends on the fact that it is a\npeople which has developed an entirely new culture, although on the\nbasis of the high culture of the Old World. When we come to speak of\nAmerican intellectual life we shall have again to consider this\nextraordinary combination of traits. The people are youthful and yet\nmature; they are fresher and more spontaneous than those of other mature\nnations, and wiser and more mature than those of other youthful nations;\nand thus it is that in the attitude of the Americans toward foreign\naffairs the love of peace and the delight in war combine to make a\ncontrast which has rarely been seen. Doubtless there is an apparent\ncontradiction here, but this contradiction is the historical mark of the\nnational American temperament; and it is not to be supposed that the\ncontradiction is solved by ascribing these diverse opinions to diverse\nelements in the population, by saying, for instance, that one group of\ncitizens is more warlike, another more peaceable; that perhaps the love\nof hostile interference springs from the easily excited masses, while\nthe love of peace is to be sought in their more thoughtful leaders, or\nthat perhaps, on the other hand, the masses are peaceably industrious\nwhile their leaders draw them into war.\n\nSuch is not at all the case. There is not any such contrast between the\nmasses and the classes; personal differences of opinion there are and\nsome individuals are more volatile than others, but the craze for\nexpansion in its newest form finds strong supporters and violent\nopponents in all parties and occupations. The most characteristic\nfeature is, that just those who show the love for war most energetically\nare none the less concerned, and most earnestly so, for the advance of\npeace. President Roosevelt is the most striking example of the profound\ncombination of these opposing tendencies in one human breast.\n\nEvery movement toward peace, in fact every international attempt toward\ndoing away with the horrors of war, has found in the New World the most\njealous and enthusiastic supporters; whenever two nations have come to\nblows the sympathies of the Americans have always been on the side of\nthe weaker nation, no matter which seemed to be the side of justice. And\nthe mere circumstance that two nations have gone to war puts the\nstronger power in a bad light in the eyes of America.\n\nThe nation has grown strong by peaceful industry; its greatest strength\nhas lain in trade and the arts, its best population has come across the\nocean in order to escape the military burdens of Europe; and the policy\nof the founders of the Republic, now become a tradition, was always to\nhold aloof from any dealings with the quarrelsome continent of Europe.\nDuring the short time of its existence, the United States has settled\nforty-nine international disputes in a peaceable court of arbitration,\nand oftentimes these have been in extremely important matters; and\nAmerica has been a party in over half of the disputes which have been\nsettled before a court of arbitration in recent times. America was an\nimportant participant in the founding of the Peace Tribunal at The\nHague. When negotiations for that tribunal threatened to be frustrated\nby the opposing nations of Europe, the American government sent its\nrepresentatives to the very centre of the opposition, and won a victory\nfor the side of peace.\n\nIt is almost a matter of course that it is the munificent gift of an\nAmerican which has erected a palace at The Hague for this international\nPeace Tribunal. While the European nations are groaning under the burden\nof their standing armies, and are weakened by wars over religious\nmatters or the succession of dynasties, happy America knows nothing of\nthis; her pride is the freedom of her citizens, her battles are fought\nout at the ballot-box. The disputes between sects and royal houses are\nunknown in the New World; its only neighbours are two oceans on the east\nand west, and on the north and south good friends. No end of progress\nremains to be made, but everything works together under the protection\nof the American Constitution to produce a splendid home in the New World\nfor peace. America is the one world power which makes for peace; and it\nwill only depend on the future growth of this nation, which has been\nordained to become such an example, whether the idea of peace will\nfinally prevail throughout the world over the immoral settlement of\ndisputes by mere force of arms.\n\nAll this is not merely the programme of a party or of a group of people,\nbut the confession of faith of every American. The American finds no\nproblem here, since none would dispute the contention. It has all\nimpressed itself so fully on the consciousness of the American people\nthat it gives to the whole nation a feeling of moral superiority. Nor is\nthis merely the pathos uttered in moral orations; it is the conviction\nwith which every child grows up and with which every farmer goes to his\nplough, every artisan and merchant to his machine and desk, and the\nPresident to his executive chamber. And this conviction is so admirable\nthat it has always been contagious, and all Europe has become quite\naccustomed to considering the Republic across the water as the firmest\npartisan of peace. The Republic has in fact been this, is now, and\nalways will be so; while the riddle is\u2014how it can be such a friend of\npeace when it was conceived in war, has settled its most serious\nproblems by war, has gone to war again and again, has almost played with\ndeclarations of war, is at war to-day, and presumably will be at war\nmany times again.\n\nThe Spanish war has shown clearly to European onlookers the other side\nof the shield, and many have at once concluded that the boasted American\nlove of peace has been from the first a grand hypocrisy, that at least\nunder McKinley\u2019s administration an entirely new spirit had suddenly\nseized the New World. But McKinley\u2019s predecessor, Cleveland, in the\ndisputes arising between England and Venezuela, had waved the sabre\nuntil it hissed so loudly that it was not at all due to the American\nlove of peace but rather to England\u2019s preoccupation in the Transvaal\nwhich prevented the President\u2019s message and the national love of\ninterference from stirring up a war. And it is now several years since\nthe successor of McKinley moved into the White House, yet McKinley\u2019s war\nis still going on; for although a war has never been officially declared\nin the Philippines, war seems the only correct name for the condition\nwhich there prevails.\n\nThis Philippine question is a real political problem. That America is to\nserve the interests of peace is certain; every one is agreed on that;\nand the great majority of the people was also enthusiastically in favour\nof ending the Spanish misrule in Cuba. But the same is not true of the\nwar in the Philippines, and becomes less true every day. The enthusiasts\nhave subsided, the masses have become indifferent, while the politicians\ncarry on the discussion; and since it is a question of motives which\ncannot be put aside for the present, and which at any time may so excite\nthe nation as to become the centre of political discussion, it is well\nworth while to look more fully into these points.\n\nThe imperialists say that the events in the Pacific Ocean have followed\nexactly the traditions of the land; that expansion has always been a\nfundamental instinct of the nation; that its whole development shows\nthat from the day when the Union was founded it commenced to increase\nits territory. The tremendous expansion gained by the purchase of\nLouisiana was followed by the annexation of Florida, and still later by\nthat of the great tract called Texas. In the war with Mexico the region\nbetween Texas and California was acquired. Alaska was next gathered in.\nThe narrow strip originally occupied by the Thirteen States became a\nhuge country within a century, and thus the nation simply remains true\nto its traditions in stretching out over the ocean and carrying the\nStars and Stripes toward Asia.\n\nTo this the anti-imperialists reply, on the contrary, that the United\nStates is repudiating an honourable history and trampling down that\nwhich has been sacred for centuries. For if there has been any\nunderlying principle at all to guide the United States in moments of\nperplexity, it has been a firm faith in the rights of people to govern\nthemselves. The United States has never exchanged or acquired a foot of\nland without the consent of those who dwelt thereon. Where such lands\nhave held nothing but the scattered dwellings of isolated colonists\nthere existed no national consent to be consulted, and where there were\nno people no national self-government could come in question; neither\nLouisiana, California, nor Alaska was settled by a real nation, and\nTexas had of itself decided to become independent of Mexico. But the\nPhilippines are inhabited by ten million people, with striking national\ntraits and an organized will; and the United States, for the first time\nin history, now misuses its strength by oppressing another nation and\nforcing its own will on a prostrate people.\n\nNow the imperialists reply they do not mean at all to dispute the right\nof self-government, a principle on which the greatness of our nation is\nfounded. But it is a narrow and absurd conception of self-government\nwhich regards every people, however backward and unruly, capable\nthereof, and divinely privileged to misrule itself. The right of\nself-government must be deserved; it is the highest possession of\ncivilized nations, and they have earned it by labour and\nself-discipline. The Americans derive their right to govern themselves\nfrom the toil of thirty generations. The Filipinos have still to be\neducated up to such a plane. To this the anti-imperialists enquire, Is\nthat to be called education which subdues, like rebels, a people\ndesirous of freedom? Are you helping those people by sending soldiers to\nassert your sovereignty?\n\nAnd the imperialists reply again that we have sufficiently shown, in the\ncase of Cuba, how seriously we take our moral obligations toward weaker\npeoples. When we had done away by force of arms with all Spanish\ndomination in America, and had Cuba quite in our power, all Europe was\nconvinced that we should never relax our hold, and that the war would\nresult simply in a mere annexation of the rich island; in short, that we\nshould pursue a typical European policy. But we have shown the world\nthat America does not send her sons to battle merely for aggrandizement,\nbut only in a moral cause; just as we demanded of the conquered\nSpaniards no indemnity, so we have made a general sacrifice for Cuba. We\nhave laboured tirelessly for the hygiene and the education of the\nisland, have strengthened its trade and awakened to new life the country\nwhich had been desolated by Spanish misrule, and, having finished the\nwork, we have restored to Cuba her freedom and her right of\nself-government; and we recognize that we owe a similar duty to the\nPhilippines. We have not sought to obtain those islands. At the outset\nof the war no American foresaw that the island kingdom in the tropics,\nten thousand miles away, would fall into our hands; but when the chain\nof events brought it about, we could not escape the call of duty. Were\nwe to leave the discontented Philippine population once more to the\ncruelty of their Spanish masters, or were we to displace the Spaniards\nand then leave the wild race of the islands to their own anarchy, and\nthus invoke such internal hostilities as would again wipe out all the\nbeginnings which had been made toward culture? Was it not rather our\nduty to protect those who turned to us, against the vengeance of their\nenemies, and before all else to establish order and quietude? The\nanti-imperialists retort\u2014the quietude of a grave-yard. If America\u2019s\npolicy had been truly unselfish, it should have made every preparation\nfor dealing with the Philippines as it had dealt with Cuba; instead of\nfighting with the Filipinos we should at once have co-operated with\nAguinaldo and sent over a civil instead of a military regiment. Nor is\nthe world deceived into supposing that our boasted civil rule in the\nPhilippines is anything more than a name, used in order somewhat to\npacify the sentimentalists of the New England States; while in reality\nour rule is a military one, and the small success of a few well-meaning\ncivil officials merely distracts the world\u2019s attention from the constant\noutbreaks of war. We have not worked from the point of view of the\nPhilippines, but from that of the United States.\n\nThe imperialists answer that it is no disgrace to have been patriotic to\nour Fatherland; the national honour requires us, indeed, to remain for\nthe present in the Philippines, and not to take down the flag which we\nhave hoisted so triumphantly. We should not flee before a few\ndisaffected races living in those islands. Then the other side replies,\nyou have not protected the honour of your nation, but you have worked\nits disgrace. The honour of America has been the moral status of its\narmy; it was America\u2019s boast that its army had never lost the respect of\nan enemy, and that it had held strictly aloof from every unnecessary\ncruelty. But America has learned a different lesson in the Philippines,\nand such a one as all thoughtful persons have foreseen; for when a\nnation accustomed to a temperate climate goes to the tropics to war with\nwild races which have grown up in cruelty and the love of revenge, it\nnecessarily forgets its moral standards, and gives free rein to the\nlowest and worst that is in it. The American forces have learned there,\nto their disgrace, to conquer by deception and trickery; to be cruel and\nrevengeful, and so return torture for torture.\n\nThen the imperialists say that this is not a question of the army which\nwas landed in the tropical islands, but of the whole American people,\nwhich undertook new duties and responsibilities for the islands, and\nwished to try, not only its military, but also its political, economic,\nand social powers along new lines. A people also must grow and have its\nhigher aspirations. The youthful period of the American nation is over;\nmanhood has arrived, when new and dangerous responsibilities have to be\nassumed. To this the anti-imperialists reply, that a nation is surely\nnot growing morally when it gives up the principles which have always\nbeen its sole moral strength. If it gives up believing in the freedom of\nevery nation and carries on a war of subjugation, it has renounced all\nmoral development, and instead of growing it begins internally to decay.\nBut this, the imperialists say, is absurd\u2014since, outwardly, at least, we\nare steadily growing; our reputation before other nations is increasing\nwith our military development; we have become a powerful factor in the\npowers of the world, and our Philippine policy shows that our navy can\nconquer even in remote parts of the earth, and that in the future\nAmerica will be a power to reckon with everywhere. But, on the contrary,\nsay the others, our nation held a strong position so long as, in\naccordance with the Monroe Doctrine, it was able to keep any European\npower from getting a foothold on the American continents, and so long as\nwe made the right of self-government a fundamental principle of our\ninternational politics. But the instant we adopted a policy of conquest\nand assumed the right to subjugate inferior peoples because our armies\nwere the stronger, the Monroe Doctrine became at once and for the first\ntime an empty phrase, if not a piece of arrogance. We are no better than\nthe next nation; we have no right to prevent others from acting like\nourselves, and we have sacrificed our strong position, and shall be led\nfrom war to war, and the fortunes of war are always uncertain.\n\nThe imperialists reply somewhat more temperately:\u2014Ah, but the new\nislands will contribute very much to our trade. Their possession means\nthe beginning of a commercial policy which will put the whole Pacific\nOcean at the disposal of the American merchant. Who can foresee what\ntremendous developments may come from availing ourselves of regions\nlying so advantageously? When Congress in 1803 started to buy the great\nProvince of Louisiana from France, there were also narrow-minded\nprotests. At that time, too, anti-imperialists and fanatics became\nexcited, and said that it was money thrown away; the land would never be\npopulated. While to-day, a hundred years later, the world prepares to\ncelebrate the anniversary of the purchase of Louisiana by a magnificent\nexposition at St. Louis\u2014a transaction which has meant for the country a\ntremendous gain in wealth and culture. America is destined to be the\nmistress of the Pacific Ocean, and as soon as the canal is built across\nthe isthmus the economic importance of the Philippines will appear more\nclearly every day. The anti-imperialists deny this. The financial\nstatement of the entire war with Spain to the present moment shows that\n$600,000,000 have been wasted and ten thousand young men sacrificed\nwithout any advantage being so much as in sight. Whereto the\nimperialists reply:\u2014There are other advantages. War is a training. The\nbest thing which the nation can win is not riches, but strength; and in\nthe very prosperity of America the weakening effect of luxury is greatly\nto be feared. The nerves of the nation are steeled in the school of war,\nand its muscles hardened. But the other side says that our civilization\nrequires thousands of heroic deeds of the most diverse kinds, more than\nit needs those of the field of battle; and that the American doctrine of\npeace is much better adapted to strengthen the moral courage of the\nnation and to stimulate it than the modern training of war, which, in\nthe end, is only a question of expenditure and science. What we chiefly\nneed is serious and moral republican virtue. The incitements toward\nacquisition and the spirit of war, on the other hand, destroy the spirit\nof our democracy, and breed un-American, autocratic ambitions. War\nstrengthens the blind faith of the leaders in their own dictatorial\nsuperiority, and so annihilates the feeling of independence and\nresponsibility in the individual; and this is just the way for the\nnation to lose its moral and political integrity. The true patriotism\nwhich our youth ought to learn is not found in noisy jingoism, but in\nthe silent fidelity to the Declaration of Independence of our fathers.\n\nThus the opinions are waged against one another, and so they will\ncontinue to be. We must emphasize merely again and again that that\nmajority which to-day is on the side of the imperialists believes at the\nsame time enthusiastically in the international movement for peace, and\nquite disinterestedly favours, as far as possible, the idea of the peace\ntribunal. Most of all, the treatment of Cuba certifies to the honourable\nand peaceful tendencies of the dominant party. That which was done under\nWood\u2019s administration for the hygiene of a country which had always been\nstricken with yellow fever, for the school and judicial systems of that\nunfortunate people, is remarkable; and the readiness with which the new\nrepublic was afterward recognized, and with which, finally, by special\ntreaties extensive tariff reductions were made to a people really\ndependent on trade with America, makes one of the most honourable pages\nin American history. And all this happened through the initiative of\nthese same men whose Philippine policy has been styled in the Senate\nNapoleonic. Thus the fact remains that there is an almost inexplicable\nmixture in the American nature of justice and covetiveness, conscience\nand indifference, love of peace and love of war.\n\nThe latest phase in expansion has been toward the south. America has\nassumed control of Panama. Constitutionally, the case is somewhat\ndifferent here. Panama belonged to the Republic of Colombia, and when\nthe government of Colombia, which conducts itself for the most part like\nthe king and his advisers in a comic opera, tried to extort more money\nthan was thought just from Washington before it would sign the treaty\ngiving the United States a right to build a canal through Panama, and at\nfirst pretended to decline the treaty altogether, a revolution broke out\nin the part of the country which was chiefly affected. Panama declared\nitself an independent state, and the United States recognized its claim\nto independence, and concluded the canal treaty, not with Colombia, but\nwith the upstart government of Panama. This was really part and parcel\nof the general imperialistic movement. We need not ask whether the\nAmerican government encouraged Panama to secede; it certainly did\nnothing of the sort officially, although it is perfectly certain that\nthe handful of people in Panama would not have had the slightest chance\nof escaping unpunished by Colombia if it had not been for American\nprotection; indeed, it seemed to feel sure beforehand that the United\nStates would keep Colombia at bay. And in fact, the baby republic was\nrecognized with all the speed of telegraph and cable, and the treaty was\nsigned before Panama had become quite aware of its own independence;\nwhile at the same time Colombia\u2019s endeavour to bring the rebellious\ndistrict into line was suppressed with all the authority of her mighty\nneighbour.\n\nIt is not to be denied that this transaction called into play new\nprinciples of international politics; nor can it be excused on the\nground that new governments have been quickly recognized before. Never\nbefore had the United States declared a rebellion successful so long as\nthe old government still stood, and the new one was able to hold out\nonly by virtue of the interference of the United States itself. It is to\nbe admitted that this was an imperialistic innovation, as was the\nsubjugation of the Filipinos. But we should not be so narrow as to\ncondemn a principle because it is new. All past history makes the\nexpansion of American influence necessary; the same forces which make a\nstate great continue to work through its later history. America must\nkeep on in its extension, and if the methods by which the present\nnations grow are necessarily different from those by which the little\nUnion was able to stretch out into uninhabited regions a hundred years\nago, then, of course, the expansion of the twentieth century must take\non other forms than it had in the nineteenth. But expansion itself\ncannot stop, nor can it be altered by mere citations from the\nDeclaration of Independence, or pointings to the petty traditions of\nprovincial days. The fight which the anti-imperialists are waging is\nthoroughly justified in so far as it is a fight against certain\noutgrowths of such expansion which have appeared in the Philippines, and\nmost of all when it is against the loss to the Republic, through\nexpansion, of its moral principles and of its finer and deeper feelings\nthrough the intoxication of power. But the fight is hopeless if it is\nwaged against expansion itself. The course of the United States is\nmarked out.\n\n                  *       *       *       *       *\n\nIt requires no special gift of prophecy to point out that the next\nexpansion will be toward the north. Just as the relations in Panama were\nfairly obvious a half year before the catastrophe came, the suspicion\ncannot be now put by that at a time not far hence the Stars and Stripes\nwill wave in the northwestern part of Canada, and that there too the\nUnited States will be unwilling to lower its flag.\n\nA newspaper is published in Boston which announces every day, at the top\nof the page, in bold type, that it is the first duty of the United\nStates to annex Canada. On the other hand, one hears the opinion that\nnothing could be worse for the United States than to receive this\nimmense, thinly populated territory even as a gift. There are the same\ndifferences of opinion on the other side of the boundary; some say that\nthe Canadians are glad to be free from the problems which face the\nUnited States, from its municipal politics, its boss rule in political\nparties, and from the negro and Philippine questions, and that Canadian\nfidelity to the English Crown is not to be doubted for a moment. While\nothers admit quite openly that to be annexed to the United States is the\nonly natural thing that can happen to Canada. The immediate future will\nprobably see some sort of compromise. It is wholly unlikely that the\neastern part of Canada, in view of all its traditions, will prove untrue\nto its mother country; whereas the western part of Canada is under\nsomewhat different economic conditions; it has so different a history,\nand is to-day so much more closely related to the United States than to\nEngland that the political separation will hardly continue very long.\nThe thousands who have gone from the United States across the Canadian\nfrontier in order to settle the unpeopled Northwest will, in the not\ndistant future, give rise to some occasion in which economic and\npolitical logic will decree a transfer of the allegiance of Western\nCanada, with the exception of a narrow strip of land along the Pacific\nCoast. The area of the United States would then include a new region of\nabout 250 million acres of wheat lands, of which to-day hardly two\nmillions are in cultivation.\n\nThe Canadian problem, of course, arose neither to-day nor yesterday. The\nfirst permanent colony in Canada was a French colony, begun in the year\n1604. Frenchmen founded Quebec in the year 1608, and French settlements\ndeveloped along the St. Lawrence River. In the year 1759 General Wolfe\nconquered Quebec for the English, and in the following year the whole of\nCanada fell into their power. English and Scotch immigrants settled more\nand more numerously in Upper Canada. The country was divided in 1791 in\ntwo provinces, which were later called Ontario and Quebec; and in 1867,\nby an act of the British Parliament, Ontario, Quebec, New Brunswick, and\nNova Scotia were made into one country. A short time thereafter the\ngovernment of the new country bought the possessions of the Hudson Bay\nCompany, and soon afterward the large western region called Manitoba was\norganized as a distinct province. In 1871 British Columbia was taken in,\nand in the eighties this extensive western land was divided into four\nprovinces. During this time there were all sorts of interruptions, wars\nwith the Indians, and disputes over boundaries; but there has never been\nopen warfare between Canada and the United States. The many\ncontroversies that have arisen have been settled by treaty, and a court\nof arbitration met even recently in London to settle a dispute about\nboundaries which for many years had occasioned much feeling. It was a\nquestion whether the boundary of the Northwest should lie so as to leave\nto Canada a way to the coast without crossing United States territory.\nThe boundaries were defined by the treaties as lying a certain distance\nfrom the coast; was this coast meant to be mainland, or was it coastline\nmarked out by the off-lying groups of islands? This was a question of\ngreat economic importance for a part of Canada. The court decided in\nfavour of the United States, but the decision does not belong on one of\nthe most honourable pages of American history. It had been agreed that\nboth England and the United States should appoint distinguished jurists\nto the court of arbitration; and this the English did, while the United\nStates sent prejudiced politicians. This has created some embitterment\nin Canada, and the mood is not to-day entirely friendly, although this\nwill doubtless give way in view of the great economic development which\nworks toward union with the United States.\n\nSuch a union would be hindered very much more by the friendly relations\nexisting between the United States and England. At the time when the\nfamily quarrel between mother and daughter countries had made an open\nbreach, it seemed almost certain that America would take the first good\nopportunity of robbing England of her Canadian possessions. Even before\nthe early colonies decided on revolution, they tried to draw the\nnorthern provinces into their train. And when the new Union was formed,\nit seemed a most natural thing for all English speaking inhabitants of\nthe American Continent to participate therein. It was no friendliness\ntoward England that diverted the expansion of the young country toward\nthe south rather than toward the north. It was rather the influence of\nthe Southern States of the Federation which encouraged the expansion\ntoward the south, because in that way their adjacent territory was\nincreased, and therewith the number of the slave states represented in\nCongress; and the institution of slavery was thereby better protected\nfrom Northern interference. England was the hereditary foe of the\ncountry for an entire century, and every school boy learned from his\nhistory book to hate England and to desire revenge. But this has been\nwholly changed in recent years by the sympathy which John Bull showed\nduring the Spanish war, and by his far-seeing magnanimity shown on a\nhundred occasions. There are already preparations making for a special\ncourt of arbitration to sit on all Anglo-American disputes, and the mood\nof the American people is certainly inclined to avoid everything that\nwould unnecessarily offend England. American politicians would thus\nhesitate very long before attempting so bold a step as the annexation of\nCanada; and thus it is that the Canadian problem gets into the programme\nof neither party. Another consideration which perhaps makes a difference\nis that no party is quite sure which side would be the gainer; whether\namong the millions of people in the Canadian West there would be found\nto be more Republicans or Democrats. Therefore, Canada is not now an\nissue between the parties. Nevertheless, the problem grows more and more\nimportant in public opinion, and however much Congress may be concerned\nto avoid a war with England, and determined never deliberately to bring\nabout any disloyalty in Canada, we may be certain that once the American\nfarmers and gold miners in Northwestern Canada have set the pro-American\nball rolling, then the general mood will speedily change and the\nfriendly resolutions toward England which will be proposed by Senators\nwill sound very feeble.\n\nThe most natural desire, which seems to be wide-spread, is for\nreciprocity with Canada. Both countries are aware that they are each\nother\u2019s best purchasers, and yet they put difficulties in the way of\nimporting each other\u2019s products. American industry has already invested\nmore than $100,000,000 for branch factories in Canada, in order to avoid\nduties; and the industry of New England would doubtless be much\nbenefited if Canadian coal might be delivered duty-free along the\nAtlantic coast; nevertheless, the chief disadvantages in the present\narrangements fall to Canada. A treaty was concluded in 1854 which\nguaranteed free entrance to the markets of the United States for all\nCanadian natural products, and during the twelve years in which the\ntreaty was in force, Canadian exports increased fourfold. Then the\nAmerican protective tariff was restored; and while, for example, the\nagricultural products which Canada sold to the United States in 1866\namounted to more than $25,000,000, they had decreased by the beginning\nof the twentieth century to $7,367,000; and all Canadian exports to the\nUnited States, with the exception of coin and precious metals, in spite\nof the tremendous growth of both countries, had increased at the same\ntime only 5 per cent. Canada, on the other hand, contented herself with\nmodest duties, so that the commerce of the United States with Canada has\nincreased from $28,000,000 in the year 1866 to $117,000,000 in the year\n1900. The necessary result of this policy of exclusion on the part of\nthe United States has necessarily been closer economic relations between\nCanada and England. The Canadian exports to Great Britain have increased\nsteadily, and the bold plans of those who are to-day agitating a tariff\nunion for all Great Britain would, of course, specially benefit Canadian\ncommerce.\n\nBut the United States knows this, and does not fail to think on the\nfuture. The agitation for new commercial treaties with Canada does not\nspring from the supporters of free-trade, but from some most\nconservative protectionists, and may be ascribed even to McKinley and\nDingley; and this agitation is steadily growing. On the other hand,\nCanada is by no means unanimously enthusiastic for the universal British\nreciprocity alliance. The industrial sections of Eastern Canada see\nthings with different eyes from the agrarians of Western Canada, and\nopinions are just as diverse as they are in England. The economic needs\nof the East and West are so fundamentally different, and since the West\nso greatly needs reciprocity, it is coming more and more to look for a\nsolution of this problem by seeking, through a union of the West with\nthe United States, all that which England cannot offer. The government\nof Canada, which comprises remarkably effective and intelligent men, is\naiming to nip the incipient disaffection of the West in the bud, by\nmeans of its railroad policy. Railroad lines connect to-day the western\nportion of Canada much more closely with the eastern portion than with\nthe northern parts of the United States.\n\nThe economic possibilities of Western Canada are enormous, and would\nsuffice for a population of a hundred million. The supply of lumber\nexceeds that of the United States. Its gold regions are more extensive,\nits coal and iron supplies are inexhaustible, its nickel mines the\nrichest in the world; it has twice the supply of fish of the United\nStates, and its arable lands could feed the population of the United\nStates and Europe together. Everything depends on making the most of\nthese possibilities, and the Canadian of the West looks with natural\nenvy on the huge progress which the entirely similar regions of the\nUnited States are making, and is moved to reflect how different things\nwould be with him if only the boundary lines could be altered.\n\nMore than anything else, however, the Westerner feels that a spirit of\nenterprise, industrial energy, and independent force is needed to\nexploit these enormous natural resources, such as the inhabitants of a\ndependent colony can never have. Even when a colony like Canada\npossesses a certain independence in the administration of its own\naffairs, it is still only the appearance and not the fact of\nself-government. One sees clearly how colourless and dull the\nintellectual life of Canada is, and how in comparison with the very\ndifferent life of England on the one hand, and of the United States on\nthe other, the colonial spirit saps and undermines the spirit of\ninitiative. The people do not suffer under such a rule; they do not feel\nthe political lack of fresh air, but they take on a subdued and listless\nway of life, trying to adapt themselves to an alien political scheme,\nand not having the courage to speak out boldly. This depression is\nevinced in all their doings; and this is not the spirit which will\ndevelop the resources of Western Canada. But this infinite, new country\nattracts to its pioneer labours fresh energies which are found south of\nthe Canadian line and across the ocean. The Scotch, Germans, Swedes, and\nespecially Americans emigrate thither in great numbers. The farmers in\nthe western United States are to-day very glad to sell their small\nholdings, in order to purchase broad tracts of new, fresh ground in\nCanada, where there is still no lack of room. They will be the leaders\nin this new development of the West. And while they bring with them\ntheir love of work and enterprise, they are of course without sympathy\nwith Canadian traditions; nor do they feel any patriotism toward the\ncountry: their firmest convictions point toward such political freedom\nas the United States offers. Whether the tariff schemes of England will\nbe able to win back some advantages for Canada, only the future can say.\nIt is more likely that inasmuch as the Philippine agitation has extended\nthe influence of the United States into the tropics, the climatic\nequilibrium will be restored by another extension into the Canadian\nNorthwest.\n\n                  *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe relations of the United States to Cuba and to the Philippines, to\nPanama and to Canada, have been regulated by the immediate needs of the\ncountry without bringing into special prominence any general principles.\nEconomic interest and general ethics have so far sufficed, and only here\nand there has mention been made of the fundamental doctrines contained\nin the Declaration of Independence. The case of South America is quite\ndifferent; the policy of the United States toward South America is\ndictated to-day neither by economic interests nor moral principles; in\nfact, it is a mockery of morals and a great prejudice to American\nindustry. The sole source of this policy is an abstract political\ndoctrine, which a long time ago was both economically and morally\nnecessary, but is to-day entirely without value; this is the Monroe\nDoctrine. The observance of this famous doctrine is one of the most\ninteresting instances of the survival of an outlived political\nprinciple, and the blind way in which this prejudice is still favoured\nby the masses, so that even the leading politicians would not dare, at\nthe present time, to defend the real interests of the country by\nopposing this doctrine, shows clearly how democracy favours rule of\nthumb, and how the American people is in its thought conservative to the\nlast degree. The Monroe Doctrine has done the United States good\nservice, and redounded to both its profit and its honour. And so no one\nventures to disturb it, although it has long ceased to bring anything\nexcept disadvantage. Some of the best people know this; but where the\npeople rule it is as true as where a monarch rules, that the misfortune\nof rulers is not to wish to hear the truth.\n\nThe blind folly of the Americans in holding tenaciously to the\nantiquated Monroe Doctrine is surpassed only by the madness of those\nEuropeans who wish to take up arms against that doctrine. All the\ndeclarations of the Old World to the effect that the Monroe Doctrine is\nan unheard of piece of arrogance, and that the Americans have no right\nto assert themselves in such a way, and that it is high time forcibly to\ncall their right in question, are historically short-sighted as well as\ndangerous. They are unhistorical, because there really was a time when\nthis doctrine was necessary to the existence of the United States, and\nwhen, therefore, the country had a right to assert such doctrine; and\nnow that it has been silently respected for a hundred years, any protest\nagainst it comes too late. Opposition to the doctrine from the side of\nEurope would be foolish, because no European country has any really\nvital reason for calling it in question, and there would be a very\nlively war indeed if Europe were to try to overstep the Monroe Doctrine\nas long as the great mass of the American people still hold it sacred.\nThe Monroe Doctrine must and will succumb, but it will only be through\nthe convictions of the Americans, never because some European nation\nthreatens to batter down the wall. The logic of events is, after all,\nstronger than the mere inertia of inherited doctrines. The hour seems\nnear when the error and folly of the Monroe Doctrine are about to be\nfelt in wider circles than ever before. The opposite side is already\nably supported in addresses and essays. Soon the opposition will reach\nthe newspapers, which are to-day, of course, still unanimous on the\npopular side; and whenever a wholesome movement commences among the\nAmerican people it generally spreads with irresistible speed. We have\nseen how rapidly the imperialistic idea took hold on the masses, and the\nrepudiation of the theory of Monroe will follow quite as rapidly; since\nthe nation cannot, for the sake of a mere whim, permanently forget its\nbest interests. It is only a question of overcoming the inertia of long\ncustom.\n\nThe spirit of the Monroe Doctrine was abroad long before the time of\nMonroe. It was agreed, from the earliest days of the federal government,\nthat the new nation should keep itself clear of all political\nentanglement with Europe, that it would not mix in with the destinies of\nEuropean peoples, and that it would expect of those peoples that they\nshould not spread the boundaries of their possessions over to the\nAmerican continents. When President Washington, in 1796, took his\nfarewell of the nation, he recommended an extension of commercial\nrelations with Europe, but entire aloofness from their political\naffairs. \u201cThe nations of Europe,\u201d he said, \u201chave important problems\nwhich do not concern us as a free people. The causes of their frequent\nmisunderstandings lie far outside of our province, and the circumstance\nthat America is geographically remote will facilitate our political\nisolation, and the nations who go to war will hardly challenge our young\nnation, since it is clear that they will have nothing to gain by it.\u201d\n\nThis feeling, that America was to have nothing to do with European\npolitics, and that the European nations should on no condition be\nallowed to extend their sphere of action on to the American continents,\ngrew steadily. This national conviction rested primarily on two motives:\nfirstly, America wanted to be sure of its national identity. It felt\ninstinctively that, if it were to become involved in European conflicts,\nthe European powers might interfere in the destinies of the smaller and\ngrowing nation, and that the danger of such interference would increase\ntremendously if the great nations of Europe were to gain a foothold in\nthe neighbourhood of the young republic on this side of the ocean. In\nthe second place, this nation felt that it had a moral mission to\nperform. The countries of Europe were groaning under oppression, whereas\nthis nation had thrown off the English yoke, and proposed to keep the\nnew continent free from such misrule. In order to make it the theatre\nfor an experiment of modern democracy, no absolute monarchs were to set\nfoot in this new world; the self-government of the people was to remain\nunquestioned, and every republic was to be free to work out its own\nsalvation.\n\nThus the desire for self-protection and a moral interest in the fight\nagainst absolutism have prescribed a course of holding aloof from\nEuropean affairs, and of demanding that Europe should not reach out\ntoward the American continents. This has become a cardinal principle in\nAmerican politics. The opportunity soon came to express this principle\nvery visibly in international politics. The Holy Alliance between\nAustria, Russia, and Prussia was believed by America, ever since 1822,\nto have been arranged in order to regain for Spain the Spanish colonies\nin South America. England wished to ally itself with the United States;\nbut they, with excellent tact, steered their course alone. In 1822 the\nUnited States recognized the independence of the Central American\nrepublics; and in 1823, President Monroe, in his message to Congress,\nwhich was probably penned by John Quincy Adams, who was then Secretary\nof State, set down this policy in black and white. Monroe had previously\nasked ex-President Jefferson for his opinion, and Jefferson had written\nthat our first and fundamental maxim should be, never to involve\nourselves in European disputes; and our second, never to permit Europe\nto meddle in cis-Atlantic affairs, North and South America having their\nown interests, which are fundamentally different from those of Europe.\nNow the message of President Monroe contained the following\ndeclarations: \u201cThat we should consider any attempt on their part [of the\nallied powers] to extend their system to any portion of this hemisphere\nas dangerous to our peace and safety,\u201d and \u201cthat we could not view any\ninterposition for the purpose of oppressing [governments on this side of\nthe water whose independence we had acknowledged], or controlling in any\nmanner their destiny by any European power, in any other light than as a\nmanifestation of an unfriendly disposition toward the United States.\u201d\n\nThus the famous Monroe Doctrine was announced to the world, and became\nan international factor sufficiently potent even to prevent Napoleon\nfrom realizing his plans regarding Mexico, and in more recent times to\nprotect Venezuela from the consequences of her misdeeds. And although,\nat just that time of the Venezuelan dispute, the old Monroe Doctrine was\nin so far modified that the Presidential message conceded to European\npowers their right to press their claims by force of arms, so long as\nthey claimed no permanent right of occupation, nevertheless the\ndiscussions ended with the extreme demand that foreign powers should be\ncontent with the promise of a South American state to pay its debts, and\nshould receive no security; nor did the United States give security for\nthe payment, either. After eighty years the doctrine is still asserted\nas it has been from the first, although the situation is in all respects\nvery different. A few brief instances of these changes must suffice us.\n\nIn the first place, the two fundamental motives which gave rise to the\ndoctrine, and in which all important documents are so clearly enunciated\nfrom the time of Washington to that of Monroe, have long since ceased to\nexist. The contrast between Europe as the land of tyranny and America as\na democratic free soil, no longer holds; nor can the notion be bolstered\nup any longer, even for political ends. In the first place all countries\nof Western Europe now enjoy popular representation, while the Latin\nrepublics of South America, with the exception of Chili and the\nArgentine Republic, are the most absurd travesties of freedom and\ndemocracy. Conditions in Venezuela and Colombia are now pretty well\nknown. It has been shown, for instance, that about one-tenth of the\npopulation consists of highly cultivated Spaniards, who take no part in\npolitics, and suffer under a shameless administrative misrule; that some\neight-tenths more are a harmless and ignorant proletariat of partly\nSpanish and partly Indian descent\u2014people who likewise have no political\ninterest, and who are afraid of the men in power\u2014while the remaining\ntenth, which is of mixed Spanish, Indian, and negro blood, holds in its\nhands the so-called republican government, and keeps itself in power\nwith every device of extortion and deception, and from time to time\nsplits up into parties which throw the whole country into an uproar,\nmerely for the personal advantages of the party leaders.\n\nEven in America there is no longer a political back-woodsman who\nsupposes that a republic like what the founders of the United States had\nin mind, can ever be made out of such material; and when, in spite of\nthis, as in the negro question, some one gets up at the decisive moment\nof every discussion and tries to conjure with the Declaration of\nIndependence, even such an appeal now often misses its effect. Since the\nAmericans have gone into the Philippines they can no longer hold it an\naxiom that every government must be justified by the assent of the\ngoverned. People have learned to understand that the right of\nself-government must be earned, and is deserved only as the reward of\nhard work; that nations which have not yet grown to be orderly and\npeaceable need education like children who are not yet of age and do not\nknow what is good for them. To say that the pitiable citizen of a\ncorrupt South American republic is freer than the citizen of England,\nFrance, or Germany would be ridiculous; to protect the anarchy of these\ncountries against the introduction of some European political system is\nat the present time not a moral obligation, surely, which the American\nRepublic need feel itself called on to perform. The democratic idea, as\nrealized in American life, has become much more influential on the\ngovernments of Europe than on those of South America, notwithstanding\ntheir lofty constitutions, which are filled with the most high-flown\nmoral and philosophical utterances, but are obeyed by no one.\n\nNow the other motive which supported the Monroe Doctrine, namely, the\nsecurity of the United States and of their peaceful isolation, has\nto-day not the slightest validity; on the contrary, it is the\nsuperstitious faith in this doctrine which might conceivably endanger\nthe peace of the country. Of course, this is only in so far as the\ndoctrine applies to South America, not to Central America. It would\nindeed be impossible for the United States to allow, say Cuba, in\npassing from Spanish hands, to come into possession of another European\nnation; in fact, no part of Central America could become the seat of new\nEuropean colonies without soon becoming a seat of war. The construction\nof the canal across the isthmus confirms and insures the moral and\npolitical leadership of the United States in Central America and the\nAntilles. But the situation is quite different in South America. The\nAmericans are too apt to forget that Europe is much nearer to the United\nStates than, for instance, the Argentine Republic, and that if one wants\nto go from New York to the Argentine Republic, the quickest way to go is\nby way of Europe. And the United States have really very little\nindustrial intercourse or sympathy with the Latin republics. A European\npower adjoins the United States from the Atlantic to the Pacific Ocean;\nand the fact that England, at one time their greatest enemy, abuts along\nthis whole border has never threatened the peace of the United States;\nbut it is supposed to be an instant calamity if Italy or England or\nHolland gets hold of a piece of land far away in South America, in\npayment of debts or to ensure the safety of misused colonists.\n\nSo long as the United States were small and weak, this exaggerated fear\nof unknown developments was intelligible; but now that the country is\nlarge and strong, and the supposed contrast between the Old and New\nWorlds no longer exists, since the United States are much more nearly\nlike the countries of Europe than like the South American republics, any\nargument for the Monroe Doctrine on the ground of misgivings or fear\ncomes to be downright hysterical. In the present age of ocean cables,\ngeographical distances disappear. The American deals with the\nPhilippines as if they were before his door, although they are much\nfarther from Washington than any South American country is from Europe.\nOccasions for dispute with European countries may, on the other hand,\ncome up at any time without the slightest reference to South America,\nsince the United States have now become an international power; it\nrequires merely an objectionable refusal to admit imports, some\ndiplomatic mishap, or some unfairness in a matter of tariff.\n\nIf, on the other hand, the European countries were to have colonies in\nSouth America, as they have in Africa, no more occasions for complaint\nor dissatisfaction would accrue to the United States than from the\nsimilar colonies in Africa. No Russian or French or Italian colony in\nSouth America would ever in the world give rise to a difficulty with the\nUnited States through any real opposition of interests, and could only\ndo so because a doctrine forbidding such colonies, which had been\nadopted under quite different circumstances, was still bolstered up and\ndefended. If the Monroe Doctrine were to-day to be applied no farther\nthan Central America, and South America were to be exempted, the\npossibilities of a conflict with European powers would be considerably\ndecreased. That which was meant originally to guarantee peace, has,\nunder the now wholly altered conditions, become the greatest menace of\nwar.\n\nBut the main point is not that the motives which first led to the Monroe\nDoctrine are to-day invalid; the highest interests of the United States\ndemand that this moribund doctrine be definitely given up. In the first\nplace, it was never doubted that the exclusion of the Old World\ncountries from the new American continents was only the conclusion of a\npremise, to the effect that the Americans themselves proposed to confine\ntheir political interests to their own continent. That was a wise policy\nin the times of Washington and Monroe; and whether or not it would have\nbeen wise in the time of McKinley, it was in any case at that time\nthrown over. The Americans have united with the European forces to do\nbattle in China; they have extended their own dominion toward Asia; they\nhave sent men-of-war to Europe on political missions; in short, the\nAmericans have for years been extending their political influence around\nthe world, and Secretary Hay has for a long time played an influential\npart in the European concert of powers. The United States have too often\ndefended their Monroe claim on the ground of their own aloofness from\nthese powers to feel justified in urging the claim when they no longer\ndo keep aloof.\n\nThere is another and more important consideration. The real interest of\nthe United States with regard to South America is solely that that land\nshall develop as far as possible, that its enormous treasures shall be\nexploited, and that out of a prosperous commercial continent important\ntrade advantages shall accrue to the United States. This is possible\nonly by the establishment of order there\u2014the instant termination of\nanarchy. As long as the Monroe Doctrine is so unnecessarily held to, the\nmiserable and impolitic stagnation of that ravaged country can never be\nbettered, since all the consequences of that doctrine work just in the\nopposite direction. It is sufficiently clear that progress will not be\nmade until fresh, healthy, enterprising forces come in from outside; but\nnow so soon as an Englishman or German or other European undertakes to\nearn his livelihood there, he is at once exposed to the shameless\nextortion and other chicanery of the so-called governments. And when\nEuropean capital wishes to help the development of these countries, it\nis given absolutely no protection against their wretched politics. And\nall this is merely because the chartered rascals in power know that they\ncan kill and steal with impunity, so long as the sacred Monroe Doctrine\nis there, like an enchanted wall, between them and the mother countries\nof their victims; they know only too well that no evil can come to them,\nsince the statesmen at Washington are bound down to a prejudice, and\nrequired scrupulously to protect every hair on their precious heads. All\nthis prevents any infusion of good blood from coming into these\ncountries, and so abandons the land entirely to the indolence of its\ninhabitants. The conditions would be economically sounder, in almost\nevery part of South America, if more immigrants came in, and more\nespecially if those that came could take a larger part in the\ngovernments.\n\nIt would be somewhat different if the United States were to admit, as a\nconsequence of the Monroe Doctrine, its own responsibility for the\npublic administration of these countries, for their debts and for\nwhatever crimes they commit; in other words, if the United States were\nvirtually to annex South America. There is no thought of this; the\nUnited States have recently, in the Venezuela matter, clearly declined\nall responsibility. If, while declining the responsibility, the United\nStates persist in affirming the Monroe Doctrine, they are to be charged\ninevitably with helping on anarchy, artificially holding back the\nprogress of one of the richest and least developed portions of the\nearth, and thereby hurting their own commercial outlook more than any\nEuropean protective tariff could possibly do. The greater part Europe\ntakes in South America, so much the more will trade and commerce\nprosper; and in this pioneer labour, as history has shown, the patient\nGerman is the best advance-agent. Almost all the commercial relations\nbetween the United States and the South American republics are meditated\nby European, and especially German, business houses. The trade of the\nUnited States with South America is to-day astonishingly small, but when\nfinally the Monroe barrier falls away it will develop enormously.\n\nIn all this America has not, from its previous policy, derived even the\nmodest advantage of endearing itself to the inhabitants of these South\nAmerican republics. Quite on the contrary, the Monroe Doctrine sounds\nlike the ring of a sword in the South American ear. The American of the\nsouth is too vividly reminded that, although the province of the United\nStates is after all only a finite portion of the New World, the nation\nhas, nevertheless, set itself up as the master of both continents; and\nthe natural consequence is, that all the small and weak countries join\nforces against the one great country and brood continually over their\nmistrust. The attempts of the United States to win the sympathies of the\nrest of America have brought no very great results\u2014since, in the States,\nsympathy has been tempered with contempt, and in South America with\nfear. In short, the unprejudiced American must come back every time to\nthe _ceterum censeo_ that the Monroe Doctrine must finally be given up.\n\nOne point, however, must always be emphasized\u2014that all the motives\nspeaking against the doctrine will be efficient only so far as they\nappeal to the soul of the American people, and overthrow there the\neconomically suicidal Monroe Doctrine. On the other hand, Europe would\ngain nothing by trying to tear in pieces the sacred parchment; no\npossible European interest in South America would compare in importance\nwith the loss of friendship of the United States. And so long as the\noverwhelming majority of Americans holds to its delusions, the hostility\nwould be a very bitter one. Indeed, there would be no surer way of\nstopping the gradual abandonment of the doctrine than for Europe to\nattempt to dispute its validity.\n\nThe process of dissolution must take place in America; but the natural\ninterest and needs of the country so demand this development that it may\nbe confidently expected. A new time has come: the provinciality of the\nMonroe Doctrine no longer does for America as a world power, and events\nfollow their logical development; the time will not be long before the\nland of the Stars and Stripes will have extended across Western Canada\nto Alaska, and have annexed the whole of Central America; while the\nLatin republics of South America, on the other hand, will have been\nsprinkled in with English, Italian, French, and German colonies; and\nmost of all, those republics themselves, by the lapse of the Monroe\nDoctrine, will have been won over to law and order, progress and\neconomic health. The United States are too sound and too idealistic to\ncontinue to oppose the demands of progress for the sake of a mere\nfetish.\n\nThus the dominion of this world power will grow. The influence of the\nArmy, and even more of the Navy, will help in this growth; even if the\ndreams of Captain Hobson are not realized. To be sure, the dangers will\nalso grow apace; with a great navy comes the desire to use it.\nNevertheless, one must not overlook the fact that international politics\nare much less a subject of public thought and discussion in America than\nin Europe. For the American thinks firstly of internal politics, and\nsecondly of internal politics, and lastly of internal politics; and only\nat some distant day does he plan to meditate on foreign affairs. Unless\nthe focus of public attention is distinctly transferred, the idea of\nexpansion will meet with sufficient resistance to check its undue\ngrowth.\n\nThere is specially a thorough-going distrust of militarism, and an\ninstinctive fear that it works against democracy and favours despotism;\nand there is, indeed, no doubt that the increasingly important relations\nbetween this country and foreign powers put more authority into the\nhands of the Presidential and Senatorial oligarchy than the general\npublic likes to see. Every slightest concealment on the part of the\nPresident or his Cabinet goes against the feelings of the nation, and\nthis state of feeling will hardly alter; it comes from the depths of the\nAmerican character. On the other hand, it is combined with a positive\nbelief in the moral mission of the United States, which are destined to\ngain their world-wide influence, not by might, but by the force of\nexemplary attainment, of complete freedom, admirable organization, and\nhard work. Any one who observes the profound sources of this belief will\nbe convinced that any different feelings in the public soul, any greed\nof power, and any imperialistic instincts, are only a passing\nintoxication. In its profoundest being, America is a power for peace and\nfor ethical ideals.\n\n\n\n\nPART TWO\nECONOMIC LIFE\n\n\n\n\n                             CHAPTER ELEVEN\n                    _The Spirit of Self-Initiative_\n\n\n\u201cThe spirit aids! from anxious scruples freed, I write, \u2018In the\nbeginning was the deed!\u2019\u201d Others might write: In the beginning was the\ninexhaustible wealth of the soil; and still others, if their memory is\nshort, might be tempted to say: In the beginning were the trusts! One\nwho wishes to understand the almost fabulous economic development of the\nUnited States must, indeed, not simply consider its ore deposits and\ngold mines, its coal and oil fields, its wheat lands and cotton\ndistricts, its great forests and the supplies of water. The South\nAmericans live no less in a country prospered by nature, and so also do\nthe Chinese. South Africa offers entirely similar conditions to those of\nthe North American continent, and yet its development has been a very\ndifferent one; and, finally, a consideration of the peculiar forms of\nAmerican industrial organization, as, for instance, the trusts, reveals\nmerely symptoms and not the real causes which have been at work.\n\nThe colossal industrial successes, along with the great evils and\ndangers which have come with them, must be understood from the make-up\nof the American character. Just as we have traced the political life of\nAmerica back to a powerful instinct for self-determination, the free\nself-guidance of the individual, so we shall here find that it is the\ninstinct for free self-initiative which has set in motion this\ntremendous economic fly-wheel. The pressure to be up and doing has\nopened the earth, tilled the fields, created industries, and developed\nsuch technical skill as to-day may even dream of dominating the world.\n\nBut to grant that the essentials of such movements are not to be found\nin casual external circumstances, but must lie in the mental make-up of\nthe nation, might lead in this case to ascribing the chief influence to\nquite a different mental trait. The average European, permeated as he is\nwith Old World culture, is, in fact, convinced that this intense\neconomic activity is the simple result of unbounded greed. The search\nfor gold and the pursuit of the dollar, we often hear, have destroyed in\nthe American soul every finer ambition; and since the American has no\nhigher desire for culture, he is free to chase his mammon with\nundisguised and shameless greed. The barbarity of his soul, it is said,\ngives him a considerable economic advantage over others who have some\nheart as well as a pocket-book, and whose feelings incline to the\nhumane.\n\nWhether such a contemptuous allegation is a useful weapon in the\neconomic struggle, is not here in question. One who desires to\nunderstand the historical development of events in the New World is\nbound to see in all such talk nothing but distortion, and to realize\nthat Europe could face its own economic future with less apprehension if\nit would estimate the powers of its great competitor more temperately\nand justly, and would ask itself honestly if it could not learn a thing\nor two here and there.\n\nMerely to ape American doings would, in the end, avail nothing; that\nwhich proceeds from intellectual and temperamental traits can be\neffectively adopted by others only if they can acquire the same traits.\nIt is useless to organize similar factories or trusts without imitating\nin every respect the men who first so organized themselves. Whether this\nlast is necessary, he alone can say who has understood his neighbours at\ntheir best, and I has not been contented to make a merely thoughtless\nand uncharitable judgment. A magnificent economic life such as that of\nAmerica can never spring from impure ethical motives, and the person is\nvery na\u00efve who supposes that a great business was ever built up by mere\nimpudence, deception, and advertising. Every merchant knows that even\nadvertisements benefit only a solid business, and that they run a bad\none into the ground. And it is still more na\u00efve to suppose that the\neconomic strength of America has been built up through underhanded\ncompetition without respect to law or justice, and impelled by nothing\nbut a barbarous and purely material ambition. One might better believe\nthat the twenty-story office buildings on lower Broadway are supported\nmerely by the flagstones in the street; in point of fact, no mere\npasser-by who does not actually see the foundations of such colossal\nstructures can have an idea of how deep down under the soil these\nfoundations go in order to find bed-rock. Just so the colossal fabric of\nAmerican industry is able to tower so high only because it has its\nfoundation on the hard rock of honest conviction.\n\nIn the first place, we might look into the American\u2019s greed for gold. A\nGerman observes immediately that the American does not prize his\npossessions much unless he has worked for them himself; of this there\nare innumerable proofs, in spite of the opposite appearances on the\nsurface. One of the most interesting of these is the absence of the\nbridal dower. In Germany or France, the man looks on a wealthy marriage\nas one of the most reliable means of getting an income; there are whole\nprofessions which depend on a man\u2019s eking out his entirely inadequate\nsalary from property which he inherits or gets by marriage; and the\neager search for a handsome dowry\u2014in fact, the general commercial\ncharacter of marriage in reputable European society everywhere\u2014always\nsurprises Americans. They know nothing of such a thing at home. Even\nwhen the parents of the bride are prosperous, it is unusual for a young\ncouple to live beyond the means of the husband. Everywhere one sees the\ndaughters of wealthy families stepping into the modest homes of their\nhusbands, and these husbands would feel it to be a disgrace to depend on\ntheir prosperous fathers-in-law. An actual dowry received from the\nbride\u2019s parents during their lifetime is virtually unknown. Another\ninstance of American contempt for unearned wealth, which especially\ncontrasts with European customs, is the disapproval which the American\nalways has for lotteries. If he were really bent on getting money, he\nwould find the dower and the lottery a ready means; whereas, in fact,\nthe lottery is not only in all its forms forbidden by law, but public\nopinion wholly disapproves of games of chance. The President of Harvard\nUniversity, in a public address given a short time since, in which he\nspoke before a large audience of the change in moral attitude, was able\nto give a striking illustration of the transformation in the fact that\ntwo generations ago the city of Boston conducted a lottery, in order to\nraise money for rebuilding a university structure which had been\ndestroyed by fire. He showed vividly how such a transaction would be\nentirely unthinkable to-day, and how all American feelings would revolt\nat raising money for so good a cause as an educational institution by so\nimmoral a means as a public lottery. The entire audience received this\nas a matter of course, apparently without a suspicion as to how many\ncathedrals are being built in Europe to-day from tickets at half a\ndollar. It was amusing to observe how Carnegie\u2019s friend, Schwab, who had\nbeen the greatly admired manager of the steel works, fell in public\nesteem when news came from the Riviera that he was to be seen at the\ngaming-tables of Monaco. The true American despises any one who gets\nmoney without working for it. Money is not the thing which is\nconsidered, but the manner of getting it. This is what the American\ncares for, and he prizes the gold he gets primarily as an indication of\nhis ability.\n\nAt first sight it looks as if this disinclination to gambling were not\nto be taken seriously. It would signify nothing that the police discover\nhere and there a company of gamblers who have barricaded the door; but a\nEuropean might say that there is another sort of speculative fever which\nis very prevalent. Even Americans on the stock exchange often say, with\na smile: We are a gambling nation; and from the point of view of the\nbroker it would be so. He sees how all classes of people invest in\nspeculative securities, and how the public interests itself in shares\nwhich are subject to the greatest fluctuations; how the cab-driver and\nthe hotel waiter pore nervously over the quotations, and how new mining\nstocks and industrial shares are greedily bought by school teachers and\ncommercial clerks. The broker sees in this the people\u2019s desire for\ngambling, because he is himself thoroughly aware of the great risks\nwhich are taken, and knows that the investors can see only a few of the\nfactors which determine prices.\n\nBut in the public mind all this buying and selling looks very different.\nThe small man, investing a few dollars in such doubtful certificates,\nnever thinks of himself as a gambler; he thinks that he understands the\nmarket; he is not trusting to luck, but follows the quotations day by\nday for a long time, and asks his friends for \u201ctips,\u201d until he is\nconvinced that his own discretion and cunning will give him an\nadvantage. If he were to think of his gain as matter of chance, as the\nbroker thinks it is, he would not only not invest his money, but would\nbe no longer attracted by the transactions. And whenever he loses, he\nstill goes on, believing that he will be able the next time to figure\nout the turn of the market more accurately.\n\nThe same is true of the wagers which the Anglo-Saxon is always making,\nbecause he loves excitement. For him a wager is not a true wager when it\nis merely a question of chance. Both sides make calculations, and have\ntheir special considerations which they believe will determine the\noutcome, and the winner feels his gain to be earned by his shrewdness.\nAn ordinary game of chance does not attract the American\u2014a fact which\nmay be seen even in the grotesque game of poker. In a certain sense, the\nAmerican\u2019s aversion to tipping servants reveals, perhaps, the same\ntrait. The social inferiority which he feels to be implied in the\nacceptance of a fee, goes against the self-respect of the individual;\nbut there is the additional disinclination here to receiving money which\nis not strictly earned.\n\nThere are positive traits corresponding to these negative ones; and\nespecially among them may be noticed the use to which money is put after\nit is gotten. If the American were really miserly, he would not\ndistribute his property with such a free hand. Getting money excites\nhim, but keeping it is less interesting, and one sees not seldom the\nrichest men taking elaborate precautions that only a small part of their\nmoney shall fall to their children, because they think that the\npossession of money which is not self-earned is not a blessing. From\nthese motives one may understand at once the magnificent generosity\nshown toward public enterprises.\n\nPublic munificence cannot well be gauged by statistics, and especially\nnot in America. Most of the gifts are made quietly, and of course the\nsmall gifts which are never heard about outweigh the larger ones; and,\nnevertheless, one can have a fair idea of American generosity by\nconsidering only the large gifts made for public ends. If we consider\nonly the gifts of money which are greater than one thousand dollars, and\nwhich go to public institutions, we have in the year 1903 the pretty sum\nof $76,935,000. There can be no doubt that all the gifts under one\nthousand dollars would make an equal sum.\n\nOf these public benefactions, $40,700,000 went to educational\ninstitutions. In that year, for instance, Harvard University received in\nall $5,000,000, Columbia University $3,000,000, and Chicago University\nover $10,000,000; Yale received $600,000, and the negro institute in\nTuskegee the same amount; Johns Hopkins and the University of\nPennsylvania received about half of a million each. Hospitals and\nsimilar institutions were remembered with $21,726,000; $7,583,000 were\ngiven to public libraries, $3,996,000 for religious purposes, and\n$2,927,000 to museums and art collections. Any one who lives in America\nknows that this readiness to give is general, from the Carnegies and\nRockefellers down to the working-men, and that it is easy to obtain\nmoney from private purses for any good undertaking.\n\nOne sees clearly, again, that the real attraction which the American\nfeels for money-making does not lie in the having but only in the\ngetting, from the perfect equanimity, positively amazing to the\nEuropean, with which he bears his losses. To be sure, his irrepressible\noptimism stands him in good stead; he never loses hope, but is confident\nthat what he has lost will soon be made up. But this would be no comfort\nto him if he did not care much less for the possession than for the\ngetting of it. The American chases after money with all his might,\nexactly as on the tennis-court he tries to hit the ball, and it is the\ngame he likes and not the prize. If he loses he does not feel as if he\nhad lost a part of himself, but only as if he had lost the last set in a\ntournament. When, a short time ago, there was a terrific crash in the\nNew York stock market and hundreds of millions were lost, a leading\nParisian paper said: \u201cIf such a financial crisis had happened here in\nFrance, we should have had panics, catastrophies, a slump in _rentes_,\nsuicides, street riots, a ministerial crisis, all in one day: while\nAmerica is perfectly quiet, and the victims of the battle are sitting\ndown to collect their wits. France and the United States are obviously\ntwo entirely different worlds in their civilization and in their way of\nthinking.\u201d\n\nAs to the estimation of money and its acquirement, France and the United\nStates are indeed as far apart as possible, while Germany stands in\nbetween. The Frenchman prizes money as such; if he can get it without\nlabour, by inheritance or dowry, or by gambling, so much the better. If\nhe loses it he loses a part of himself, and when he has earned enough to\nbe sure of a livelihood, he retires from money-making pursuits as soon\nas possible. It is well known that the ambition of the average Frenchman\nis to be a _rentier_. The American has exactly the opposite idea. Not\nonly does he endure loss with indifference and despise gain which is not\nearned, but he would not for any price give up the occupation of making\nmoney. Whether he has much or little, he keeps patiently at work; and,\nas no scholar or artist would ever think of saying that he had done\nenough work, and would from now on become a scientific or literary\n_rentier_ and live on his reputation, so no American, as long as he\nkeeps his health, thinks of giving up his regular business.\n\nThe profession of living from the income of investments is virtually\nunknown among men, and the young men who take up no money-making\nprofession because they \u201cdon\u2019t need to,\u201d are able to retain the social\nrespect of their fellows only by undertaking some sort of work for the\ncommonwealth. A man who does not work at anything, no matter how rich he\nis, can neither get nor keep a social status.\n\nThis also indicates, then, that the American does not want his money\nmerely as a means for material comfort. Of course, wealthy Americans are\nbecoming more and more accustomed to provide every thinkable luxury for\ntheir wives and daughters. Nowhere is so much expended for dresses,\njewelry, equipages and service, for country houses and yachts, works of\nart and private libraries; and many men have to keep pretty steadily at\nwork year in and year out in order to meet their heavy expenditures. And\nthe same thing is repeated all down the social scale. According to\nEuropean standards, even the working-man lives luxuriously. But, in\nspite of this, no person who has really come into the country will deny\nthat material pleasures are less sought after for themselves in the New\nWorld than in the Old. It always strikes the European as remarkable how\nvery industrious American society is, and how relatively little bent on\npleasure. It has often been said that the American has not yet learned\nhow to enjoy life; that he knows very well how to make money, but not\nhow to enjoy it. And that is quite true; except that it leaves out of\naccount the main point\u2014which is, that the American takes the keenest\ndelight in the employment of all his faculties in his work, and in the\nexercise of his own initiative. This gives him more pleasure than the\nspending of money could bring him.\n\nIt is, therefore, fundamentally false to stigmatize the American as a\nmaterialist, and to deny his idealism. A people is supposed to be\nthoroughly materialistic when its sphere of interests comprises problems\nrelating only to the world of matter, and fancies itself to be highly\nidealistic when it is mainly concerned with intangible objects. But this\nis a pure confusion of ideas. In philosophy, indeed, the distinction\nbetween materialistic and idealistic systems of thought is to be\nreferred to the importance ascribed to material and to immaterial\nobjects. Materialism is, then, that pseudo-philosophical theory which\nsupposes that all reality derives from the existence of material\nobjects; and it is an idealistic system which regards the existence of\nmatter as dependent on the reality of thought. But it is mere play on\nwords to call nations realistic or idealistic on the strength of these\nmetaphysical conceptions, instead of using the words in their social and\nethical significations. For in the ethical world a materialistic\nposition would be one in which the aim of life was enjoyment, while that\npoint of view would be idealistic which found its motive not in the\npleasant consequences of the deed, but in the value of the deed itself.\n\nIf we hold fast to the meaning of materialism and idealism in this\nethical sense, we shall see clearly that it is entirely indifferent\nwhether the people who have these diametrically opposed views of life\nare themselves busy with tangible or with intangible things. The man who\nlooks at life materialistically acts, not for the act itself, but for\nthe comfortable consequences which that act may have; and these\nconsequences may satisfy the selfish pleasure as well if they are\nimmaterial as if they are material objects. It is indifferent whether he\nworks for the satisfaction of the appetites, for the hoarding up of\ntreasures, or for the gratification to be found in politics, science,\nand art. He is still a materialist so long as he has not devotion, so\nlong as he uses art only as a means to pleasure, science only as a\nsource of fame, politics as a source of power; and, in general, so long\nas the labour that he does is only the means to an end. But the man who\nis an idealist in life acts because he believes in the value of the\ndeed. It makes no difference to him whether he is working on material or\nintellectual concerns; whether he speaks or rhymes, paints, governs, or\njudges; or whether he builds bridges and railroad tracks, drains swamps\nand irrigates deserts, delves into the earth, or harnesses the forces of\nnature. In this sense the culture of the Old World threatens at a\nthousand points to become crassly materialistic, and not least of all\njust where it most loudly boasts of intellectual wealth and looks down\nwith contempt on everything which is material. And in this sense the\nculture of the New World is growing to the very purest idealism, and by\nno means least where it is busy with problems of the natural world of\nmatter, and where it is heaping up economic wealth.\n\nThis is the main point: The economic life means to the American a\nrealizing of efforts which are in themselves precious. It is not the\nmeans to an end, but is its own end. If two blades of grass grow where\none grew before, or two railroad tracks where there was but one; if\nproduction, exchange, and commerce increase and undertaking thrives,\nthen life is created, and this is, in itself, a precious thing. The\nEuropean of the Continent esteems the industrial life as honest, but not\nas noble; economic activities seem to him good for supporting himself\nand his family, but his duty is merely to supply economic needs which\nare now existing.\n\nThe merchant in Europe does not feel himself to be a free creator like\nthe artist or scholar: he is no discoverer, no maker; and the mental\nenergy which he expends he feels to be spent in serving an inferior\npurpose, which he serves only because he has to live. That creating\neconomic values can itself be the very highest sort of accomplishment,\nand in itself alone desirable, whether or not it is useful for the\nperson who creates, and that it is great in itself to spread and\nincrease the life of the national economic organization, has been,\nindeed, felt by many great merchants in the history of Europe, and many\na Hanseatic leader realizes it to-day. But the whole body of people in\nEurope does not know this, while America is thoroughly filled with the\nidea. Just as Hutten once cried: \u201cJahrhundert, es ist eine Lust, in dir\nzu leben: die Wissenschaften und die K\u00fcnste bl\u00fchen,\u201d so the American\nmight exclaim: It is a pleasure to live in our day and generation;\nindustry and commerce now do thrive. Every individual feels himself\nexalted by being a part of such a mighty whole, and the general\nintellectual effects of this temper show themselves in the entire\nnational life.\n\nA nation can never do its best in any direction unless it believes\nthoroughly in the intrinsic value of its work; whatever is done merely\nthrough necessity is never of great national significance, and\nsecond-rate men never achieve the highest things. If the first minds of\na nation look down with contempt on economic life, if there is no real\nbelief in the ideal value of industry, and if creative minds hold aloof\nfrom it, that nation will necessarily be outdone by others in the\neconomic field. But where the ablest strength engages with idealistic\nenthusiasm in the service of the national economic problems, the nation\nrewards what the people do as done in the name of civilization, and the\nlove of fame and work together spur them on more than the material gain\nwhich they will get. Indeed, this gain is itself only their measure of\nsuccess in the service of civilization.\n\nThe American merchant works for money in exactly the sense that a great\npainter works for money; the high price which is paid for his picture is\na very welcome indication of the general appreciation of his art: but he\nwould never get this appreciation if he were working for the money\ninstead of his artistic ideals. Economically to open up this gigantic\ncountry, to bring the fields and forests, rivers and mountains into the\nservice of economic progress, to incite the millions of inhabitants to\nhave new needs and to satisfy these by their own resourcefulness, to\nincrease the wealth of the nation, and finally economically to rule the\nworld and within the nation itself to raise the economic power of the\nindividual to undreamt-of importance, has been the work which has\nfascinated the American. And every individual has felt his co-operation\nto be ennobled by his firm belief in the value of such an aim for the\nculture of the world.\n\nTo find one\u2019s self in the service of this work of progress attracts even\nthe small boy. As a German boy commences early to write verses or draw\nlittle sketches, in America the young farmer lad or city urchin tries to\ncome somehow into this national, industrial activity; and whether he\nsells newspapers on the street or milks the cow on a neighbour\u2019s farm,\nhe is proud of the few cents which he brings home\u2014not because it is\nmoney, but because he has earned it, and the coins are the only possible\nproof that his activities have contributed to the economic life of his\ncountry. It is this alone which spurs him on and fills him with\nambition; and if the young newspaper boy becomes a great railroad\npresident, or the farmer\u2019s lad a wealthy factory owner, and both,\nalthough worth their millions, still work on from morning till night\nconsumed by the thought of adding to the economic life of their nation,\nand to this end undertake all sorts of new enterprises, the labour\nitself has been, from beginning to end, its own reward. The content of\nsuch a man\u2019s life is the work of economic progress.\n\nMen who have so felt have made the nation great, and no American would\nadmit that a man who gave his life to government or to law, to art or\nscience, would be able to make his life at all more significant or\nvaluable for the ends of culture. This is not materialism. Thus it\nhappens that the most favoured youths, the socially most competent\ntalents, go into economic life, and the sons of the best families, after\ntheir course at the university, step enthusiastically into the business\nhouse. One can see merely from ordinary conversation how thoroughly the\nvalue of economic usefulness is impressed on the people. They speak in\nAmerica of industrial movements with as much general interest as one\nwould find manifested in Europe over politics, science, or art. Men who\ndo not themselves anticipate buying or selling securities in the stock\nmarket, nevertheless discuss the rise and fall of various industrial and\nrailroad shares as they would discuss Congressional debates; and any new\nindustrial undertaking in a given city fills the citizens with pride, as\nmay be gathered from their chance conversations.\n\nThe central point of this whole activity is, therefore, not greed, nor\nthe thought of money, but the spirit of self-initiative. It is not\nsurprising that this has gone through such a lively development. Just as\nthe spirit of self-determination was the product of Colonial days, so\nthe spirit of self-initiative is the necessary outcome of pioneer life.\nThe men who came over to the New World expected to battle with the\nnatural elements; and even where nature had lavished her treasures,\nthese had still to be conquered; the forests must be felled and the\nmarshes drained. Indeed, the very spot to which the economic world comes\nto-day to celebrate the hundredth anniversary of the Louisiana Purchase,\nthe city of St. Louis, which has to-day 8,000 factories, it must not be\nforgotten was three generations ago a wilderness.\n\nFrom the days when the first pioneers journeyed inland from the coast,\nto the time, over two hundred years later, when the railroad tracks were\ncarried over the Rocky Mountains from the Atlantic to the Pacific Ocean,\nthe history of the nation has been of a long struggle with nature and of\nhard-earned conquests; and for many years this fight was carried on by\nmen who toiled single-handed, as it were\u2014by thousands of pioneers\nworking all at once, but far apart. The man who could not hold out under\nprotracted labour was lost; but the difficulty of the task spurred on\nthe energies of the strong and developed the spirit of self-initiative\nto the utmost. It was fortunate that the men who came over to undertake\nthis work had been in a way selected for it: for only those who had\nresolution had ventured to leave their native hearth-stones. Only the\nmost energetic risked the voyage across the ocean in those times, and\nthis desire to be up and doing found complete satisfaction in the New\nWorld; for, as Emerson said: \u201cAmerica is another name for opportunity.\u201d\n\nThe heritage of the pioneer days cannot vanish, even under the present\nchanged conditions. This desire to realize one\u2019s self by being\neconomically busied is indeed augmented to-day by many other\nconsiderations. Both the political and the social life of the democracy\ndemand equality, and therefore exclude all social classes, and titles,\nand all honourary political distinctions. Now, such uniformity would, of\ncourse, be unendurable in a society which had no real distinctions, and\ntherefore inevitably such distinguishing factors as are not excluded\ncome to be more and more important. A distinction between classes on the\nbasis of property can be met in monarchial countries by a distinction in\ntitle and family, and so made at least very much less important than in\ndemocratic nations. And thus it necessarily comes about that, where an\nofficial differentiation is objected to on principle, wealth is sought\nas a means to such discrimination. In the United States, however, wealth\nhas this great significance only because it is felt to measure the\nindividual\u2019s successful initiative; and the simple equation between\nprosperity and real work is more generally recognized by the popular\nmind than the actual conditions justify. Thus it happens also that the\nAmerican sets his standard of life high. He wishes in this way to\nexpress the fact that he has passed life\u2019s examination well, that he has\nbeen enterprising, and has won the respect of those around him. This\ndesire for a high standard of living which springs from the intense\neconomic enthusiasm works back thereon, and greatly stimulates it once\nmore.\n\nOne of the first consequences of this spirit of initiative is, that\nevery sort of true labour is naturally respected, and never involves any\ndisesteem. In fact, one sees continually in this country men who go from\none kind of labour to another which, according to European ideals, would\nbe thought less honourable. The American is especially willing to take\nup a secondary occupation besides his regular calling in order to\nincrease his income, and this leads, sometimes, to striking contrasts.\nOf course there are some limits to this, and social etiquette is not\nwholly without influence, although the American will seldom admit it. No\none is surprised if a preacher gives up the ministry in order to become\nan editor or official in an industrial organization; but every one is\nastonished if he becomes agent for an insurance company; amazed if he\ngoes to selling a patent medicine, and would be positively scandalized\nif he were to buy a beer-saloon.\n\nIt is much the same with avocations. If the student in the university\ntutors other students, it is quite right; if, during the university\nvacation, he becomes bell-boy in a summer hotel, or during the school\nyear attends to furnaces in order to continue his studies, people are\nsorry that he has to do this, but still account him perfectly\nrespectable; but if, on the other hand, he turns barber or artist\u2019s\nmodel, he is lost, because being a model is passive\u2014it is not doing\nanything; and cutting hair is a menial service, not compatible with the\ndignity of the student. And thus it is that the social feeling in the\nNew World practically corrects the theoretical maxims as to the equal\ndignity of every kind of labour, although, indeed, such maxims are very\nmuch more generally recognized than in the Old World. And everywhere the\ndeciding principle of differentiation is the matter of self-initiative.\n\nThe broadly manifest social equality of the country, of which we shall\nhave to speak more minutely in another connection, would be actually\nimpossible if this belief in the equivalence of all kinds of work did\nnot rule the national mind. Whether the work brings much or little, or\nrequires much or little preparation, is thought to be unimportant in\ndetermining a man\u2019s status; but it is important that his life involves\ninitiative, or that he not merely passively exists.\n\nA people which places industrial initiative so high must be industrious;\nand, in fact, there is no profounder impression to be had than that the\nwhole population is busily at work, and that all pleasures and\neverything which presupposes an idle moment are there merely to refresh\npeople and prepare them for more work. In order to be permanently\nindustrious, a man has to learn best how to utilize his powers; and just\nin this respect the American nation has gone ahead of every other\npeople. Firstly, it is sober. A man who takes liquor in the early part\nof the day cannot accomplish the greatest amount of work. When the\nAmerican is working he does not touch alcohol until the end of the day,\nand this is as true of the millionaire and bank president as of the\nlabourer or conductor. On the other hand, the American workman knows\nthat only a well-nourished body can do the most work, and what the\nworkman saves by not buying beer and brandy he puts into roast beef. It\nhas often been observed, and especially remarked on by German observers,\nthat in spite of his extraordinary tension, the American never overdoes.\nThe working-man in the factory, for example, seldom perspires at his\nwork. This comes from a knowledge of how to work so as in the end to get\nout of one\u2019s self the greatest possible amount.\n\nVery much the same may be said of the admirable way in which the\nAmericans make the most of their time. Superficial observers have often\nsupposed the American to be always in a hurry, whereas the opposite is\nthe case. The man who has to hurry has badly disposed of his time, and,\ntherefore, has not the necessary amount to finish any one piece of work.\nThe American is never in a hurry, but he so disposes his precious time\nthat nothing shall be lost. He will not wait nor be a moment idle; one\nthing follows closely after another, and with admirable precision; each\ntask is finished in its turn; appointments are made and kept on the\nminute; and the result is, that not only no unseemly haste is necessary,\nbut also there is time for everything. It is astonishing how well-known\nmen in political, economic, or intellectual life, who are loaded with a\nthousand responsibilities and an apparently unreasonable amount of work,\nhave, by dint of the wonderful disposition of their own time and that of\ntheir assistants, really enough for everything and even to spare.\n\nAmong the many things for which the American has time, by reason of his\neconomical management of it, are even some which seem unnecessary for a\nbusy man. He expends, for example, an extraordinary large fraction of\nhis time in attending to his costume and person, in sport, and in\nreading newspapers, so that the notion which is current in Europe that\nthe American is not only always in a hurry, but has time for nothing\noutside of his work, is entirely wrong.\n\nThis saving of strength by the proper disposal of time corresponds to a\ngeneral practicality in every sort of work. Business is carried on in a\nbusiness-like way. The banker, whose residence is filled with sumptuous\ntreasures of art, allows nothing unpractical to come into his office for\nthe sake of adornment. A certain strict application to duty is the\nfeeling one gets from every work-room; and while the foreigner feels a\ncertain barrenness about it, the American feels that anything different\nshows a lack of earnestness and practical good sense. The extreme\npunctuality with which the American handles his correspondence is\ntypical of him. Statistics show that no other country in the world sends\nso many letters for every inhabitant, and every business letter is\nreplied to on the same day with matter-of-fact conciseness. It is like a\ntremendous apparatus that accomplishes the greatest labour with the\nleast friction, by means of the precise adaptation of part to part.\n\nA nation which is after self-initiative must inspire the spirit of\ninitiative in every single co-operator. Nothing is more characteristic\nof this economic body than the intensity with which each workman\u2014taking\nthe word in its broadest sense\u2014thinks and acts for himself. In this\nrespect, too, outsiders often misunderstand the situation. One hears\noften from travellers in America that the country must be dwarfing to\nthe intelligence of its workmen, because it uses so much machinery that\nthe individual workman comes to see only a small part of what is being\ndone in the factory and, so to say, works the same identical lever for\nlife. He operates always a certain small part of some other part of the\nwhole. Nothing could be less exact, and a person who comes to such a\nconclusion is not aware that even the smallest duties are extremely\ncomplex, and that, therefore, specialization does not at all introduce\nan undesirable uniformity in labour. It is specialization on the one\nhand which guarantees the highest mastery, and on the other lets the\nworkman see even more the complexity of what is going on, and inspires\nhim to get a full comprehension of the thing in hand and perhaps to\nsuggest a few improvements.\n\nAny man who is at all concerned with the entire field of operations, or\nwho is moving constantly from one special process to another, can never\ncome to that fully absorbed state of the attention which takes\ncognizance of the slightest detail. Only the man who has concentrated\nhimself and specialized, learns to note fine details; and it is only in\nthis way that he becomes so much a master in his special department that\nany one else who attempts to direct him succeeds merely in interfering\nand spoiling the output. In short, such a workman is face to face with\nintricate natural processes, and is learning straight from nature. It is\nin the matter of industrial technique exactly as in science. A person\nnot acquainted with science finds it endlessly monotonous, and cannot\nunderstand how a person should spend his whole life studying beetles or\ndeciphering Assyrian inscriptions. But a man who knows the method of\nscience realizes that the narrower a field of study becomes, the more\nfull of variety and unexpected beauties it is found to be. The triumph\nof technical specialization in America lies just in this. If a single\nman works at some special part of some special detail of an industrial\nprocess, he more and more comes to find in his narrow province an\namazing intricacy which the casual observer looking on cannot even\nsuspect; and only the man who sees this complexity is able to discover\nnew processes and improvements on the old. So it is that the specialized\nworkman is he who constantly contributes to perfect technique, proposes\nmodifications, and in general exercises all the intelligence he has, in\norder to bring himself on in his profession. Just as we have seen how\nthe spirit of self-determination which resides at the periphery of the\nbody politic has been the peculiar strength of American political life,\nso this free initiative in the periphery, this economic resourcefulness\nof the narrow specialists, is the peculiar strength of all American\nindustry.\n\nThe spirit of self-initiative does not know pettiness. Any one who goes\ninto economic life merely for the sake of what he can get out of it,\nthinks it clever to gain small, unfair profits; but whosoever views his\nindustry in a purely idealistic spirit, and really has some inner\npromptings, is filled with an interest in the whole play\u2014sees an\neconomic gain in anything which profits both capital and labour, and\nonly there, and so has a large outlook even within his narrow province.\nThe Americans constantly complain of the economic smallness of Europe,\nand even the well-informed leaders of American industry freely assert\nthat the actual advance in American economic culture does not lie in the\nnatural resources of the country, but rather in the broad, free\ninitiative of the American people. The continental Europeans, it is\nsaid, frustrate their own economic endeavours by being penny-wise and\nobservant of detail in the wrong place, and by lacking the courage to\nlaunch big undertakings. There is no doubt that it was the lavishness of\nnature which firstly set American initiative at work on a broad scale.\nThe boundless prairies and towering mountains which the pioneers saw\nbefore them inspired them to undertake great things, and to overlook\nsmall hindrances, and in laying out their first plans to overlook small\ndetails. American captains of industry often say that they purposely pay\nno attention to a good many European methods, because they find such\npedantic endeavour to economize and to achieve minute perfections to be\nwasteful of time and unprofitable.\n\nThe same spirit is found, as well, in fields other than the industrial.\nWhen the American travels he prefers to pay out round sums rather than\nto haggle over the price of things, even although he pays considerably\nmore thereby than he otherwise would. And nothing makes him more angry\nthan to find that instead of stating a high price at the outset, the\nperson with whom he is dealing ekes out his profit by small additional\ncharges. This large point of view involves such a contempt of petty\ndetail as to astonish Europeans. Machines costing hundreds of thousands\nof dollars, which were new yesterday, are discarded to-day, because some\nimprovement has been discovered; and the best is everywhere found none\ntoo good to be used in this magnificent industrial system. If the outlay\nis to correspond to the result, there must be no parsimony.\n\nA similar trait is revealed in the way in which every man behaves toward\nhis neighbour. It is only the petty man who is envious, and envy is a\nword which is not found in the American vocabulary. If one\u2019s own\nadvantage is not the goal, but general economic progress, then the\nsuccess of another man is almost as great a pleasure as one\u2019s own\nsuccess. It is for the American an \u00e6sthetic delight to observe, and in\nspirit to co-operate with economic progress all along the line; and the\nmore others accomplish the more each one realizes the magnificence of\nthe whole industrial life. Men try to excel one another, as they have to\ndo wherever there is free competition; and such rivalry is the best and\nsurest condition for economic progress. Americans use every means in\ntheir power to succeed, but if another man comes out ahead they neither\ngrumble nor indulge in envy, but rather gather their strength for a new\neffort. Even this economic struggle is carried on in the spirit of\nsport. The fight itself is the pleasure. The chess-player who is\ncheckmated in an exciting game is not sorry that he played, and does not\nenvy the winner.\n\nThis conviction, that one neither envies nor is envied, whereby all\ncompetitive struggle comes to be pervaded with a certain spirit of\nco-operation, ennobles all industrial activities, and the immediate\neffect is a feeling of mutual confidence. The degree to which Americans\ntrust one another is by no means realized on the European Continent. A\nman relies on the self-respect of his commercial associates in a way\nwhich seems to the European mind almost fatuous, and yet herein lies\njust the strength and security of the economic life of this country.\n\nIt is interesting, in a recently published harangue against the Standard\nOil Company, to read what a high-handed, Napoleonic policy Rockefeller\nhas pursued, and then, in the midst of the fierce accusations, to find\nit stated that agreements involving millions of dollars and the economic\nfate of thousands of people were made merely orally. All his\nconfederates took the word of Rockefeller to be as good as his written\ncontract, and such mutual confidence is everywhere a matter of course,\nwhether it is a millionaire who agrees to pay out a fortune or a street\nurchin who goes off to change five cents. Just as public, so also\ncommercial, affairs get on with very few precautions, and every man\ntakes his neighbour\u2019s check as the equivalent of money. The whole\neconomic life reveals everywhere the profoundest confidence; and\nundoubtedly this circumstance has contributed, more than almost anything\nelse, to the successful growth of large organizations in America.\n\nThe spirit of self-initiative goes out in another direction. It makes\nthe American optimistic, and so sure of success that no turn of fortune\ncan discourage him. And such an optimism is necessary to the man who\nundertakes great enterprises. It was an undertaking to cross the ocean,\nand another to press on from the coast to the interior; it was an\nundertaking to bring nature to terms, to conjure up civilization in a\nwild country, and to overcome enemies on all hands; and yet everything\nhas seemed to succeed. With the expansion of the country has grown the\nindividual\u2019s love of expansion, his delight in undertaking new\nenterprises, not merely to hold his own, but to go on and to stake his\nhonour and fortune and entire personality in the hope of realizing\nsomething as yet hardly dreamed of. Any Yankee is intoxicated with the\nidea of succeeding in a new enterprise; he plans such things at his desk\nin school, and the more venturesome they are the more he is fascinated.\n\nNothing is more characteristic of this adventurous spirit than the way\nin which American railroads have been projected. In other countries\nrailroads are built to connect towns which already exist. In America the\nrailroad has created new towns; the engineer and capitalist have not\nlaid their tracks merely where the land was already tilled, but in every\nplace where they could foresee that a population could support itself.\nAt first came the railroad, and then the men to support it. The freight\ncar came first, and then the soil was exploited and made to supply the\nfreight. Western communities have almost all grown up around the railway\nstations. To be sure, every railway company has done this in its own\ninterest, but the whole undertaking has been immediately productive of\nnew civilization.\n\nAny person who optimistically believes that a problem has only to be\ndiscovered in order to be solved, will be sure to develop that\nintellectual quality which has always characterized the American: the\nspirit of invention. There is no other country in the world where so\nmuch is invented. This is shown not merely in the fact that an enormous\nnumber of patents is granted every year, but also where there is nothing\nto patent, the Yankee exercises his ingenuity every day. From the\nsimplest tool up to the most complicated machine, American invention has\nimproved and perfected, and made the theoretically correct practically\nserviceable as well. To be sure, the cost of human labour in a thinly\nsettled country has had a great influence on this development; but a\nspecial talent also has lain in this direction\u2014a real genius for solving\npractical problems. Every one knows how much the American has\ncontributed to the perfection of the telegraph, telephone, incandescent\nlight, phonograph and sewing-machine, to watch-making machinery, to the\nsteamboat and locomotive, the printing-press and typewriter, to\nmachinery for mining and engineering, and to all sorts of agricultural\nand manufacturing devices. Invention and enterprise are seen working\ntogether in the fact that every new machine, with all its improvements,\ngoes at once to every part of the country. Every farmer in the farthest\nWest wants the latest agricultural machinery; every artisan adopts the\nnewest improvements; in every office the newest and most approved\ntelegraphic and telephonic appliances are used; in short, every man\nappropriates the very latest devices to further his own success. Of\ncourse, in this way the commercial value of every improvement is greatly\nincreased, and this encourages the inventor to still further\nproductiveness. It so happens that larger sums of money are lavished in\nperfect good faith in order to solve certain problems than any European\ncould imagine. If an inventor can convince a company that his principle\nis sound, the company is ready to advance millions of dollars for new\nexperiments until the machine is perfected.\n\nThe extraordinarily wide adoption of every invention does not mean that\nmost inventions are made by such men as Edison and Bell and their\ncolleagues. Every factory workman is quite as much concerned to improve\nthe tools which his nation uses, and every artisan at his bench is busy\nthinking out this or that little change in a process or method; and many\nof them, after their work, frequent the public libraries in order to\nwork through technical books and the Patent Reports. It is no wonder\nthat an American manufacturer, on hearing that a new machine had been\ndiscovered in Europe, conservatively declared that he did not know what\nthe machine was, but knew for sure that America would improve on it.\n\nOnly one consequence of the spirit of self-initiative remains to be\nspoken of\u2014the absolute demand for open competition. In order to exercise\ninitiative, a man must have absolutely free play; and if he believes in\nthe intrinsic value of economic culture, he will be convinced that free\nplay for the development of industrial power is abstractly and entirely\nright. This does not wholly exclude an artificial protection of certain\neconomic institutions which are weak\u2014as, for instance, the protection of\ncertain industries by means of a high tariff\u2014so long as in every line\nall men are free to compete with one another. Monopoly is the only\nthing\u2014because it strangles competition\u2014which offends the instinct of the\nAmerican; and in this respect American law goes further than a European\nwould expect. One might suppose that, believing as they do in free\ninitiative, Americans would claim the right of making such industrial\ncombinations as they liked. When several parallel railroads, which\ntraverse several states and compete severely with one another, finally\nmake a common agreement to maintain prices, they seem at first sight to\nbe exercising a natural privilege. The traffic which suffers no longer\nby competition is handled at a less expense by this consolidation, and\nso the companies themselves and the travelling public are both\nbenefited. But the law of the United States takes a different point of\nview. The average American is suspicious of a monopoly, even when it is\nowned by the state or city; he is convinced from the beginning that the\nservice will in some way or other be inferior to what it would be under\nfree competition; and most of all, he dislikes to see any industrial\nprovince hedged in so that competitors are no longer free to come in.\nThe reason why the trusts have angered and excited the American to an\noften exaggerated degree is, that they approach perilously near to being\nmonopolies.\n\nThis spirit of self-initiative under free competition exists, of course,\nnot alone in individuals. Towns, cities, counties, and states evince\ncollectively just the same attitude; the same optimism and spirit of\ninvention and initiative, and the same pioneer courage, inspire the\ncollective will of city and state. Especially in the West, various\ncities and communities do things in a sportsmanlike way. It is as if one\ncity or state were playing foot-ball against another, and exerting every\neffort to win: and here once more there is no petty jealousy. It was\nfrom such an optimistic spirit of enterprise, certainly, that the city\nof St. Louis resolved to invite all the world to its exposition, and\nthat the State of Missouri gave its enthusiastic approval and support to\nits capital city. The sums to be laid out on such bold undertakings are\nput at a generous figure, and no one asks anxiously whether he is ready\nor able to undertake such a thing, but he is fascinated by the thought\nthat such an industrial festival around the cascades of Forest Park,\nnear the City of St. Louis, will stimulate the whole industrial life of\nthe Mississippi Valley. One already sees that Missouri is disposed to\nbecome a Pennsylvania of the West, and to develop her rich resources\ninto a great industry.\n\nWe must not suppose, in all this, that such a spirit of initiative\ninvolves no risk, or that no disadvantages follow into the bargain. It\nmay be easily predicted that, just by reason of the energy which is so\nintrinsic to it, self-initiative will sometime overstep the bounds of\npeace and harmony. Initiative will become recklessness, carelessness of\nnature, carelessness of one\u2019s neighbour, and, finally, carelessness of\none\u2019s self.\n\nA reckless treatment of nature has, in fact, characterized the American\npioneer from the first. The wealth of nature has seemed so\ninexhaustible, that the pioneers found it natural to draw on their\nprincipal instead of living on their income. Everywhere they used only\nthe best which they found; they cut down the finest forests first, and\nsawed up only the best parts of the best logs. The rest was wasted. The\nfarmers tilled only the best soil, and nature was dismantled and\ndepleted in a way which a European, who is accustomed to precaution,\nfinds positively sinful. And the time is now passed when this can go on\nsafely. Good, arable land can nowhere be had for nothing to-day; the\ncutting down of huge forests has already had a bad effect on the\nrainfall and water supply, and many efforts are now being made to atone\nfor the sins of the past by protecting and replanting. Intensive methods\nare being introduced in agriculture; but the work of thoughtful minds\nmeets with a good deal of resistance in the recklessness of the masses,\nwho, so far as nature is in question, think very little of their\nchildren\u2019s children, but are greedy for instant profits.\n\nThe man, moreover, who ardently desires to play an important part in\nindustry is easily tempted to be indifferent of his fellows. We have\nshown that an American is not jealous or distrustful of them, that he\ngives and expects frankness, and that he respects their rights. But when\nhe once begins to play, he wants to win at any cost; and then, so long\nas he observes the rules of the game, he considers nothing else; he has\nno pity, and will never let his undertaking be interfered with by\nsentimental reasons. There is no doubt at all that the largest American\nindustrial enterprises have ruined many promising lives; no doubt that\nthe very men who give freely to public ends have driven their chariots\nover many industrial corpses. The American, who is so incomparably\ngood-natured, amiable, obliging, and high-minded, admits himself that he\nis sharp in trade, and that the American industrial spirit requires a\nsort of military discipline and must be brutal. If the captain of\nindustry were anxiously considerate of persons\u2019 feelings, he would never\nhave achieved industrial success any more than a compassionate and\ntearful army would win a victory.\n\nBut the American is harder on himself than on any one else. We have\nshown how, in his work, he conserves his powers and utilizes them\neconomically; but he sets no bounds to the intellectual strain, the\nintensity of his nervous activities, and only too often he ruins his\nhealth in the too great strain which brings his success. The bodies of\nthousands have fertilized the soil for this great industrial tree\u2014men\nwho have exhausted their power in their exaggerated commercial\nambitions. The real secret of American success is that, more than any\nother country in the world, she works with the young men and uses them\nup. Young men are in all the important positions where high intellectual\ntension is required.\n\nIn other directions, too, the valuable spirit of self-initiative shows\ngreat weaknesses and dangers. The confidence which the American gives\nhis neighbour in business often comes to be inexcusable carelessness. In\nreading the exposures made of the Ship-Building Trust, one sees how,\nwithout a dishonest intent, crimes can actually be committed merely\nthrough thoughtless confidence. One sees that each one of the great\ncapitalists here involved relied on the other, while no one really\ninvestigated for himself.\n\nThere is another evil arising from the same intense activity, although,\nto be sure, it is more a matter of the past than of the future. This is\nthe vulgar display of wealth. When economic usefulness is the main\nambition, and the only measure of success is the money which is won, it\nis natural that under more or less primitive social conditions every one\nshould wish to attest his merits by displaying wealth. Large diamonds\nhave then much the same function as titles and orders; they are the\nsymbols of successful endeavour. In its vulgar form all such display is\nnow virtually relegated to undeveloped sections of the country. In the\nparts where culture is older, where wealth is in its second or third\ngeneration, every one knows that his property is more useful in the bank\nthan on his person.\n\nIn spite of this, the nation expends an unduly large part of its profits\nin personal adornment, in luxuries of the toilet, in horses and\ncarriages and expensive residences. The American is bound to have the\nbest, and feels himself lowered if he has to take the second best. The\nmost expensive seats in an auditorium are always the best filled, and\nthe opera is thinly attended only when it is given at reduced prices. It\nis just in the most expensive hotels that one has to engage a room\nbeforehand. Everywhere that expenditure can be observed by others, the\nAmerican would rather renounce a pleasure entirely than enjoy it in a\nmodest way. He wants to appear everywhere as a prosperous and\nsubstantial person, and therefore has a decided tendency to live beyond\nhis means. Extravagance is, therefore, a great national trait.\nEverything, whether large or small, is done with a free hand. In the\nkitchen of the ordinary man much is thrown away which the European\ncarefully saves for his nourishment; and in the kitchens of the\ngovernment officials a hundred thousand cooks are at work, as if there\nwere every day a banquet. Even when the American economizes he is\nfundamentally extravagant. His favourite way of saving is by buying a\nlife insurance policy; but when one sees how many millions of dollars\nsuch companies spend in advertising and otherwise competing with one\nanother, and what prodigious amounts they take in, one cannot doubt that\nthey also are a means of saving for wealthy men, who, after all, do not\nknow what real economy is.\n\nIf the whole outward life is pervaded by this pioneer spirit of\nself-initiative, there is another factor which is not to be overlooked;\nit is the neglect of the \u00e6sthetic. Any one who loves beauty desires to\nsee his ideal realized at the present moment, and the present itself\nbecomes for him expressive of the past, while the man whose only desire\nis to be active as an economic factor looks only into the future. The\nbare present is almost valueless, since it is that which has to be\novercome; it is the material which the enterprising spirit has to shape\ncreatively into something else. The pioneer cannot be interested in the\npresent as a survivor of the past; it shows to him only that which is to\ndo, and admonishes his soul to prepare for new achievement. On Italian\nsoil one\u2019s eye is offended by every false note in the general harmony.\nThe present, in which the past still lives, fills one\u2019s consciousness,\nand the repose of \u00e6sthetic contemplation is the chief emotion. But a man\nwho rushes from one undertaking to another seeks no unity or harmony in\nthe present; his retina is not sensitive to ugliness, because his eye is\nforever peering into the future; and if the present were to be complete\nand finished, the enterprising spirit would regret such perfection and\naccount it a loss\u2014a restriction of his freedom, an end to his creation.\nIt would mean mere pleasure and not action. In this sense the American\nexpresses his pure idealism in speaking of the \u201cglory of the imperfect.\u201d\n\nThe Italian is not to be disparaged for being unlike the American and\nfor letting his eye rest on pleasing contours without asking what new\nundertakings could be devised to make reality express his own spirit of\ninitiative. One must also not blame the American if he does not\nscrutinize his vistas with the eye of a Florentine, if he is not\noffended by the ugly remains of his nation\u2019s past, the scaffolding of\ncivilization, or if he looks at them with pride, noting how restlessly\nhis countrymen have stuck to their work in order to shape a future from\nthe past. In fact, one can hardly take a step in the New World without\neverywhere coming on some crying contrast between mighty growth and the\noppressive remains of outgrown or abortive activities. As one comes down\nthe monumental steps of the Metropolitan Museum, in which priceless\ntreasures of art are collected, one sees in front of one a wretched,\ntumbled-down hut where sundry refreshments are sold, on a dirty\nbuilding-lot with a broken fence. It looks as if it had been brought\nfrom the annual county fair of some remote district into this wealthiest\nstreet of the world.\n\nOf course such a thing is strikingly offensive, but it disturbs only a\nperson who is not looking with the eye of the American, who can\ntherefore not understand the true ethical meaning of American culture,\nits earnest looking forward into the future. If the incomplete past no\nlonger met the American\u2019s eye in all its poverty and ugliness and\nsmallness, he would have lost the mainspring of his life. That which is\ncomplete does not interest him, while that which he can still work on\nwholly fascinates and absorbs him. It is true here, as in every\ndepartment of American life, that superficial polish would be only an\nimitation of success; friction and that which is \u00e6sthetically\ndisorganized, but for this very reason ethically valuable, give to his\nlife its significance and to his industry its incomparable progress.\n\n\n\n\n                             CHAPTER TWELVE\n                          _The Economic Rise_\n\n\n_Introite, nam et hic dii sunt_\u2014here, too, the gods are on their throne.\nThe exploiting of the country, the opening of the mines, the building of\nfactories and railroads, trade and barter, are not in question here as\nthe mere means of livelihood, but as a spontaneous and creative labour,\nwhich is undertaken specifically in the interests of progress. In this\nconfession of faith we have found the significance of American\nindustrial life, in the spirit of self-initiative its greatest strength.\nOnly such men as desire to take part in the economic era of creation, to\nmeet their neighbours openly and trustingly and to rely on their spoken\nword, in short, to believe in the intrinsic worth of industry\u2014only such\nmen can weave the wonderful fabric of New World industry. A race of men\ncarrying on commerce merely in order to live, feeling no idealism\nimpelling them to industry, would never, even in this richly-endowed\nAmerica, have produced such tangible results or gained such power.\n\nNevertheless, the country itself must not be forgotten by reason of its\ninhabitants. It was the original inducement to the inhabitants to turn\nso industriously to the spade and plough. Where the spade has dug, it\nhas brought up silver and gold, coal and iron; and where the plough has\nturned, it has evoked a mammoth growth of wheat and corn. Seas and\nrivers, bays and mountains have produced a happy configuration of the\nland and pointed out the routes for traffic; oil-wells have flown\nfreely, and the waterpower is inexhaustible; the supply of fish and\nfowl, the harvests of tropical fruits and of cotton have been sufficient\nto supply the world. And all this was commenced by nature, before the\nfirst American set his foot on the continent.\n\nAnd while it was the lavish hand of nature which first brought\nprosperity to the inhabitants, this prosperity became, in its turn, a\nnew stimulus to the economic exploitation of further natural resources.\nIt provided the capital for new undertakings; it also helped on the\nextraordinary growth of economic demand, it made the farmer and the\nartisan the best patrons of thriving industries, and made the economic\ncirculatory system pulsate with increasing strength through the national\norganization.\n\nThere are, besides the purely economic conditions, certain political and\nadministrative ones. American history has developed in a free atmosphere\nsuch as cannot be had in countries with ancient traditions, and which,\neven in the New World, at least in the eastern part of it, is\ndisappearing day by day. Of course, such elbow-room has not been an\nunqualified blessing. It has been attended by evils and has made\nsacrifices necessary. But these have always touched the individual. The\ncommunity has gained by the freedom of economic conditions. For\ninstance, railroads, such as were built through the whole West during\nthe pioneer years of America, would not be permitted for a moment by a\nGerman government. Such flimsy bridges, such rough-and-ready road-beds,\nsuch inadequate precautions on crossings were everywhere a serious\nmenace; but those who were injured were soon forgotten, while the\neconomic blessings of the new railroads which transported hundreds of\nthousands of people into uninhabited regions, and left them to gather\nthe treasure of the soil, continued. They could never have been built if\npeople had waited until they were able to construct by approved methods.\nAfter the great pioneer railroads had accomplished their mission, the\ntime came when they were replaced by better structures. And they have\nbeen built over many times, until to-day the traffic is sufficiently\nsafe. It still belongs, in a way, to the confession of faith of this\nreligion of self-initiative that each man shall be free to risk not only\nhis property, but also his own life, for the sake of enterprise. No\nboard of commissioners may interfere to tell an American not to skirt a\nprecipice.\n\nSuch instances of complete freedom, where life and limb are unsafe,\ndisappear day by day. Guide-posts are put at every railroad crossing,\nand civil authorities take more and more interest in safety appliances\nfor factories and in the security of city buildings; in fact, hygienic\nregulations in some Eastern cities to-day go even further than they go\nin Germany. Nevertheless, in such matters as involve not dangers, but\nmerely traditions or preferences, a large amount of democratic freedom\ncan still be had in the New World. Over the broad prairies there are no\nsigns lawfully warning persons to turn to the right and not to walk on\nthe grass. The American himself not only regards this country as the\nland of \u201cunlimited possibilities,\u201d but more specially he regards the\nEuropean Continent as the country of impossible limitations. Bureaucracy\nis to his mind the worst enemy of industrial life, because it everywhere\nprovides the most trivial obstacles to that spirit of adventure and\ndaring which seeks to press on into the future; and in the end it is\nsure to bring all enterprise to a standstill. It is important for this\nfreedom that the whole economic legislation is regulated, first of all,\nnot by the Union, but by the several states, and that thus every variety\nof industrial life going on in any state shall be so well represented\nthat every attempt to bring up artificial restraints shall be nipped in\nthe bud.\n\nTo this negative factor is to be added a positive one. Every one knows\nthat the mighty growth of the American industry and of its whole\ncommercial life would not have been possible without the carefully\nadapted protective tariff of recent years. The Dingley and the McKinley\ntariff laws have not, of course, produced that great advance, but they\nhave powerfully aided it. And at the same time enormous sums have been\nderived therefrom and expended by the government in improving the\nwater-ways and harbours. The government has spent vast sums in helping\nagriculture, and done much to irrigate the arid portions of the country.\nEconomic problems in general receive great consideration in Washington\nand in every state capital. Besides such general political activities,\nthere are more special ones. The nation\u2019s agriculture, for instance, is\ntremendously assisted by scientific researches, which are carried on by\nthe Department of Agriculture. The army of American consuls is\nincomparably alert in seeking out favourable openings for American trade\nwith other nations, and the consular reports are distributed promptly\nand free of charge from Washington to all parts of the country.\n\nThe political attitude of the nation works in still another way to\nfavour general prosperity. The country has a unified organization which\nfavours all economic enterprises. Although seventeen times as large as\nGermany, the country is nevertheless one splendid unit without internal\ncustoms barriers, under one law, and free from sectional distrusts. For,\nwherever commercial intercourse goes on between different states, the\ncommon federal law is in force.\n\nPerhaps even more important than the national unity is the democratic\nequality throughout the population. However diverse these eighty million\npeople may be, they form a homogeneous purchasing public. Every new\nstyle or fashion spreads like wild-fire from New York to San Francisco,\nand in spite of their differences, the day-labourer and the millionaire\nboth have a certain similarity of tastes and requirements, so that the\nindustrial producer and the distributor find it easy to make and keep in\nstock all articles which are called for. Instead of the freakish and\nfanciful demand which makes the European industrial life so difficult,\neverybody in America wants the same pattern as his neighbour, perhaps a\nlittle finer and better, but still the same general thing. And this\nbrings it about that producers can manufacture in large quantities, and\nwholesale production and the ease of placing wares on the market\nencourage again the uniformity of taste and requirement, and help on the\npopular tendency toward mutual imitation throughout the country.\n\nBut now, instead of recounting the conditions which have helped to make\nthe story, we must narrate the story itself. The German can listen to it\nwith pleasure, since it is about one of Germany\u2019s best patrons\u2014a nation\nwhich always buys from Germany in proportion to its own prosperity, and\none whose adversity would bring misfortune to Germany. The story can be\nmost quickly told in figures, as is the favourite American way; for, if\nthe American has a special mania, it is to heap up all sorts of\nstatistics.\n\nWe shall best study the statistical variations through long intervals of\ntime, in order not to be led astray by temporary fluctuations. When, a\nfew years ago, an industrial and financial relapse had set in in\nGermany, and England was suffering from the war in the Transvaal, while\nAmerica was undertaking a gigantic work of organization which promised\nto have marvellous results, the United States suddenly appeared as the\neconomic mistress of the world, to the astonishment and apprehension of\nall other countries. Soon after that German trade and industry began to\nrevive and England recovered itself, while in America industrial\nextravagance and financial inflation were bringing about their necessary\nevil consequences. Then the public opinion of other countries swung at\nonce to the other extreme, as if America\u2019s success had been entirely\nspurious. People suddenly turned about and believed that the time of\nAmerican prosperity was over, rejoiced with ghoulish glee over the\nweakness of the enemy, despised his foolhardiness, and gossiped about\nhis industrial leaders. But it was only in other countries that men like\nSchwab, the president of the Steel Trust, had been looked on as a\nNapoleon of industry; and when he was not able to retain his position,\nEuropean papers were as pleased as if a Napoleonic army had been wiped\nout. Such insignificant events of the day are able to distort the\njudgment of great movements; picturesque mishaps strike the attention,\nand are taken to indicate great movements.\n\nThe actual advance in economic life of the United States was not such a\nsudden thing as it seemed to nervous Europe, nor was there any reverse\nsuch as Europe delighted to record. To be sure, America has passed\nthrough several great crises; but her history is nevertheless one of\nsteady, even and healthy development in economic organization. The\nAmerican himself is inclined to believe that severe crises are not to be\nfeared any more; but however that may be, the long-predicted downfall\nhas not come to-day, and is not even in sight. The general progress\npersists, and the decline in stock-market securities, which has been\nhere and there abroad the signal for alarm, is itself a part of the\nsound development. When one looks at the whole rise one realizes that\nthe young nation\u2019s development has been great and powerful, and such as\nwas never before known in the history of civilization. Figures will show\nthis better than adjectives. What now do the United States produce? The\nwheat of the country amounted, in the year 1850, to only 100 million\nbushels; in 1870 to 235 millions; 522 millions in 1900; 637 in 1903. The\ncorn harvest was 592 millions in 1850; 1,094 in 1870; 2,105 in 1900;\n2,244 in 1903. There were 52 million pounds of wool in 1850; 162 in\n1870; 288 in 1900; 316 in 1902. But cotton is \u201cking.\u201d In 1850 the cotton\nharvest amounted to 2.3 million bales; 3.1 millions in 1870; 9.4 in 1900\nand 10.7 in 1903; 110,000 tons of sugar were produced in 1850 and last\nyear 310,000 tons. The dreaded American petroleum was not flowing in\n1850. It appears in the statistical tables of 1859 in the modest\nquantity of 8,400 gallons; in 1870 there were 220 million gallons; in\n1900, 2,661 million, and in 1903 there were 3,707 million gallons. The\ncoal output of the country began in 1820 with 365 tons and amounted in\n1850 to 3 million tons; in 1870 to 33 million; in 1900 to 240 million;\nin 1902 to 269 million tons. In the middle of the last century 563,000\ntons of iron ore were mined; 1.6 million tons in 1870; 13.7 in 1900, and\n18 million in 1903. The manufacture of steel began in 1867 with 19,000\ntons and in 1870 amounted to 68,000 tons, to 10.1 million tons in 1900;\n14.9 millions in 1902. Of copper, 650 tons were mined in 1850; 12,000\ntons in 1870; 270,000 tons in 1900; and 294,000 tons in 1902. The silver\nproduction in the middle of the century was estimated at $50,000; in\n1870 at $16,000,000, and in 1900 at $74,000,000; in the last three years\nit has gone back to $71,000,000. The highest point was reached in 1892,\nwith $82,000,000. On the other hand, the production of gold has grown\nsteadily in the last twenty years, although it had reached its first\nhigh point back in the fifties. In the year 1853, $65,000,000 worth of\ngold was produced. The amount decreased slowly but steadily to\n$30,000,000 in the year 1883, and has since risen almost steadily until\nin 1903 it amounted to $74,000,000. The total output of minerals was\nvalued at $218,000,000 in 1870, and $1,063,000,000 in 1900.\n\nThis steady growth of natural products is repeated in the agricultural\nand industrial spheres. The number of farms was given at 1.4 million in\nthe middle of the last century, with the total value of $3,967,000,000;\nin 1870 there were 2.6 million farms valued at $8,944,000,000; and in\n1900 there were 5.7 million, valued at $20,514,000,000. In 1870, 5.9\nmillion people engaged in agriculture; 10.4 million in 1900. The total\nvalue of agricultural products amounted, in 1870, to $1,958,000,000, and\nin 1900 to $3,764,000,000. All domestic animals\u2014cattle, horses, mules,\nsheep and pigs\u2014amounted in 1850 to $544,000,000; in 1870 to\n$1,822,000,000; in 1900 to $2,228,000,000, and in 1903 to\n$3,102,000,000.\n\nThe greatest growth, however, is shown in industry. In 1850 there were\n123,000 industrial plants with 957,000 employees, paying wages of\n$236,000,000, and with an output worth $1,019,000,000. In 1870 there\nwere 252,000 factories, with 2 million workmen, paying $775,000,000 in\nwages, and with an output worth $4,232,000,000; in 1890 there were\n3,550,000 factories, 4.7 million workmen, a salary list of\n$2,283,000,000, and a product worth $9,372,000,000. In 1900 there were\n512,000 factories, with 5.7 million workmen, a pay-roll of $273,500,000,\nand an output worth $13,039,000,000. Statistics here cannot be brought\nup to the present time, since a careful industrial census is made only\nevery ten years; but this glance over the half century shows at once\nthat there has been a very steady increase, and that it is no mushroom\ngrowth due to the recently enacted protective tariffs.\n\nThe economic rise of the nation is well reflected in its foreign\ncommerce. If we disregard the imports and exports of precious metals,\nthe international commerce of the United States shows a total import in\nthe year 1903 of $1,025,719,237, and a total export of $1,420,141,679.\nWe must analyze these two figures in several ways, and compare them with\nsimilar figures in the past. In one way they show a decrease, since in\nthe year 1903 the exports exceeded the imports by over 394 millions, but\nin the preceding year by 477 millions. This unfavourable change is not\nfrom any decrease in exports, but from a remarkable increase in imports;\nin fact, the exports were 38 millions more than during the previous\nyear, while the imports were 122 millions more.\n\nThus, in the year 1903, the total foreign trade of the United States\nexceeded that of all previous years, and reached the astonishing figure\nof $2,445,000,000. Although before the year 1900 the total trade was\nless than two billions, it reached the sum of one billion as early as\nthe year 1872; exports and imports together amounted in 1830 to 134\nmillions; in 1850 to 317 millions; in 1860 to 687 millions; in 1870 to\n828 millions; in 1880 to 1,503 millions; in 1890 to 1,647 millions, and\nin 1900 to 2,244 millions. During this period the balance of trade\nshifted frequently. In 1800, for instance, there was an import balance\nof 21 millions, and similarly in the decades ending in 1810, 1820, and\n1830. In the decade which ended in 1840 there was an average export\nbalance of 29 millions. The tables turned in the next decade ending in\nthe year 1850, when there was an average import balance of 29 millions;\nin the decade ending 1860, of 20 millions, and in the following decade,\nof 43 millions. But then the exports suddenly increased, and have\nexceeded the imports for the last twenty-five years. In 1880 the imports\nwere 667 millions, and the exports 835 millions; in 1890 the imports\nwere 789 millions, and the exports 857 millions; in 1900 the imports\nwere 849 millions, and the exports 1,394 millions; in 1901 the imports\nwere 823, and the exports 1,487; in 1902 the imports were 903, and the\nexports 1,381; and in 1903, as given above, the imports were 1,025, and\nthe exports 1,420 millions.\n\nLet us now look at the American imports more closely. Letting all our\nfigures represent million dollars, we learn that during the last year\nimports of breadstuffs and live animals were 212; of raw materials 383;\nof half-finished products 97; of manufactured products 169, and of\narticles of luxury in general 145. The food products imported, which\ncomprise to-day 21 per cent. of all imports, comprised 31 per cent. in\n1880; and at that time the necessary manufactured articles were also a\nlarger proportion of the whole, being then 20 per cent. against 16 per\ncent. to-day. On the other hand, raw materials, which were then 25 per\ncent., are to-day 38 per cent., and articles of luxury have increased\nfrom 10 to 14 per cent. of the total imports. Of the half-manufactured\nproducts imported, the most important were the chemicals, valued at 38\nmillions; then come wooden wares worth 11, oil worth 10, iron worth 8,\nskins and leather worth 5 millions. Of raw materials the most valuable\nwere skins and furs, which amounted last year to 58 millions; raw silk\nwas next, with 50; vegetable fibres, such as hemp, 34; rubber 32, iron\nand steel 30. This last figure is an exceptional one, and is due to the\nfact that during the year the American steel industries were taxed to\ntheir utmost by consumers\u2019 demands. In the year 1902 the iron and steel\nimports were only 9, and in 1901 only 3 millions. The imports of raw\nchemicals amounted to 23 millions, and tin the same; wool 21, copper 20;\nwood 11, and cotton 11.\n\nThe exports, arranged according to the sources of production, amounted,\nlast year, to 873 million dollars\u2019 worth of agricultural products, 407\nof factory products, 57 of products of the forest, 39 of mines, and 7\nfrom fisheries. Of the remainder, 6 millions were from other domestic\nsources, and 27 had come from other countries. The agricultural exports\nreached their highest point in 1901, when they amounted to 943, and also\nthe export of manufactured articles is now 3.4 less than in 1901 and 26\nless than in 1900. But the statistics of manufactures show sufficiently\nthat there has been no decrease in output, but merely that the home\nconsumption has increased. Apart from these accidental fluctuations of\nthe past three years, the exports have steadily increased. In 1800 the\nagricultural exports were 25 millions; the industrial 2; in 1850 the\nformer were 108, the latter 17; in 1880 they were 685 and 102\nrespectively, and in 1900 they were 835 and 433.\n\nIf we look at the foreign trade with regard to the countries traded\nwith, we shall find Europe first in both exports and imports. In the\nyear 1903 the imports from Europe to the United States were 547, the\nexports to Europe 1,029; the imports from Canada and Mexico were 189,\nand the exports thereto 215. From South America the imports were 107,\nthe exports 41; from Asia the imports were 147, the exports 58; from\nAustralia they were 21 and 37, and from Africa 12 and 38.\n\nThe trade balances with individual countries in Europe were as follows:\nEngland bought from the United States 523 million dollars\u2019 worth, and\nsold the value of 180; then comes Germany, which bought 174 and sold\n111; France bought only 70 and sold 87; Austria bought 6 and sold 10;\nRussia bought 7 and sold the same amount. After England and Germany the\nbest purchaser was Canada, which imported from the United States 123 and\nexported thereto 54. Germany imports more from the United States than\nfrom any other country. Germany imports very much less from Russia, and\nstill less from Austria and Great Britain. Among the countries to which\nGermany exports her wares the United States has third place, England and\nAustria having the first and second. America imports from Germany\nfirstly drugs and dye-stuffs, then manufactured cotton, silk, and iron\ngoods, books, pictures, and works of art, clay ware, china, lithographs,\ntoys, etc. No other class amounts to more than 10 million marks. There\nis a steady increase in almost every class, and the total imports from\nGermany were 17 per cent. larger last year than during the year\nprevious; 71 per cent. more than in 1898; 138 per cent. more than in\n1880; 198 per cent. more than in 1875, and 343 per cent. more than in\n1870.\n\nThe principal export of the United States to Germany is cotton. Ten\nyears ago the amount exported was 34 million dollars\u2019 worth; in 1901, it\nwas 76; in the following year only 70, but in the year 1903, 84, the\namount exported in that year being 957,000,000 pounds. The exports of\nwheat to Germany amounted in 1896 to only 0.608 million dollars; in the\nfollowing year to 1.9; in the next year to 3.1; in 1899 to 7.6; and in\n1902 to 14.9; but in 1903 to only 11.1. The exports of corn fluctuate\nstill more widely. In the year 1901 Germany bought 17 millions, in 1903\nonly 6.6. The exportation of petroleum reached its largest figure in\n1900, with 8 millions, and in 1893 was 6.3.\n\nEnough of these dry figures. They would look still more striking if\ncompared with the statistics of other countries. More wheat grows in the\nUnited States than in any other country, and more corn than in all the\nother countries put together; more cattle and hogs are slaughtered than\nin any other country, and three-fourths of the world\u2019s cotton harvest is\ngrown in the United States. No other country mines so much coal,\npetroleum, iron, copper, and lead, or produces so much leather or\ncharcoal. In short, the most important articles entering into\nmanufactures are more plentiful than in any other country of the world.\nBut even on looking over these figures of international trade, one does\nnot get so adequate an impression of the immense economic activity as by\nactually seeing the wheels of this great machine in motion. One must see\nthe power stations at Niagara, the steel works of Pittsburg, the\nslaughter-houses of Chicago, the textile factories of New England, the\nprinting-presses of New York, the watch factories of Massachusetts and\nIllinois, the grain-elevators of Buffalo, the mills of Minneapolis, the\nlocomotive and ship works near Philadelphia, and the water front of New\nYork City, in order to understand the tremendous forces which are\nconstantly at work.\n\nA single factory turns out 1,500 locomotives every year. A Chicago\nfactory which makes harvesting machinery covers 140 acres, employs\n24,000 men, and has made two million machines which are now in use. It\nhas fifty ships to bring its wood and iron, and every day loads a\nhundred freight cars with its finished products. And enterprise on this\nlarge scale is found not merely in staple articles, but in more trivial\nwares. It is a familiar fact that in Germany the large department stores\nmake very slow progress against small shops, while in America the great\nshops meet at once with popular favour. Their huge advertisements in\nnewspapers and magazines vie with their shop windows in attracting\ntrade. It is nothing uncommon for the manufacturer of a breakfast food\nor some chemical preparation to spend over a million dollars a year for\nhumorous advertisements. In the _Ladies\u2019 Home Journal_ one insertion on\nthe advertising pages costs six dollars per line, and the lines are\nshort. A short time ago a soap concern leased the back outside cover of\na magazine for a period of time and paid $150,000 therefor.\n\nMore impressive, however, than anything that the traveller is able to\nsee to-day is the comparison with what existed yesterday. Our figures\nhave very well shown that the speed of development has been rapid\neverywhere and sometimes almost explosive. A typical example of this is\nfound in agricultural machinery. The manner of tilling the ground was\nwholly revolutionized in 1870, when the first ploughing-machine was\noffered for sale to the American farmer. Since then improvements have\nbeen made continually, until to-day every farmer rides on his machines;\nand the steam-plough, which sows and harrows at the same time, has\nreduced the amount of time spent on these processes to one-fifteenth of\nwhat it formerly was, and the cost of every sheaf of wheat to\none-quarter. The machines of to-day sow and fertilize at the same time,\nand place the seeds at just the desired depth beneath the surface. There\nare other machines which take the corn from the cob, at the same time\ncutting up the cobs, and turn out a bushel of corn in a minute, for\nwhich a good labourer used to take two hours.\n\nThe threshing-flail was abandoned long ago, and the combined mowing and\nthreshing machine is perhaps the most clever invention of all. It cuts\nthe kernels from the stalk, threshes and winnows them, and packs them in\nbags; and all this as quickly as the horses are able to travel down the\nfield. The machines which separate the cotton from the cotton seed are\nthe only thing that makes it possible to gather a harvest of ten million\nbales. In former times it took a person about ten hours to remove the\nseeds from a pound and a half of cotton. The machine cleans 7,000 pounds\nin the same time.\n\nIn just the same way the inventive genius of the American has everywhere\nincreased the output of his factories. His chief aim is to save labour,\nand hence to devise automatic processes wherever they are possible, so\nthat turning a crank or touching a lever shall accomplish as much as\nhard work once accomplished. This continual process of invention and\nimprovement, and the fertile resourcefulness of every workman and\ncapitalist, their readiness to introduce every improvement without delay\nand without regard to expense, have contributed more to the enormous\neconomic progress than all the protective tariff or even than the\nnatural resources of the soil itself.\n\nExtreme jingoes see in this huge growth only the beginning of something\nyet to come, and in their dreams imagine a day when America shall rule\nthe markets of the world. But no one should be deceived by such ideas.\nThe thoughtful American knows very well that, for instance, the great\nincrease of his export trade has by no means overcome all obstacles. He\nknows that American wages are high, and that prosperity makes them more\nso, because the American workman is better able than the European to\ndemand his share of all profits. Also the thoughtful American does not\nexpect to gain the European market by \u201cdumping\u201d his wares. In the\napprehension of dull times he may snatch an expedient for getting rid of\naccumulations which the home market will not take off his hands. In\nordinary times industry will not do this, because it knows the\ndemoralizing effect produced on the home country when it is known that\nthe manufacturer is selling more cheaply abroad than at home. The\nAmerican is afraid of demoralizing the domestic market more than\nanything else; since, owing to the strong tendency toward industrial\nimitation, any economic depression spreads rapidly, and can easily cause\na general collapse of prices. Even the elaborate pains taken to replace\nhuman labour in the American labour-saving machines are often quite made\nup for by the thoughtless waste of by-products and by the general\nhigh-handedness of conducting business.\n\nWhile America has a tremendous advantage in the fact that coal can be\nreadily brought to the industrial centres, and that the products can be\ndelivered cheaply throughout the country, it stands under the\ndisadvantage that most of its exports are shipped in foreign bottoms, so\nthat the freight charges go to foreigners; for the American\nmerchant-marine is wholly inadequate to the needs of American trade. If\nAmerica is strong by reason of protective tariff, England intends,\nperhaps, to remind her daughter country that the American game can be\nplayed by two. Protection is no monopoly. While the natural wealth of\nthis country is inexhaustible, the American knows that the largest\nprofits will go to the country which manufactures them; and while the\nAmerican is energetic and intelligent in getting a foothold in foreign\nmarkets, he finds that other nations also have some counterbalancing\nvirtues which he neither has nor can get. First of these is the patience\nto study foreign requirements, and then the ways of guarding against\nwastefulness. He has one incomparable advantage, as we have seen\u2014his\neconomic idealism, his belief in the intrinsic value of economic\nprogress, his striving to be economically creative in order to satisfy\nthe restlessness which is in him. The economic drawback of this point of\nview is not far to seek. The spirit of individual initiative awakens in\nthe workman the demand for equal rights, and intensifies the fight\nbetween capital and labour more than in any other country, and puts such\nchains on industry as are spared to America\u2019s competitors in the markets\nof the world. In short, the thoughtful American knows very well that the\nmarkets of the world are to be won for his products only one by one, and\nthat he will meet competitors who are his equals; that there will be\ndifficulties on difficulties, and that the home market from time to time\nwill make heavy imports necessary. He knows that he cannot hope simply\nto overthrow the industry of all Europe, nor to make the industrial\ncaptains of the New World dictators of the earth.\n\nThat which he does expect, however, is sure to happen; namely, that the\nprogress of America will be in the future as steady as it has been in\nthe past. The harvests of all the states will not always prosper, nor\nspeculators be always contented with their profits, but the business\nlife of the nation as a whole, unless all signs fail, need fear no\nsetbacks or serious panics.\n\nThe United States have gone through six severe crises\u2014in 1814, 1819,\n1837, 1857, 1873, and 1893. There is much to indicate that the trite\nidea of the rhythmical recurrence of crises will be given up henceforth.\nAnd although just now, after years of great expansion, contraction is\nsetting in, still the times are not to be compared with preceding\ncrises, and particularly not with the bitter days of 1893. Let us\nexamine what happened in that year. The unhappy experiences of the early\nnineties resulted naturally from an abnormal expansion of credit. Five\nor six years of prosperity had gone before, and therewith every industry\nwhich contributed to personal gratification was stimulated to excess. An\nunreasonable craze for building went over the country, and real estate\nrose constantly. But the country had not developed economically in other\ndirections to a corresponding degree. Too many superfluous undertakings\nhad been started, and houses and lands were everywhere heavily\nmortgaged. As early as 1890 things began to tremble, and three years\nlater the final crash came. More than 15,000 bankruptcies followed one\nanother during that year, of which the total obligations were\n$350,000,000; and in the three following years matters were hardly any\nbetter. Everything was paralyzed. The farmer was in debt, the artisan\nout of employment, the miner had to be fed by charity, and since the\npurchasing power of millions of people was destroyed, there was no one\nto support industry and trade. It was a veritable economic collapse,\nwith all the symptoms of danger; but the organism recovered without the\naid of a physician, by its own healthy reaction, and in such wise that a\nrelapse will hardly take place in the future.\n\nThe catastrophe prepared for the return to strength by destroying many\nbusiness concerns which were not fit to survive, and leaving only the\nstrongest in the field. But this result is, of course, not a lasting\none, because in prosperous years all sorts of poor businesses start up\nagain; good years stimulate superfluous production. The permanent result\nwas the lesson which industry learned, in prudence and economy. There is\nvery much in this direction still to be learned, yet the last crisis\naccomplished a great deal. For instance, in the stock-yards a single\ncompany had formerly thrown away annually portions of the animals which\nwould have yielded six million pounds of lime, 30 million pounds of fat,\nand 105 million pounds of fertilizer, and a few years later the total\ndividends of that company were paid by the by-products which had been\nthrown away a short time before. The same thing has happened in the\nmines and oil-wells, in the fields and in the forests.\n\nOwing to the special gift which the American has for invention, this\nperiod brought out a great number of devices looking toward economy. In\niron factories and coal mines, and in a thousand places where industry\nwas busy, expenses were cut down and profits were increased, more\nlabour-saving devices were invented, and all sorts of processes were\naccomplished by ingenious machines. American industry derived advantages\nfrom this period in which the nation had to be economical, which it will\nnever outlive.\n\nAlthough such great economy helps out in bad times, it does not in\nitself revive trade. It is difficult to say where and how the revival\nset in, since the most diverse factors must have been at work. But the\nformation of the great trusts was not a cause of such revival, but\nmerely a symptom of it. The real commencement seems to have been the\ngreat harvest which the country enjoyed in the fall of 1897. When wheat\nwas scarce in Russia and India, and therefore throughout the world,\nAmerica reaped the largest harvest in years, and despite the enormous\nquantity the European demand carried prices up from week to week. The\nfarmer who in 1894 had received forty-nine cents for each bushel of\nwheat, now received eighty-one cents, and at the same time had his bins\nfull. Of course there could be only one result. The farmers who had been\neconomizing and almost impoverished for several years became very\nprosperous, and called for all sorts of things which they had had to go\nwithout\u2014better wagons and farming implements, better clothing, and\nbetter food. In a country where agriculture is so important, this means\nprosperity for all industries.\n\nThe shops in every village were busy once more, and the large industries\nagain started up one by one. The effect on the railroads was still more\nimportant. The good times had stimulated the building of many competing\nlines of railroad, which were very good for the country, but less\nprofitable to their owners. The lean years just passed had brought great\ndemoralization to these lines. One railroad after another had gone into\na receiver\u2019s hands, and the service was crippled. Every possible cent\nwas saved and coaches and road-beds were sparingly renewed. Now came an\nenormous freight demand to carry the great harvest to market, and to\nserve the newly revived industries. The railroads rapidly recovered;\ntheir service was restored. The railroads brought prosperity once more\nto the iron and steel industries; new rails and ties were absolutely\nnecessary, and the steel industry started forward and set everything\nelse in motion with it. Artisans became prosperous again and further\nstimulated the industries which they patronized; coal was wanted\neverywhere, and so the mines awakened to new life.\n\nThen the Spanish War was begun and brought to the nation an unexpected\namount of self-confidence, which quickened once more its industrial\nactivity. Such were the internal conditions which made for growth, and\nthe external conditions were equally favourable. In 1898 America\nharvested 675 million bushels of wheat, and the enormous quantity of 11\nmillion bales of cotton. By chance, moreover, the production of gold\nincreased to $64,000,000; and this, with the enormous sums which foreign\ncountries paid for American grain, considerably increased the money in\ncirculation. This was the time for the stock market to enjoy a similar\nboom. During the crisis it had nervously withheld from activity and\nlooked with distrust on the West and South, which were now being\nprospered by great harvests. Everything had formerly been mortgaged in\nthose regions, and from the despair of the Western farmer the\nill-advised silver schemes had arisen to fill the eastern part of the\ncountry with anxiety. But now the election of McKinley had assured the\nsafety of the currency; the silver issue was laid low; the debts of the\nWestern farmer had been paid within a few years by magnificent crops,\nand the Western States had come into a healthy state of prosperity. Now\nthe stock markets could pluck up courage. In the stock market of New\nYork in the year 1894 only 49,000,000 shares were bought and sold. In\n1897 the market began to recover, and 77,000,000 shares were exchanged;\nin 1898 there were 112,000,000, and in 1899, 175,000,000 shares.\n\nIn the winter of 1898\u201399 the formation of trusts commenced in good\nearnest, and this was a glad day for the stock markets. Large amounts of\ncapital which had been only cautiously offered now sought investment,\nand since the market quotations could rise more quickly than industries\ncould grow, it was a favourable time for reorganizing industry and\nmaking great combinations with a capital proportioned to the happy\nindustrial outlook. In the State of New Jersey alone, a state which\nspecially invited all such organizations by means of its very lenient\nlaws of incorporation, hundreds of such combinations were incorporated\nwith a total nominal capital of over $4,000,000,000. To be sure, in just\nthis connection there was very soon a recoil. In December of 1899, a\ngreat many of these watered-stock issues collapsed, although the\nindustries themselves went on unharmed. But this activity of the stock\nmarket, in spite of its fluctuating quotations, was of benefit to\nindustrial life.\n\nMeanwhile wealth in town and country increased, owing to the general\nactivity of all factors. In a few years the number of savings-banks\naccounts was doubled, and railroads had only the one complaint\u2014that they\ncould not get enough cars to carry all the wheat, corn, wood, iron,\ncattle, coal, cotton, and manufactures offered for transportation. In\ntwo years the number of money-orders sent through the post-offices\nincreased by 7 millions, and the number of letters and packages by 361\nmillions. Now, too, came a time of magnificent philanthropy; private\nendowments for education and art increased in one year more than\n$50,000,000.\n\nAlong with all this came an increase in foreign trade; here, too, bad\ntimes had prepared the way. When the home market was prostrate, industry\nhad sought with great energy to get a footing in foreign markets; and by\nlow prices, assiduous study of foreign demands, and good workmanship, it\nhad slowly conquered one field after another, so that when good times\ncame there was a splendid foundation built for a foreign commerce.\nAmerica sold bicycles and agricultural machinery, boots, cotton cloth,\npaper, and watches, and eventually rails, bridges, and locomotives in\nquantities which would never have been thought of before the panic. And\nthe country became at the same time more than ever independent of\nEuropean industry. In 1890 America bought $357,000,000 of foreign\nmanufactures and sold of her own only $151,000,000. In 1899 its\npurchases were $100,000,000 less and its exports nearly $200,000,000\nmore.\n\nAnd at the same time, owing to the tremendous crops, the total export of\nnative products reached the sum of $1,233,000,000, and therewith the\nUnited States had for the first time reached the highest place among the\nexporting countries of the world\u2014a position which had formerly belonged\nto Great Britain. The trade balance of the United States, even in the\nfirst year of prosperity, 1898, brought $615,000,000 into the country.\nThe year in which the American Navy, by a rapid succession of victories,\ndemonstrated that the nation was politically a world power, brought the\nassurance that it was no less a world power commercially. Already the\nRussian trans-Siberian Railway was using American rails, American\ncompanies were building bridges in India, American cotton goods driving\nout British competition in China, and the movement was still going on.\nOne large harvest followed another.\n\nThe wheat harvest in 1901 reached the unprecedented figure of 736\nmillion bushels, and in 1902 of 987 millions. In the same year there\nwere 670 million bushels of barley, and as many as 2,523 million bushels\nof corn. A corn harvest is almost always profitable, because it keeps\nand can easily be stored until the right time comes to sell it; and\nthen, too, the farmers are always ready to use it for feed, which\nfurther helps its price. Corn has done more than any other harvest to\nbring wealth into the West. The cotton crop stayed at its ten-million\nmark, and nearly 70 million barrels of petroleum flowed every year. The\ndemands made on the railroads increased month by month, until finally\nlast year there were weeks in which no freight could be received,\nbecause the freight yards were full of unloaded cars. And at the head of\neverything moved the iron and steel industries. The larger the harvests\nthe more lively was the industry of the country, and the more busy the\nfactories and railroads became the more the iron industry prospered. The\nmanufacture of iron and steel increased steadily, and in 1898 amounted\nto 11.9 million meter-tons of pig-iron, and 9 million of steel; in 1900,\nto 14 of pig-iron and 10 of steel; in 1902, to 18 and 15: while the\nproduction of the entire earth was only 44 and 36 respectively.\n\nBut in spite of this tremendous growth, the prices also rose. Railroads\nwhich in the spring had made contracts for new rails were able a few\nmonths later to sell their old rails at prices which were 25 per cent.\nhigher than the former price of new rails, because meanwhile the price\nof steel had risen enormously. If it is true that the iron industry can\nbe taken as an index of national prosperity, there is no doubt at all\nthat prosperity was here. No city in the country experienced such a\ngrowth in its banking as Pittsburg, where the banking transactions in\n1899 amounted to $1,500,000,000.\n\nThis tempestuous expansion in every direction, which lasted from 1897 to\n1903, is no longer going on. A counter-movement has set in again. So\nmany factors are at work that it is hard to say where the reaction\ncommenced, although undoubtedly the great coal strikes were the first\nimportant indication. The feverish building activity of the country is\nvery largely over, and this decrease has considerably affected the steel\nindustry. Perhaps the refusal of bankers further to countenance the\nfinancial operations of the railroads has been an even more important\nmatter. During the years of prosperity the railroads had obtained credit\nso easily that the scale of expenditure on most railroads had become too\nlavish, and in particular large sums had been spent in converting\nrailroad shares into bonds. Now the financial world began to react and\nrefused to furnish any more funds, whereon the railroads, which were\namong the best patrons of the steel industry, had to retrench. And this\ndepressed the state of business, and the otherwise somewhat diminished\nindustry cut down the freight traffic. Other industries had to suffer\nwhen the building and iron industries declined. The purchasing power of\nthe working-man has decreased somewhat, and general industry is a trifle\ndull. This has affected stock quotations, and nervousness in financial\ncircles has been increased by the mishaps and miscalculations of\nwell-known operators. This has worked back in various directions, and so\nit is natural that pessimists at home and the dear friends of the\ncountry abroad have predicted a panic.\n\nBut it will not come. The situation has been too largely corrected, and\nthe country has learned a lasting lesson from previous years. When a\ncollapse came in the early nineties, after a time of prosperity and\nover-expenditure in every sort of undertaking, the national situation\nwas in every way different. There was a great deal of real weakness, and\nthere were many unnecessary and unconservative business ventures on\nfoot. All this is different to-day. The credit which the railroads at\nthat time had overdrawn on had been used to lay thousands of miles of\ntracks where as yet there was no population. During the recent years of\nprosperity, on the contrary, the railroads have been extended relatively\nlittle, and the expenditures have been mainly for improved equipment and\nservice. The railroads have been made more efficient and substantial,\ntheir indebtedness is less, and the considerable contraction of business\ncannot do them serious harm. Indeed, many persons believe that the great\nstrain which the boom of the last few years has put on the railroads has\nbeen a decided disadvantage to them. The excessive traffic has disturbed\nregular business, increased the danger from accidents, and considerably\nraised the charges for maintenance. In general, the railroads would\nprefer a normal to an abnormal traffic demand.\n\nThe same is true of industry. Such tremendous pressure as the last few\nyears have brought cannot be borne without loss. The factories were\nobliged to hire working-men much below the average grade of\nintelligence, and the slight decline of industrial demand has made it\npossible to dismiss the inferior men and to keep only the more\nefficient. Industry itself is to-day like the railroads, thoroughly\nsound and prosperous, and the small fluctuations in profits are not\nnearly so great as the declines in market quotations.\n\nFinancial operations and labour are largely independent of each other.\nThe output can be undisturbed when the value of shares is being wiped\nout in the market. American stocks do not represent the actual value of\nthe industrial plants which have been combined to form a trust, but\nrepresent in part certain advantages which it is calculated will accrue\nfrom the consolidation of business\u2014economies of administration and\nobviation of competition. The real economic life will not be damaged if\nsuch shares, which for the most part have remained in the strongboxes of\nthe very rich, decline from their fictitious values. Such fluctuations\nhave always happened, and may happen in the very height of prosperity,\nwithout doing any harm to industry itself. Thus, for instance, in 1898\nan enormous over-speculation commenced in copper shares. Their price was\nartificially raised and raised, and in the summer of 1899 this house\nbuilt of share certificates collapsed, and great was the fall thereof;\nbut the price of copper itself was uninfluenced. A pound of copper in\nthe year 1897 brought only the average price of 11 cents; in 1899 its\naverage price was 17 cents, although the copper securities were going\ndown steadily. Not only is industry itself on a sound basis, and the\nimprovements which it introduced in the last panic are not only still in\nforce, but also certain needs have now been met at home which formerly\nwere met only by foreign countries; and at the same time commerce has\nbeen so energetically carried into other countries, that there is now a\nreadier outlet than ever in case the domestic purchasing power should\nagain be suspended.\n\nBut there are still more important factors. The first of these is the\nrecent and complete independence of this country from European capital.\nSince year after year the exports of the United States to Europe have\nexceeded the imports by hundreds of millions of dollars, the debt which\nEurope so contracted has been paid for the most part by returning the\nindustrial and other bonds which Europe owned against America. It was\nthis which had greatly contributed to the crisis in the early nineties;\nEurope withdrew her capital. In 1892 the United States paid back\n$500,000,000 of European capital, and to-day very little is left to pay.\nIn 1893 the United States exported $108,000,000 in gold, but imported\nonly $22,000,000. In the year 1898 the imports of gold to the United\nStates were $105,000,000 more than the exports. Last year the balance\nwas still in favour of the United States; and it would be impossible\nto-day, in case of any stringency in the money market of the country,\nfor the withdrawal of European capital to precipitate a panic.\n\nAnother factor is that the political situation is now certain, as it was\nnot at the time of the last panic. The silver schemes of the West then\nfilled the country with apprehension, whereas to-day there are no such\npolitical fears. However the Presidential election may turn out, there\nwill be no dangerous experiments tried with the currency; and even if\nboth parties should mildly oppose the trusts, the nation nevertheless\nknows that just the formation of these trusts has contributed to the\nsteadiness and security of economic prosperity, that it has done away\nwith unnecessary competition, has brought about an orderly and uniform\nproduction, and that although the purchasers of watered stocks may have\nbeen bitten, the purchasers of the finished products have suffered\nlittle inconvenience.\n\nThen there are two other factors whose significance for economic\nsolidity cannot be overestimated. The first of these is the increasing\nindependence of the agricultural West, and the second is the industrial\nrevival of the South. The financial condition of the New York Stock\nExchange to-day no more represents the industrial life of the whole\nnation, as it did ten years ago. The West, which before the panic of\n1893 was up to its ears in debts owned by the East, is now, by reason of\nsix tremendous harvests, prosperous and independent, and its purchasing\npower and business enterprise are no longer affected by the fluctuations\nof Wall Street. Even if the shares of all New Jersey corporations should\ncollapse, the nation could continue to buy and sell, produce,\nmanufacture, and transport, because the Western agricultural states\nwould suffer no relapse of prosperity. They have paid off their\nmortgages and laid money by; the farmer has bought his daughter a\nparlour organ, sent his sons to college, and bent all his energies to\nmaking his West into an economic paradise. Migration has once more set\nin from the Eastern to the Western States, while during the poor years\nit had almost stopped; and Western economic influence is asserting\nitself more and more in the political field.\n\nThe same is more or less true of the South. In former times, whenever a\ncotton harvest brought prosperity, the South still did not take the\ntrouble to utilize its ample resources outside of the plantations. It\ndid not try to mine its coal and iron deposits, nor exploit its forests,\nnor grow wheat and corn, nor manufacture cotton into cloth, nor the\ncottonseed into oil. It left all this to the North. But during hard\ntimes the South has learned its lesson, and at the time of the last\ngreat revival the whole South developed an almost undreamed-of economic\nactivity. The exploitation of forests and coal and iron deposits made\ngreat strides, and the factories turned out articles to the value of\n$2,000,000,000. Cotton is still the staple article of the South, but the\nbales no longer have to be sent to the North to be made into cloth. As\nearly as 1899 there were 5 million spindles in operation, and the\nmanufacture of cotton has made the South more independent than any\nnumber of bales produced for export could have made it.\n\nThis economic independence of one another of large sections of the\ncountry, and at the same time of European capital, combined with the\nlarge increase of commerce with the whole world, the improvement in\neconomic appliances, and a surprising growth in technical science and\ntechnical instruction, has created a national economic situation which\nis so different from that which prevailed in the beginning of the\nnineties, that there is no analogy to justify the pessimist in\npredicting another such panic. It had to come at that time. Industrial\nforces had suffered a serious disaster and had to go back to camp in\norder to recuperate. Since then they have been striding forward,\nswerving a little now and then, it may be, to avoid some obstacle, but\nthey are still marching on as they have marched for seven years with\nfirm and steady step, and keeping time with the world-power tune which\nthe national government is playing.\n\n\n\n\n                            CHAPTER THIRTEEN\n                        _The Economic Problems_\n\n\nWe have aimed to speak of the American as he appears in the economic\nworld\u2014of the American in his actual economic life and strife\u2014rather than\nmerely of his inanimate manufactures. That is, we have wished specially\nto show what forces have been at work in his soul to keep him thus\nbusied with progress. And although we have gone somewhat further, in\norder to trace the economic uplift of the last decades, nevertheless we\nhave chiefly aimed merely to show the workings of his mind and heart\u2014not\nthe economic history of the American, but the American as little by\nlittle he builds that history, has been the point of interest.\n\nSeen from this point of view, everything which stands in the foreground\nof the actual conflict becomes of secondary interest. The problems\nleading to party grievances which are solved now one way, now another,\nand which specially concern different portions of society, different\noccupations or geographical sections, contribute very little to reveal\nthe traits that are common to all sections, and that must, therefore,\nbelong to the typical American character. If we have given less thought\nto the political problems of the day than to the great enduring\nprinciples of democracy, we need still less concern ourselves with the\ndisputes of the moment in the economic field. The problems of\nprotection, of industrial organization, of bimetallism, and of labour\nunions are not problems for which a solution can be attempted here.\n\nAnd nevertheless, we must not pass by all the various considerations\nwhich bear on these questions. We might neglect them as problems of\nAmerican economy; and purely technical matters, like bank reform or\nirrigation, we shall indeed not discuss. But as problems which\nprofoundly perplex the national mind, exercise its best powers, and\ndevelop its Americanism, silver, trusts, tariff, and labour unions\nrequire minuter consideration. The life and endeavour of the Americans\nare not described if their passionate interest in such economic\ndifficulties is not taken into account; not, once more, as problems\nwhich objectively influence the developing nation, but as problems which\nagitate the spirit of the American. An exhaustive treatment is, of\ncourse, out of the question, if for no other reason than that it would\ndistort our perspective of things. Had we only the objective side of the\nproblems to consider, we might, perhaps, doubt even whether there were\nany problems; whether they were not rather simple events, bringing in\ntheir train certain obvious consequences, whether deplorable or\ndesirable. These economic problems are, indeed, not in the least\nproblematical. The silver question will not be brought up again; the\ntrusts will not be dissolved; the protective tariff will not be taken\noff and labour unions will not be gotten rid of. These are all natural\nprocesses, rather than problems; but the fact that these events work\ndiversely on men\u2019s feelings, are greeted here with delight and there\nwith consternation, and are accompanied by a general chorus of joy and\npain, gives the impression that they are problems. This impression\nseizes the American himself so profoundly that his own reaction comes to\nbe an objective factor of importance in making history. It is not to be\ndoubted that the course of these much-discussed economic movements is\nconsiderably influenced by prejudices, sentiments, and hobbies.\n\n\n                         _The Silver Question_\n\nPerhaps the power of mere ideas\u2014of those which are clear, and, even\nmore, those which are confused\u2014is shown in none of these problems more\nstrongly than in the silver question. If any problem has been really\nsolved, it is this one; and still no one can say that it has dropped out\nof the American mind, although, for strategic reasons, politicians\nignore it. The sparks of the fire still glow under the ashes of two\nPresidential campaigns. The silver schemes have too strongly fixed\npublic attention to be so quickly forgotten, and any day may see them\nrevive again. Just here the possibility of prejudices which would not\nprofit by experience has been remarkably large, since the question of\ncurrency involves such complicated conceptions that fallacious arguments\nare difficult to refute. And such a situation is just the one where the\nbattle of opinions can be waged the hottest: the silver question has, in\nfact, more excited the nation than any other economic problem of the\nlast ten years. And there can be no doubt that many valid arguments have\nbeen urged on the wrong side, and some untenable theses on the right\nside.\n\nThe starting-point of the discussion lay in the law of 1873, which, for\nthe first time in the United States, excluded silver coin from the\nofficial currency. There had already been differences of opinion before\nthe passage of this law. The friends of silver say that in 1792 the\nUnited States permitted the coinage of both silver and gold without\nlimit, and that silver was the actual monetary standard. And, although\nby accidents of production the relative value of the precious metals,\nwhich had been 15 to 1, later became 16 to 1, nevertheless the two\nmetals continued to be regarded equally important until the\nsurreptitious crime of 1873. It was a secret crime, they say, because\nthe law was debated and published at a time when the nation could have\nno clear idea of what it meant. The Civil War had driven gold coin out\nof the country, every one was using paper, and no one stopped to ask\nwhether this paper would be redeemed in gold or silver, and no one was\naccustomed to seeing gold coins in circulation. General Grant, who was\nPresident at that time, signed the bill without any suspicion that it\nwas anything more than a technical measure, much less that it was a\ncriminal holdup of the nation on the part of the rich. And great was the\ndisaster; for the law demonetized silver, brought a stringency of gold,\nlowered prices tremendously, depressed the condition of the nation, and\nbrought the farmers to poverty, so it was said.\n\nThe opponents of bimetallism recognize no truth in this story. They say\nthat in the first third of the nineteenth century the silver dollar was\ncounted equal to the gold dollar, at the ratio of 15 ounces to 1 ounce\nof metal; but since this ratio did not continue to correspond with the\nmarket price, and the gold of the country went to Europe, because it\nthere brought a better value, the official ratio was changed as early as\n1834 to 16 to 1. This rate put a small premium on gold, and virtually\nestablished a gold standard for American currency. The owners of silver\nmines no longer had silver coined in the country, because they could get\nmore money for their silver bars abroad; and so, as a matter of fact,\nduring the next decade only 8 million silver dollars were coined, and\nthis denomination virtually went out of circulation. Only the fractional\nsilver currency could be kept in the country, and that only by resorting\nto the trick of making the coins proportionately lighter than the legal\nweight of the silver dollar.\n\nThe currency became, therefore, to all intents and purposes, a gold one,\nand nobody was discontented with it, because silver was then less mined.\nFrom 1851 to 1855, for instance, the average silver production of the\nUnited States was only $375,000, while that of gold was $62,000,000.\nThen came the lean years of the Rebellion. The government borrowed from\nthe banks, in the autumn of 1861, $100,000,000 in gold, and in the\nfollowing year issued $150,000,000 of unsecured greenbacks. Thereupon\nthe natural laws of exchange drove all sound currency out of the\ncountry, and $150,000,000 more greenbacks were soon issued. The premium\non gold went higher and higher, and reached its highest point in 1864,\nwhen the price was 185 per cent. of the normal value. After the war\nconfidence was restored, the paper dollar rose from 43 to 80 cents; but\nthe quantity of paper in circulation was so tremendous that metallic\nmoney was never seen, and not until the early seventies did conditions\nbecome solid enough for the treasury to take steps to redeem the\ngreenbacks.\n\nBut this was just the time when all the civilized nations were adopting\nthe gold standard\u2014a time in which the production of gold had become\nincredibly large. The two decades between 1850 and 1870 had brought five\ntimes as much gold bullion into the world as the preceding two decades,\nand the leading financiers of all countries were agreed that it was high\ntime to make gold the universal standard of exchange. The general\nmovement was begun in the conference of 1867 held in Paris. Germany led\nin adopting the gold standard; the United States followed in 1873. The\ngold dollar, which since the middle of the century had been the actual\nstandard of American currency, became now the official standard, and\nsilver coinage was discontinued. There was nothing of secrecy or\npremeditated injustice, for the debates lasted through several sessions\nof Congress.\n\nIf, nevertheless, the so-called crime remained unnoticed, and so many\nSenators failed to know what they were doing, this was not because the\ntransactions went on in secret, nor because the use of paper money had\nmade every one forget the problems of metallic currency, but rather\nbecause no one felt at that time that he would be injured by the new\nmeasure, although the attention of everybody had been called to the\ndiscussions. The owners of silver mines themselves had no interest in\nhaving their mineral made into coin, and no one was disturbed to see\nsilver go out of circulation. All the trouble and all the hue and cry\nabout a secret plot did not commence until several years later, when,\nfor entirely independent reasons, circumstances had considerably\nchanged. The step had been taken, however, and the principle has not\nbeen repudiated. The unlimited coinage of silver has not been permitted\nby the United States since 1873.\n\nNevertheless, silver was destined soon again to become regular currency.\nHard times followed the year 1873, prices fell and the value of silver\nfell with them, and bimetallic coinage had been discontinued.\nBimetallists connected these facts, and said that the price of silver\nfell because the commercial world had stopped coining it. For this\nreason the only other coined metal, which was gold, became dear, which\nmeant, of course, that prices became cheap, and that the farmer got a\nlow price for his harvests. And thus the population was driven into a\nsort of panic.\n\nA ready expedient was suggested: it was to coin silver once more, since\nthat would carry off the surplus and raise the price; while on the other\nhand, the increased amount of coin in circulation would bring prices up\nand restore the prosperity of the farmers and artisans. This is the main\nargument which was first heard in 1876, and was cried abroad with\nincreasing loudness until twenty years later it was not merely preached,\nbut shouted by frenzied masses, and still in 1900, misled the Democratic\nparty. But the desire for an increased medium of circulation is by no\nmeans the same as the demand for silver coinage. After the Civil War the\npublic had demanded more greenbacks just as clamorously as it now\ndemanded silver. It was also convinced that nothing but currency was\nneeded to make high values, no matter what the value of the currency\nitself.\n\nSo far as these main facts are concerned, which have been so unjustly\nbrought into connection, there can be no doubt that the depreciation of\nsilver was brought about only in very small part by the coinage laws. To\nbe sure, the cessation of silver coinage by several large commercial\npowers had its effect on the value of silver; but India, China, and\nother countries remained ready to absorb large amounts of silver for\ncoinage; and in fact the consumption of silver increased steadily for a\nlong time. The real point was that the production of silver increased\ntremendously at just the time when the production of gold was falling\noff. From 1851 to 1875, $127,000,000 worth of gold on an average was\nmined annually, but from 1876 to 1890 the average was only $108,000,000;\nwhile, on the other hand, the average production of silver in those\nfirst twenty-five years was only $51,000,000, but in the following\nfifteen years came up to $116,000,000. The output of gold therefore\ndecreased 15 per cent., while that of silver increased 127 per cent. Of\ncourse, then silver depreciated. Now the future was soon to show that\nincreased coinage of silver would not raise its price. Above all, it was\nan arbitrary misconstruction to ascribe bad times to the lack of\ncirculating medium. Later times have shown that, under the complicated\ncredit system of the country, prices do not depend on the amount of\nlegal tender in circulation in the industrial world. The speed of\ncirculation is a factor of equal importance with the amount of it; and,\nmost important of all, is the total credit, which has no relation to the\namount of metallic currency. When more money was coined it remained for\nthe time being unused, and could not be put in circulation until the\nindustrial situation recovered from its depression.\n\nThus the bad times of the seventies were virtually independent of\ncoinage legislation: but public agitation had set in, and as early as\n1878 met with considerable success. In that year the so-called Bland\nBill was passed, over the veto of President Hayes, which required the\ntreasury of the United States to purchase and coin silver bars to the\nvalue of not less than 2 million, and not more than four million,\ndollars every month. This measure satisfied neither the one side nor the\nother. The silverites wanted unlimited coinage of silver; for, if a\nlimit was put, the standard was still gold, even though the price of\nsilver should be somewhat helped. The other side saw simply that the\ncurrency of the country would be flooded with depreciated metal, and one\nwhich was really an unofficial and illegal circulating medium. It was\nknown that the silver, after being coined into dollars, would be worth\nmore than its market value, and it was already predicted that all the\nactual gold of the country would be taken abroad and replaced by silver.\nThe \u201cgold bugs\u201d also saw that this legislation would artificially\nstimulate the mining of silver if there should actually be any increase\nin its price.\n\nThe new law was thus a bad compromise between two parties, although to\nmany it seemed like a safe middle way between two dangers. Some\nrecognized in the unlimited coinage of silver the dangers of a\ndepreciated currency, but believed that the adoption of the gold\nstandard would be no less dangerous, because gold was too scarce to\nsatisfy the needs of the commercial world. It was said that free silver\nwould poison the social organism and free gold would strangle it, and\nthat limited silver coinage, along with unlimited gold coinage, would\ntherefore be the only safe thing.\n\nBut it soon appeared that such legal provisions would have no effect in\nrestoring the value of the white metal. Although the government\nfacilitated in every way the circulation of the new silver coins, they\nnevertheless came back to the treasury. No matter how many silver\ndollars were distributed as wages, they found their way at once to the\nretail shops, then to the banks, and then to Washington. It appeared\nthat the nation could not keep more than sixty or seventy million\ndollars\u2019 worth in circulation, while there were already more than\n$400,000,000 lying idle in Washington. The banks boycotted silver at\nfirst; but the more important fact was that the price of silver did not\nrise, but kept on falling. It was the amount produced and naturally\nconsumed, and not the amount coined, which regulated the price of\nsilver. In the year 1889 the relative values of silver and gold were as\n22 to 1; and the true value of the silver dollar coined under the Bland\nBill was only seventy-two cents. Congress now proposed to take a more\nserious measure looking toward a higher price for silver.\n\nIn July, 1890, a law was passed whereby the treasury was obliged to buy\nfour and one-half million ounces of silver every month at the market\nprice, and against this to issue treasury certificates to the\ncorresponding amount, which should be redeemable either in gold or\nsilver; since, as that law declared, the United States asserted the\nequal status of the two metals. The law did not prescribe the number of\nsilver certificates which were to be issued, since the weight of silver\nto be purchased was fixed and the value of it depended on the market.\nOnly a few months afterward it became clear that even this energetic\nstroke would not much help the price of silver. The silver and gold\ndollars would have been really equal to each other if an ounce of silver\nhad brought a market price of $1.29. In August, 1890, silver came up to\n$1.21 an ounce, and fell the next year to $1.00, and in 1892 to $0.85.\nBut while the price of silver was falling, gold was rapidly leaving the\ncountry.\n\nIn April, 1893, the gold reserve of the treasury fell for the first time\nbelow the traditional hundred millions. It was a time of severe economic\ndepression. The silverites still believed that the rise of silver had\nnot commenced because its purchase was restricted to monthly\ninstallments, and they clamoured for unlimited purchases of silver. But\nthe nation opposed this policy energetically. President Cleveland called\nan extra session of Congress, and after a bitter fight in the Senate,\nthe law providing for the purchases of silver and issue of silver\ncertificates was repealed, in November of 1893. The Democratic party had\nsplit on this measure, and then arose the two divisions, the Gold\nDemocrats who followed Cleveland, and the Silver Democrats who found a\nleader a year later in Bryan, and dictated the policy of the Democratic\nparty for the following decade.\n\nLooking on American economic history from the early seventies to the\nmiddle nineties without prejudice, one cannot doubt not only that the\nentire legislation relative to coinage has had scarcely any influence on\nthe price of gold and silver\u2014since the price of silver has fallen\nsteadily in spite of the enormous amounts purchased\u2014but also that the\ngeneral industrial situation, the movement of prices, and the volume of\nbusiness have been very little affected by these financial measures.\n\nThe strongest influence which they have had has been a moral one.\nBusiness became active and foreign commerce revived as soon as the\nconfidence in the American currency was restored. This result, of\ncourse, contradicted the expectations and wishes of the apostles of\nsilver. International confidence declined in proportion as a legal\ntender standing for a depreciated metal was forced into circulation. It\nwas not the amount of silver, but the fear of other countries as to what\nthat amount might become, which most injured American commerce. And the\ngreat achievement of Cleveland\u2019s Administration was to reassure the\nworld of our solidity.\n\nOtherwise the economic fluctuations depended on events which were very\nlittle related to the actual amount of gold on hand. If, in certain\nyears, the amount of circulation increased, it was the result rather\nthan the cause of industrial activity; and when, in other years, a\nspeculative movement collapsed, less money was used afterward, but the\nshortage of money did not cause the collapse. Then, too, harvests were\nsometimes good and at other times bad, and foreign commerce changed in\ndependence on quite external events in Europe. There were, moreover,\ncertain technical improvements in agricultural and industrial processes\nwhich rapidly lowered prices and which took effect at independent times\nand seasons.\n\nThe year 1893 was a time in which a great many factors worked in one\ndirection. The overbuilding of railways and a too great expansion of\niron industries had been followed by a terrible reaction; a surplus of\ncommodities on all the markets of the world caused prices to fall, and\nthe international distrust of silver legislation in the United States\nmade the situation worse. European capital, on which all undertakings\nthen depended, was hurriedly withdrawn; thousands of businesses failed,\nand small men fell into debt. The actual panic did not last long, and\nCleveland\u2019s successful move of 1893 restored the international\nconfidence. But the situation of the general public was not so readily\nimproved. This was the psychological moment in which the silver\nquestion, which had hitherto interested relatively restricted circles,\nso suddenly came to excite the entire nation that in 1896 the main issue\nof the Presidential campaign was silver or gold currency. The silver\ncraze spread most rapidly among the farmers, who had suffered more from\noverproduction than had the manufacturers. The manufacturer sold his\nwares more cheaply, but in greater quantities, because he improved his\nmethods, and, moreover, he bought his raw materials more cheaply. But\nthe fall in the prices of wheat and corn and other agricultural products\nwhich affected the farmer was only in small part due to more intensive\ncultivation, but rather to the greater area of land which had been\nplanted. The farmer in one state was not benefited by the fact that\ngreat areas in some other state were now for the first time laid down to\nwheat and corn. As prices fell he produced no more, and thus agriculture\nsuffered more severely than industry. While the farmer was able to get\nfor two sheaves of wheat only as much as he used to get for one, he\nthought, of course, that his patrons had too little money, and was\nreadily convinced that if more money could only be coined, he would get\ngood prices again.\n\nThere was another argument in addition to this, which could still even\nmore easily be imposed on the ignorant, and not only on the farmer, but\non all classes that were in debt. Silver was cheaper than gold, and if\ndebts were paid in it the creditor lost and the debtor won. It was at\nthis time that the conflict of interests between the great capitalists\nand the labouring masses began to arouse political excitement. Distrust\nfound its way into a good part of the population, and finally a hatred\nof capitalists and monopolies, and of the stock market most of all.\n\nThis hatred vented itself in a mad clamour for silver. If Congress would\nauthorize an unlimited silver coinage at the ratio of 16 to 1, while the\nmarket ratio was down to 33 to 1\u2014so that the silver dollar would be\nworth hardly fifty cents, and so that the farmer could sell his wheat or\nmaize for a dollar when it was really worth but half a dollar\u2014then at\nlast the robbers on the stock exchange would be well come up with. In\nreality, these two arguments contradicted each other, for the farmer\nwould be benefited by more silver money only if the market value of\nsilver could be brought up to that of gold; while he would be favoured\nin the payment of debts only if gold could be brought down to the value\nof silver. But once let there be any sort of distress, and any ghost of\nrelief haunting the general mind, then logic is totally forgotten. A new\nfaith arises, the power of which lies in suggestion. The call for\nfree-silver coinage at the old ratio of 16 to 1 fascinated the\nagricultural masses as well as the lower classes in cities, just as the\nidea of a future state of socialism fascinates German working-men\nto-day.\n\nAnd just as one cannot understand the German people without taking into\naccount their socialistic delusions, so one cannot understand the\nAmerican masses to-day without tracing out the course of the silver\npropaganda. It was the organizing power of a watchword which gave the\ndelusion such significance, and which, for perhaps the first time, gave\nvoice to the aversion which the masses felt toward the wealthy classes;\nand so, like the socialistic movement in Germany, it took effect in far\nwider circles than the points over which the discussion started would\nhave justified.\n\nBut the masses could hardly be stirred up to such a powerful agitation\nmerely on the basis of the specious arguments spread about by ignorant\nfanatics, or even with the substantial support of the indebted farmer.\nIn the middle nineties the literature of the silver question swelled\nenormously. A mere appeal to the passions of those who hated capital\nwould not have been enough, and even the argument that the amount of\nmoney in a country alone regulates prices could have been refuted once\nfor all. A financial and an intellectual impetus were both necessary to\nthe agitation, and both were to be had. Distinguished political\neconomists saw clearly certain unfairnesses and evils in a simple gold\nstandard, and urged many an argument for bimetallism which the masses\ndid not wholly follow, but which provided material for general\ndiscussion. And financial aid for the silver side flowed freely from the\npockets of those who owned silver mines. Of course, there was no doubt\nthat these mine-owners would be tremendously prospered by any radical\nlegislation for silver. In the days of the Bland Bill even the poorest\nsilver mines were in active operation, whereas now everything was quiet.\nThe discussions which ostensibly urged the right of the poor man against\nthe rich said nothing at all of the deep schemes of the silver-mine\nowners. These men did not urge their claims openly, but they paid their\nmoney and played the game shrewdly.\n\nWe have already fully compared the political traits of the two parties;\nand it will be understood at once that the contest for silver, as a\nmovement for the rights of the poor man against those of the capitalist,\nwould have to be officially waged by the Democratic party, while the\nRepublican party would, of course, take the other side. The nation\nfought out the great battle in two heated Presidential campaigns; and in\n1896 as well as in 1900, the contest was decided in favour of the gold\ncurrency. The currency legislation of the Republican Congresses has held\nto a conservative course. In March, of 1900, the treasury was\ninstructed, on demand, to redeem all United States notes in gold, so\nthat all the money in circulation came to have absolutely the same\nvalue. The old silver certificates, of which to-day $450,000,000 are in\ncirculation, can at any time be exchanged for gold coin, and the\nSecretary of the Treasury was entirely right in showing in his last\nannual report that it was this wise provision alone which obviated a\npanic at the time when stock market quotations dropped so suddenly in\nthe year 1903. Thus the finances of the country are definitely on a gold\nbasis.\n\nBut, as we have said, we are not interested in the material aspects of\nthe currency situation, and still less shall we undertake a profound\ndiscussion of bimetallism, as scientific circles are to-day considering\nit. The significance of a limited double standard, especially in view of\nthe commerce with the East, and of the effect it will have in quieting\nthe international struggle to get the yellow metal, is much discussed by\nthoughtful persons. The United States have sent a special commission to\nvisit other countries in order to persuade them that some international\nagreement as to the monetary recognition of silver is desirable.\n\nAll this does not interest us. We care for the silver question only as a\nsocial movement. No other problem has so profoundly moved the nation;\neven the questions of expansion and imperialism have so far aroused less\ngeneral interest. It is only too likely that if hard times return once\nmore, the old craze will be revived in one form or another. The silver\nintoxication is not over to-day, and the western part of the country is\nmerely for the moment too busy bringing its tremendous crops to harvest,\nand carrying its gold back home, to think of anything else.\n\n\n                         _The Tariff Question_\n\nThe silver question, which was of such great significance yesterday, was\nvery complicated, and only very few who discussed it knew all the\ndifficulties which it involved. This is not true of the tariff question,\nwhich may at any time become the main political issue. As the problem of\nprotective tariff is generally discussed, it involves only the simplest\nideas.\n\nThe dispute has come from a conflict of principle and motive, but not\nfrom any difference of opinion as to the effect of protective measures.\nHere and there it has been maintained, as it has in other countries,\nthat the foreigner pays the tariff; and this argument has, indeed,\noccasioned keen and complicated discussions. But, for the most part, no\nacademic questions are involved, rather conditions merely which are\nobvious to all, but toward which people feel very differently, according\nto their occupation, geographical position, and political convictions.\nThe struggle is not to be conceived as one between protective tariff and\nfree trade, but rather as between more or less protective tariff\u2014since,\nin spite of variations, the United States have, from the very outset,\nenacted a tariff greater than the needs of the public treasury, with the\nidea of protecting domestic labour from foreign competition.\n\nIndeed, it can be said that the policy of protection belongs even to the\nprehistory of the United States, and that it has contributed measurably\nto building up the Union. While America was an English colony, England\ntook care to suppress American industries; agriculture and trade were to\nconstitute the business of the colonists. The War for Independence\naltered the situation, and native industries began to develop, and they\nhad made a brave start in many states before the war was ended. But as\nsoon as the ties with England had been broken, the separate states\nmanifested diverse interests, and interfered in their trade with one\nanother by enacting customs regulations. It looked as if a tariff war on\nAmerican soil would be the first fruits of freedom from the common\noppressor. There was no central power to represent common interests, to\nfix uniform revenues for the general good, and uniform protection for\nthe industry of the country. And when one state after another was\npersuaded to give up its individual rights to the Federation, one of the\nmain considerations was the annulment of such interstate customs, which\nwere hindering economic development, and the establishment of a uniform\nprotection for industry. The tariff law of 1789 contained, first of all,\nsuch provisions as ensured the necessary public revenue, tariff on goods\nin whose manufacture the Americans did not compete; and then other\ntariffs which were meant to protect American industries.\n\nSo, at the outset, the principle of protective tariff was made an\nofficial policy by the United States; and since, through the highly\ndiversified history of more than eleven decades, the nation has still\nheld instinctively to this policy, we can hardly doubt that the external\nand internal conditions under which the country has stood have been\nfavourable to such a policy. The tremendous natural resources,\nespecially of iron, copper, lumber, fur, cotton, wool, and other raw\nmaterials, and the inexhaustible supply of energy in the coal-fields,\noil-wells, and water-falls, have afforded the material conditions\nwithout which an industrial independence would have been impossible. The\noptimistic American has found himself in this land of plenty with his\nenergy, his inventive genius, and his spirit of self-determination. It\nwas predestined that the nation should not only till the fields, produce\nraw materials, and engage in trade, but that it should set stoutly to\nwork to develop its own industries. Therefore, it seemed natural to pass\nlaws to help these along, although the non-industrial portions of the\ncountry, and all classes which were not engaged in industry, were for a\ntime inconvenienced by higher prices.\n\nOnce launched, the country drifted further and further in the direction\nof protective duties. In 1804 a tariff was enacted on iron and on\nglassware, with unquestionably protective intent. It is true that, in\ngeneral, the principal increases in the beginning of the century were\nplanned to accelerate the national income. The War of 1812 especially\ncaused all tariffs to be doubled. But this war stirred up patriotism and\na general belief in the abilities of the nation. Native industries were\nnow supported by patriotic enthusiasm, so that in 1816 the duties on\ncotton and woollen goods and on manufactured iron were increased for the\nsake of protection. And the movement went on. New tariff clauses were\nenacted, and new friends won over, often in their own selfish interests,\nuntil the early thirties. The reaction started in the South, which\nprofited least from the high tariff. Compromises were introduced, and\nmany of the heaviest duties were taken off. By the early forties, when\nthe movement lapsed, duties had been reduced by about 20 per cent.\n\nAt this time the divided opinions in favour of raising or lowering\nduties commenced to play an important part in politics. Protective\ntariff and tariff reduction were the watchwords of the two parties. In\n1842 the Protectionist party got the reins of government, and at once\nput heavy duties on iron, paper, glass, and cotton and woollen goods.\nFour years later, tariffs were somewhat reduced, owing to Democratic\ninfluences; but the principle of protection was still asserted, as is\nshown by the fact that tea and coffee, which were not grown in the\ncountry, were not taxed, while industrial manufactured articles were\ntaxed on the average 30 per cent. The Democrats continued to assert\ntheir influence, and won a victory here and there. Wool was admitted\nfree in 1857. Then came bad times. After a severe commercial crisis,\nimports decreased and therewith the customs revenues. The demand for\nhigh tariff then increased, and the Republicans got control of Congress,\nand enacted in the year 1861 the Morrill Tariff, which, although\nstrongly protective, was even more strongly a Republican party measure.\nIt aimed to discriminate in protecting the industries of those states\nwhich the Republican party desired to win over. Then came the Civil War,\nthe enormous expense of which required all customs and taxes to be\ngreatly increased.\n\nThe war tariff of 1864 was enacted for the sake of revenue, but its\neffect was decidedly protective. And when the war was over, and tariffs\nmight have been reduced so far as revenue went, industries were so\naccustomed to the artificial protection that no one was willing to take\noff duties. Some customs, even such as those on woollen and copper, were\nconsiderably increased in the next few years, while those on coffee and\ntea were again entirely removed.\n\nIn general, it was a time of uncertain fluctuations in the tariff until\nthe year 1883, when the whole matter was thoroughly revised. In certain\ndirections, the customs were lowered; in others, increased. Specially\nthe higher grades of manufactured articles were put under a higher\ntariff, while the cheaper articles used by the general public were taxed\nmore lightly. A short time after this, President Cleveland, as leader of\nthe Free-Trade Democrats, came out with a famous message against\nprotection. The unexpected result was, that after the tariff question\nhad thus once more been brought to the front, the Republicans gained a\ncomplete victory for their side, and enacted a tariff more extreme than\nany which had gone before, and which protected not only existing\nindustries, but also such as it was hoped might spring up. Even sugar\nwas now put on the free list, because it had been taxed merely for\nrevenue, and not for protection. While, on the other hand, almost all\nmanufactured articles which were made in the country were highly\nprotected. This was specially the case with velvet, silk, woollen, and\nmetal goods. This was the well-known McKinley Tariff.\n\nThe Democrats won the next election, although not on the issue of\nindustrial legislation, and as soon as they came into power they upset\nthe high tariffs. Their Wilson Tariff Bill of 1894, the result of long\ncontroversies, showed little internal consistency. Too many compromises\nhad been found necessary with these or those influential industries in\norder to pass the bill at all. Yet, on the whole, customs were\nconsiderably lowered, and for the first time in a long while raw\nmaterials, such as wool, were put on the free list. But Democratic rule\ndid not last long. McKinley was victorious in 1896, and in the following\nyear the Dingley Tariff was passed in accordance with Republican ideas\nof protection, and it is still in force.\n\nThe total revenues derived from this source in the year 1902 were\n$251,000,000, and in 1903 were $280,000,000. Let us analyze the first\namount. Its relative importance in the total revenue may be seen from\nthe fact that the internal duties on liquor, tobacco, etc., amounted to\n$271,000,000, and that the postal budget for the year was $121,000,000.\nThe customs duties of $251,000,000 are officially divided into five\nclasses. The first is live animals and breadstuffs, with sugar at the\nhead bringing in $52,000,000. The sugar duty had not existed ten years\nbefore, but the Wilson Tariff of 1894 could not have been enacted if the\nbeet-sugar Senators from Louisiana had not been tossed a bone. In 1895\nthe revenue on sugar amounted to $15,000,000, and in 1901 to\n$62,000,000. After sugar, in this year of 1903, came fruits and nuts\nwith 5, vegetables with 3, meat, fish, and rice with only 1 million\ndollars each. The second class comprises raw materials. Wool yielded\n10.9, skins 2.6, coal 1 million dollars, and every other class still\nless. In the third class are the semi-manufactured products, with\nchemicals yielding 5.4, tin plate 2.9, wooden-ware 1.8, silk 1.1, and\nfur 1 million dollars. The fourth class comprises finished products.\nLinen goods yielded 14, woollen goods 13, cotton goods 10, metallic\nwares 6, porcelain 5.6, leather goods 3.1, and wooden and paper wares\neach 1 million dollars. Articles of luxury make the last class, with\ntobacco bringing 18.7, silk goods 16, laces 13, alcoholic drinks 10,\njewelry 2.4, feathers 1.4, and toys 1.3 million dollars. The total\nimports for the year were $903,000,000, of which $396,000,000 entered\nfree of duty; but of these last only 10 per cent. were half or wholly\nfinished products, 90 per cent. being food or raw materials. The duty\nwas collected from imports worth $507,000,000, and 64 per cent. came\nfrom manufactured articles. Thus the Dingley Tariff was a complete\nvictory for protection.\n\nNo one now asks to have the duties raised, but the Democratic party is\ntrying all the time to have them lowered, so that the question is really\nwhether they shall be lower or remain where they are. Of course, the\nRepublicans have a capital argument which looks unanswerable\u2014success.\nThe history of American protection, they say, is the history of American\nindustrial progress. The years during which native industry has been\nprotected from foreign competition by means of heavy duties have been\nthe times of great development, and years of depression, disaster, and\npanic have regularly followed whenever free-traders have removed duties.\nThe tariff has never been higher than under the McKinley and the Dingley\nbills, and never has the economic advance been more rapid or forceful.\nWhat is the use, they say, of representing to the working-man that he\ncould buy a suit so much cheaper if the tax on woollen goods were\nremoved? For if it were, and free-trade were to be generally adopted, he\nwould go about without employment, his wife and children would be turned\nout into the street, and he would be unable to buy even the cheapest\nsuit. Whereas to-day, he is well able to pay the price which is asked.\nThe wealth of fancy with which this sort of argument is constantly\nvaried, and tricked out with word and phrase suited to every taste, is\nalmost overpowering. But the alternative between the high wage which can\nafford to pay for the expensive suit, and the lower wage which cannot\nafford to pay for the cheap suit, becomes still more cogent since the\nfanatical protectionist is able to prove that under a high tariff wages\nhave in fact risen, while the price of the suit has not. Yet the extreme\nfree-trader can prove, with equal certainty, that under free-trade the\nsuit would actually be much cheaper, while wages would in the end be\neven higher.\n\nIt cannot be doubted that a number of industries are to-day very\nprosperous which could not have gotten even a foothold except by a\ncentury of protection. And no Democrat denies this. But he doubts\nwhether the hot-house forcing of such industries has benefited the\ncountry, and he believes that the artificial perpetuation of great\nindustrial combinations, which have been able, by means of a protective\ntariff, to put an artificially high price on the food and other\nnecessary articles used by the masses, has worked infinitely more harm\nthan good.\n\nIt is undoubtedly true that many industries have not only been\nprotected, but have actually been created. The tin plate industry is,\nperhaps, the best example of this. The United States used to obtain the\ntin plates needed in industry from Wales, and at unreasonably high\nprices. Twice the Americans tried to introduce the industry at home, but\nwere at once undersold by the English and \u201cfrozen out.\u201d Then the\nMcKinley Tariff put a duty on tin plate of 70 per cent. ad valorem, and\nthe American industry was able to make headway. In 1891, 1,036 million\npounds of tin plate were imported, and none was produced at home; two\nyears later only 628 million pounds were imported, and 100 million\npounds manufactured at home; and ten years later only 117 million pounds\ncame over the sea, while 894 million pounds were produced in this\ncountry. It has been much the same in the manufacture of watches. The\nUnited States imported all their watches a few years ago. They were then\ntaxed 10 per cent. for revenue, being accounted articles of luxury, and\ncould not be profitably made inside the country. But when Congress taxed\nthem 25 per cent., the industry grew up. It produced at first watches\nafter European models; but American ingenuity soon came to be extended\nto this field, improved machinery for the manufacture of watches was\ndevised, and now a tremendous industry provides every American\nschool-boy with a watch which is better and cheaper than the\ncorresponding European article. Even the silk industry may well be\nconsidered the foster child of protection.\n\nThe free-traders reply, that all this may have been very well for a\nperiod of transition from an agricultural to an industrial state; but\nthat the great change has now been completed, and the burdensome duties\nwhich keep our prices high might perfectly well be dropped, since our\nindustries are now strong enough to compete with foreign industries.\n\nBut just at this point the Republican comes out less optimistically than\nbefore. He says that American industry has indeed developed with\nfabulous speed, and that the industrial exports of the country, which\nnow amount to 30 per cent. of the total, are a great showing, but this\nis a symptom which ought not to be overrated. When prices throughout the\nrest of the world fell, and England was paralyzed for the moment,\nalthough the domestic demand had not yet reached its height, conditions\ncombined so favourably, it is true, as to cause the export trade in\nAmerican manufactured articles to increase rapidly. But this may not be\npermanent. Industry is still not able to fill all the demands of the\nhome market; on the contrary, at the very time when American iron and\nsteel industries seemed likely to conquer foreign markets, it was found\nthat some sudden increase in domestic requirements necessitated large\nimportations. While the iron and steel exports decreased by $25,000,000\nbetween 1900 and 1903, the imports during the same time increased\n$31,000,000, and iron and steel include mostly unfinished products.\n\nThus even the strongest and most powerful industries greatly need\nprotection still against foreign competition. It is, Thomas Reed has\nsaid, entirely mistaken to look on protection as a sort of medicine, to\nbe left off as soon as possible. It is not medicine, but nourishment.\nThe high tariff has not only nursed infant industries, but it is to feed\nthem through life. For it is not a happy expedient, but a system which\nis justified by its results, and of which the final import is that the\nAmerican market is for the American people. Protection is a wall behind\nwhich the American people can carry on their industrial life, and so\narrange it that wages shall be not only absolutely but relatively\ngreater than wages in Europe.\n\nAt a time when everything looked so prosperous as in the last few years\nof industrial activity, it is difficult to contest the powerful argument\nwhich the Republicans make in appealing to success. Every one is afraid\nthat a change in tariff might turn back this tide. And if there have\nbeen reverses in the last few years it has been pointed out that\nspeculators and corporation magnates have been the chief sufferers, and\nthey are the ones who, least of all, would wish the tariffs removed.\n\nIt has been an unfavourable time, therefore, for the free-traders, and\ntheir really powerful party has been rather faint-hearted in its fight\nagainst the Dingley Tariff. Its satisfaction with the Wilson Tariff was\nnot unmixed, and although it could truthfully say that the law as\nactually passed was not a Democratic measure since it received six\nhundred and forty amendments in the Senate, nevertheless it realizes\nthat the legislative measures of the last Democratic r\u00e9gime pleased\nnobody thoroughly and contributed a good deal to the subsequent\nRepublican victory.\n\nNevertheless, the Democrats feel that the Republican arguments are\nfallacious. It is not the protective tariff, they say, which has brought\nabout American prosperity, but the natural wealth of the country,\ntogether with the energy and intelligence of its inhabitants. The high\nlevel of education, the free government, the pioneer ardour of the\npeople, and the blessings of quick and rapid railway connections have\nmade America great and prosperous. If, indeed, any legal expedients have\nbeen decisive in producing this happy result, these have been the\nfree-trade measures, since the Republicans quite overlook the fact that\nthe main factor making for our success has been the absolute free-trade\nprevailing between the forty-five states. What would have become of\nAmerican industries if the states had enacted tariffs against one\nanother, as the country does against the rest of the world, and as the\ncountries of Europe do against one another? The entire freedom of trade\nfrom Maine to California, and from Canada to Mexico, that is, the total\nabsence of all legislative hindrances and the possibility of free\nexchange of natural products and manufactures without payment of duties,\nhas made American industry what it is; and it is the same idea which the\nDemocrats cherish for the whole world. They desire to get for America\nthe advantages from free-trade which England has derived.\n\nAll the well-known free-trade arguments\u2014moral, political, and\neconomic\u2014are then urged; and it is shown, again and again, that every\nnation will succeed best in the long run by carrying on only such\nindustries as it is able to in free competition with the world. It is\ntrue, admittedly, that if our tariff were removed a number of\nmanufactures would have to be discontinued, and that the labourers would\nfor a time be without work, as happens whenever a new machine is\ndiscovered, or whenever means of transportation are facilitated. The\nimmediate effect is to take labour from the workman. But in a short time\nadaptation takes place, and in the end the new conditions automatically\nprovide a much greater number of workmen with profitable employment than\nbefore. America would lose a part of the home market if she adopted\nfree-trade, but would be able to open as many more doors to foreign\ncountries as recompense. Her total production would in the end be\ngreater, and all articles of consumption would be cheaper, so that the\nworkmen could buy the same wares with a less amount of labour, and the\nadjustment of the American scale of wages would better enable the\nAmericans to compete with the labour of other countries.\n\nBut no doubt the times do not favour such logic. The Americans are too\nready to believe the statement of Harrison, that the man who buys a\ncheaper coat is the cheaper man. And quite too easily the protectionists\nreply to all arguments against excluding foreign goods with the opposite\nshowing that, in spite of the high tariff, the imports from abroad are\nsteadily increasing. Under the Dingley Tariff, in the year 1903, not\nonly the raw materials, but also the half and wholly manufactured\narticles, and articles of luxury, imported increased to a degree which\nhad never been reached in the years of the Wilson Tariff. The raw\nmaterials imported under a Democratic tariff reached their high point in\n1897, with $207,000,000; when the Dingley Tariff was adopted the figure\ndecreased to $188,000,000, but then rose rapidly and amounted in 1902 to\n$328,000,000, and in 1903 to $383,000,000. Finished products declined at\nfirst from $165,000,000 to $94,000,000, but increased in 1903 to\n$169,000,000. Articles of luxury sank from $92,000,000 to $74,000,000,\nbut then mounted steadily until in the year 1903 they were at the\nunprecedented figure of $145,000,000.\n\nIn spite of this, the Democratic outlook is improving; not because\npeople incline to free-trade, but because they feel that the tariff must\nbe revised, that certain duties must be decreased, and others, so far as\nreciprocity can be arranged with other countries, abolished. Everybody\nsees that the international trade balance of last year shows a movement\nwhich cannot keep on. America cannot, in the long run, sell where she\ndoes not buy. She will not find it profitable to become the creditor of\nother nations, and will feel it to be a wiser policy to close commercial\ntreaties with other nations to the advantage of both sides. Reciprocity\nis not a theory of the Democratic party merely, but is the sub-conscious\nwish of the entire nation, as may be concluded from the fact that\nMcKinley\u2019s last great speech voiced this new desire.\n\nHe had, more than any one else, a fine scent for coming political\ntendencies; and his greatness always consisted in voicing to-day what\nthe people would be coming to want by to-morrow. On the fifth of\nSeptember, 1901, at the Buffalo Exposition, he made a memorable speech,\nin which he said: \u201cWe must not repose in fancied security that we can\nforever sell everything and buy little or nothing. If such a thing were\npossible, it would not be best for us or for those with whom we deal. We\nshould take from our customers such of their products as we can use\nwithout harm to our industries and labour. Reciprocity is the natural\noutgrowth of our wonderful industrial development under the domestic\npolicy now firmly established. What we produce beyond our domestic\nconsumption must have a vent abroad. The excess must be relieved through\na foreign outlet, and we should sell anywhere we can and buy wherever\nthe buying will enlarge our sales and productions, and thereby make a\ngreater demand for home labour. The period of exclusiveness is past. The\nexpansion of our trade and commerce is the pressing problem. Commercial\nwars are unprofitable. A policy of good will and friendly trade\nrelations will prevent reprisals. Reciprocity treaties are in harmony\nwith the spirit of the times. Measures of retaliation are not.\n\n\u201cIf perchance some of our tariffs are no longer needed for revenue or to\nencourage and protect our industries at home, why should they not be\nemployed to extend and promote our markets abroad?\u201d\n\nThis was the same McKinley whose name had been the apprehension of\nEurope, and who in fact more than any one else was morally responsible\nfor the high-tariff movement in the United States. The unique position\nwhich his service of protection had won him in the party, would perhaps\nhave enabled this one man to lead the Republican party down from its\nhigh tariff to reciprocity. But McKinley has unhappily passed away, and\nno one is here to take his place.\n\nHis successor has not had, in the first place, a great interest in\nquestions of commerce. He has necessarily lacked, moreover, such strong\nauthority within his party as would enable him to bring opposing\ninterests into line on such a new policy. The young President was too\nmuch suspected of looking askance on great industrial companies. If he\nhad placed himself at the head of the Republicans who were hoping to\nreduce the tariff, he would have been branded as a free-trader, and\nwould not have been credited with that really warm feeling for protected\nAmerican industries which in the case of McKinley was taken as a matter\nof course. More than that, the opponents deterred him, and would have\ndeterred any one else who might have come in McKinley\u2019s footsteps, or\nperhaps even McKinley himself, with the ghost of bad times which are to\ncome whenever a certain feeling of insecurity is spreading through the\ncommercial world.\n\nEverybody felt that, if the question of tariff should be opened up,\nunforeseen disputes might ensue. On questions of tariff every industry\nwields a lever in its own favour, and the Wilson Tariff had sufficiently\nshown how long and how tragi-comic can be the course from the law\nproposed to the law accomplished. It was felt everywhere that if the\ncountry should be brought into unrest by the fact that no industry could\nknow for some years what its future was to be or where Congress might\nchance to take off protection, that all industry would be greatly\ninjured. There could be no new undertakings for years, and whatever the\nultimate result might be, the mere feeling of uncertainty would make a\ncrisis sufficient to turn the tide of prosperity. And American\nreciprocity was after all only a matter of philanthropy; for the\nexperience with Canada and Hawaii, it was said, only showed that\nreciprocity meant benevolence on the part of America.\n\nIf America is to be philanthropical, there is enough to do in other\nways; but if America is to preserve her commercial interests and her\nprosperous industries, it is absolutely necessary not to stir up trouble\nand push the country once more into tariff disturbances and expose\nindustry to doubts and misgivings. And this ghost has made its\nimpression. McKinley\u2019s words have aroused only a faint echo in the\nparty. The need, however, which he instinctively felt remains, and\npublic opinion knows it. It is only a question as to when public opinion\nwill be stronger than party opinion.\n\nThere is another thing which gives the anti-protectionists a better\nchance. Democrats say that high tariff has favoured the trusts. This may\nbe true or false, and statistics speak for both views. But here is a\nwatchword for the party which makes a deep impression, for the trusts\nare popularly hated. This, too, may be right or wrong, and may be still\nmore easily argued for both sides, but the fact remains, and the\nseductive idea that abolishing high tariff will deal a fatal blow to the\nhated, extortionate, and tyrannical trusts gets more hold on the masses\nday by day. In vain the protectionists say that there is not a real\nmonopoly in the whole country; that every instance of extortionate price\ncalls out competition at once, and injures the trust which charges such\nprice; that protection benefits the small and poor companies as much as\nthe large, and that an attempt to injure the large companies by\nfree-trade enactments would kill all small companies on the instant.\nAnd, besides, politics ought not to be run in the spirit of hatred. But\nthe embitterment exists, and arguments avail little. It is incontestable\nthat, of all the motives which are to-day felt to work against\nprotection, the one most effective with the masses is their hatred of\nthe trusts. Herewith we are led from the tariff question to this other\nproblem\u2014the trusts.\n\n\n                          _The Trust Question_\n\n\u201c_Von der Parteien Hass und Gunst verwirrt_\u201d\u2014to be hated and to be\nfavoured by the parties is the fate of the trusts. But the odd thing is\nthat they are not hated by one party and favoured by the other; but both\nparties alike openly profess their hatred and yet show their favour by\nrefraining after all from any action. And this inconsistency is not due\nto any intentional deception.\n\nTo be sure, a good deal of it is political policy. The evils and dangers\nof many trust formations are so obvious that no party would like to\npraise them openly, and no party will dispense with the cheap and easy\nnotoriety of declaring itself for open competition and against all\nmonopolies. On the other hand, the power of the trusts is so great that\nneither party dares to break with them, and each has its special\nfavourites, which could not be offended without prejudicing its campaign\nfunds. Nevertheless, the deeper reason does not lie in the matter of\nexpediency, but rather in the fact that no relief has been proposed\nwhich promises to be satisfactory. Some want to treat the evil\nsuperficially, as a quack doctor tries to allay secondary symptoms; and\nothers want, as President Roosevelt has said, to end the disease by\nkilling the patient. The fact that this inventive nation has still not\nsolved its great economic problem, is probably because the trusts have\ngrown necessarily from the organic conditions of American life, and\nwould continue to exist in spite of all legislative hindrances which\nmight be proposed against them.\n\nWhen Queen Elizabeth, in violation of the spirit of Anglo-Saxon law,\ndistributed in the course of a year nearly fifty industrial monopolies,\nand caused the price of some commodities to be doubled, the House of\nCommons protested in 1601, and the Queen solemnly declared that she\nwould revoke all privileges which endangered industrial freedom; and\nfrom that time on, monopolies were done away with. The American people\nare their own sovereign, and the effect of monopolies is now about the\nsame as it was in England three hundred years ago. But the New World\nsovereign cannot issue a proclamation revoking the monopolies which it\nhas granted, or at least it knows that the monopolies, if taken from\none, would be snatched by another. It is true that the present form of\ntrusts could be made illegal for the future, but some other form would\nappear, to compass the same ends; and if certain economic departments\nshould be liberated by a free-trade legislation, the same forces would\ngather at other points. We must consider the essence of the matter\nrather than its outward form.\n\nThe essence is certainly not, as the opponents of trusts like to\nrepresent, that a few persons are enriched at the expense of many;\nthat the masses are plundered to heap up wealth for a small clique.\nThe essence of the movement does not lie in the distribution of\nwealth, but in the distribution of power. The significance of the\nmovement is that in recent times the control of economic agencies has\nhad to become more strongly concentrated. It is a mere attendant\ncircumstance that in the formation of the trusts large financiers have\npocketed disproportionately large profits, and that the leading trust\nmagnates are the richest men of the country. The significance of their\nposition lies in the confidence which is put in them. But the actual\neconomic endeavour has been for the organized control of larger and\nlarger undertakings. It has been very natural for the necessary\nconsolidation of smaller parts into new and larger units to be\naccomplished by men who are themselves rich enough to retain a\ncontrolling share in the whole business; but this is a secondary\nfactor, and the same result could have been had if mere agents had\nbeen appointed by the owners to all the great positions of confidence.\n\nAlmost the same movement has gone on in other economic spheres than the\nindustrial. Railroad companies are all the time being consolidated into\nlarge companies, controlled by fewer and fewer men, until finally a very\nfew, like Morgan, Vanderbilt, Rockefeller, Harriman, Gould, Hill, and\nCassatt, virtually control the whole railroad system. But this economic\nmovement in the railroad world would not really stop if the state were\nto take over all the railroads, and a single badly paid secretary of\nrailroads should be substituted for the group of millionaires. The main\npoint is that the savings of the whole country are invested in these\nundertakings, and are looking for the largest possible returns, and get\nthese only when leadership and control are strongly centralized.\n\nThe very obvious opulence of the leaders naturally excites popular\ncriticism, but it has been often shown that the wealth of these rich\npeople has not increased relatively to the average prosperity of other\nclasses, and the corporations themselves make it possible to distribute\nthe profits saved by concentration throughout the population. The famous\nUnited States Steel Company had last year 69,000 stockholders, and the\nshares of American railroads are owned by more than a million people.\nFor instance, the Pennsylvania Railroad alone has 34,000 stock and bond\nholders, who intrust the control to a very few capitalists. In fact, the\nwhole railway system belonging to a million people is controlled by\nabout a dozen men; and the Steel Company with its 69,000 owners is\nmanaged by twenty-four directors, who in turn are guided by the two\npresidents of the administration and finance committees. The chief point\nis thus not the concentration of ownership, but the concentration of\npower.\n\nThis same movement toward concentration has taken place in the banking\nbusiness; and here the point is certainly, not that one man or a few men\nown a main share in the banks, but only that a few men are put in charge\nof a group of financial institutions for the sake of organized\nmanagement. In this way the public is more uniformly and systematically\nserved, and the banks are more secure, by reason of their mutual\nco-operation.\n\nAmong the directors of the Bank of Commerce there are, for instance,\ndirectors of two life-insurance companies which have a capital of\n$750,000,000, and of eight trust companies; and the directors of these\ntrust companies are at the same time directors of other banks, so that\nthey all make a complete chain of financial institutions. And they stand\nmore or less under the influence of Morgan. There is, likewise, another\nsystem of banks, of which the chief is the National City Bank, which is\ndominated by Rockefeller; and these personal connections between banks\nare continued to the industrial enterprises, and then on to the railroad\ncompanies. For instance, the Rockefeller influence dominates not only\nbanks and trust companies whose capital is more than $400,000,000, the\nfamous Standard Oil Company with a capital of $100,000,000, the\nLackawanna Steel Company worth $60,000,000, and the gas companies of New\nYork worth $147,000,000, but also the St. Paul Railroad, which is\ncapitalized at $230,000,000, the Missouri, Kansas and Texas at\n$148,000,000, and the Missouri Pacific at $212,000,000.\n\nIt is certainly true that such tremendous influence under present\nconditions can be gotten only by men who actually own a huge capital.\nAnd yet the essential economic feature is always the consolidation of\ncontrol, which is found necessary in every province of industry, and\nwhich entirely overtops the question of ownership. It has been estimated\nthat the twenty-four directors of the United States Steel Company exert\na controlling influence in two hundred other corporations; that back of\nthem are the largest banks in the whole country, about half the\nrailroads, the largest coal, oil, and electric companies, and the\nleading telegraph, express, and life-insurance companies, etc. They\ncontrol corporations with a capital of nine billions of dollars: and\nsuch consolidation is not to be undone by any artificial devices of\nlegislation.\n\nIf economic life, by reason of the dimensions which it has assumed in\nthe last decades, requires this welding together of interests in every\ndepartment, then the formation of syndicates and trusts is only a phase\nin the necessary development; and to prevent the formation of trusts\nwould affect the form, and not the essence of the movement. Indeed, the\nform has already changed a number of times. The earliest trusts were so\norganized that a number of stock companies united as such and intrusted\ntheir business to a new company, which was the \u201ctrust.\u201d That system was\nsuccessfully abolished; the trust itself seemed unassailable, but the\nstate could revoke the charters of the subsidiary companies, because by\nthe law of most states these latter might continue only so long as they\ncarried on the functions named in their charters; that is, so long as\nthey carried on the transaction of their affairs themselves. A stock\ncompany has not the right, possessed by an individual, to intrust its\nproperty to another. And if the stock companies which came together into\na trust were dissolved, the trust did not exist. In this way the State\nof New York proceeded against the Sugar Trust, Ohio against the Standard\nOil Company, and Illinois against the Chicago Gas Company.\n\nBut the course of events has shown that nothing was gained by this.\nAlthough it was recognized that corporations could not legally combine\nto form a trust, nevertheless the stockholders controlling the stock of\nseparate companies could join as individuals and contribute their\npersonal holdings to a new company which was virtually a trust; and in\nthis form the trusts which had been demolished were at once reorganized.\nMoreover, of course any number of stock companies can simply dissolve\nand merge into one large company, or they may keep their individuality\nbut make important trade agreements with one another, and so indirectly\nfulfil the purposes of a trust. In short, the ways of bringing assenting\nindustrial enterprises under one management and so of virtually making a\ngiven industry into a monopoly, are manifold.\n\nTo promote the development of trusts, there was nothing necessary but\nsuccess at the outset. If the first trusts were successful, the device\nwould be imitated so long as there was any prospect of profit. It really\nhappened that this imitation went on finally as a sort of mania, where\nno special saving of profits could be predicted; one trust followed\nanother, and the year 1903 saw 233 purely industrial trusts\nincorporated, of which 31 had a capital of over $50,000,000 each, and of\nwhich the total capitalization was over nine billions.\n\nAt first sight it might look as if this movement would be really\nsympathetic to the American people in general. The love of size\ngenerated in the nation by the lavishness of nature must welcome this\nconsolidation of interest, and the strong spirit of self-initiative\nclaiming the right of individuals to unite and work together must surely\nfavour all sorts of co-operation. As a fact now an opposite tendency\noperates, which after all springs from the same spirit of\nself-initiative. The freely acting individual must not be prevented by a\nstronger force from using the strength he has. Everything which excludes\nfree competition and makes the individual economically helpless seems\nimmoral to the American. That is old Anglo-Saxon law.\n\nThe common law of England has at all times condemned agreements which\ntend toward monopoly, and this view dominates the American mind with a\nforce quite surprising to the European who has become accustomed at\nleast to monopolies owned by the state. The laws of almost all the\nseparate states declare agreements tending toward a monopoly to be\nillegal; and federal legislation, in its anti-trust measures of 1887 and\n1890, has seconded this idea without doing more than formulating the\nnational idea of justice. The law of the country forbids, for instance,\nall agreements looking to the restriction of trade between different\nstates of the country or with foreign nations. Senator Foraker, in\nFebruary, 1904, called down public displeasure by proposing a law which\npermitted such agreements restricting commerce so long as the\nrestriction was reasonable. It was feared at once that the courts would\nthink themselves justified in excusing every sort of restraint and\nmonopolistic hindrance. And yet there is no doubt that the\ninterpretation of what should constitute \u201crestriction\u201d to commerce was\nquite as arbitrary a matter as the interpretation of what should be\n\u201creasonable.\u201d Indeed, the economic consolidation of competing\norganizations by no means necessarily cuts off the beneficent effects of\ncompetition. When, for instance, the Northern Securities Company united\nseveral parallel railway lines, it asserted justly that the several\nroads under their separate corps of officials would still compete for\npublic favour. Yet the public and the court objected to the\nconsolidation. The one real hindrance to the propagation of trusts lies\nin this general dread of every artificial check to free competition.\n\nMany circumstances which have favoured the formation of trusts are\nobvious. In the first place, the trust can carry on business more\ncheaply than the component companies individually. The general\nadministration is simplified by doing away with parallel positions, and\nall expenses incident to business competition are saved. Then, too, it\ncan make larger profits since when competition stops, the fixing of\nprices lies quite with itself. This is of course not true, in so far as\nother countries are able to compete; but here comes in the function of\nthe protective tariff, which permits the trust to raise its prices until\nthey equal those of foreign markets plus the tariff.\n\nThe good times which America has enjoyed for some years have also\nfavoured the development of trusts. When the harvests are good and the\nfactories all busy, high prices are readily paid. The trusts can do even\nbetter than single companies by shutting down unprofitable plants and\nadapting the various remaining plants for mutual co-operation. Then,\ntoo, their great resources enable them to procure the best business\nintelligence. In addition to all this came a series of favourable\nexternal circumstances. First was the rapid growth of American capital\nwhich was seeking investment. In the seventies, the best railroad\ncompanies had to pay a rate of 7 per cent. in order to attract\ninvestors; now they pay 3\u00bd per cent. Capital lies idle in great\nquantities and accumulates faster than it can find investment. This has\nnecessarily put a premium on the organization of new trusts. Then, too,\nthere was the well-known uniformity of the market, so characteristic of\nAmerica. The desire to imitate on the one side, and patience and good\nnature on the other, give to this tremendous region of consumption\nextending from the Atlantic to the Pacific Ocean a uniformity of demand\nwhich greatly favours manufacture on a gigantic scale. This is in sharp\ncontrast with the diversity of requirements in Europe.\n\nIt has been, doubtless, also important that the American feels\nrelatively little attached to his special business. Just as he loves his\nFatherland really as a conception, as an ideal system, but feels less\nbound to the special piece of soil where he was born and will leave his\nown farm if he is a farmer and go westward in search of better land, so\nthe American passionately loves business as a method, without being over\nattached to his own particular firm. If the opening is favourable, he\ngives up his business readily to embark on another, just as he gives up\nan old-fashioned machine in favour of an improved one.\n\nJust this quality of mind is so different from the German that here\nwould be probably the greatest hindrance to the organization of trusts\nin Germany. The German feels himself to have grown up in his special\nbusiness, which he may have inherited from his father, just as the\npeasant has grown up on his farm, and he does not care to become the\nmere employee of a large trust. Another contributory mental trait has\nbeen the friendly confidence which the American business man puts in his\nneighbour. The name is here appropriate; the trusts in fact repose to a\nhigh degree on mutual trust, and trusts like the American could not\ndevelop wherever there should be mutual distrust or jealousy in the\nbusiness world. Finally, the laws themselves have been favourable, in so\nfar as they have favoured the issue of preferred stock in a way very\nconvenient to trusts, but one which would not have been approved in\nEurope. And, moreover, the trusts have made considerable use of the\ndiversity existing between the laws of different states.\n\nThere have been retarding factors, too. We have mentioned the most\nimportant of all\u2014the legal discountenance of all business agreements\ntending to create a monopoly or to restrain trade. There have been\nothers, however. One purpose of the trusts is to put prices up and so to\nmake the necessities of life dearer. It is the people who pay the\nprices\u2014the same people who elect Congress and determine the tariffs and\nthe laws; so that every trust works in the knowledge that putting up\nprices tends immediately to work back on business by calling forth\ntariff revision and anti-trust laws.\n\nOne source of great profit to the trusts has been the possibility of\nrestricting output. This method promised gain where natural products\nwere in question, such as oil, tobacco, and sugar, of which the quantity\nis limited, and further for all technical patents. Where, however, there\nis no such limitation the most powerful corporation will not be able to\navoid competition, and if it tries to buy up competing factories to stop\nsuch competition, still more are built at once, solely with the purpose\nof extorting a high ransom from the trusts; and this game is ruinous. In\nother departments again consolidation of business means very little\neconomy; Morgan\u2019s marine trust is said not to have succeeded for this\nreason. In short, not all industries are susceptible of being organized\nas trusts, and the dazzling profits of certain favoured trusts too\neasily misled those who were in pursuit of fortune into forgetting the\ndifference between different businesses. Trusts were formed where they\ncould not be profitable. Perhaps the real founders themselves did not\noverlook the difference; but they counted on the great hungry public to\noverlook it, until at least most of the shares should have been disposed\nof.\n\nAs a fact, however, the reluctance of the great investing public has\nbeen a decidedly restraining factor too. The securities spoiled before\nthe public had absorbed them; everywhere the complaint went up of\nundigested securities. The public came early to suspect that the\npromoters were making their profits not out of the legitimate economies\nto be saved by the trusts, but by enormously overcapitalizing them and\ntaking large blocks of stock for themselves.\n\nThere was still another unfavourable influence on public opinion. The\nmain profits of a protected trust lie in its being able to sell more\ndearly than it could if exposed to foreign competition. But now if the\nconsolidated industry itself proposes to sell to other countries, it\nmust of course step down to the prevailing level of prices. It must\ntherefore sell more cheaply abroad than at home. But this is soon found\nout, and creates a very unfavourable impression. The American is willing\nto pay high prices, as far as that goes; but when he has to pay a price\ndouble what the same factory charges for the same goods when delivered\nin Europe, he finds the thing wholly unnatural, and will protest at the\nnext election. Thus there have been plenty of factors to counteract the\nfavourable conditions, and the history of trusts has certainly not been\nfor their promoters a simple tale of easy profits.\n\nNow, if we do not ask what has favoured or hindered the trusts, nor how\nthey have benefited or jeopardized their founders, but rather look about\nto see what their effect on the nation has been and will be, some good\nfeatures appear at once. However much money may have been lost, or\nrather, however fictitious values may have been wiped out in the market,\nthe great enterprises are after all increasing the productive capacity\nof the nation and its industrial strength in the fight with other\npeoples. They give a broad scope to business, and bring about relations\nand mutual adaptations which would never have developed in the chaotic\nstruggling of small concerns. They produce at the same time by the\nconcentration of control an inner solidarity which allows one part to\nfunction for another in case there are hindrances or disasters to any\npart of the great organism, and this is undoubtedly a tremendous factor\nfor the general good. A mischance which, under former conditions, would\nhave been disastrous can be survived now under this system of mutual\ninterdependence: thus it can hardly be doubted that the combined action\nof the banks in the year 1903 prevented a panic; since, when stocks\nbegan to fall, the banks were able to co-operate as they would not have\nbeen able previously to their close affiliation.\n\nFurthermore, economic wealth can now be created more advantageously for\nthe nation. The saving of funds which were formerly spent in direct\ncompetition is a true economy, and the trusts have asserted again and\nagain that as a matter of fact they do not put up prices, but that they\nmake sufficient profits in saving what had formerly been wasted in\nbusiness hostilities. Certainly the trusts make it possible to isolate\nuseless or superannuated plants, without causing a heavy loss to the\nowners, and thus the national industry is even more freely adaptable to\nchanging circumstances than before; and this advantage accrues to the\nentire country. The spirit of enterprise is remarkably encouraged and\nthe highest premiums are put on individual achievement. Almost all the\nmen who hold responsible positions in the mammoth works of the Steel\nTrust have worked up, like Carnegie himself, from the bottom of the\nladder, and made their millions simply by working better than their\nfellows.\n\nOn the other hand, the trusts have their drawbacks. One of the most\nregrettable to the American mind is their moral effect. The American\ndistrusts such extreme concentration of power and capital; it looks\ntoward aristocracy, oligarchy, and tyranny. At the same time the masses\nare demoralized, and in very many cases individual initiative is\nstrangled. There are, as it were, nothing but officials obeying orders;\nno men acting wholly on their own responsibility. Work ceases to be a\npleasure, because everything goes by clock-work; the trust supersedes\nthe independent merchant and manufacturer just as the machine has\nsuperseded the independent artisan.\n\nThe trusts have other demoralizing effects. Their resources are so\ntremendous as in the end to do away with all opposition. The independent\nman who hopes to oppose the great rival, can too easily be put in a\nposition in which he is made to choose between beggary and the\nrepudiation of all his principles. Everybody knows the shameless history\nof the Standard Oil Company, which has strangled not merely weak\nproprietors, but, much more, has strangled strong consciences. Then,\ntoo, the whole system of over-capitalization is immoral. Large trusts\ncan hardly be formed except by purchasing the subsidiary companies at\nfancy prices, and issuing stock which in large part represents the\npremium paid to the promoters. Indeed, this whole system of community of\ninterests which puts thousands of corporations into the hands of a few\nmen who everywhere play into one another\u2019s hands, must bring it about\nthat these men will soon grow careless and overlook one another\u2019s\nirregularities in a way which will threaten sober business traditions.\nThe whole country was shocked on hearing the revelations of the\nShipbuilding Trust, and seeing with what criminal carelessness the\norganization went on in a little group of friends, and how the methods\nof poker-playing were applied to transactions of great moment. The\nfundamental objection, however, is always that it is immoral to kill\ncompetition by agreements which create a monopoly.\n\nNow, what can be done to obviate these evils? Apparently the first thing\nwould be a revision of the tariff; and yet even their opponents must\nagree that there is only an indirect relation between the protective\ntariff and the trusts. It is true that the high tariffs have helped to\ncreate those industries which have now come together in trusts, and if\nthe industries were to be wiped out, of course there would be nothing\nleft of consolidations. But it is surely not true that the trusts are\nthe immediate effect of the tariff, and the more a revised tariff were\nto let in foreign competition so much the more would the national\nindustries need to form themselves into trusts for the sake of the\nbenefits of consolidated management. All the business advantages and all\nthe moral evils of trusts would still remain, even though the dividends\nwere to sink. And the trusts would not be carried off the field unless\nAmerican industry itself should utterly succumb to the foreign enemy.\n\nMost of all, however, it seems clear that any policy prejudicial to the\nconditions of production and distribution would first of all, and most\nsadly, hit the competitors of the trusts. There is no absolute monopoly\nin any American industry. Indeed, even the Sugar Refining Company has a\nfew outside competitors, and there is a legion of independent producers\noutside of the Steel Trust who are themselves in part organized in\ngroups, and in many industries the trusts do not comprise even half of\nthe manufacturers. Now, if the high tariff wall should be torn down so\nthat a flood of cheap foreign manufactures could come in, it is certain\nthat the first sufferers would be the small independent companies, which\nwould be drowned out, while the mighty trusts would swim for a long\ntime. Indeed, the destruction of such home competition would greatly\nbenefit the trusts. Some of the strongest of these would hardly be\nreached at all by a reduction of the tariff\u2014as, for instance, the\nstrongest of them, the Petroleum Trust, which does not enjoy any\nprotection. And it is also to be asked if trusts do not prosper in\nfree-trade England? So soon as the water is squeezed out of their\nstocks, as has in good part lately happened, the trusts would still have\na great advantage after protective duties should be abolished. And at\nthe same time the necessary depression of wages which would result from\nthat movement would endanger the whole industrial fabric. Moreover, the\nsocial and moral evils of the trusts would persist. Therefore the\nRepublican party, which is just now in power, will take no part in\nsolving the trust question by reducing the tariff.\n\nThose Republicans who oppose the trusts are much more inclined to\nproceed to federal legislation. President Roosevelt has, in a number of\nspeeches which are among the most significant contributions to the whole\ndiscussion, pointed to this way again and again. The situation is\ncomplicated and has shifted from time to time. The real difficulty lies\nin the double system of legislative power which we have already\nexplicitly described. We have seen that all legislative power which is\nnot expressly conferred on the Union belongs to the several states;\nspecially has each state the right to regulate the commercial companies\nto which it has given charters. But if the company is such a one as\noperates between several states\u2014as, for instance, one which transports\ngoods from one state to another\u2014it is regulated by federal law. Now, as\nlong ago as the year 1890, in the so-called Sherman Act, Congress passed\ndraconic regulations against interstate trusts. The law threatens with\nfine and imprisonment any party to a contract which restricts interstate\ncommerce. It can be said of this law that it entirely did away with the\ntrusts in their original form, in which the various companies themselves\ncomposed the trust. At the same time the federal officials were strongly\nseconded by the judicial doings of the separate states, as we have\nalready seen. But the effect has only been to drive industry into new\nforms, and forms which are not amenable to federal regulations, but fall\nunder the jurisdiction of the separate states. Corporations were formed\nwhich have their home in a certain state, but which by the tremendous\ncapital of their members have been able to acquire factories distributed\nall through the country. Indeed, they are not real trusts any more, and\nthe name is kept up only because the new corporations have descended\nfrom trusts and accomplish the same purpose.\n\nOf course, this change would have been of no advantage for the several\ncompanies if the stern spirit shown by Congress in this legislation had\nbeen manifested once more by the separate states, that is, if each\nseparate state had forbidden what the Union had forbidden; but so long\nas a single state in the whole forty-five permitted greater freedom to\nbusiness than the others, of course all new companies would be careful\nto seek out that state and settle there. And, what was more important,\nwould there pay taxes\u2014a fact which tended to persuade every state to\nenact convenient trust laws.\n\nNow, it is not a question between one state and forty-four others, but\nrather between the diversities of all the forty-five. Almost every state\nhas its peculiar provisions, and if its laws are favourable to the\ntrusts this is because, as each state says, if it were to stand on high\nmoral grounds it would only hurt itself by driving away profitable\ntrusts, and would not benefit the whole country, because the trusts\nwould simply fly away and roost in some other state. More especially the\nindustrially backward Western States would be always ready to entertain\nthe trusts and pass most hospitable laws, for the sake of the revenue\nwhich they could thereby get for their local purposes. And so it is\nquite hopeless to expect the trusts to be uprooted by the legislation of\nthe separate states. If all forty-five states were to pass laws such as\ngovern stock companies in Massachusetts, there would be no need of\nfurther legislation; and it is also no accident, of course, that there\nare very few trusts in the State of New York. All the great trusts whose\ndirectors reside in the metropolis have their official home across the\nriver in the State of New Jersey, which has made great concessions to\nthe companies.\n\nIf these companies are to be reached by law, the surest way seems to be\nby taking a radical step and removing the supervision of large stock\ncompanies from the single states, and transferring it to the federal\ngovernment; this is the way which President Roosevelt has repeatedly\nrecommended. In our political section we have explicitly shown that such\na change cannot be introduced by an act of Congress, but only by an\namendment to the Constitution, which cannot be made by Congress, since\nit is in itself a product of the Constitution. Congress would be able\nonly to take the initiative, and two-thirds of both houses would have to\nsupport the proposition to change the Constitution; and this change\nwould have to be ratified by three-fourths of the state legislatures\nthemselves. Now, it would be difficult to get a two-thirds majority in\nboth houses on any question hostile to trusts; but it is quite out of\nthe question to induce the three-fourths of the states to cripple their\nown rights in so important a matter as the regulation of stock\ncompanies; particularly as in economic matters local power is necessary\nto local optimism, and the weaker states would never consent to give up\nsuch rights, since they would be forced to see industrial laws framed\naccording to the requirements of the more highly developed states. Was\nthe President, then, in his speeches, like Don Quixote, tilting against\nthe windmills; or was he proposing, as some of his opponents said, quite\nimpracticable solutions in order to divert attention from such a handy\nsolution as that of tariff reduction? And was he declaiming loudly\nagainst the trusts before the public in order really to help on the\nfriends of capital?\n\nPerhaps another point of view may be found. It may be that President\nRoosevelt proposed a constitutional amendment in order to arouse\ndiscussion along certain lines, and in order specially to have the\nchance of demonstrating that federal control of those overgrown business\nenterprises is necessary, and that their control by the several states\nis dangerous. It looks indeed as if such discussion would have been\nhighly superfluous if not insincere, if it were true that the sole way\nof helping the situation were the quite impossible constitutional\namendment.\n\nBut such is not the case; there is another way of reaching the same end\nwithout meeting the difficulties involved in changing the Constitution.\nOf course, the President was not free to discuss this means, nor even to\nmention it. This way is, we think, for the Supreme Court to reverse its\nformer decision, and to modify its definition of interstate commerce in\ncloser accord with the latest developments of the trusts. We have seen\nthat there are drastic laws relating to interstate commerce which have\noverthrown all the earlier trusts; but a corporation claiming home in\nNew Jersey, although owning factories in different states and dependent\non the co-operation of several states for its output, is to-day treated\nby the Supreme Court as a corporation pertaining to one state. If, now,\nthe Supreme Court were to decide that such a corporation transacts\ninterstate commerce, then all the severity of the existing federal laws\nwould apply to such corporations, and everything which could be\naccomplished by an amendment to the Constitution would be effected by\nthat one decision. Of course, the President could not suggest this,\nsince the Supreme Court is co-ordinate with the Executive; yet if public\nattention should be awakened by such a discussion, even the judges of\nthe Supreme Court might consider the matter in a new light.\n\nTo be sure, this would at the same time require the Supreme Court\nsomewhat to modify its previous interpretation of the Anti-Trust Law\nitself, and not merely its application; since otherwise, if the trusts\ncome under federal jurisdiction, the law might wipe out the new trusts,\nas it did the old, instead merely of regulating them. In view of the\nrecently published memoirs of Senator Hoar, there can be no doubt that\nthe Supreme Court has interpreted the law forbidding the restraint of\ntrade more strictly than was originally intended in the bill which Hoar\nhimself drew up. Congress meant to refer to agreements in restraint of\ntrade in a narrow, technical sense, while the court has interpreted this\nlaw as if it were to apply to every agreement which merely regulates\nproduction or sale in any place. But this unnecessarily severe\nconstruction of the law by the unexpected verdict of the court can of\ncourse be set aside by a further Congressional measure, and therefore\noffers no difficulty.\n\nThe Administration might proceed in still another way. A good deal has\nbeen said of greater publicity in public affairs, and in the last few\nyears energetic measures have already been taken at the instance of the\nPresident. Many of the evils of trusts lie in their concealment of the\nconditions under which they have been organized; and the new Department\nof Commerce is empowered to take official testimony concerning all such\nmatters, and to demand this under oath. Whether this will be an ultimate\ngain is doubted by many, since those acquainted with the matter say that\nthe secrets of modern book-keeping make it impossible to inspect the\ngeneral condition of a large industrial concern when its promoters\ndesire to conceal the truth. While if one were to go back of the books\nand lay bare every individual fact to the public eye, the corporations\nwould be considerably injured in their legitimate business. And in any\ncase, this new effort at publicity has so far no judicial sanction. One\nlarge trust has already refused to give the information desired because\nits counsel holds the Congressional law to be unconstitutional, and this\nmatter will have to be settled by the Supreme Court.\n\nThe most thoughtful minds are coming slowly to the opinion that neither\ntariff provisions nor legislation is necessary, but that the matter will\neventually regulate itself. The great collapse of market values has\nopened the eyes of many people, and the fall in the price of commodities\nmanufactured by trusts works in much the same direction. People see,\nmore and more, that most of the evils are merely such troubles as all\ninfant organisms pass through. The railroads of the country were also at\nfirst enormously overcapitalized, but the trouble has cured itself in\nthe course of time. The surpluses have been spent on improvements, and\nrailroad shares to-day represent actual values. Such a change has in\nfact already set in among the trusts. Paternal regulation by the\ngovernment, which prescribes how industry shall go on, is always\nessentially distasteful to Americans. Exact regulative measures which\nshall be just cannot be framed beforehand by any government. Even Adam\nSmith believed, for instance, that the form of organization known as a\nstock company was suitable for only a few kinds of business. The\nAmerican prefers to submit all such questions to the actual business\ntest. All experimental undertakings are sifted by natural selection, and\nthe undesirable and unnecessary ones fall through. It is true that many\nlose their property in such experiments, but that is only a wholesome\nwarning against thoughtless undertakings and against hasty belief that\nthe methods profitable in one field must be profitable in every other.\nIt is true that here and there a man will make large profits rather too\neasily, but Roosevelt has well said that it is better that a few people\nbecome too rich than that none prosper.\n\nThe development of affairs shows most of all that prices can be inflated\nfor a short time, but that they slowly come back to a reasonable figure\nso long as there are no real monopolies. The experience of the last ten\nyears teaches, moreover, that the most important factor which works\nagainst the trusts is the desire for independence on the part of\ncapitalists, who do not for a long time willingly subordinate themselves\nto any corporation, but are always tempted to break away and start once\nmore an independent concern.\n\nAnd comparing the situation in 1904 with that of 1900, one sees that in\nspite of the seeming growth of the trust idea, the trusts themselves\nhave become more solid by the squeezing out of fictitious valuations;\nthey are more modest, content themselves with less profits, and they are\nmuch less dangerous because of the competition which has grown up around\nthem. The trusts which originally ruled some whole industry through the\ncountry are to-day satisfied if they control two-thirds of it. A single\nfundamental thought remains firm, that the development of industry\ndemands a centralized control. This idea works itself out more and more,\nand would remain in spite of any artificial obstruction which might be\nput before it. But the opposite tendencies are too deeply rooted in\nhuman nature, in Anglo-Saxon law, and in the American\u2019s desire for\nself-initiative, to let this centralization go to dangerous limits.\n\nBut those who will not believe that the trusts, with their enormous\ncapitals, can be adequately restrained in this way, may easily content\nthemselves with that factor which, as the last few years have shown,\nspeaks more energetically than could Congress itself\u2014this is organized\nlabour. The question of capital in American economy is regulated finally\nby the question of labour.\n\n\n                         _The Labour Question_\n\nAs the negro question is the most important problem of internal\npolitics, so the labour question is the most important in American\neconomic life; and one who has watched the great strikes of recent\nyears, the tremendous losses due to the conflicts between capital and\nlabour, may well believe that, like the negro question, this is a\nproblem which is far from being solved. Yet this may not be the case.\nWith the negro pessimism is justified, because the difficulties are not\nonly unsolved, but seem unsolvable. The labour question, however, has\nreached a point in which a real organic solution is no longer\nimpossible. Of course, prophecies are dangerous; and yet it looks as if,\nin spite of hard words, the United States have come to a condition in\nwhich labourers and capitalists are pretty well satisfied, and more so\nperhaps than in any other large industrial nation. It might be more\nexact to say that the Americans are nearer the ideal condition for the\nAmerican capitalist and the American labourer, since the same question\nin other countries may need to be solved on wholly different lines.\n\nIn fact, the American problem cannot be looked into without carefully\nscrutinizing how far the factors are peculiar to this nation. Merely\nbecause certain general factors are common to the whole industrial\nworld, such as capital, machinery, land values, labour, markets, and\nprofits, the social politician is inclined to leave out of account the\nspecific form which the problem takes on in each country. The\ndifferences are chiefly of temperament, of opinions, and of mode of\nlife.\n\nIt is, indeed, a psychological factor which makes the American labour\nquestion very different from the German problem. This fact is neglected,\ntime after time, in the discussions of German theorists and business\nmen. It is, for instance, almost invariably affirmed in Germany that the\nAmerican government has done almost nothing toward insuring the labourer\nagainst illness, accident, or old age, and that therefore America is in\nthis respect far inferior to Germany. It can easily be foreseen, they\nsay, that American manufacturers will be considerably impeded in the\nworld\u2019s market as soon as the progress of civilization forces them to\nyield this to the working-man.\n\nThe fact is that such an opprobrium betrays a lack of understanding of\nAmerican character. The satisfaction felt in Germany with the laws for\nworking-men\u2019s insurance is fully justified; for they are doubtless\nexcellent under German conditions, but they might not seem so\nsatisfactory to the average American nor to the average American\nlabourer. He looks on it as an interesting economic experiment,\nadmirable for the ill-paid German working-man, but wholly undesirable\nfor the American. The accusation that the American government fails in\nits duty by not providing for those who have served the community, is\nthe more unjust, since America expends on the average $140,000,000 in\npensions for invalid veterans and their widows, and is equally generous\nwherever public opinion sees good cause for generosity.\n\nIt cannot be doubted that the American labourer is a different sort of\ncreature from the Continental labourer; his material surroundings are\ndifferent, and his way of life, his dwelling, clothes and food, his\nintellectual nourishment and his pleasures, would seem to the European\nworkmen like luxuries. The number of industrial labourers in the year\n1880 was 2.7 million, and they earned $947,000,000; in 1890 it was 4.2\nmillion earning $1,891,000,000; and in 1900 there were 5.3 million\nlabourers earning $2,320,000,000; therefore, at the time of the last\ncensus, the average annual wage was $437. This average figure, however,\nincludes men, women, and children. The average pay of grown men alone\namounts to $500. This figure gives to the German no clear idea of the\nrelative prosperity of the working-man without some idea of the relation\nbetween German and American prices.\n\nOne reads often that everything is twice as expensive in America as in\nGermany, while some say that the American dollar is worth only as much\nas the German mark\u2014that is, that the American prices are four times the\nGerman; and still others say that American prices are not a bit higher\nthan German. The large German-American steamships buy all their\nprovisions of meat in New York rather than in Hamburg or Bremen, because\nthe American prices are less. If one consults, on the other hand, a\ndoctor or lawyer in New York, or employs a barber or any one else for\nhis personal services, he will find it a fact that the American price is\nfour times as high as the German. The same may be said of articles of\nluxury; for bouquets and theatre tickets the dollar is equal to the\nmark. It is the same with household service in a large town; an ordinary\ncook receives five dollars per week, and the pay of better ones\nincreases as the square of their abilities. Thus we see at once that an\nactual comparison of prices between the United States and Europe cannot\nbe made. A dollar buys five marks\u2019 worth of roast beef and one mark\u2019s\nworth of roses.\n\nIn general, it can be said that the American is better off as regards\nall articles which can be made in large quantities, and worse off in\narticles of luxury and matters of personal service. The ready-made suit\nof clothes is no dearer in America than in Germany and probably better\nfor the price, while the custom-made suit of a first-class tailor costs\nabout four times what it would cost in Germany. All in all, we might say\nthat an American who lives in great style and spends $50,000 a year can\nget no greater material comforts than the man in Germany who spends a\nthird as much\u2014that is, 70,000 marks. On the other hand, the man who\nkeeps house with servants, but without luxuries, spending, say, $5,000 a\nyear, lives about like a man in Germany who spends 10,000 marks\u2014that is,\nabout half as much. But any one who, like the average labourer, spends\n$500 in America, unquestionably gets quite as much as he would get with\nthe equal amount of 2,100 marks in Germany.\n\nBut the more skilled artisan gets $900 on the average\u2014that is, about\nthree times as much as the German skilled workman; so that, compared\nwith the wages of higher-paid classes, the working-men are paid\nrelatively much more than in Europe. The average labourer lives on the\nsame plane as the German master artisan; and if he is dissatisfied with\nthe furnishings of his home it is not because he needs more chairs and\ntables, but because he has a fancy for a new carpet or a new bath-tub.\nIn this connection we are speaking always of course of the real\nAmerican, not the recent immigrants from Southern and Eastern Europe,\nwho are herded together in the worst parts of large cities, and who sell\ntheir labour at the lowest rate. The native American labourer and the\nbetter class of German and Irish immigrants are well clothed and fed and\nread the newspapers, and only a small part of their wages goes for\nliquor.\n\nMore important than the economic prosperity of the American working-man,\nthough not wholly independent of it, is the social self-respect which he\nenjoys. The American working-man feels himself to be quite the equal of\nany other citizen, and this not merely in the legal sense. This results\nchiefly from the intense political life of the country and the\ndemocratic form of government, which knows no social prerogatives. It\nresults also from the absence of social caste. There is a considerable\nclass feeling, but no artificial lines which hinder any man from working\nup into any position. The most modest labourer knows that he may, if he\nis able, work up to a distinguished position in the social structure of\nthe nation.\n\nAnd the most important thing of all is probably the high value put on\nindustry as such. We have spoken of this in depicting the spirit of\nself-initiative. In fact, the background of national conceptions as to\nthe worth of labour must be the chief factor in determining the social\ncondition of the working-man. When a nation comes to that way of\nthinking which makes intellectual activities the whole of its culture,\nwhile economic life merely serves the function of securing the\u2014outward\ncomforts of the nation as it stretches on toward its goal of culture,\nthen the industrial classes must content themselves with an inferior\nposition, and those who do bodily labour, with the least possible amount\nof personal consideration. But when a nation, on the other hand,\nbelieves in the intrinsic worth of industrial culture, then the labour\nby which a man lives becomes a measure of his moral worth, and even\nintellectual effort finds its immediate ethical justification only in\nministering to the complex social life; that is, only so far as it is\nindustry.\n\nSuch now is the conception of the American. Whether a person makes laws,\nor poetry, or railway ties, or shoes, or darning-needles, the thing\nwhich gives moral value to his life\u2019s work is merely its general\nusefulness. In spite of all intellectual and \u00e6sthetic differences, this\nmost important element of activity is common to all, and the manual\nlabourer, so far as he is industrious, is equal to those who work with\ntheir brains. On the other hand, the social parasite, who perhaps has\ninherited money and uses it only for enjoyment, is generally felt to be\non a lower plane than the factory hand who does his duty. For the\nAmerican this is not an artificial principle, but an instinctive\nfeeling, which may not do away with all the thousand different shadings\nof social position, but nevertheless consigns them to a secondary place.\nOne may disapprove of such an industrial conception of society, and like\nbetter, for example, the \u00e6sthetic conception of the Japanese, who teach\ntheir youth to despise mercantile business and tastefully to arrange\nflowers. But it is clear that where such an industrial conception\nprevails in a nation the working-man will feel a greater self-respect\nand greater independence of his surroundings, since the millionaire is\nalso then only a fellow-workman.\n\nUndoubtedly just this self-respect of the American labourer makes him\nthe great industrial force which he is. The American manufacturer pays\nhigher wages than any of his competitors in the markets of the world and\nis not disconcerted at this load, because he knows that the\nself-respecting working-man equalizes the difference of price by more\nintense and intelligent labour. It is true that the perfection of\nlabour-saving machinery is a tremendous advantage here, but after all it\nis the personal quality of the working-man which has brought about that\nin so many industries ten American workmen do more than fifteen or, as\nexperts often say, twenty Italian workmen. The American manufacturer\nprefers to hire a hundred heads rather than a thousand hands, even if\nthe wages are equal, and even the greedy capitalist prefers the labourer\nwho is worth thirty dollars a week to one who is worth only twenty. The\nmore the working-man feels himself to be a free co-operator, the more\nintelligently does he address himself to the work. We hear constantly of\nimprovements which artisans have thought out, and this independent\ninitiative of theirs does not in the least impair the discipline of\nindustry. American discipline does not mean inferiority and the giving\nup of one\u2019s own judgment, but is a free willingness to co-operate and,\nfor the common end, to intrust the leadership to some one else. This\nother person is exalted to the trustworthy position of leader by the\ndesire of those concerned, so that each man is carrying out his own will\nin obeying the foreman.\n\nTherefore, everything which in any wise savours of compassion is\nentirely out of the question for him. In fact, the friendly benevolence,\nhowever graciously expressed, intended to remind the workman that he is\nafter all a human creature, perhaps the friendly provision of a house to\nlive in or of some sort of state help for his family, must always be\nunwelcome to him, since it implies that he is not able, like other\nfathers of a family, to be forethoughtful and provident. He prefers to\ndo everything which is necessary himself. He insures himself in a\nlife-insurance company and, like anybody else, he looks out for his own\ninterests\u2014tries to improve his conditions by securing good contracts\nwith his employer, by arranging organizations of his fellow-workmen, and\nby means of his political rights. But whatever he accomplishes, he\nenjoys it because he has worked in free competition against opposing\ninterests. Any material benefits which he might purchase by enduring the\npatronizing attitude of capitalists or legislators would be felt to be\nan actual derogation.\n\nAnd thus it happens that social democracy, in the technical sense, makes\nno advance among American workmen. The American labourer does not feel\nthat his position is inferior; he knows that he has an equal opportunity\nwith everybody else, and the idea of entire equality does not attract\nhim, and would even deprive him of what he holds most valuable\u2014namely,\nhis self-initiative, which aims for the highest social reward as a\nrecognition of the highest individual achievement. American society\nknows no unwritten law whereby the working-man of to-day must be the\nsame to-morrow, and this gives to the whole labour question in America\nits distinction from the labour question in European aristocratic\ncountries. In most cases the superiors have themselves once been\nlabourers. Millionaires who to-day preside over the destinies of\nthousands of working-men have often themselves begun with the shovel or\nhod. The workman knows that he may set his ambition as high as he likes,\nand to exchange his equal opportunity for an equality of reward would\nmean for him to sink back into that social condition in which industry\nis thought to be only a means to something else, and not in itself a\nvaluable activity. Although Bellamy may already dream of the common\numbrella, his native country is probably further from social democracy\nthan any country in Europe, because the spirit of self-initiative is\nhere stronger than anywhere else, and because the general public is\naware that no class distinctions cut it off from the highest positions\nin the country. It knows that everything depends on industry, energy,\nand intelligence.\n\nThis does not hinder the working-men, in their fight for better\nconditions of labour, from adopting many socialistic tenets. The\nAmerican calls it socialism even to demand that the government own\nrailways, telegraph lines, express companies, or coal-fields, or that\nthe city conduct tramways, or gas or electric-light works. Socialism of\nthis sort is undoubtedly progressing, although the more extravagant\nideas find more wordy orators to support them than hearers to give\nbelief. It is also very characteristic that the labour leaders do not\nmake such agitation their life work, but often after a few years go over\nto one or another civil occupation. The relation between working-man and\ncapitalist, moreover, is always felt to be temporary. A man is on one\nside of the line to-day and on the other to-morrow. There is no firm\nboundary between groups of men, but merely a distribution in temporary\ngroups; and this separates the American labour unions from even the\nEnglish unions, with which otherwise they have much in common.\n\nMany other conditions by which the American working-man\u2019s life is\nseparated from the Englishman\u2019s are of an economic sort. It is\nremembered, for instance, how successful the English unions have been in\nestablishing co-operative stores, while in America they have failed in\nthis. The department shops in the large cities have been able to sell\ncheaper and better goods, and have been in every way more popular. But\nenough of comparing America with the Old World\u2014we must discuss the\nactual situation in the New.\n\nThe labour movement of the United States really began in the third\ndecade of the last century. Of course, only the North is in question; in\nthe South slavery excluded all alliances and independent movements for\nimproving the condition of the manual labourer. There had been small\nstrikes as early as the eighteenth century, but the real movement began\nwith the factories which were built during the nineteenth.\n\nFrom the very beginning the demand for shorter hours and higher wages\nwere the main issues. At the same time the American world was filled\nmore or less with fantastic notions of co-operation, and these\ninfluenced the course of affairs. Boston and New York were the centres\nof the new movement. As early as 1825 in New York there appeared the\nfirst exclusively labour newspaper, the \u201cLabour Advocate\u201d; it commenced\na literature which was to increase like an avalanche. The labourers\nfigured independently in politics in 1830, when they had their own\ncandidate for governor. But all political endeavours of the working\npeople have been mere episodes, and the chief labour movements of the\ncentury have taken place outside of politics; the leading unions have\ngenerally found that their strength lay in renouncing political\nagitation. Only when legal measures for or against the interests of\nlabourers have been in question, has there been some mixing in with\npolitics, but the American workmen have never become a political party.\n\nAt the beginning of the thirties, working-men of different industries\nunited for the first time in a large organization, such as later became\nthe regular form. But at the outset of the movement there appeared also\nthe opposite movement from the side of the capitalists. For instance, in\n1832 merchants and shipholders in Boston met solemnly to declare it\ntheir duty to oppose the combinations of working people which were\nformed for the illegal purpose of preventing the individual workman from\nmaking a free choice as regards his hours of labour, and for the purpose\nof making trouble with their employers, who already paid high wages.\n\nThe organization of the working-man and that of the employer have grown\nsteadily, and the nation itself has virtually played the r\u00f4le of an\nattentive but neutral spectator. In the case of direct conflict the\nsympathy of the country has almost always been on the side of the\nworking-man, since in the concrete case the most impressive point was\ngenerally not the opposition between capital and labour, but the\npersonal contrast of the needy day-labourer and the rich employer; and\nthe sentimentality of the American has always favoured the weaker\nclasses. The nation however, has shown an equal amount of sympathy\ntoward capital whenever a general matter of legislation was in question;\nthat is, whenever the problem has seemed more theoretical than personal.\nIn such cases the capitalists have always been felt to be the pioneers\nof the American nation by putting their enterprise into all sorts of new\nundertakings, applying their capital and intelligence to economic life;\nso that they have seemed to a greater extent in need of national\nprotection than the workman, who may always be easily replaced by some\none else.\n\nConsidering the matter as a whole, it can be said indeed that the nation\nhas preserved a general neutrality, and let both parties virtually\nalone. A change has very recently taken place. The new conditions of the\nindustrial struggle make it clearer day by day that there are three\nparties to the conflict, rather than two; that is, not only capitalist\nand labourer, but also the general public, which is dependent on the\nindustrial output, and therefore so immediately concerned in the\nsettlement of differences as to seem, even in concrete cases, entitled\nto take active part. The turning-point came perhaps during the coal\nstrike in the winter of 1902\u201303, when the President himself stood out to\nrepresent this third party. But we must follow the development more\nminutely\u2014must speak of the labour organizations as they exist to-day, of\nthe results of legislation, of the weapons employed by the labourers and\nthose used by the capitalists, of their advantages and disadvantages,\nand of the latest efforts to solve the problem. Three forms of\nworking-men\u2019s organizations can be discriminated to-day\u2014the Knights of\nLabour, the independent trades-unions, and the federated trades-unions.\n\nThe Knights of Labour are by principle different from both of the other\ngroups; and their influence, although once very great, is now waning.\nTheir fundamental idea is a moral one, while that of their rivals is a\npractical one. This is, of course, not to be taken as meaning that the\nlabour unions pursue immoral ends or the Knights of Labour unpractical\nones. The Knights of Labour began very modestly in 1869 as a secret\norganization, somewhat like the Free Masons, having an elaborate\ninitiation and somewhat unusual procedures. Their constitution began\nwith the motto, \u201cLabour is noble and sacred,\u201d and their first endeavours\nwere for the intellectual uplifting of the labourer and opposition to\neverything which made labour mean or unworthy. The order grew steadily,\nbut at the same time the practical interests of different groups of\nworking-men necessarily came into prominence. In the middle eighties,\nwhen they gave up their secret observances, the society had about a\nmillion members, and its banner still proclaimed the one sentiment that\nindustry and virtue not wealth are the true measure of individual and\nnational greatness. Their members, they insisted, ought to have a larger\nshare of the things which they produced, so as to have more time for\ntheir intellectual, moral, and social development. In this moral spirit,\nthe society worked energetically against strikes and for the peaceful\nsettlement of all disputes.\n\nIts principal weakness was perhaps that, when the membership became\nlarge, it began to take part in politics; the Knights demanded a reform\nin taxation, in the currency, in the credit system, and a number of\nother matters in line with state socialism. It was also a source of\nweakness that, even in local meetings, working-men of different trades\ncame together. This was of course quite in accordance with the ethical\nideal of the society. As far as the moral problems of the workmen are in\nquestion, the baker, tailor, mason, plumber, electrician, and so on,\nhave many interests which are identical; but practically it turned out\nthat one group had little interest in its neighbour groups, and\noftentimes even strongly conflicting interests were discovered. Thus\nthis mixed organization declined in favour of labour societies which\ncomprised members of one and only one trade, so that at the present time\nthe Knights of Labour are said to number only 200,000 and their\nimportance is greatly reduced. It is still undoubted that the idealistic\nformulation in which they presented the interests of labour to the\nnation has done much to arouse the public conscience.\n\nAt the present time the typical form of organization is the\ntrades-union, and between the independent and the federated\ntrades-unions there is no fundamental difference. There are to-day over\ntwo million working-men united in trades-unions; the number increases\ndaily. And this number, which comprises only two-fifths of all\nwage-earners, is kept down, not because only two-fifths of the members\nof each trade can agree to unite, but because many trades exist which\nare not amenable to such organization; the unions include almost all men\nworking in some of the most important trades. The higher the employment\nand the more it demands of preparation, the stronger is the organization\nof the employed. Printers, for instance, almost all belong to their\nunion, and in the building and tobacco trades there are very few who are\nnot members. The miners\u2019 union includes about 200,000 men, who represent\na population of about a million souls. On the other hand, it would be\nuseless and impossible to perfect a close organization where new\nindividuals can be brought in any day and put to work without any\nexperience or training; thus ordinary day-labourers are not organized.\nThe number of two million thus represents the most important trades, and\nincludes the most skilled workers.\n\nThe oldest trades-union in America is the International Typographical\nUnion, which began in 1850. It is to be noticed at once that the\ndistinction between national and international trades-unions is a wholly\nsuperficial one, for in the hundreds of so-called international unions\nthere has been no effort to stretch out across the ocean.\n\u201cInternational\u201d means only that citizens of Canada and, in a few cases,\nof Mexico are admitted to membership. It has been the experience of\nother countries, too, that the printing trades were the first to\norganize. In America the hatmakers followed in 1854, the iron founders\nin 1859, and the number of organized trades increased rapidly during the\nsixties and seventies. The special representation of local interests\nsoon demanded, on the one hand, the division of the larger societies\ninto local groups, and, on the other, the affiliation of the larger\nsocieties having somewhat similar interests. Thus it has come about that\neach locality has its local union, and these unions are affiliated in\nstate organizations for purposes of state legislation and completely\nunified in national or international organizations. On the other hand,\nthe unions belonging to different trades are pledged locally and\nnationally to mutual support. But here it is no longer a question, as\nwith the Knights of Labour, of the mixing up of diverse interests, but\nof systematic mutual aid on practical lines.\n\nThe largest union of this sort is the American Federation of Labour,\nwhich began its existence in Pittsburg in 1881, and has organized a\nveritable labour republic. The Federation took warning at the outset\nfrom the sad fate of previous federations, and resolved to play no part\nin politics, but to devote itself exclusively to industrial questions.\nIt recognized the industrial autonomy and the special character of each\naffiliating trades-union, but hoped to gain definite results by\nco-operation. They first demanded an eight-hour day and aimed to forbid\nthe employment of children under fourteen years of age, to prevent the\ncompetition of prison labour and the importation of contract labour;\nthey asked for a change in laws relating to the responsibility of\nfactory owners and for the organization of societies, for the\nestablishment of government bureaus for labour statistics, and much else\nof a similar sort. At first the Federation had bitter quarrels with the\nKnights of Labour, and perhaps even as bitter a one with socialistic\nvisionaries in its own ranks. But a firm and healthy basis was soon\nestablished, and since the Federation assisted in every way the\nformation of local, provincial, and state organizations, the parts grew\nwith the help of the whole and the whole with the help of the parts.\nTo-day the Federation includes 111 international trades-unions with 29\nstate organizations, 542 central organizations for cities, and also\n1,850 local unions which are outside of any national or international\norganizations. The interests of this Federation are represented by 250\nweekly and monthly papers. The head office is naturally Washington,\nwhere the federal government has its seat. Gompers is its indefatigable\npresident. Outside of this Federation are all the trades-unions of\nrailway employees and several unions of masons and stonecutters. The\nrailway employees have always held aloof; their union dates from 1893,\nand is said to comprise 200,000 men.\n\nThe trades-unions are not open to every one; each member has to pay his\ninitiation fees and make contributions to the local union, and through\nit to the general organization. Many of the trades-unions even require\nan examination for entrance; thus the conditions for admission into the\nunion of electrical workers are so difficult that membership is\nrecognized among the employers themselves as the surest evidence of a\nworking-man\u2019s competence. Every member is further pledged to attend the\nregular meetings of the local branch, and in order that these local\nsocieties may not be too unwieldy, they are generally divided into\ndistricts when the number of members becomes too great to admit of all\nmeeting together. The cigarmakers of the City of New York, for example,\nhave a trades-union of 6,000 members, which is divided into ten smaller\nbodies. Every single society in the country has its own officials. If\nthe work of the official takes all his time, he receives a salary equal\nto the regular pay for work in his trade. The small organizations send\ndelegates to the state and national federations; and wherever these\nprovincial or federal affiliations represent different trades, each of\nthese trades has its own representative, and all decisions are made with\nthat technical formality which the American masters so well. In\naccordance with this parliamentary rigour, every member is absolutely\npledged to comply with the decisions of the delegates. Any one who\nrefuses to obey when a strike is ordered thereby loses all his rights.\n\nThe rights enjoyed by the members of the trades-unions are in fact\nconsiderable. Firstly, the local union is a club and an employment\nagency, and especially in large cities these two functions are very\nimportant for the American working-man. Then there are the arrangements\nfor insurance and aid. Thus the general union of cigarmakers of the\ncountry, which combines 414 local unions having a total membership of\n34,000 men, has given in the last twenty years $838,000 for the support\nof strikes, $1,453,000 for aid to ill members, $794,000 for the families\nof deceased members, $735,000 for travelling expenses, and $917,000 for\nunemployed members; and most of the large unions could show similar\nfigures. Yet these are the lesser advantages. The really decisive thing\nis the concessions which have been won in the economic fight, and which\ncould never have been gotten by the working-men individually.\nNevertheless, to-day not a few men hold off from the unions and get rid\nof paying their dues, because they know that whatever organized labour\ncan achieve, will also help those who stay outside.\n\nThe main contention of these trades-unions refers to legislation and\nwages, and no small part of their work goes in fighting for their own\nexistence\u2014that is, in fighting for the recognition of the union labourer\nas opposed to the non-union man\u2014a factor which doubtless is becoming\nmore and more important in the industrial disputes. Many a strike has\nnot had wages or short hours of labour or the like in view, but has\naimed solely to force the employers officially to recognize the\ntrades-unions, to make contracts with the union delegates rather than\nwith individual men, and to exclude all non-union labourers.\n\nThe newly introduced contention for the union label is in the same\nclass. The labels were first used in San Francisco, where it was aimed\nto exclude the Chinese workmen from competition with Americans. Now the\nlabels are used all over the country. Every box of cigars, every brick,\nhat, or piano made in factories which employ union labour, bears the\ncopyrighted device which assures the purchasing public that the wares\nwere made under approved social and political conditions. The absence of\nthe label is supposed to be a warning; but for the population of ten\nmillions who are connected with labour unions, it is more than a\nwarning; it is an invitation to boycott, and this is undoubtedly felt as\na considerable pressure by manufacturers. The more the factories are\nthus compelled to concede to the unions, and the more inducements the\nunions thus offer to prospective members, and the faster therefore these\ncome in, the more power the unions acquire. So the label has become\nto-day a most effective weapon of the unions.\n\nBut this is only the means to an end. We must consider these ends\nthemselves, and first of all labour legislation. Most striking and yet\nhistorically necessary is the diversity in the statutes of different\nstates, which was formerly very great but is gradually diminishing. The\nNew England states, and especially Massachusetts, have gone first, and\nstill not so fast as public opinion has often desired. In the thirties\nthere were many lively fights for the legislative regulation of the\nworking hours in factories, and yet even the ten hours a day for women\nwas not established until much later; on the other hand, the employment\nof children in factories was legislated on at that time, and in this\ndirection the movement progressed more rapidly.\n\nA considerable step was taken in 1869, when Massachusetts established at\nthe expense of the state a bureau for labour statistics, the first in\nthe world; this was required to work up every year a report on all\nphases of the labour question\u2014economic, industrial, social, hygienic,\neducational, and political. One state after another imitated this\nstatistical bureau, and especially it led to the establishment of the\nDepartment of Labour at Washington, which has already had a world-wide\ninfluence. During the seventies there followed strict laws for the\nsupervision of factories, for precautionary measures, and hygienic\nimprovements. Most of the other states came after, but none departed\nwidely from the example of Massachusetts, which was also the first state\nto make repeated reductions in the working-day. Here it followed the\nexample of the federal government. To be sure, the reduction of the\nworking-day among federal employees was first merely a political\ncatering to the labour vote, but the Federation kept to the point and\nthe separate states followed. Twenty-nine states now prescribe eight\nhours as the day for all public employees and the federal government\ndoes the same.\n\nThe legislative changes in the judicial sphere have been also of\nimportance for trades-unions. According to Old English law at the\nbeginning of the nineteenth century, it was conspiracy for workmen to\nunite for the purposes which the trades-unions to-day hold before\nthemselves. This doctrine of conspiracy, which to be sure from the\nbeginning depended largely on the arbitrary interpretation of the\njudges, has been weakened from time to time through the century, and has\nfinally given away to legal conceptions which put no obstacles in the\nway of the peaceful alliance of working-men for the purpose of obtaining\nbetter conditions of labour. They especially regard the strike as lawful\nso long as violence is not resorted to. Nearly all states have now\npassed laws which so narrow the old conception of criminal conspiracy\nthat it no longer stands in the way of trades-unions. Other legal\nprovisions concern the company stores. In some mining districts far\nremoved from public shops, the company store may still be found, where\nthe company buys the articles needed by its employees and sells these\nthings to them at a high price. But nearly every state has legally done\naway with this system; it was, indeed, one of the earliest demands of\nthe trades-unions.\n\nThere have been great improvements too in legislation relating to the\nresponsibility of employees. The Anglo-Saxon law makes an employer\nresponsible for injury suffered by the workmen by reason of his work,\nbut not responsible if the injuries are due to the carelessness of a\nfellow-workman. The penalty fell then on the one who had neglected his\nduty. It was said that the workman on taking up his duties must have\nknown what the dangers were. But the more complicated the conditions of\nlabour have become, the more the security of any individual has depended\non a great many fellow-labourers who could not be identified, so that\nthe old law became meaningless. Therefore, the pressure of trades-unions\nhas in the last half century steadily altered and improved the law in\nthis respect. American state law to-day virtually recognizes the\nresponsibility of the employer for every accident, even when due to the\ncarelessness of some other labourer than the one injured.\n\nThus on the whole a progress has been made all along the line. It is\ntrue that some states have still much to do in order to come up with the\nmost advanced states, and the labour unions have still many demands in\nstore which have so far been nowhere complied with\u2014as, for instance,\nthat for the introduction of the Swiss referendum, and so forth.\nGovernment insurance is not on this programme\u2014one point in which the\nAmerican working-man remains individualistic. He prefers to make\nprovision for those dependent on him, against old age, accident and\nillness, in his own way, by membership in unions or insurance companies.\nAs a fact, more than half the labouring men are insured. Then too the\nnumber of industrial concerns is increasing which make a voluntary\nprovision for their employees against illness and old age. This was\nstarted by railroad companies, and the largest systems fully realize\nthat it is in their interest to secure steady labour by putting a\npension clause in the contract. When a workman takes work under\ncompanies which offer such things, he feels it to be a voluntary\nindustrial agreement, while state insurance would offend his sense of\nindependence.\n\nThe state has had to deal with the labour question again in the matter\nof strikes, lockouts, boycotts, and black-lists. During the last two\ndecades of the nineteenth century, there were 22,793 strikes in the\ncountry, which involved 117,509 workers; the loss in wages to the\nworkmen was $257,000,000 and in profit to the employers $122,000,000;\nbesides that $16,000,000 were contributed to aid the strikes, so that\nthe total loss made about $400,000,000. The problems here in question\nare of course much more important than the mere financial loss. About 51\nper cent. of these strikes resulted successfully for the workmen, 13 per\ncent. partially successfully, and in 36 per cent. the employers won.\n\nSince 1741, when the bakers of New York City left work and were\nimmediately condemned for conspiracy, there has been no lack of strikes\nin the country. The first great strike was among sailors in 1803, but\nfrequent strikes did not occur until about 1830. The first strike of\nreally historical importance was on the railroads in 1877; great\nirregularities and many street riots accompanied the cessation of work,\nand the state militia had to be called out to suppress the disturbances\nin Cincinnati, St. Louis, Chicago, and Pittsburg. The losses were\ntremendous, the whole land suffered from the tumults, and in the end the\nworking-men won nothing. When in the year 1883 all the telegraphers in\nthe country left their work and demanded additional payment for working\non Sunday, most of the country was in sympathy with them; but here too\nthe employers, although they lost millions of dollars, were successful.\nIn 1886 there were great strikes again in the railroad systems of the\nSouthwest.\n\nThe bitterness reached its highest point in 1892, when the Carnegie\nSteel Works at Homestead were the scenes of disorder. Wages were the\nmatter under dispute; the company, which could not come to an agreement\nwith the labour union, proposed to exclude organized labour and\nintroduced non-union workmen. The union sought by the use of violence to\nprevent the strangers from working; the company called for aid from the\nstate; the union still opposed even the militia, and actual battles took\nplace, which only the declaration of martial law by the governor, after\nthe loss of many lives, was able to suppress.\n\nThe Chicago strike in 1894 was more extensive. It began with a strike in\nthe Pullman factories in Chicago, and at its height succeeded in\nstopping the traffic on a quarter of all American railroads. The\ninterruption of railway connections meant a loss to every person in the\ncountry, and the total loss is estimated at $80,000,000. The worst\naccompaniments of strikes soon appeared\u2014riots, intimidations, assaults,\nand murders. And again it was necessary to call out troops to restore\npeace. Great wage disputes followed presently in the iron and steel\ntrades; but these were all surpassed in inner significance by the great\ncoal strike of the winter before last.\n\nThe conditions of labour in the anthracite coal mines of Pennsylvania\nwere unfavourable to the labourers. They had bettered themselves in a\nstrike in 1900, but the apparently adequate wages for a day\u2019s labour\nyielded a very small annual income, since there was little employment at\nsome seasons of the year. The working-men felt that the coal trusts\nrefused to raise the wages by juggling with arguments; the capitalists\ntried to prove to them that the profit on coal did not permit a higher\nwage. But the labourers knew too well that the apparently low profits\nwere due only to the fact that the trusts had watered their stock, and\nespecially that the coal mines were operated in connection with\nrailroads under the same ownership, so that all profits could be brought\non the books to the credit of the railroads instead of the mines. The\ntrades-unions thought the time was ripe for demanding eight hours a day,\na ten per cent. increase in wages, and a fundamental recognition of\ntrades-unions, along with a few other technical points. The organized\nminers, under their leader, Mitchell, offered to wait a month, while the\npoints of difference might be discussed between both parties; Senator\nHanna, whose death a short time later took from politics one of the\nwarmest friends of labour, offered his services as mediator, and left no\ndoubt that the workmen would accept some compromise.\n\nIn spite of this moderation of the working-men, the representatives of\nthe mine owners refused in any way to treat with them. Their standpoint\nwas that if they recognized the trades-unions in their deliberations,\nthey were beginning on a course which they might not know how to stop;\nif eight hours were demanded to-day by the trades-unions, seven hours\nmight be demanded in the same way next year. The employers thought it\nhigh time once for all to break up the dictatorial power of the\ntrades-unions. President Baer explained that trades-unions are a menace\nto all American industry. The strike continued. Now the anthracite\nminers produce five million tons every month, which supply all the homes\nin the eastern part of the country. A cold winter came on, and the lack\nof coal throughout the country brought about a condition which resembled\nthe misery and sufferings of a time of siege. In many places it was not\neven a matter of price, although this was four times what it ordinarily\nis, but the supply of coal was actually used up. Schools and churches\nhad to be closed in many places. And now the public understood at last\nperfectly clearly that, if the trades-unions wanted to exert their whole\npower, the country would be absolutely helpless under their tyranny.\nNevertheless, the embitterment turned most strongly against the\nemployers, who still affirmed that there was nothing to arbitrate, but\nthat the workmen simply must give in.\n\nThe workmen then put themselves on the wrong side by threatening with\nviolence all men who came to take their places in the mines; indeed,\nthey forced back by barbarous methods the engineers who came to pump out\nthe water which was collecting in the mines. Troops had to be called,\nbut at that moment the President took the first steps toward a solution\nof the problem by calling representatives of both parties to Washington.\nA commission was finally appointed, composed of representatives of both\nparties and well-known men who were neutrally inclined, and after\nPierpont Morgan on the side of the capitalists gave the signal to\nconsent to arbitration, the coal miners went back to work. The\ncommission met, and some time later in the year 1903 decided about half\nof the points under dispute in favour of the miners, the other half\nagainst them. This was by no means the last strike; the building trades\nin many parts of the country, and specially in New York, were thoroughly\ndemoralized during the year 1903, the movement proceeding from the\nstrikes of 5,000 bridge builders: then too, the textile workers of the\nEast and miners of the South have been restless. And at the present\ntime, every day sees some small strike or other inaugurated, and any day\nmay see some very large strike declared. It was the coal strike,\nhowever, which set the nation thinking and showed up the dangers which\nare threatening.\n\nThe results of the coal strike had shown the friends of trades-unions\nmore clearly than ever the strength which lies in unity. They had seen\nthat results could be achieved by united efforts such as could never\nhave been gotten by the unorganized working-man. They had seen with\nsatisfaction that the trades-unions had taken a conservative part by\nputting off the great strike as long as possible; and they had seen that\nthe employers would not have consented for their part to any\narbitration. In the end not only many of the union demands had been\ngranted, but, more than that, the policy of the trades-unions had been\nput in the most favourable light. A whole country had to suffer, human\nlives were sacrificed and millions lost, and in the end the\ntrades-unions won their point; if the mine owners had been willing in\nthe autumn to do what they had to do in winter, a great deal of injury\nwould have been spared. But the trades-unions could truthfully say that\nthey had been true to their policy and had always preferred peace to\nwar. The majority of votes within the trades-unions was against\nthoughtless and unnecessary strife, against declaring a strike until all\nother means had been tried. Many people felt that the interests of that\nneutral party, the nation at large, were better looked out for by the\nmore thoughtful union leaders than by such capitalists as were the\nPennsylvania coal magnates.\n\nOn the other hand, it was felt that the most calmly planned strikes can\nlead to embitterment and violence, and the tyrannical and murderous\nsuppression of the non-union working-man. And here the American sense of\nfreedom is touched. Every man has the right to decide freely under what\nconditions he shall work; the strike-breaker was regarded as a hero, and\nthe trusts did their best to convince the world that the interference of\nthe trades-unions in the movements of non-union workmen is a menace to\nAmerican democracy. The unionists admit that it is unlawful power which\nthey have used, but pretend that they had a moral right; they say that\nevery working-man has a claim on the factory more than his weekly wage:\nfor he has contributed to its success; he has in a way a moral share,\nwhich brings him no income, but which ought to assure him of his\nposition. And now, if during a strike an outside person comes in and\ntakes his place, it is like being robbed of something which he owns, and\nhe has the right of asserting his claim with such means as any man would\nuse on being assaulted.\n\nCapitalists turned against the trades-unions with the greater\nconsternation, because these latter put not only the independent\nworking-man, but also the companies, in a powerless position. They\nshowed that their right to manage their own property was gone, and that\nthe capitalist was no longer the owner of his own factory the instant he\nwas not able to treat with the individual working-man, but forced to\nsubject himself to the representatives of trades-unions. It was easy to\nshow that while he, as undertaker of the business, had to take all the\nrisks and be always energetic and industrious, the working-men were\nsimply showing their greed and laziness by wanting shorter days, and\nthat they would never be really satisfied. It was affirmed that the best\nworkman was an unwilling party to the strike, and that he would more\ngladly attend to his work than to trades-union politics, and that as a\nfact he let his trades-union be run by irresponsible good-for-nothings,\nwho played the part of demagogues. Every man who had ever saved a cent\nand laid it up, ought to be on the side of the capitalist.\n\nBut the public took a rather different attitude, and felt that the group\nof capitalists had been revealed in a bad light by the strike, and when\ntheir representatives came to instruct the President of the United\nStates, in a brusque way, on the rights of property, the public began to\nrevise its traditional ideas. The public came to see that such large\ncorporations as were here in question were no longer private enterprises\nin the ordinary sense of the word; that a steel trust or coal trust\ncannot be such an independent factor in the commonwealth as a grocery\nshop in a country town. It was felt that the tremendous growth of the\nbusiness was the product of national forces, and in part dependent on\npublic franchises; wherefore, the business itself, although privately\nowned, nevertheless had a semi-public character, so that the public\nshould not be refused the right to interfere in its management. Belief\nin state socialism, in state ownership of railroads and mines, made\ngreat progress in those days; and the conviction made still greater\nprogress that the working-man has a moral right to take an active hand\nin managing the business in which he works.\n\nAnd so public opinion has come round to think that violence on the part\nof working-men, and refusal to treat with trades-unions on the part of\nemployers, are equally to be condemned. The community will hardly again\npermit capital and labour to fight out their battles in public and make\nthe whole nation suffer. It demands that, now that labour is actually\norganized in unions, disputes shall be brought up for settlement before\ndelegates from both sides, and that where these cannot come to a\nsolution the matter shall be brought before a neutral court of\narbitration which both sides agree to recognize.\n\nOf course these disputes will continue to arise, since the price of\nmanufactured articles is always changing; the employer will always try\nto lower wages in dull times, and the labourers will try to force wages\nup during busy times. But it may be expected that the leaders of\ntrades-unions will be able to consider the whole situation intelligently\nand to guide the masses of working-men carefully through their ambitions\nand disappointments. Although the employers of labour continue to assert\nthat, so soon as they are handed over to the mercies of the\ntrades-unions, the spirit of enterprise will be entirely throttled and\ncapital will decline to offer itself, because all profit is sacrificed\nto the selfish tyranny of the working people, nevertheless, experience\ndoes not show this to be true. Trades-unions are convinced that, in\nthese days of machinery, too small a part of the profit falls to the\nlabouring man; but they know perfectly well that they themselves can\nprosper only when the industry as a whole is prosperous, and that it\ncannot prosper if it is burdened by too high wages. Trades-unions know\nalso that after all they will be able to gain their point in courts of\narbitration and elsewhere only so long as they have the sympathy of the\npublic on their side, and that every undue encroachment on the profits\nof capital and every discouragement of the spirit of enterprise will\nquickly lose them the sympathy of the American nation. If they really\nattack American industry, public opinion will go against them. That they\nknow, and therefore the confidence is justified that, after all, their\ndemands will never endanger the true interests of capital. Capitalists\nknow to-day that they will always have trades-unions to deal with, and\nthat it will be best to adapt themselves to the situation. Many\nthoughtful captains of industry admit that the discipline of\ntrades-unions has had some salutary effect, and that some of their\npropositions, such as the sliding wage-scale, have helped on industry.\n\nThus both parties are about to recognize each other with a considerable\nunderstanding. They instinctively feel that the same condition has\ndeveloped itself on both sides; on the one side capital is combined in\ntrusts, and on the other labour has organized into unions. Trusts\nsuppress the competition of capital, trades-unions kill the non-union\ncompetitor. The trusts use as weapons high dividends, preferential\nrates, and monopoly of raw material; the unions use the weapons of\nold-age insurance, free aid during illness, the union label, strikes,\nand boycotts. Both sides have strengthened their position by the\nconsolidation of many interests; just as the steel works are allied with\nlarge banks, railroads, steamship lines, copper mines, and oil\ncompanies, so the leaders of trades-unions take care to spread the\ndisputes of one industry into other industries.\n\nMoreover, both parties fight alike by means of artificially limiting the\nmarket; and this is, perhaps, the most dangerous factor of all. While\nthe trusts are continually abandoning factories or temporarily shutting\nthem down in order to curtail production, so the trades-unions restrict\nthe offering of labour. Not every man who wants to learn a trade is\nadmitted to an apprenticeship; the trades-union does not allow young men\nto come in while old men who have experience are out of work. The\nregulation of the flow of labour into the trades which require training,\nand the refusal of union men to work with non-union men, are certainly\nthe most tyrannical features of the situation; but the trades-unions are\nnot embarrassed to find high-sounding arguments for their course, just\nas the trusts have found for their own similar doings.\n\nThings will continue in this way on both sides, no doubt; and the nation\nat large can be content, so far at least as, through this concentration\nand strict discipline on both sides, the outcome of the labour question\nis considerably simplified. As long as the mass of capitalists is split\nup and that of working-men chaotically divided, arbitration is\ndifficult, and the results are not binding. But when two well-organized\nparties oppose each other in a business-like way, with mutual\nconsideration and respect, the conference will be short, business-like,\nand effective.\n\nThe next thing necessary is simply an arrangement which shall be so far\nas possible automatic for appointing an unprejudiced court of\narbitration in any case when the two parties are not able to agree. In\nthis matter public opinion has gone energetically to work. In December,\n1901, at the instigation of the National Civic League, a conference of\nleading representatives of capital and labour was called, and this\nappointed a standing commission to pass on disputes between employers\nand labourers. All three parties were represented here\u2014capital by the\npresidents of the largest trusts, railroads, and banks, trades-unions by\nthe leaders of their various organizations, and the public by such men\nas Grover Cleveland, Charles Francis Adams, Archbishop Ireland,\nPresident Eliot, and others, who enjoy the confidence and esteem of the\nwhole nation.\n\nIt has been objected that the millions of unorganized working-men are\nnot represented, but in fact these neutral leading men of the nation are\nat the same time the representatives of unorganized labour. If these\nwere in any other way to be represented by delegates, they would have to\norganize in order to choose such delegates. But this is just what\nunorganized labour does not wish to do. Everything looks as if this\npermanent commission would have the confidence of the nation and,\nalthough created unofficially, would contribute a good deal to prevent\nthe outbreak of real industrial wars. But there can be no doubt that the\nnation is ready to go further, and that if the two well-organized\nparties, together with the men in whom both sides put their confidence,\nare still not able to come to harmonious agreement, nor even to the\nappointment of a court of arbitration, then the nation will quite likely\nappoint an official and legally authorized board for compulsory\narbitration.\n\nThe example of New Zealand is encouraging in this direction, although\nthe experience of a small country may not be immediately applicable to a\nlarge one. Nevertheless, there is some wish to imitate that example, and\nto disregard the outraged feelings of capitalists who predict that\nAmerican industry will collapse utterly if the country becomes\nsocialistic enough to appoint arbitrators with the power to prescribe to\ncapital what wages it shall pay, and how otherwise it shall carry on\nbusiness. The nation has learned a good deal in the last two or three\nyears.\n\nA peaceable solution of the problem is promised also from another\ndirection. The dramatic wars have concerned generally very large\ncompanies, which employ thousands of workmen. The whole thing has been\nrepeated, however, on a more modest scale, where thousands of working\npeople stood opposed not to large trusts but to hundreds of small\nemployers, who were not separated from the working-men by any social\ncleft. Here the battles have often been more disastrous for the\nemployers and their helplessness before small unions more patent. Then\nit became natural for them to imitate the example of the workmen and to\nform organizations to regulate the situation.\n\nThe first employers\u2019 union was formed in 1890 by the owners of\nnewspapers, for whom sudden strikes are of course especially disastrous.\nFor ten years very few trades followed this example; but in the last few\nyears trades-unions of employers have been quietly forming in almost all\ntrades, and here the situation has been much more favourable from the\noutset for bringing employer and labourer to a mutual understanding.\nWhile the employers were not organized, an understanding was hard to\narrive at; but now both sides are able to make contracts which must be\nin all respects advantageous, and one of the most important clauses has\nregularly been that disputes shall be submitted to a court of\narbitration.\n\nWhether this solution will be a source of great satisfaction to the\npublic seems doubtful, since, as soon as local employers and working-men\nclose an agreement for offensive and defensive co-operation, the general\npublic is left in the lurch, and an absolute monopoly is created. When,\nfor instance, in a large city, all the proprietors in the electric\ntrades have agreed to employ only union workmen, and all workmen have\nagreed to work for only such as belong to the employers\u2019 union, it is\nhardly possible for a new employer to step in as competitor and lower\nprices, since he would have difficulty in getting workmen. The\nconsequence is that every house owner in the city who wants an electric\nbell must pay such prices as the employers\u2019 and workmen\u2019s unions have\nseen fit to agree on. Free competition is killed.\n\nThe problem of so-called economic freedom is thus opened up again.\nTrades-unions are, of course, the product of free and lawful agreement,\nbut one of their most important achievements is to pledge themselves to\nfurnish the employers\u2019 union with a certain number of workmen, which is\nsufficient for all needs. In return for this they receive the promise of\nthe employers to hire only members of the working-men\u2019s union. The\nresult is, then, that the workman himself becomes a mere pawn, and is\ndealt about like a Chinese coolie.\n\nIt is clear that these latest movements are able to contribute a great\ndeal, and already have so contributed, to the reconciliation of capital\nand labour and to an appreciation of their common interests. The right\nis being more and more conceded to labour unions of controlling certain\nmatters which relate to the discipline and conditions of work, and more\nassurance is given to the working-men of permanent employment, so that\nthey are able to bring up their families with more confidence and\nsecurity. And cases of dispute are more and more looked on as\ndifferences of opinion between partners of equal rank.\n\nA good deal may still be done on both sides; especially the labour\nunions must be more strict in their discipline: they must become\nresponsible for seeing that their members refrain from every sort of\nviolence during wage wars, and that every violation of law, particularly\nwith regard to strike-breakers, is avoided. It is true that labour\nunions have always preached calmness, but have nevertheless looked on\nwillingly when individual members or groups of members, in their anger,\nhave indulged in lawlessness and crime. This must be stopped. It was in\nthe wish to avoid such responsibility that labour unions have hitherto\nstruggled against being forced to become legal corporations; they have\nnot wished to be legally liable for damages committed by their members.\nBut such legal liability will be absolutely necessary if contracts\nbetween the unions of employers and those of labourers are to become\nimportant. It is perhaps even more necessary for both sides to learn\nwhat apparently American public opinion has forgotten, that a court of\narbitration must really arbitrate judicially and not merely hit on\ncompromises.\n\nThe labour question is still not solved in America; but one must close\none\u2019s eyes to the events of recent years in order to think that it is\nunsolvable, or even unlikely to be solved soon. The period of warfare\nseems in the East nearly over; both sides have found ways of asserting\nthemselves without impairing the progress of the nation\u2019s industry. And\nthe nation knows that its progress will be more rapid in proportion as\nboth parties maintain their equilibrium and protect industrial life from\nthe tyranny of monopolies, whether of capital or labour.\n\n\n\n\nPART THREE\nINTELLECTUAL LIFE\n\n\n\n\n                            CHAPTER FOURTEEN\n                    _The Spirit of Self-Perfection_\n\n\nThere are three capital cities in the United States\u2014Washington the\npolitical capital, New York the commercial, and Boston the intellectual\ncapital. Everything in Washington is so completely subordinated to the\npolitical life that even the outward aspect of the city is markedly\ndifferent from that of other American cities; buying and selling\nscarcely exist. In spite of its three hundred thousand inhabitants, one\nis reminded of Potsdam or Versailles; diplomats, legislators, and\nofficials set the keynote. Washington is unique in the country, and no\nother large city tries to compete with it; unless, indeed, on a very\nsmall scale a few state capitals, like Albany, which are situated away\nfrom the commercial centres. Being unique, Washington remains isolated,\nand its influence is confined to the political sphere. As a result,\nthere is a slight feeling of the unnatural, or even the unreal, about\nit; any movements emanating from Washington which are not political,\nhardly come to their full fruition. And although the city aspires to do,\nand does do, much for art, culture, and especially for science, its\ngeneral initiative seems always to be lying under the weight of\nofficialdom. It will never become the capital of intellect.\n\nIn a like way, New York is really informed by but a single impulse\u2014the\nstruggle for economic greatness. This is the meaning and the moral of\nits life. In this respect, New York is not, like Washington, unique.\nChicago makes terrific strides in emulation of New York; and yet, so far\nas one now sees, the city of three million dwellers around the mouth of\nthe Hudson will continue to be the economic centre of the New World. The\nwholesale merchants, the banker potentates, and the corporation\nattorneys set there the pace, as the senators and diplomats in\nWashington, and dominate all the activities of the metropolis. Through\ntheir influence New York has become the centre of luxury and fashion,\nand wealth the most powerful factor in its social life. All this cannot\ntake place, and in such extreme wise, without affecting profoundly the\nother factors of culture. The commercial spirit can be detected in\neverything that comes from New York. On the surface it looks as if the\nmetropolis of commerce and luxury might perhaps be usurping for itself a\nleading place in other matters. And it is true that the politics of New\nYork are important, and that her newspapers have influence throughout\nthe land. But yet a real political centre she will never become; new and\ngreat political impulses do not withstand her commercial atmosphere. New\nYork is the chief clearinghouse for politics and industry; purely\npolitical ideas it transforms into commercial.\n\nThis is still more true of strictly intellectual movements. One must not\nbe misled by the fact that there is no other city in the land where so\nmany authors reside, where so many books and magazines are published, or\nso many works of art of all kinds are sold; or yet where so many\napostles of reform lift up their voices. That the millions of\ninhabitants in New York constitute the greatest theatre for moral and\nsocial reforms, does not prove that the true springs of moral energy lie\nthere. And the flourishing state of her literary and artistic activities\nproceeds, once more, from her economic greatness rather than from any\nreal productive energy or intellectual fruitfulness. The commercial side\nof the intellectual life of America has very naturally centred itself in\nNew York and there organized; but this outward connection between\nintellect and the metropolis of trade has very little to do with real\nintellectual initiative. Such association rather weakens than\nstrengthens the true intellectual life; it subjects art to the influence\nof fashion, literature to the demands of commerce, and would make\nscience bow to the exigencies of practical life; in short, it makes\nimminent all the dangers of superficiality. The intellectual life of New\nYork may be outwardly resplendent, but it pays for this in depth; it\nbrings into being no movements of profound significance, and therefore\nhas no standing as a national centre in these respects. As the\nintellectual life of the political capital bears the stamp of\nofficialdom, so is that of the commercial capital marked with the\nsuperficiality characteristic of trade and luxury. Intellectual life\nwill originate new thoughts and spread them through the country only\nwhen it is earnest, pure, and deep; and informed, above all, with an\nideal.\n\nThe capital of the intellectual life is Boston, and just as everything\nwhich comes out of Washington is tinged with politics, or out of New\nYork with commerce, so are all the activities of Boston marked by an\nintellectual striving for ideal excellence. Even its commerce and\npolitics are imbued with its ideals.\n\nIt is surprising how this peculiar feature of Boston strikes even the\nsuperficial observer. The European, who after the prescribed fashion\nlands at New York and travels to Philadelphia, Washington, Chicago, and\nNiagara, and then winds up his journey through the United States in\nBoston, has in this last place generally the impression that he has\nalready come back from the New World into the Old. The admirable\ntraditions of culture, the thoroughly intellectual character of the\nsociety, the predominance of interests which are not commercial\u2014in fact,\neven the quaint and picturesque look of the city\u2014everything strikes him\nas being so entirely different from what his fancy had pictured, from\nits Old World point of view, as being specifically American. And no less\nis it different from what the rest of his experience of the New World\nhas given him. Not until he knows the country more thoroughly does he\nbegin to understand that really in this Yankee city the true spirit of\nthe purely American life is embodied.\n\nThe American himself recognizes this leading position of Boston in the\nintellectual life of his country, although he often recognizes it with\nmixed feelings. He is fond, with the light irony of Holmes, to call\nBoston \u201cthe hub of the universe.\u201d He likes to poke fun at the Boston\nwoman by calling her a \u201cblue-stocking,\u201d and the comic papers habitually\naffirm that in Boston all cabbies speak Latin. But this does not obscure\nfrom him the knowledge that almost everything which is intellectually\nexalted and significant in this country has come from Boston, that\nMassachusetts, under the leadership of Boston, has become the foremost\nexample in all matters of education and of real culture, and that there,\non the ground of the oldest and largest academy of the country\u2014Harvard\nUniversity\u2014the true home of New World ideals is to be found. And the\nintellectual pre-eminence of New England is no less recognizable in the\nrepresentatives of its culture which Boston sends forth through the\ncountry; the artistic triumph of the Columbian Exposition may be\nascribed to Chicago, but very many of the men who accomplished this work\ncame from Massachusetts; the reform movement against Tammany belongs to\nthe moral annals of New York, but those workers whose moral enthusiasm\ngained the victory are from New England. This latent impression, that\nall the best \u00e6sthetic and moral and intellectual impulses originate in\nNew England, becomes especially deep the instant one turns one\u2019s gaze\ninto the past. The true picture is at the present day somewhat overlaid,\nbecause owing to the industrial development of the West the emigration\nfrom New England has taken on such large proportions that the essential\ntraits of Massachusetts have been carried through the whole land. In\npast times, her peculiar pre-eminence was much more marked.\n\nWhoever traces back the origins of American intellectual life must go to\nthe fourth decade of the seventeenth century. Then the colonies in the\nSouthern and Middle States were flourishing as well as the Northern\ncolonies of New England; but only in these last was there any real\ninitiative toward intellectual culture. In the year 1636, only eight\nyears after the foundation of Boston, Harvard College was founded as the\nfirst, and for a long while the only, school of higher learning. And\namong the products of the printing-press which this country gave forth\nin the whole seventeenth century such an astonishing majority comes from\nNew England that American literary history has no need to consider the\nother colonies of that time. The most considerable literary figure of\nthe country at that time was Cotton Mather, a Bostonian. The eighteenth\ncentury perpetuated these traditions. The greatest thinker of the\ncountry, Jonathan Edwards, was developed at Harvard, and Benjamin\nFranklin was brought up in Boston. The literature of New England was the\nbest which the country had so far produced, and when the time came for\nbreaking away politically from England, then in the same way the moral\nenergy and enthusiasm of Boston took front rank.\n\nNot until these days of political independence did the true history of\nthe free and independent intellectual life of America begin. Now one\nname followed close on another, and most of the great ones pertained to\nNew England. Poets like Longfellow, Lowell, and Holmes were Bostonians;\nWhittier and Hawthorne also sprang from the soil of New England. Here,\ntoo, appeared the intellectually leading magazines; in the first half of\nthe century the _North American Review_, in the second half the\n_Atlantic Monthly_. Here the religious movement of Unitarianism worked\nitself out, and here was formed that school of philosophers in whose\nmidst stood the shining figure of Ralph Waldo Emerson. Here sounded the\nmost potent words against slavery; here Parker, Garrison, Phillips, and\nSumner poured forth their charges against the South into the midst of a\npublic morally aroused. Here, also, first flourished the quiet work of\nscientific investigation. Since the day when Ticknor and Everett studied\nin G\u00f6ttingen in the year 1815, there sprang up in Massachusetts, more\nthan anywhere else, the custom which caused young American scholars to\nfrequent German schools of higher learning. The historians Prescott,\nSparks, Bancroft, Parkman, and Motley were among this number. Here in\nBoston was the classic ground for the cultivation of serious music, and\nhere was founded the first large public library. And all these movements\nhave continued down to this day. None of the traditions are dead; and\nany one who is not deceived by superficial impressions knows that the\nmost essential traits of Boston and New England are the ones which, in\nrespect to intellectual life, lead the nation. Quite as the marble\nCapitol at Washington is the symbol of the political power of America,\nand the sky-scrapers of lower Broadway are the symbol of America\u2019s\neconomic life, so we may say the elm-shaded college yard of Harvard is\nthe symbol of American intellectual capacity and accomplishment.\n\nIt may seem astonishing at first that a single vicinity can attain such\neminence, and especially that so small a part of the Union is able to\nimpress its character on the whole wide land. The phenomenon, however,\nbecomes almost a matter of course, if we put before ourselves how this\nworld-power slowly grew from the very smallest beginnings, and how this\ngrowth did not take place by successive increments of large and compact\nmasses of people who had their own culture and their own independent\nspirit, but took place by the continual immigration of wanderers who\nwere detached and isolated, and who joined themselves to that which was\nalready here, and so became assimilated. Then, as soon as a beginning\nhad been made, and in a certain place a specific expression had been\ngiven to intellectual life, this way of thinking and this general\nattitude necessarily became the prevailing ones, and in this way spread\nabroad farther and farther. If in the seventeenth century, instead of\nthe little New England states, the Southern colonies, say, had developed\na characteristic and independent intellectual life, then by the same\nprocess of constant assimilation the character and thought of Virginia\nmight have impressed itself on the whole nation as have the character\nand thought of Massachusetts. Yet it was by no means an accident that\nthe spirit which was destined to be most vital did not proceed from the\npleasure-loving Virginians, but rather came from the severely earnest\nsettlers of the North.\n\nThe way of thinking of those Northern colonists can be admirably\ncharacterized by a single word\u2014they were Puritans. The Puritan spirit\ninfluenced the inner life of Boston Bay in the seventeenth century, and\nconsequently the inner life of the whole country down to our time, more\ndeeply and more potently than any other factor. The Puritanical spirit\nsignifies something incomparably precious\u2014it is much more admirable than\nits detractors dream of; and yet at the same time, it carries with it\nits decided limitations. For nearly three hundred years the genius of\nAmerica has nourished itself on these virtues and has suffered by these\nlimitations. That which the Puritans strove for was just what their name\nsignifies\u2014purity; purity in the service of God, purity of character,\nand, in an evil time, purity of life. Filled with the religious\ndoctrines of Calvinism, that little band of wanderers had crossed the\nocean in spite of the severest trials, in order to find free scope for\ntheir Puritan ideals; had left that same England where, some time later\nunder Cromwell, they were to achieve a victory, although a short and\nafter all insignificant one. They much more cared for the spotlessness\nof their faith than for any outward victory, and every impulse of their\ndevout and simple lives was informed by their convictions. Under these\ncircumstances it was no accident that here the intellectual and moral\nideals were not obscured by any economic or political preoccupations;\nbut from the very outset were accounted in themselves of prime\nimportance. Harvard College was founded as a school for the Puritan\nclergy, and almost the entire American literature, which is to say the\nliterature of New England, of the seventeenth century is purely\nreligious, or at any rate is thoroughly permeated with the Calvinistic\nway of thought.\n\nOf course, externally this is all entirely changed, and it is almost a\ntypical example of this transformation, that Harvard, once a seminary\nfor ministers, to-day prepares not one-fiftieth part of its five\nthousand students for the clerical calling. Indeed, as early as the year\n1700, Yale University was founded in Connecticut, largely in the aim of\ncreating a fortress for the old faith, because Harvard had become too\nmuch a place of free thought; and the great scholar of Harvard, the\npreacher Jonathan Edwards, went away from Boston in anger because it\nseemed to him, even in the eighteenth century, that the old Calvinistic\ntraditions had been lost. And then finally, in the nineteenth century,\nappeared Unitarianism\u2014a creed which became the most energetic enemy of\nCalvinism. These changes and disruptions were, however, rather an\ninternal matter. They were actually nothing but small differences within\nthe Puritan community. From the meagre days of the Pilgrim Fathers down\nto the time when Emerson in rhapsodic flights preached the ethical\nidealism of Fichte, and Longfellow wrote his \u201cPsalm of Life,\u201d the old\nPuritan spirit remained predominant.\n\nOne fundamental note sounded through the whole. Life was not to be lived\nfor the sake of pleasure, but for the sake of duty. Existence got its\nsense and value only in ethical endeavour; self-perfection was the great\nduty which took precedence over all others. Among the particularly\ndogmatic tenets of the Calvinistic theology this self-searching became,\nin the last resort, perhaps a somewhat dispiriting searching after inner\nsigns by which God was expected to show somewhat arbitrarily his favour.\nMore broadly taken, however, it signified rather a continual searching\nof the conscience\u2014a conscious suppression of impure, of worldly, and of\nselfish impulses; and so in effect it was an untiring moral\npurification. And if in this theological atmosphere it appeared as if\nGod had led a singularly large number of predestined spirits together\ninto the New England colonies, the reason was obviously this\u2014that in\nsuch a community of earnest, self-searching characters a moral purity\ndeveloped such as was to be found nowhere in the wild turmoil of the Old\nWorld. When the entire life is so permeated by ethical ideals, there\nindeed the nobler part of man\u2019s nature cannot be conquered by lower\ninstincts or by the sordid demands of every-day life.\n\nSuch a place could not fail to be a favourable environment for any\nintellectual undertakings. There serious books were more welcome than\nthe merely amusing ones which flourished in the rest of the colonies. In\nNew England more was done for education, the development of law and the\nservice of God, than for any outward show or material prosperity. In\nshort, the life of the intellect throve there from the very outset. And\nyet of course this spirit of culture necessarily took a turn very\ndifferent from what it had been in the mother land, different from what\nit was on the Continent, and different from what it would have been if\nthe Southern colonies had been intellectually dominant.\n\nFor the Puritan, absolutely the whole of culture was viewed from the\nmoral point of view. But the moral judgment leads always to the\nindividual; neither in the physical nor in the psychical world can\nanything be found which has an ethical value except the good will of the\nindividual. No work of culture has any value in itself; it becomes\nethically significant only in its relation to the individual will, and\nall intellectual life has ethically a single aim\u2014to serve the highest\ndevelopment of the individual. From this point of view, therefore,\nscience, poetry, and art have no objective value: for the Puritan, they\nare nothing to accept and to make himself subordinate to; but they are\nthemselves subordinate means merely toward that one end\u2014the perfection\nof the man. Life was a moral problem, for which art and science became\nimportant only in so far as they nourished the inner growth of every\naspirant. In the language of the newer time we might say that a\ncommunity developed under Puritan influences cared considerably more for\nthe culture of its individual members than for the creation of things\nintellectual, that the intellectual worker did not set out to perfect\nart and science, but aimed by means of art and science to perfect\nhimself.\n\nOf course there must be some reciprocal working between the general body\nof culture and the separate personalities, but the great tendency had to\nbe very different from that which it would have been had the chief\nemphasis been laid on \u00e6sthetic or intellectual productions as such. In\nEurope during the decisive periods the starting-point has been and\nto-day is, the objective; and this has only secondarily come to be\nsignificant for the subjective individual life. But in Puritan America\nthe soul\u2019s welfare stood in the foreground, and only secondarily was the\nstriving for self-perfection, self-searching, and self-culture made to\ncontribute to the advance of objective culture. As a consequence\nindividual characters have had to be markedly fine even at a time in\nwhich all creative achievements of enduring significance were very few.\nJust in the opposite way the history of the culture of non-puritanical\nEurope has shown the greatest creative achievements at the very times\nwhen personal morals were at their lowest ebb.\n\nBut the spirit of self-perfection can have still an entirely different\nsource. In ethical idealism the perfection of personality is its own\nend; but this perfection of the individual may also be a means to an\nend, an instrument for bringing about the highest possible capacity for\nachievement in practical life. This is the logic of utilitarianism. For\nutilitarianism as well as for Puritan idealism the growth of science and\nart, and the development of moral institutions, are nothing in\nthemselves, but are significant only as they work backward on the minds\nof the individuals. Idealism demands the intellectual life for the sake\nof the individual soul\u2019s welfare, utilitarianism for the sake of the\nindividual\u2019s outward success. A greater antithesis could hardly be\nthought of; and nevertheless the desire for self-perfection is common to\nboth, and for both the increase of the national products of culture are\nat the outset indifferent. It is clear that both of these tendencies in\ntheir sociological results will always reach out far beyond their\ninitial aims. Puritanism and utilitarianism, although they begin with\nthe individual, nevertheless must bear their fruits in the whole\nintellectual status of the nation. Ethical idealism aims not only to\nreceive, but also to give. To be sure, it gives especially in order to\ninspire in others its own spirit of self-perfection, but in order so to\ninspire and so to work it must give expression to its inner ideals by\nthe creation of objects of art and science. Utilitarianism, on the\ncontrary, must early set such a premium on all achievements which make\nfor prosperity that in the same way again the individual, from purely\nutilitarian motives, is incited to bring his thought to a creative\nissue. The intellectual life of the nation which is informed with\nPuritan and utilitarian impulses, will therefore, after a certain\nperiod, advance to a new and national stage of culture; but the highest\nachievements will be made partly in the service of moral ideals, partly\nin the service of technical culture. As the result of the first\ntendency, history, law, literature, philosophy, and religion will come\nto their flowering; in consequence of the second tendency, science and\ntechnique.\n\nIn modern Continental Europe, both these tendencies have been rather\nweakly developed. From the outset idealism has had an intellectual and\n\u00e6sthetic bias. Any great moral earnestness has been merely an episode in\nthe thought of those nations; and in the same way, too, utilitarianism\nhas played really a subordinate r\u00f4le in their intellectual life, because\nthe desire for free initiative has never been a striking feature in the\nintellectual physiognomy. The love of truth, the enjoyment of beauty,\nand the social premiums for all who minister to this love and pleasure\nhave been in Continental Europe more potent factors in the national\nintellectual life than either ethical idealism or practical\nutilitarianism. And it is only because of its steady assimilation of all\nEuropean immigrants that the Puritan spirit of the New England colonies\nhas become the fundamental trait of the country, and that moral\nearnestness has not been a mere episode also in the life of America.\n\nThere is no further proof necessary that, along with idealism,\nutilitarianism has in fact been an efficient factor in all intellectual\nactivities of America. Indeed, we have very closely traced out how\ndeeply the desire for self-initiative has worked on the population and\nbeen the actual spring of the economic life of all classes. But for the\nAmerican it has been also a matter of course that the successful results\nof initiative presuppose, in addition to energy of character, technical\ntraining and the best possible liberal education. Here and there, to be\nsure, there appears a successful self-made man\u2014a man who for his lack of\nmaking has only himself to thank\u2014and he comes forward to warn young\npeople to be wary of the higher culture, and to preach to them that the\nschool of practical life is the sole high-road to success. But the\nexemplary organization of the great commercial corporations is itself a\ndemonstration against any such fallacious paradoxes. Precisely there the\nperson with the best training is always placed at the head, and the\nactual results of American technique would be still undreamt of if the\nAmerican had preferred, before the solid intellectual mastery of his\nproblems, really nothing but energy or \u201cdash\u201d or, say, mere audacity.\nThe issues which really seriously interest the American are not between\nthe adherents of culture and the adherents of mere push, undeterred by\nany culture; the material value of the highest possible intellectual\nculture has come to be a dogma. The real issues are mainly even to-day\nthose between the Puritanical and utilitarian ideals of self-perfection.\nOf course those most in the heat of battle are not aware of this; and\nyet when in the thousandfold discussions the question comes up whether\nthe higher schools and colleges should have fixed courses of instruction\nfor the sake of imparting a uniform and general culture, or whether on\nthe other hand specialization should be allowed to step in and so to\nadvance the time for the technical training, then the Puritans of New\nEngland and the utilitarians of the Middle States are ranged against\neach other.\n\nIn fact, it is the Middle, and a little later on the Western, States,\nwhere along with the tremendous development of the instinct of\nindividual initiative the pressure for the utilitarian exploitation of\nthe higher intellectual powers has been most lively. Also this side of\nthe American spirit has not sprung up to-day nor yesterday; and its\ninfluence is neither an immoral nor a morally indifferent force.\nUtilitarianism has decidedly its own ethics. It is the robust ethics of\nthe Philistine, with its rather trivial references to the greatest good\nof the greatest number and citations of the general welfare. Benjamin\nFranklin, for instance, preached no mean morality, along with his\nlabours for politics and science; but his words, \u201cHonesty is the best\npolicy,\u201d put morality on a level with the lightning-rod which he\ninvented. Both are means toward human prosperity. Although born and bred\nin Boston, Franklin did not feel himself at home there, where for the\nbest people life was thought to be \u201ca trembling walk with God.\u201d For him\nPhiladelphia was a more congenial field of activity. To-day there is no\nsingle place which is specially noted for its utilitarian turn of mind.\nIt is rather a matter of general dissemination, for the influence of the\nentire Western population goes in this direction. But no one should for\na moment imagine that this utilitarian movement has overcome or\ndestroyed the Puritan spirit. The actual state of the national culture\ncan be understood only as a working together of these two types of the\nspirit of self-perfection; and even to-day, the Puritan spirit is the\nstronger\u2014the spirit of New England is in the lead.\n\nAll that we have so far spoken of relates to that which is distinctly of\nnational origin; over and above this there is much which the American\nhas adopted from other nations. The most diverse factors work to make\nthis importation from foreign thought more easy. The wealth and the\nfondness for travel of the American, his craze for collections, and his\ndesire to have in everything the best\u2014this in addition to the\nuninterrupted stream of immigration and much else\u2014have all brought it\nabout that anything which is foreign is only too quickly adopted in the\nnational culture. Not until very lately has a more or less conscious\nreaction against this sort of thing stepped in, partly through the\nincreased strengthening of the national consciousness, but more\nspecially through the surprisingly quick rise of native achievement. The\ntime for imitation in architecture has gone by and the prestige of the\nEnglish romance is at an end. And yet to-day English literature, French\nart, and German music still exercise here their due and potent\ninfluence.\n\nNow, in addition to these influences which spring from the culture of\nforeign nations, come finally those impulses which are not peculiar to\nany one nation, but spring up in every country out of the lower\ninstincts and pleasures. Everywhere in the world mere love of diversion\ntries to step in and to usurp the place of \u00e6sthetic pleasure. Everywhere\ncuriosity and sensational abandon are apt to undermine purely logical\ninterests, and everywhere a mere excitability tries to assume the r\u00f4le\nof moral ardour. Everywhere the weak and trivial moral, \u00e6sthetic, and\nintellectual appeals of the variety stage may come to be preferred over\nthe serious appeals of the drama. It is said that this tendency, which\nwas always deeply rooted in man\u2019s nature, is felt more noticeably in our\nnervous and excitable times than it was in the old days. In a similar\nway one may say that it shows out still stronger in America than it does\nin other countries. The reason for this is clear. Political democracy is\nresponsible for part of it; for in the name of that equality which it\npostulates, it instinctively lends more countenance to the \u00e6sthetic\ntastes, the judgment, and the moral inspiration of the butcher, the\nbaker and candlestick-maker than is really desirable if one has at heart\nthe development of absolute culture. Perhaps an even more important\nfactor is the purely economic circumstance that in America the masses\npossess a greater purchasing power than in any other country, and for\nthis reason are able to exert a more immediate influence on the\nintellectual life of the land. The great public is not more trivial in\nthe United States than elsewhere; it is rather, as in every democracy,\nmore mature and self-contained; but in America this great public is more\nthan elsewhere in the material position to buy great newspapers, and to\nsupport theatres; and is thus able to exert a degrading influence on the\nintellectual level of both newspaper and theatre.\n\nIn this way, then, the tendency of the lower classes toward those things\nwhich are trivial may sometimes conceal the fine traits in the picture\nof the national intellectual life; just as the readiness for imitation\nmay, for a time, bring in many a foreign trait. But nevertheless, there\nis in fact a clearly recognizable, a free and independent intellectual\nlife, which everywhere reveals the opposition or the balance between\nPuritanism and utilitarianism, and which is everywhere dominated by that\nsingle wish which is common both to Puritans and to utilitarians\u2014the\ndesire for the best possible development of the individual, the desire\nfor self-perfection.\n\nSince, however, it remains a somewhat artificial abstraction to pick out\na single trait\u2014even if that is the most typical\u2014from the intellectual\nmake-up of the nation, so of course it is understood from the outset\nthat all the other peculiarities of the American work together with this\none to colour and shape his real intellectual life. Everywhere, for\ninstance, one notes the easily kindled enthusiasm of the American and\nhis inexhaustible versatility, his religious temperament and his\nstrongly marked feeling of decorum, his lively sense of justice and his\nenergy, and perhaps most of all his whimsical humour. Each one of these\nadmirable traits involves some corresponding failing. It is natural that\nimpetuous enthusiasm should not make for that dogged persistence which\nso often has brought victory to various German intellectual movements;\nso, too, a nice feeling for form grows easily impatient when it is a\nquestion of intellectual work requiring a broad and somewhat careless\nhandling. Devotion to the supersensuous is inclined to lead to\nsuperstition and mysticism, while a too sensitive feeling for fair play\nmay develop into hysterical sympathy for that which is merely puny;\nversatility, as is well known, is only too apt to come out in fickle\ndilettante activities, and the humour that bobs up at every moment\ndestroys easily enough the dignity of the most serious occasion. And yet\nall this, whether good or bad, is a secondary matter. The spirit of\nself-perfection remains the central point, and it must be always from\nthis point that we survey the whole field.\n\nA social community which believes its chief duty to be the highest\nperfection of the individual will direct its main attentions to the\nchurch and the school. The church life in America is, for political\nreasons, almost entirely separated from the influence of the state; but\nthe force with which every person is drawn into some church circle has\nnot for this reason lost, but rather gained, strength. The whole social\nmachine is devised in the interests of religion, and the impatience of\nthe sects and churches against one another is slight indeed as compared\nwith the intolerance of the churches as a whole against irreligion. The\nboundaries are drawn as widely as possible, so that ethical culture or\neven Christian Science may be included under the head of religion; but\ncountless purely social influences make strongly toward bringing the\nspirit of worship in some wise into every man\u2019s life, so that an hour of\nconsecration precedes the week of work, and every one in the midst of\nhis earthly turmoil heeds the thought of eternity, in whatever way he\nwill. And these social means are even stronger than any political ones\ncould be.\n\nThere is very much which contributes to deepen the religious feeling of\nthe people and to increase the efficiency of the churches. The very\nnumerousness of the different sects is not the least factor in this\ndirection, for it allows every individual conscience to find somewhere\nits peculiar religious satisfaction. An additional impulse is the high\nposition which woman occupies, for she is more religiously endowed than\nman. And yet another factor is the many social functions which the\nchurches have taken on themselves. In this last there is much that may\nseem to the stranger too secular: the church which is at the same time a\nclub, a circulating library, and a place to lounge in, seems at first\nsight to lose something of its dignity; but just because it has woven\nitself in by such countless threads to the web of daily life, it has\ncome to pass that no part of the social fabric is quite independent of\nit. Of course the external appearance of a large city does not strongly\nindicate this state of things; but the town and country on the other\nhand give evidence of the strong religious tendency of the population,\neven to the superficial observer; and he will not understand the\nAmericans if he leaves out of account their religious inwardness. The\ninfluence of religion is the only one which is stronger than that of\npolitics itself, and the accomplished professional politicians are sharp\nto guide their party away from any dangerous competition with that\nfactor.\n\nThe church owes its power more or less to the unconscious sentiments in\nthe soul of the people, whereas the high position and support of the\npublic school is the one end toward which the conscious volition of the\nentire nation is bent with firmest determination. One must picture to\none\u2019s self the huge extent of the thinly populated country, the\nincomparable diversity of the population which has come in, bringing\nmany differences of race and language, and finally the outlay of\nstrength which has been necessary to open up the soil to cultivation, in\norder to have an idea of what huge labours it has taken to plant the\nland from the Atlantic to the Pacific with a thick sowing of schools.\nThe desire for the best possible school system is for the American\nactually more than a social duty\u2014it has become a passion; and although\nhere and there it may have gone astray, it has never been afraid of any\ndifficulty.\n\nThe European who is accustomed to see the question of education left to\nthe government can hardly realize with what intensity this entire\npopulation participates in the solution of theoretical problems and in\nthe overcoming of practical difficulties. No weekly paper or magazine\nand no lecture programme of any association of thinking men could be\nfound in which questions of nurture and education are not treated.\nPedagogical publications are innumerable, and the number of those who\nare technically informed is nearly identical with the number of those\nwho have brought up children. The discussions in Germany over, we may\nsay, high schools and technical schools, over modern and ancient\nlanguages, or the higher education of women, interest a relatively small\ncircle as compared with similar discussions in America. The mere fact\nthat this effort toward the best school instruction has so deeply taken\nhold of all classes of society, and that it leads all parties and sects\nand all parts of the country to a united and self-conscious struggle\nforward is in itself of the highest value for the education of the whole\npeople.\n\nIn the broad basis of the public school is built a great system of\nhigher instruction, and the European does not easily find the right\npoint of view from which to take this. The hundreds of colleges,\nuniversities, professional schools, and polytechnics seem to the casual\nobserver very often like a merely heterogeneous and disordered\ncollection of separate institutions, because there seems to be no common\nstandard, no general level, no common point of view, and no common end;\nin short, there seems to be no system. And nevertheless, there is at the\nbottom of it all an excellent system. It is here that one finds the most\nelaborate and astonishing achievement of the American spirit, held\ntogether in one system by the principle of imperceptible gradations; and\nno other organization, specially no mere imitation of foreign examples,\ncould so completely bring to expression the American desire for\nself-perfection.\n\nThe topics of school and university would not make up one-half of the\nhistory of American popular education. In no other country of the world\nis the nation so much and so systematically instructed outside of the\nschool as in America, and the thousand forms in which popular education\nis provided for those who have grown beyond the schools, are once more a\nlively testimony to the tireless instinct for personal perfection.\nEvening schools, summer schools, university extension courses, lecture\ninstitutes, society classes, and debating clubs, all work together to\nthat end; and to omit these would be to give no true history of American\nculture. The background of all this, however, is the great national\nstock of public library books, from which even the poorest person can\nfind the best books and study them amid the most delightful\nsurroundings.\n\nThe popular educational libraries, together with the amazingly profuse\nnewspaper and magazine literature, succeed in reaching the whole people;\nand, in turn, these institutions would not have become so large as they\nare if the people themselves had not possessed a strong desire for\nimprovement. This thirst for reading is again nothing new; for\nHopkinson, who was acquainted with both England and America in the\nmiddle of the eighteenth century, reported with surprise the difference\nin this respect between the two countries. And since that time the\ndevelopment has gone on and on until to-day the magazines are printed by\nthe hundreds of thousands, and historical romances in editions of half a\nmillion copies; while public libraries exist not only in every small\ncity, but even in the villages, and those in the large cities are housed\nin buildings which are truly monuments of architecture. As the influence\nof books has grown, the native literature has increased and the arts of\nmodelling and sculpture have come forward at an equal pace, as means of\npopular culture. Museums have arisen, orchestras been established, the\ntheatre developed, and an intellectual life has sprung up which is ready\nto measure itself against the best that European culture has produced.\nBut the real foundation of this is even to-day not the creative genius,\nbut the average citizen, in his striving after self-perfection and\nculture.\n\nOnce every year the American people go through a period of formal\nmeditation and moral reflection. In the month of June all the schools\nclose. Colleges and universities shut their doors for the long summer\nvacation; and then, at the end of the year of study, according to an old\nAmerican custom, some serious message is delivered to those who are\nabout to leave the institutions. To make such a farewell speech is\naccounted an honour, depending, of course, on the rank of the\ninstitution, and the best men in the country are glad to be asked. Thus\nit happens that, in the few weeks of June, hundreds of the leading\nmen\u2014scholars, statesmen, novelists, reformers, politicians, officials,\nand philanthropists\u2014vie with one another in impressing on the youth the\nbest, deepest, and most inspiring sentiments; and since these speeches\nare copied in the newspapers and magazines, they are virtually said to\nthe whole people. The more important utterances generally arouse\ndiscussions in the columns of the newspapers, and so the month of June\ncomes to be a time of reflection and meditation, and of a certain\nrefreshment of inspiration and a revival of moral strength. Now, if one\nlooks over these speeches, one sees that they generally are concerned\nwith one of two great themes. Some of them appeal to the youth, saying;\nLearn and cultivate yourselves, for this is the only way in which you\nwill arrive at becoming useful members of society: while the others\nurge; Cultivate yourselves, for there is in life nothing more precious\nthan a full and harmonious development of the soul. The latter sentiment\nis that of the Puritan, while the former is that of the utilitarian. And\nyet the individualistic tendency is in both cases the same. In both\ncases youth is urged to find its goal in the perfection of the\nindividual.\n\n\n\n\n                            CHAPTER FIFTEEN\n                  _The Schools and Popular Education_\n\n\nThe Dutch population of New Amsterdam started a school system in the\nyear 1621. The first public Latin school was founded in Boston in the\nyear 1635. The other colonies soon followed. Clearly the English\ngovernor of Virginia, Berkeley, had not quite grasped the spirit of the\nNew World, when at about that time he wrote home, that, thank God, no\npublic schools and no printing-press existed here, and when he added his\nhope that they would not be introduced for a hundred years, since\nlearning brings irreligion and disobedience into the world, and the\nprinting-press disseminates them and fights against the best intentions\nof the government. For that matter it was precisely Virginia which was\nthe first colony, even before Boston and New York, to consider the\nquestion of education. As early as 1619 the treasurer of the Virginia\nCompany had proposed, in the English Parliament, that 15,000 acres of\nland should be set aside in the interests of a school for higher\neducation. The English churches became interested in the plan, and an\nabundant supply of money was got together. Ground and buildings had been\nprocured for lower and higher instruction and all was in working order,\nwhen in 1622 the fearful Indian war upset everything. The buildings were\ndestroyed, and all thought of public education was for a long time given\nup. This is how that condition came about which so well pleased Governor\nBerkeley. But this mishap to the Virginia colony shows at once how the\nAmerican system of education has not been able to progress in any\nsystematic way, but has suffered frequent reverses through war or\npolitical disturbance. And it has developed in the different parts of\nthe country at a very different pace, sometimes even in quite different\ndirections. It was not until after the Civil War\u2014that is, within the\nlast thirty years\u2014that these differences have to a large extent been\nwiped out. It is only to-day that one can speak of a general American\nsystem. The outsider will, therefore, come to a better understanding of\nthe American educational system if he begins his study with conditions\nas they are to-day, for they are more unified and therefore easier to\nunderstand, than if he were to try to understand how the present has\nhistorically come from the complicated and rather uninteresting past.\n\nSo we shall not ask how the educational system has developed, but rather\nwhat it is to-day and what it aims to be. Even the present-day\nconditions may easily lead a German into some confusion, because he is\nnaturally inclined to compare them with the conditions at home, and such\na comparison is not always easy. Therefore, we must picture to ourselves\nfirst of all the fundamental points in the system, and describe its\nprincipal variations from the conditions in Germany. A few broad strokes\nwill suffice for a first inspection.\n\nThe unit of the system in its completest form is a four years\u2019 course of\ninstruction. For the easier survey we may think of a boundary drawn at\nwhat in Germany would be between the Obersekunda and Prima of a\nGymnasium or Realschule. Now, three such units of the system lie before\nand two after this line of demarcation. The son of a well-to-do family,\nwho is to study medicine in Harvard University, will probably reach this\nline of demarcation in his eighteenth year. If he is advanced according\nto the normal scheme he will have entered a primary school at six years\nof age, the grammar school at ten, and the high school at fourteen. Thus\nhe will complete a twelve years\u2019 course in the public schools. Now he\ncrosses our line of demarcation in his eighteenth year and enters\ncollege. And as soon as he has finished his four years\u2019 course in\ncollege he begins his medical studies in the university, and he is\ntwenty-six years old when he has finished. If we count in two years of\nearly preparation in the kindergarten, we shall see that the whole\nscheme of education involves twenty-two years of study. Now, it is\nindeed possible that our young medical student will have progressed\nsomewhat more rapidly; perhaps he will have reached the high school\nafter six instead of eight years of study; perhaps he will finish his\ncollege course in three years, and it may be that he will never have\ngone to kindergarten. But we have at first to concern ourselves with the\ncomplete plan of education, not with the various changes and\nabbreviations of it, which are very properly allowed and even favoured.\n\nThe line which we call the great boundary is the time when the lad\nenters college. Now, what is the great significance of this moment? The\nGerman, who thinks in terms of Gymnasium and Universit\u00e4t, is almost sure\nto fall into a misapprehension; for college is neither the one nor the\nother. So far as the studies themselves go, it coincides rather well\nwith the Prima of the Gymnasium and the first two or three semesters in\nthe philosophical faculty of the German university. And yet even this by\nno means tells one what a college really is. Above all, it does not\nexplain why the American makes the chief division at the time of\nentering college, while the German makes it when he enters the medical\nor law school. This needs to be explained most clearly, because very\nimportant factors are here involved, which bear on the future of\nAmerican civilization. And so we must give especial attention to college\nand the professional schools. But that discussion is to be reserved for\nthe chapter on the universities. For the present, we have only to deal\nwith the system of instruction in those schools which prepare for\ncollege.\n\nAnd so, leaving the kindergarten out of the question, we shall deal with\nthose three institutions which we have called primary, grammar, and high\nschools. Usually, the first two of these are classed together as one\neight years\u2019 course of training. The European will be struck at once\nthat in this system there is only one normal plan of public education.\nThe future merchant, who goes to the high school and ends his studies in\nthe eighteenth year, has to follow the same course of study in the\nprimary and grammar schools as the peasant and labourer who studies only\nuntil his fourteenth year, and then leaves school to work in the field\nor the factory. And this young merchant, although he goes into business\nwhen he is eighteen years old, pursues exactly the same studies as the\nstudent who is later to go to college and the university. Now in fact,\nin just this connection the actual conditions are admirably adapted to\nthe most diverse requirements; the public schools find an admirable\ncomplement in private schools; and, more than that, certain very\ncomplicated differentiations have been brought about within the single\nschool, in order to overcome the most serious defects of this\nuniformity. Nevertheless, the principle remains; the system is uniform,\nand the American himself finds therein its chief merit.\n\nThe motive for this is clear. Every one, even the most humble, should\nfind his way open; every one must be able to press on as far as his own\nintelligence permits; in other words\u2014words which the American pedagogue\nis very fond of uttering\u2014the public school is to make the spirit of\ncaste impossible. It is to wipe out the boundaries between the different\nclasses of society, and it is to see to it, that if the farmer\u2019s lad of\nsome remote village feels within himself some higher aspiration, and\nwants to go beyond the grammar school to the high school and even to\ncollege, he shall find no obstacle in his way. His advance must not be\nimpeded by his suddenly finding that his entrance into the high school\nwould need some different sort of previous training.\n\nThis general intermingling of the classes of society is thought to be\nthe panacea of democracy. The younger generations are to be removed from\nall those influences which keep their parents apart, and out of all the\nclasses of society the sturdiest youth are to be free of all prejudice\nand free to rise to the highest positions. Only in this wise can new\nsound blood flow through the social organism; only so can the great\nevils incident to the formation of castes which have hindered old Europe\nin its mighty progress be from the very outset avoided. The classic myth\nrelates of the hero who gained his strength because he kissed the earth.\nIn this way the American people believe that they will become strong\nonly by returning with every fresh generation to the soil, and if the\nGerman Gymnasia were a hundred times better than they are, and if they\nwere able to prepare a boy from early childhood for the highest\nintellectual accomplishment, America would still find them unsuited to\nher needs, because from the outset they are designed for only a small\nportion of the people, and for this reason they make it almost\nimpossible for the great mass of boys to proceed to the universities\nfrom the ordinary public schools.\n\nAll of this is the traditional confession of belief of the pedagogue of\nthe New World. But now since America, in the most recent times, has\nnevertheless begun to grow in its social structure considerably more\nlike antiquated Europe, and sees itself less and less able to overcome\nthe tendencies to a spirit of caste, so a sort of mild compromise has\nbeen made between the democratic creed and aristocratic tendencies,\nespecially in the large cities of the East. Nevertheless, any one who\nkeeps his eyes open will admit that, so far as the public school goes,\nintellectual self-perfection is in every way favoured, so that every\nsingle child of the people may rise as high as he will. Grammar school\nleads to the high school, and the high school leads to college.\n\nThere is another factor which is closely related to the foregoing.\nEducation is free and obligatory. In olden times there was more the\ntendency for the parents of the children, rather than for the general\ntaxpayer, to pay for the maintenance of the schools. Indeed, there were\ntimes in which the remission of the special school tax was considered\nalmost an act of charity, which only the poorest of the parents would\naccept. But now it is quite different. The school system knows no\ndifference between rich and poor, and it is a fundamental principle that\nthe support of the schools is a matter for the whole community. The only\nquestion is in regard to the high school, since after all only a small\npercentage of school children comes as far as the high school; and it is\nunjust, some say, to burden the general taxpayer with the expenses of\nsuch school.\n\nNevertheless, on this point the opinions of those have won who conceive\nthat it is the duty of the community to nurture any effort toward\nself-culture, even in the poorest child. The chief motive in olden\ntimes, wherefore the expenses of the schools were paid by all, was that\nthe school was leading toward religion; to-day the official motive for\nthe application of taxes to the maintenance of schools is the conviction\nthat only an educated and cultivated people can rule itself. The right\nto vote, it is said, presupposes the right to an education by means of\nwhich every citizen becomes able to read the papers of the day and to\nform his own independent opinion on public matters. But since every\npublic school is open also to the daughters of the citizens who possibly\nwant the right to vote, but do not so far have it, it becomes clear that\nthe above-mentioned political motive is not the whole of the matter. It\nis enough for technical discussions of taxation, but what the community\nis really working for is the greatest possible number of the most highly\neducated individuals. Free instruction is further supplemented in\nvarious states\u2014as, for instance, in Massachusetts\u2014by supplying\ntext-books gratis. Some other states go so far as to supply the needy\nchildren with clothing. The obligatory character of education goes with\nthe fact that it is free. In this respect, too, the laws of different\nstates are widely divergent. Some require seven, others eight, still\nothers even nine years, of school training. And the school year itself\nis fixed differently in different states.\n\nThese differences between the states point at once to a further fact\nwhich has been characteristic of the American school system from the\nvery beginning. Responsibility for the schools rests at the periphery;\nand in extremely happy fashion the authority is so divided that all\nvariations, wherever they occur, are adaptations to local conditions;\nand nevertheless unity is preserved. A labile equilibrium of the various\nadministrative factors is brought about by harmonious distribution of\nthe authority, and this is, in all departments of public life, the\npeculiar faculty of the Americans.\n\nThe federal government, as such, has no direct influence on education.\nThe tirelessly active Bureau of Education at Washington, which is under\nthe direction of the admirable pedagogue, Mr. Harris, is essentially a\nbureau for advice and information and for the taking of statistics. The\nlegal ordinances pertaining to school systems is a matter for the\nindividual state, and the state again leaves it to the individual\ncommunity, within certain limits of course and under state supervision,\nto build schools and to organize them, to choose their teachers, their\nplans of education, and their school-books. And at every point here,\nexactly as in the striking example of the federal Constitution, the\nresponsibility is divided between the legislative and the executive\nbodies. The state inspector of schools is co-ordinate with the state\nlegislature, and the school inspector of a city or a country district,\nwho is elected now by the mayor, now by the council, now perhaps\ndirectly by the community, is a sort of technical specialist with\nconsiderable discretionary power; he is co-ordinated to the school\ncommittee, which is elected by the community, and which directs the\nexpenditures and confirms all appointments.\n\nThe responsibility for the moral and intellectual standards, for the\npractical conditions, and for the financial liabilities incurred by\nevery school, rests therefore immediately with the community, which has\nto pay for their support, and whose children are to derive advantage.\nAnd nevertheless, the general oversight of the state sees to it that\nneither whimsicality nor carelessness abuses this right, nor departs too\nwidely from approved traditions. These authorities are further\nsupplemented in that the state legislature is more or less able to make\nup for differences between rich and poor districts and between the city\nand the country, besides directly carrying on certain normal schools in\nwhich the teachers for the elementary and grammar schools are trained.\n\nVery great and very diverse advantages are the immediate outcome\nof this administrative system. Firstly, an interest in the\nwell-being of the schools is developed in every state, city, and\ntown, and the spirit of self-perfection is united with the spirit\nof self-determination. Secondly, there is a good deal of free play\nfor local differences\u2014differences between states and differences\nwithin the state. Nothing would have been more unsuitable than in\nthis whole tremendous territory to institute a rigidly fixed\nschool system, as say by some federal laws or some interstate\nagreements. If there were the same educational provisions for the\nnegro states of the South and for the Yankee states of New\nEngland, for the thickly settled regions of the East and the\nprairies of the West, these provisions would be either empty words\nor else they would tend to drag down the more highly educated\nparts of the country to the level of the lowest districts. The\nGerman who objects to this on the ground of uniformity, does so\nbecause he is too apt to think of the great similarity which\nexists between the different sections of Germany. The only proper\nbasis for a comparison, however, would be his taking Europe as a\nwhole into consideration.\n\nIf now the outward unity of this system which we have described is\nnevertheless to be maintained, it is absolutely necessary that this form\nshall be filled with very different contents. And this introduction of\ndiversity is intrusted to the state legislatures and local authorities,\nwho are familiar with the special conditions. In this way the so-called\nschool year in the school ordinances of a rich state may be about twice\nas long as in another state whose poorer population is perhaps not able\nentirely to do without the economies of child labour. But the\ndifferences between the schools take particularly such a form that the\nattainments of the different schools, corresponding to the culture and\nprosperity of the state in which they are, and of the community, are\nconsciously designed to be quite different. The remoter rural schools\nwhich, on account of the poverty of their patronage perhaps, have to get\non with one badly trained teacher and have to carry on four grades of\ninstruction in one school-room, and other schools which employ only\nuniversity graduates, which bring their scholars together in sumptuous\nbuildings, afford them laboratories and libraries, and have all the\nwealth of a great city to back them\u2014these schools cannot seriously enter\ninto competition with each other. Two years of study in one place will\nmean more than four in another; and there is no special danger in this,\nsince this very inequality has brought it about that the completion of\none grade in a school by no means carries with it the right to enter the\nnext higher grade of any other school. It is not the case that a scholar\nwho has passed through any grammar school whatsoever will be welcome in\nevery high school. This is regulated by an entrance examination for the\nhigher school, which will not accept merely the certificate of\ngraduation from a lower.\n\nThere are still other forms of this differentiation. In the first place,\nthe schools have shown a growing tendency to establish various parallel\ncourses, between which the scholars are allowed to choose. In the\nsimplest case there is, perhaps, on the one hand a very practical plan\nof education, and a second course which is rather more liberal; or,\nagain, there may be a course for those who are not meaning to study\nfurther, and another course for those who are preparing for the entrance\nexaminations to some higher school. The fiction of uniformity is\npreserved in this way. The child does not, as in Germany, choose between\ndifferent schools; but he chooses between plans of education in the same\nschool, and every day the tendency deepens to make this elective system\nmore and more labile.\n\nBut the most modern pedagogues are not content even with this, and\ninsist, especially in the grade of the high school, that the make-up of\nthe course of study must be more and more, as they say, adapted to the\nindividuality of the scholars; or, as others think, to the whimsies of\nthe parents and the scholars. Since, in accordance with this, the\nentrance examinations for the colleges leave considerable free play for\nthe choice of specialties, this movement will probably go on developing\nfor some time. It appeals very cleverly to the instincts of both the\nPuritans and the utilitarians. The Puritan demands the development of\nall individual gifts, and the utilitarian wants the preparation for an\nindividual career. Nevertheless, there are some indications of an\nopposite tendency. Even the utilitarian begins to understand that he is\nbest fitted for the fight who bases his profession on the broadest\nfoundation\u2014who begins, therefore, with his specialization as late as\npossible. And the Puritan, too, cannot wholly forget that nothing is\nmore important for his personal development than the training of the\nwill in the performance of duty, in the overcoming of personal\ninhibitions, and that therefore for the scholar those studies may well\nbe the most valuable which at the first he seems least inclined to\npursue. Further differentiation results from the almost universal\nopportunity to pass through the schools in a somewhat shorter time. It\nis also possible for a student to progress more rapidly in one branch of\nstudy, and so in different branches to advance at different rates.\n\nWe have over and above all these things, and more particularly in the\nlarge cities, a factor of differentiation which has so far been quite\nleft out of account. This is the private school. The goal for the\nstudent who wants to advance is not the diploma of graduation, but\npreparation for the entrance examinations which are next higher. This\npreparation can perhaps be obtained more thoroughly, more quickly, and\nunder more fortunate social conditions, in a private school, which\ncharges a high tuition, but in this way is able to engage the very best\nteachers, and able perhaps to have smaller classes than the public\nschools. And such a private school will be able to extend its influence\nover all education. Large and admirably conducted institutions have\ngrown up, often in some rural vicinity, where several hundred young\npersons lead a harmonious life together and are educated from their\nearliest youth, coming home only during vacation. In such ways the\nprivate school has taken on the most various forms, corresponding to\nobvious needs. They find justly the encouragement of the state.\n\nThis diversity which we have sketched of public and private educational\ninstitutions brings us at once to another principle, which has been and\nalways will be of great significance in American material and\nintellectual history\u2014the principle that everywhere sharp demarcations\nbetween the institutions of different grades are avoided, and that\ninstead, sliding gradations and easy transitions are brought about, by\nmeans of which any institution can advance without any hindrance. This\nis in every case the secret of American success\u2014free play for the\ncreations of private initiative. The slightest aspiration must be\nallowed to work itself out, and the most modest effort must be helped\nalong. Where anything which is capable of life has sprung up, it should\nbe allowed to grow. Sharp demarcation with official uniformity would\nmake that impossible; for only where such unnoticeably small steps form\nthe transitions, is any continuous inner growth to be expected. We have\nemphasized the local differences. The grammar school in New York is\nprobably more efficient than the high school in Oklahoma, and the high\nschool in Boston will carry its students probably as far as some little\ncollege in Utah.\n\nThe thousands of institutions which exist afford a continuous transition\nbetween such extremes, and every single institution can set its own goal\nas high as it wishes to. A school does not, by any act of law, pass into\na higher class; but it perfects itself by the fact that the community\nintroduces improvements, makes new changes, appoints better and better\nteachers, augments the curriculum, and adds to its physical equipment.\nIn such ways, the school year by year imperceptibly raises its standard.\nAnd the same is true of the private school. Everything is a matter of\ngrowth, and in spite of the outward uniformity of the system every\nschool has its individual standard. If one were to require that only\nsuch institutions should exist as had distinctly limited and similar\naims, then the American would look on this as he would on an attempt to\nforce all cities to be either of ten thousand, a hundred thousand, or a\nmillion inhabitants. Of course, all this would have to be changed, if as\nin Germany, certain school grades carried with them certain privileges.\nIn America no school diploma carries officially any privilege at all. It\nis the entrance examination, and not the tests for graduation, which is\ndecisive; and if there is any question of filling a position, the\nparticular schools which the candidates have gone through are the things\nwhich are chiefly taken into account.\n\nWe must mention one more trait which differentiates the American from\nthe German school system. The American public school is co-educational.\nCo-education means theoretically that boys and girls are entitled to\ncommon education, but practically it means that boys are also tolerated.\nThe idea that the school should not recognize differences of sex is most\nfirmly rooted in the Middle-Western States, where the population is\nsomewhat coldly matter of fact; but it has spread through the entire\ncountry. It is said that family life lends the authority for such an\nintermingling of boys and girls; that, through a constant and mutual\ninfluence, the boys are refined and the girls are made hardy; and that,\nduring the years of development, sexual tension is diminished. It is one\nof the chief attractions that the private school offers to smaller\ncircles that it gives up this hardening of the girls and refining of the\nboys, and is always either a boys\u2019 or a girls\u2019 school.\n\nEven more striking than the presence of girls in the boys\u2019 schools is,\nperhaps, the great number of women who figure as teachers. The\nemployment of women teachers began in the Northern States after the\nCivil War, because as a direct result of the decimation of the\npopulation there were not men teachers enough. Since that time this\npractice has increased throughout the country; and although high schools\ngenerally try to get men teachers, the more elementary schools are\nreally wholly in the hands of women. Men do not compete for the lower\nschools, since the competition of the women has brought down the wages,\nand more remunerative, not to say more attractive, situations are to be\nfound in plenty. Women, on the other hand, flock in in great numbers,\nsince their whole education has made them look forward to some\nprofessional activity, and no other calling seems so peculiarly adapted\nto the feminine nature. The merits and drawbacks of co-education and of\nthe predominance of women teachers cannot be separated from the general\nquestion of woman\u2019s rights; and so the due treatment of these conditions\nmust be put off until we come to consider the American woman from all\nsides.\n\nIt is not difficult to criticise rather sharply the school system, and\nany one living in the midst of American life will feel it a duty to\ndeliver his criticism without parsimony. A system which expects the best\nit is to have, from the initiative of the periphery, must also expect\nthe ceaseless critical co-operation of the whole nation.\n\nIn this way, then, crying and undeniable evils are often pointed out. We\nhear of political interference in the government of the schools, and of\nthe deficient technical knowledge of local authorities, of the\ninsufficient preparation of the women teachers, the poorness of the\nmethods of instruction, of waste of time, of arbitrary pedagogical\nexperiments, and of much else. In every reproach there is a kernel of\ntruth. The connection of the schools with politics is in a certain sense\nunavoidable, since all city government is a party government. And the\nattempts to separate elections for the school committee entirely from\npolitics will probably, for a long time yet, meet with only slight\nsuccess. Since, however, every party is able to put its hand on discrete\nand competent men, the only great danger is lest the majority of those\nconcerned misuse their influence for party ends, and perhaps deal out\nschool positions and advancements as a reward for political services.\n\nSuch things certainly happen; but they never escape the notice of the\nopposite party, and are faithfully exploited in the next year\u2019s\nelection. In this way any great abuses are quickly checked. The secret\ndoings, which have nothing to do with politics, are a great deal more\ndangerous. It is certain that the enormous school budgets of the large\ncities offer the possibility for a deplorable plundering of the public\ntreasury, when it is a question of buying new land for school-houses, of\nclosing building contracts, or of introducing certain text-books. A\ncommittee-man who in these ways is willing to abuse his influence is\nable to derive a considerable profit; and so it may well happen that men\ncome to be on the school boards through political influence or through a\nprofessed interest in school matters, who have really no other aim than\nto get something out of it. It is very hard in such matters to arrive at\na really fair judgment, since the rival claimants who are unsuccessful\nare very apt to frame the opinion that they have been so because the\nsuccessful man had \u201cconnections.\u201d\n\nThis sharply suspicious tendency and spirit of over-watchfulness on the\npart of the public are certainly very useful in preserving the complete\nintegrity of the schools, but they occasion such a considerable tumult\nof rumour that it easily misleads one\u2019s judgment as to the real\ncondition of the institutions. In general, the school committees\nappointed in the local elections perform their work in all\nconscientiousness. It is, of course, the fact that they are rather\nfrequently ignorant of things which they need to know; but the tendency\nto leave all technical questions in the hands of pedagogical\nspecialists, and to undertake any innovations only at the advice of the\nschool superintendent and directors, is so general that on the whole\nthings do not go quite so badly as one might expect.\n\nThe preparation of the teachers leaves very much to be wished. Those\nteachers who have been educated in higher seminaries are by no means\nnumerous enough to fill all the public school positions; and even less\ndoes the number of college graduates suffice for the needs of the high\nschools. The fact that the teaching profession is remarkably versed in\npedagogics only apparently relieves this defect; for even the very best\nmethods of teaching are of course no substitute for a firm grasp of the\nsubject which is being taught. In the elementary schools the lack of\ntheoretical training in a teacher is, of course, less felt. The instinct\nof the teacher, her interest in the child, her tact and sympathy, in\nshort the personal element, are what is here most important. And since\nall this, even in the superficially educated woman, springs purely from\nher feminity, and since the energetic women are extraordinarily eager\nand self-sacrificing, so it happens that almost everywhere the\nelementary schools are better conducted by their women teachers than are\nthe high schools.\n\nSo far as method goes, a great deal too much stress is laid on the\ntext-book; too much is taught mechanically out of the book, and too\nlittle is directly imparted by the teacher. The teacher submits\npassively to the text-book; and the American himself is inclined to\ndefend this, since his democratic belief in the power of black and white\nis unlimited. Before all, he regards it as the chief aim of the public\nschool to prepare the citizen for the independent reading of newspapers\nand books. Therefore, the scholars are expected to become as much\nacquainted as possible with the use of books. There is no doubt that the\nAmerican school children read more newspapers in later life than do the\nEuropean, and it must also be borne in mind that for the most part the\ntext-books are notably good. Perhaps, in regard to attractiveness, they\neven go rather too far. In this way not only the books of natural\nhistory, but also of history and literature, are crowded with\nillustrations. The geographies are generally lavishly gotten-up volumes\nwith all sorts of entertaining pictures. The appeals to the eye, both by\nmeans of the text-books and even more by the aid of demonstrations and\nexperiments, are carried really to excess. Even the blackboards, which\nrun along all four walls of the school rooms, encourage the teacher to\nappeal rather more to the eye than to the ear.\n\nAlso the much-discussed experimentation with new pedagogical ideas is an\nunfortunate fact which cannot be denied. A central authority, which was\nheld fully responsible for a large district, would of course be\nconservative; but where the details of teaching are left entirely to\nevery local school inspector, then of course many shallow reforms and\nmany unnecessary experiments with doubtful methods will be undertaken.\nThe school inspector will feel himself moved to display his modern\nspirit and to show his pedagogical efficiency in just these ways. And\nmany a private school, in order to make itself attractive to the public,\nis obliged to introduce the latest pedagogical foibles and to make all\nsorts of concessions, perhaps against its will. To-day the method of\nwriting will be oblique, to-morrow vertical, and the day after to-morrow\n\u201creformed vertical.\u201d The pupils to-day are taught to spell, to-morrow to\npronounce syllables, the next day to take the whole word as the least\nunit in language; and a day later they may be taught the meaning of the\nwords by means of appropriate movements.\n\nIt is not quite easy for a professional psychologist, who lectures every\nyear to hundreds of students in that subject, to say openly that this\nirregular and often dilettante craze for reform is encouraged by nothing\nmore than by the interest in psychology which rages throughout the\ncountry. The public has been dissatisfied with teachers, and conceived\nthe idea that everything would be better if the pedagogues concerned\nthemselves more with the psychical life of their pupils. And since for\nthis purpose every mother and every teacher has the materials at hand,\nthere has sprung up a pseudo-psychological study of unexampled\ndimensions. It is only a small step from such a study to very radical\nreforms. Yet everything here comes back in the end to the independent\ninterests and initiative of the teacher; and although many of these\nreforms are amateurish and immature, they are nevertheless better than\nthe opposite extreme would be\u2014that is, than a body of indifferent and\nthoughtless teachers without any initiative at all.\n\nIt is also not to be denied that the American school wastes a good deal\nof time, and accomplishes the same intellectual result with a much\ngreater outlay of time than the German school. There are plenty of\nreasons for this. Firstly, it is conspicuous throughout the country that\nSaturday is a day of vacation. This is incidental to the Puritan Sunday.\nThe school day begins at nine o\u2019clock in the morning, and the long\nsummer vacations are everywhere regarded as times for idleness, and are\nalmost never broken in on by any sort of work. Again, the home duties\nrequired of the school children are fewer than are required of the\nGerman child, and all the instruction is less exacting. The American\ngirls would hardly be able to stand so great a burden if the schools\ndemanded the same as the German boys\u2019 schools. Herewith, however, one\nmust not forget that this time which is taken from work is dedicated\nvery specially to the development of the body, to sport and other active\nexercises, and in this way the perfection of the whole man is by no\nmeans neglected. Moreover, America has been able, at least so far, to\nafford the luxury of this loss of time; the national wealth permits its\nyoung men to take up the earning of their daily bread later than\nEuropean conditions would allow.\n\nWhen the worst has been said and duly weighed, it remains that the\nsystem as a whole is one of which the American may well be proud\u2014a\nsystem so thoroughly elastic as to be suited to all parts of the country\nand to all classes of society. It is a system which indubitably, with\nits broad foundation in the popular school, embodies all the\nrequirements for the sound development of youth, and one, finally, which\nis adapted to a nation accustomed to individualism, and which meets the\nnational requirement of perfection of the individual.\n\nAnd now finally we may give a few figures by way of orientation. In the\nyear 1902 out of the population of over 75,000,000, 17,460,000 pupils\nattended institutions of learning. This number would be increased by\nmore than half a million if private kindergartens, manual training\nschools, evening schools, schools for Indians, and so forth were taken\ninto account. The primary and intermediate schools have 16,479,177\nscholars, and private schools about 1,240,000. This ratio is changed in\nfavour of the private institutions when we come to the next step above,\nfor the public high schools have 560,000 and the private ones 150,000\nstudents. The remainder is in higher institutions of learning. To\nconsider for the moment only the public schools; instruction is imparted\nby 127,529 male and 293,759 female teachers. The average salary of a\nmale teacher is more than $46 a month, and of the female teacher $39.\nThe expenditures were something over $213,000,000; and of this about 69\nper cent. came from the local taxes, 16 per cent. from the state taxes,\nand the remainder from fixed endowments. Again, if we consider only the\ncities of more than 8,000 inhabitants, we find the following figures: in\n1902 America had 580 such cities, with 25,000,000 inhabitants, 4,174,812\nscholars and 90,744 teachers in the municipal public schools, and\n877,210 students in private schools. These municipal systems have 5,025\nsuperintendents, inspectors, etc. The whole outlay for school purposes\namounted to about $110,000,000.\n\nThe high schools are especially characteristic. The increase of\nattendance in these schools has been much faster than that of the\npopulation. In 1890 there were only 59 pupils for every 10,000\ninhabitants; in 1895 there were 79; and in 1900 there were 95. It is\nnoticeable that this increase is entirely in the public schools. Of\nthose 59 scholars in 1890, 36 were in public high schools and 23 in\nprivate. By 1900 there were 25 in private, but 70 in the public schools.\nOf the students in the public high schools 50 per cent. studied Latin, 9\nper cent. French, 15 per cent. German. The principal courses of study\nare English grammar, English literature, history, geography,\nmathematics, and physics. In the private schools 23 per cent. took\nFrench, 18 per cent. German, 10 per cent. Greek. Only 11 per cent. of\nstudents in the public high schools go to college, but 32 per cent. of\nthose in private schools. Out of the 1,978 private high schools in the\nyear 1900, 945 were for students of special religious sects; 361 were\nRoman Catholic, 98 were Episcopalian, 96 Baptist, 93 Presbyterian, 65\nMethodist, 55 Quaker, 32 Lutheran, etc. There were more than 1,000\nprivate high schools not under the influence of any church. One real\nfactor of their influence is found in the statistical fact that, in the\npublic high schools, there are 26 scholars for every teacher, while in\nthe private schools only 11.\n\nThe following figures will suffice to give an idea of the great\ndifferences which exist between the different states: The number of\nscholars in high schools in the state of Massachusetts is 15 to every\n1,000 citizens; in the state of New York, 11; in Illinois, 9; in Texas,\n7; in the Carolinas, 5; and in Oklahoma, 3. In the private high schools\nof the whole country the boys were slightly in the majority; 50.3 per\ncent. against 49.7 per cent. of girls. In order to give at least a\nglimpse of this abyss, we may say that in the public high school the\nboys were only 41.6 per cent., while the girls were 58.4 per cent.\n\nSo much for the schools proper. We shall later consider the higher\ninstitutions\u2014colleges, universities, and so forth\u2014while the actual\nexpanse of the school system in America, as we have said before, is\nbroader still. In the first place, the kindergarten, a contribution\nwhich Germany has made, deserves notice. Very few creations of German\nthought have won such complete acceptance in the New World as Froebel\u2019s\nsystem of education; and seldom, indeed, is the German origin of an\ninstitution so frankly and freely recognized. Froebel is everywhere\npraised, and the German word \u201cKindergarten\u201d has been universally adopted\nin the English language.\n\nMiss Peabody, of Boston, took the part of pioneer, back in the fifties.\nVery soon the movement spread to St. Louis and to New York, so that in\n1875 there were already about one hundred kindergartens with 3,000\nchildren. To-day there must be about 5,000 kindergartens distributed\nover the country, with about a quarter of a million children. During\nthis development various tendencies have been noticeable. At first\nconsiderable stress was laid on giving some rational sort of occupation\nto the children of the rich who were not quite old enough for school.\nLater, however, philanthropic interest in the children of the very\npoorest part of the population became the leading motive\u2014the children,\nthat is, who, without such careful nurture, would be exposed to\ndangerous influences. Both of these needs could be satisfied by private\ninitiative. Slowly, however, these two extremes came to meet; not only\nthe richest and poorest, but also the children of the great middle\nclasses from the fourth to the sixth year, were gradually brought under\nthis sort of school training. As soon as the system was recognized to be\na need of the entire community, it was naturally adopted into the\npopular system of instruction. To-day two hundred and fifty cities have\nkindergartens as a part of their school systems.\n\nMeanwhile there has sprung up still another tendency, which took its\norigin in Chicago. Chicago probably has the best institution with a four\nyears\u2019 course for the preparation of teachers for the kindergarten. In\nthis school not only the professional teachers, but the mothers, are\nwelcomed. And through the means of this institution in Chicago, the\nendeavour is slowly spreading to educate mothers everywhere how to bring\nup their children who are still in the nursery so as to be bodily,\nintellectually, and morally sound. The actual goal of this very\nreasonable movement may well be the disappearance of the official\nkindergarten. The child will then find appropriate direction and\ninspiration in the natural surroundings of its home, and the\nkindergarten will, as at first, limit itself chiefly to those rich\nfamilies who wish to purchase their freedom from parental cares, and to\nsuch poor families as have to work so hard that they have no time left\nto look after their children. A slow reaction, moreover, is going on\namong the public school teachers. The child who comes out of the Froebel\nschool into the primary school is said to be somewhat desultory in his\nactivities, and so perhaps this great popularity of the kindergarten\nwill gradually decrease. Nevertheless, for the moment the kindergarten\nmust be recognized as a passing fashion of very great importance, and,\nso far as it devotes itself philanthropically to children in the poor\ndistricts, its value can hardly be overestimated.\n\nNow, all this instruction of the child before he goes to school is much\nless significant and less widely disseminated than those thousandfold\nmodes of instruction which are carried on for the development of men and\nwomen after they have passed their school days. Any one who knows this\ncountry will at once call to mind the innumerable courses of lectures,\nclubs of study, Chautauqua institutions, university extension courses,\nwomen\u2019s clubs, summer and correspondence schools, free scientific\nlectures, and many other such institutions which have developed here\nmore plentifully than in any other country. After having dwelt on the\nkindergarten, one is somewhat tempted to think also of these as men and\nwomen gardens. There is really some resemblance to a sort of\nintellectual garden, where no painful effort or hard work is laid out\nfor the young men and women who wander there carelessly to pluck the\nflowers. But it is, perhaps, rather too easy for the trained person to\nbe unjust to such informal means of culture. It is really hard to view\nthe latter in quite the right perspective. Whosoever has once freed\nhimself from all prejudices, and looked carefully into the psychic life\nof the intellectual middle classes, will feel at once the incomparable\nvalue of these peculiar forms of intellectual stimulation, and their\ngreat significance for the self-perfection of the great masses.\n\nWhile the kindergarten was imported from Germany, the university\nextension movement came from England. This movement, which was very\npopular about a decade ago, is decidedly now on the wane. Those forms of\npopular education which are distinctly American have shown themselves to\npossess the most vigour. There is one name which, above all others, is\ncharacteristic of these native institutions. It is Chautauqua. This is\nthe old Indian name for a lake which lies very pleasantly situated in\nthe State of New York, about two hours by train from Buffalo. The name\nof the lake has gone over to the village on its banks, the name of the\nvillage has been carried over to that system of instruction which was\nfirst begun there, and now every institution is called Chautauquan which\nis modelled after that system. Even to-day the school at Chautauqua is\nthe fountain-head of the whole movement. Every summer, and particularly\nthrough July and August, when the school-teachers have their vacation,\nsome ten thousand men and women gather together to participate in a few\nweeks of recreation and intellectual stimulation. The life there is\nquiet and simple; concerts and lectures are given in the open air in an\namphitheatre which seats several thousand, and there are smaller classes\nof systematic instruction in all departments of learning. The teachers\nin special courses are mostly professors. The lecturers in the general\ngatherings are well-known politicians, officials, scholars, ministers,\nor otherwise distinguished personalities. For the sake of recreation,\nthere are excursions, dramatic performances, and concerts. A few hours\nof systematic work every day serve as a stimulus for thought and\nculture, while the mutual influence of the men and women who are so\nbrought together and the whole atmosphere of the place generate a real\nmoral enthusiasm.\n\nThe special courses which range from Greek, the study of the Bible, and\nmathematics to political economy, philosophy, and pedagogics, are\nsupplemented on the one hand by examinations from which the\nparticipators get a certificate in black and white which is highly\nprized among teachers; and on the other side, by suggestions for the\nfurther carrying on by private reading of the studies which they have\nelected. The enthusiastic banner-bearer of Chautauqua is still to-day\none of its founders, Bishop Vincent. He has done more than any one else\ntoward bringing harmony into the monotonous and intellectually hungry\nlives of hundreds of thousands throughout the country, and especially of\npublic school teachers. And in this work the instruction, the religious\nstrengthening, the instillation of personal contentment, patriotic\nenthusiasm, \u00e6sthetic joy in life, and moral inspiration, are not to be\nseparated.\n\nWhen Theodore Roosevelt, who was then governor of New York, spoke in the\nChautauqua amphitheatre to more than ten thousand persons, he turned\nenthusiastically to Bishop Vincent and said, \u201cI know of nothing in the\nwhole country which is so filled with blessing for the nation.\u201d And when\nhe had finished, the whole audience gave him the Chautauqua salute; ten\nthousand handkerchiefs were waved in the air\u2014an extraordinary sight,\nwhich in Chautauqua signifies the greatest appreciation. This custom\nbegan years ago, when a deaf scholar had given a lecture, and while the\nthundering applause was sounding which the speaker himself could not\nhear, Bishop Vincent brought out this visible token of gratification;\nand this form of applause not only became a tradition there, but also\nspread to all other Chautauqua institutions throughout the country.\nTo-day there are more than three hundred of these, many of them in\nbeautifully situated summer resorts, and some equipped with splendid\nlibraries, banquet halls, casinos, and clubs. Some of these concentrate\ntheir energies in particular lines of learning, and of course they are\nvery different in scope and merit. And nevertheless the fundamental\ntrait of idealism shows through all these popular academies.\n\nAmong other varieties of popular instruction there are the attempts at\nuniversity extension, which are very familiar. The chief aim is here to\nutilize the teaching forces and other means of instruction of the higher\neducational institutions for the benefit of the great masses. Often the\nthing has been treated as if it were a matter of course, in a political\ndemocracy, that colleges and universities ought not to confine\nthemselves to the narrow circles of their actual students, but should go\nout and down to the artisans and labourers. But it was always asserted\nthat this education should not consist merely in entertaining lectures,\nbut should involve a form of teaching that presupposed a certain\nparticipation and serious application on the part of the attendants. And\nthe chief emphasis has been laid on having every subject treated in a\nseries of from six to twelve meetings, on distributing to the hearers a\nconcise outline of the lectures with references to literature, on\nallowing the audience after the lecture to ask as many questions as it\ndesired, and on holding a written examination at the end of the course.\nAny one who has passed a certain number of these examinations receives a\ncertificate. In one year, for example, there were 43 places in which the\nUniversity of Philadelphia gave such courses of lectures. The University\nof Chicago has arranged as many as 141 courses of six lectures each, in\n92 different places. Other higher institutions have done likewise; and\nif indeed the leading universities of the East have entirely declined to\ntake part, nevertheless the country, and particularly the West, is\neverywhere scattered with such lecture courses.\n\nThese lectures can be divided into two groups; those which are\ninstructive and educate their hearers, and those which are inspiring and\nawaken enthusiasm. The first are generally illustrated with stereopticon\npictures, the last are illustrated with poetical quotations. Here, as\neverywhere in the world, the educational lectures are often merely\ntiresome, and the inspiring ones merely bombastic. But the reason for\nthe rapid decline in this whole movement is probably not the bad quality\nof the lectures, but the great inconvenience which the lecturers feel in\ngoing so far from their accustomed haunts. It is not to be doubted that\nvery much good has come after all from this form of instruction. The\nsummer schools have a similar relation to the higher institutions, but a\nmuch more thorough-going character; and while the university extension\nmovement is waning, the summer school instruction is on the increase.\nFirst of all, even the leading universities take part in it, although it\nis mostly the second violins who render the music; that is to say,\nyounger instructors rather than the venerable professors are the ones\nwho teach. High school teachers and ministers often return in this way\nto their alma mater, and the necessity of devoting one\u2019s self for six\nweeks to a single subject gives to the whole enterprise a very much more\nscholarly character. That interesting summer school which was held a few\nyears ago in Cambridge is still remembered, when Harvard invited at its\nown expense 1,400 of the most earnest Cuban school teachers, and\ninstilled in them through six long weeks something of American culture.\n\nAgain, and this quite independent of the higher institutions and of any\nformal courses, there are the institutions for free lectures. Indeed,\nthere are so many that one might almost call them lecture factories. The\nreceptive attitude of the American public of all classes toward lectures\nsurpasses the comprehension of the European. In many circles, indeed,\nthis is positively a passion; and the extraordinary plentifulness of\nopportunity, of course, disciplines and strengthens the demand, which\ntook its origin in the same strong spirit of self-perfection.\n\nA favourable fact is undoubtedly the high perfection to which the\nlecture has been cultivated in America. As compared with European\ncountries, a larger proportion of lectures may fairly be called works of\nart as regards both their content and their form. The American is first\nof all an artist in any sort of enthusiastic and persuasive exposition.\nFor this very reason his lectures are so much more effective than\nwhatever he prints, and for this reason, too, the public flocks to hear\nhim. This state of things has also been favoured by the general custom\nof going to political meetings and listening to political speeches. In\nBoston and its suburbs, for example, although it is not larger than\nHamburg, no less than five public lectures per day on the average are\ndelivered between September and June. In contrast to German views, it is\nconsidered entirely appropriate for lecturers on all public occasions to\nreceive financial compensation; just as any German scholar would accept\nfrom a publisher some emolument for his literary productions. This is,\nof course, not true of lectures at congresses, clubs, or popular\ngatherings. In a state like Massachusetts, every little town has its\nwoman\u2019s club, with regular evenings for lectures by outside speakers;\nand the condition of the treasury practically decides whether one or two\nhundred dollars shall be paid for some drawing speaker who will give a\ndistinguished look to the programme; or whether the club will be\nsatisfied with some teacher from the next town who will deliver his last\nyear\u2019s lecture on Pericles, or the tubercle bacillus, for twenty\ndollars. And so it is through the entire country; the quantity decreases\nas one goes South, and the quality as one goes West.\n\nAll this is no new phenomenon in American life. In the year 1639\nlectures on religious subjects were so much a matter of course in New\nEngland, and Bostonians were so confirmed in the habit of going to\nlectures, that a law was passed concerning the giving of such lectures.\nIt said that the poor people were tempted by the lecturer to neglect\ntheir affairs and to harm their health, as the lectures lasted well into\nthe night. Scientific lectures, however, came into popular appreciation\nnot earlier than the nineteenth century. In the first decade of that\ncentury, the famous chemist, Silliman, of Yale University, attained a\ngreat success in popular scientific lectures. After the thirties\n\u201clyceums\u201d flourished throughout the land, which were educational\nsocieties formed for the purpose of establishing public lecture courses.\n\nTo be sure, these were generally disconnected lectures, in which\npolitical and social topics predominated. Those were the classic days of\noratory, when men like Webster, Channing, Everett, Emerson, Parker,\nMann, Sumner, Phillips, Beecher, Curtis, and others enthused the nation\nwith their splendid rhetoric, and presented to the masses with pathos\nthat we no longer know those great arguments which led to the Civil War.\nThe activities of later decades emphasized the intellectual side.\nSplendid institutions have now been organized for popular lectures and\nlecture courses in all the leading cities. Thus the Peabody Institute in\nBaltimore, the Pratt Institute in New York, the Armour Institute in\nChicago, and the Drexel Institute in Philadelphia have come into\nexistence. The catalogue of the lectures and courses which, for\ninstance, the Pratt Institute announces every winter fills a whole\nvolume; and nevertheless, every one who pays his annual fee of five\ndollars is entitled to take part in all of them. Every day from morning\nto night he may listen to lectures by men who are more or less well\nknown throughout the country, and who come specially to New York in\norder to give their short courses of some six lectures.\n\nThe highest undertaking of this sort is the Lowell Institute in Boston.\nIn 1838, after a tour through Egypt, John A. Lowell added a codicil to\nhis will, whereby he gave half of his large income for the free,\npopular, scientific instruction of his native town. The plan that has\nbeen followed for sixty years is of inviting every winter eight or ten\nof the most distinguished thinkers and investigators in America and\nEngland to give cycles of six or twelve connected lectures. The\nplentiful means of this foundation have made it possible to bring in the\nreally most important men; and on the other hand, for just this reason\nan invitation to deliver the Lowell Lectures has come to be esteemed a\nhigh honour in the English-speaking world. Men like Lyell and Tyndall\nand many others have come across the ocean; even Agassiz, the well-known\ngeologist, came to the New World first as a Lowell lecturer, and then\nlater settled at Harvard University. Up to this time some five thousand\nlectures have been held before large audiences by this institute. The\ngreat advantage which this has been to the population of Boston can in\nno wise be estimated, nor can it ever be known how much this influence\nhas done for the spirit of self-perfection in New England.\n\nIn a certain sense, however, we have already overstepped the field of\npopular education. The high standard of the Lowell Institute and the\nposition of its speakers have brought it about that almost every course\nhas been an original exposition of new scientific lines of thought.\nWhile the other popular courses have got their material second-hand, or\nhave been at least for the speaker a repetition of his habitual\ndiscourses to students, in the Lowell Institute the results of new\ninvestigations have been the main thing. And so we have come already to\nthe domain of productive science, of which we shall have later to treat.\n\nOne who looks somewhat more deeply will realize that, outside the Lowell\nInstitute, there is no thought in by far the larger part of these\nlectures and readings, of original scientific endeavour. And the\nquestion inevitably comes up, whether the intellectual life of the\ncountry does not lose too much of its strength because the members of\nthe community who should be especially devoted to intellectual\nproduction are enticed in so many different ways into the paths of mere\nreproduction. To be sure, it is never a professional duty with these\nmen, but the temptation is so great as to overcome the latent resistance\nof even the best of them. There are a few, it is true, who see their\nhighest goal in these popular and artistic expositions of their\ndepartment of science; and a few who feel that their highest call, their\nmost serious life-work, is to bear science philanthropically out to the\nmasses. But it is different with most of them. Many like the rewards; it\nis such an easy way for the ready speaker, perhaps, of doubling his\nsalary from the university: and especially the younger men whose income\nis small, find it hard to resist the temptation, although just they are\nthe ones who ought to give all their free energy to becoming proficient\nin special lines of investigation. Yet even this is not the chief\nmotive. In countless cases where any financial return to the speaker is\nout of the question, the love of rhetoric exerts a similar temptation.\nThe chief motive, doubtless, is that the American popular opinion is so\nextraordinarily influenced by the spoken word, and at the same time\npopular eloquence is spread abroad so widely by the press, that not only\na mere passing reputation, but also a strong and lasting influence on\nthe thought of the people, can most readily be gotten in this way.\n\nAnd so everything works together to bring a large amount of intellectual\nenergy into the service of the people. The individual is hardly able to\nresist the temptation; and certainly very many thus harm seriously their\nbest energies. Their popularization of knowledge diminishes their own\nscholarship. They grow adapted to half-educated audiences; their\npleasure and capacity for the highest sort of scientific work are\nweakened by the seductive applause which follows on every pretty turn of\nthought, and by the deep effect of superficial arguments which avoid and\nconceal all the real difficulties. This is most especially true of that\nmerely mechanical repetition which is encouraged by the possession of a\nlecture manuscript. If it is true that Wendell Phillips repeated his\nspeech on the Lost Arts two thousand times, it was doubtless a unique\ncase, and is hardly possible to-day. Nevertheless, to-day we find most\nregrettably frequent repetitions; and a few competent intellects have\nentirely abandoned their activities on regular academic lines to travel\nthrough the country on lecture tours. For instance, a brilliant\nhistorian like John Fiske, would undoubtedly have accomplished much more\nof permanent importance if he had not written every one of his books, in\nthe first instance, as a set of lectures which he delivered before some\ndozen mixed audiences.\n\nOn the other hand, we must not suppose that these lectures before\neducational institutions are all hastily and mechanically produced. If\nthe lectures were so trivial their preparation would demand little\nenergy, and their delivery would much less satisfy the ambition of those\nwho write them; and so, on both accounts, they would be much less\ndangerous for the highest productiveness of their authors. The level is\nreally extremely high. Even the audience of the smallest town is rather\npampered; it demands the most finished personal address and a certain\ntinge of individuality in the exposition. And so even this form of\nproduction redounds somewhat to the intellectual life of the nation. The\noften repeated attempt to depict some phase of reality, uniquely and\ncompletely in a one-hour lecture, or to elucidate a problem in such a\nshort time, leads necessarily to a mastery in the art of the essay.\nSuccess in this line is made easier by the marked feeling for form which\nthe American possesses. In a surprisingly large number of American\nbooks, the chapters read like well-rounded and complete addresses. The\nbook is really a succession of essays, and if one looks more carefully,\none will often discover that each one was obviously first thought out as\na lecture. Thus the entire system of popular education by means of\nlectures has worked, beyond doubt, harmfully on creative production, but\nfavourably on the development of artistic form in scientific exposition,\non the art of essay, and on the popular dissemination of natural and\nsocial sciences and of history and economics most of all.\n\nIf one wished to push the inquiry further, and to ask whether these\nadvantages outweigh the disadvantages, the American would decline to\ndiscuss the problem within these limits; since the prime factor, which\nis the effect on the masses who are seeking cultivation, would be left\nout of account. The work of the scholar is not to be estimated solely\nwith reference to science or to its practical effects, but always with\nreference to the people\u2019s need for self-perfection. And even if pure\nscience in its higher soarings were to suffer thereby, the American\nwould say that in science, as everywhere else, it is not a question of\nbrilliant achievements, but of moral values. For the totality of the\nnation, he would say, it is morally better to bring serious intellectual\nawakenings into every quiet corner of the land, than to inscribe a few\ngreat achievements on the tablets of fame. Such is the sacrifice which\ndemocracy demands. And yet to-day the pendulum begins very slowly to\nswing back. A certain division of labour is creeping in whereby\nproductive and reproductive activities are more clearly distinguished,\nand the best intellectual energies are reserved for the highest sort of\nwork, and saved from being wasted on merely trivial tasks.\n\nBut even the effect on the masses has not been wholly favourable. We\nhave seen how superficiality has been greatly encouraged. It is, indeed,\nan artificial feeding-ground for that immodesty which we see to spring\nup so readily in a political democracy, and which gives out its opinion\non all questions without being really informed. To be sure, there is no\nlack of admiration for what is great; on the contrary, such admiration\nbecomes often hysterical. But since it is not based on any sufficient\nknowledge, it remains after all undiscriminating; the man who admires\nwithout understanding, forms a judgment where he should decline to take\nany attitude at all. It may be, indeed, that the village population\nunder the influence of the last lecture course is talking about Cromwell\nand Elizabeth instead of about the last village scandal; but if the way\nin which it talks has not been modified, one cannot say that a change of\ntopic signifies any elevation of standard. And if, indeed, the village\nis still to gossip, it will seem to many more modest and more amiable if\nit gossips about some indifferent neighbour, and not about Cromwell.\n\nOn the other hand, we must not fail to recognize that, especially in the\nlarge institutions, as the Chautauquas, and in the university extension\ncourses and the summer schools, everything possible is done to escape\nthis constant danger. In the first place, the single lectures are very\nmuch discouraged, and a course of six to twenty lectures rather is given\non a single topic; then the written examinations, with their\ncertificates, and finally, the constant guidance in private reading have\ntheir due effect. Indeed, the smallest women\u2019s club is particular to put\nbefore its members the very best books which relate to the subjects of\ntheir lectures; and smaller groups are generally formed to study\ncarefully through together some rather large treatise.\n\nThe total amount of actual instruction and intellectual inspiration\ncoming to the people outside of the schools, is, in these ways,\nimmeasurable. And the disadvantages of superficiality are somewhat\noutweighed by a great increase and enrichment of personality. Of course,\none could ask whether this traditional way is really the shortest to its\ngoal. Some may think that the same expenditure of time and energy would\ngive a better result if it were made on a book rather than on a course\nof lectures. Yet the one does not exclude the other. Hearing the lecture\nincites to the reading of the book; and nowhere is more reading done\nthan in the United States. There is one other different and quite\nimportant factor in the situation. The man who reads is isolated, and\nany personal influence is suppressed. At a lecture, on the other hand,\nthe peculiarly personal element is brought to the front, both in the\nspeaker and in the hearer\u2014the spoken word touches so much more\nimmediately and vitally than the printed word, and gives to thought an\nindividual colouring. Most of all, the listener is much more personally\nappealed to than the reader; his very presence in the hall is a public\nannouncement of his participation. He feels himself called, with the\nother hearers, to a common task. And in this way a moral motive is added\nto the intellectual. They both work together to fill the life of every\nman with the desire for culture. Perchance the impersonal book may\nbetter satisfy the personal desire for self-perfection, and yet the\nlecture will be more apt to keep it alive and strengthen it as a force\nin character and in life.\n\nIt is indifferent whether this system of popular education, these\nlectures before the public, has really brought with it the greatest\npossible culture and enlightenment. It is at least clear that they have\nspread everywhere the most profound desire for culture and\nenlightenment, and for this reason they have been the necessary system\nfor a people so informed with the spirit of individual self-perfection.\n\n\n\n\n                            CHAPTER SIXTEEN\n                           _The Universities_\n\n\nWhen American industry began, a short time ago, to disturb European\ncircles, people very much exaggerated the danger, because the event was\nso entirely unexpected. The \u201cAmerican peril\u201d was at the door before any\none knew about it, or even supposed that America really possessed an\nindustry which amounted to anything. It will not be long before Europe\nwill experience a like surprise in the intellectual sphere. A great work\nwill certainly appear, as if accomplished in a moment, before any one\nsupposes that America so much as dreams of science and investigation. At\nthe time, people tardily said to themselves that such industry could\nonly have been built on firm rock, and never would have been able to\nspring up if American economic life had really been founded, as was then\nsupposed, on avarice and corruption. And similarly, in the intellectual\nsphere, people will have to trace things back, and say in retrospect\nthat such achievements could not be brought forth suddenly, and that\nserious and competent scientific work throughout the country must really\nhave gone before. It is not here, in this world of intellectual labour,\nas in the economic world; there is no question of threatening rivalry,\nthere is no scientific competition; there is nothing but co-operation.\nAnd yet even here no people can, without danger to its own achievements,\nafford to ignore what another nation has done. The sooner that Europe,\nand in particular Germany, acquaints itself with the intellectual life\nof America, so much more organically and profitably the future labour in\ncommon will develop. For any one who knows the real situation can\nalready realize, without the gift of prophecy, that in science more than\nin other spheres the future will belong to these two countries.\n\nOn the part of Germany to-day there prevails an almost discouraging\nignorance of everything which pertains to American universities; and we\nmay say, at once, that if we speak of science we shall refer to nothing\nbut the universities. As in Germany, so it is in the United States, in\nsharp and notable contrast to France and England, that the academic\nteacher is the real priest of science. In England and France, it is not\ncustomary for the great investigator to be at the same time the daily\nteacher of youth. In America and Germany he is exactly this. America\nhas, to be sure, historians and national economists like Rhodes, Lodge,\nRoosevelt, Schouler, and others who are outside of academic circles; and\nvery many lawyers, doctors and preachers, who are scientifically\nproductive; and her most conspicuous physicists, so far as reputation\ngoes, like Edison, Bell, Tesla, and so many others, are advancing\nscience indirectly through their discoveries and inventions. Strictly\nspeaking, the officials of the scientific institutions at Washington are\nlikewise outside of the universities, and the greatest intellectual\nefficiency has always been found among these men. Nevertheless, it\nremains true that on the whole, the scientific life of the nation goes\non in the universities, and that the academic instruction conveyed there\nis the most powerful source of strength to the entire American people.\n\nThe German still has no confidence in American science, is fond of\ndwelling on the amusing newspaper reports of Western \u201cuniversities\u201d\nwhich are often equivalent to a German Sekunda, or on those\nextraordinary conditions which prevailed \u201ca short time ago\u201d in the study\nof medicine. This \u201cshort time ago\u201d means, however, in the intellectual\nlife of Germany an entirely different length of time from that which it\nmeans in the New World. One is almost tempted to compare the\nintellectual development of Germany and America by epochs in order to\nget a proper means of comparing intervals of time in these respective\ncountries. The primitive times of the Germans, from the days of Tacitus\ndown to their conversion to Christianity under Charlemagne in about the\nyear 800, would correspond, then, to the one hundred and fifty years\nfrom the discovery of America up to the beginning of the Puritan era in\n1630. The next period would embrace in Germany seven hundred years\nmore\u2014up to the time when Germany freed itself from Rome. In America this\nwould be again a century and a half, up to 1776, when the nation freed\nitself from England. Then follow after the Reformation during a period\nof three hundred years, the Thirty Years\u2019 War, the Renaissance of the\neighteenth century, the downfall of the Napoleonic influence, and,\nfinally, the war for freedom. And once again the corresponding intervals\non this side of the ocean have been of very much shorter duration;\nfirstly years of war, then the \u00e6sthetic rise in the middle of the\ncentury, then the sufferings of the Civil War, the period of\nreconstruction, and, finally, peace. After 1813 a new period commences,\nwhich ends in 1870 with the German amalgamation into a nation.\nHistorically incomparable with Germany\u2019s great war against the French,\nAmerica had in 1898 an insignificant war with Spain; but for the\nnational consciousness of the Americans it played, perhaps, no less\nimportant a r\u00f4le. In fact, there began at that time probably a certain\nculmination in American intellectual development which in its six years\nis comparable in effect with what the Germans went through during\nseveral decades after the Franco-Prussian War. Indeed, all that happened\nin America a hundred years ago is felt to lie as far back as the events\nwhich took place in Germany three hundred years ago; and, in matters of\nhigher education and scientific research, conditions have probably\nchanged more in the last ten years than they have changed during fifty\nyears in Germany.\n\nThe many false ideas, however, depend for credence, so far as they have\nany foundation, not alone on the reports of the previous condition of\nthings, but also on misleading accounts of the conditions to-day. For\neven the best-intentioned narrator is very apt to be misled, because he\nfinds it so hard to free himself from ordinary German conceptions. The\nposition of the German schools of higher education is so easily grasped,\nwhile that in America is so complicated, that the German is always\ntempted to bring clearness and order into what he sees as confusion, by\nforcing it into the simple scheme to which he is accustomed, and thus to\nmisunderstand it.\n\nThe German traveller is certain to start from the distinction so\nfamiliar to him between the Gymnasium and the university with four\nfaculties, and he always contents himself with making but one inquiry:\n\u201cIs this institution a university with four faculties?\u201d And when he is\ntold that it is not, he is convinced to his entire satisfaction that it\nis therefore only a Gymnasium. Indeed, very many of the educated Germans\nwho have lived in America for some decades would still know no better;\nand, nevertheless, the conditions are really not complicated until one\ntries to make them fit into this abstract German scheme. The principle\nof gradations which is manifest in all American institutions is in\nitself fully as simple as the German principle of sharp demarcations.\nMost foreigners do not even go so far as to ask whether a given\ninstitution is a university. They are quite content to find out whether\nthe word university is a part of its name. If they then ascertain from\nthe catalogue that the studies are about the same as those which are\ndrilled into the pupils of a Sekunda, they can attest the shameful fact:\n\u201cThere are no universities in America to be in any wise compared with\nthe German universities.\u201d\n\nIn the first place, it should be said that the word \u201cuniversity\u201d is not\nused in America in the same sense as in Germany, but is almost\ncompletely interchangeable with the word \u201ccollege,\u201d as a rather\ncolorless addition to the proper name of any institution whatsoever, so\nlong only as its curriculum goes beyond that of the high school, and so\nlong also as it is not exclusively designed to train ministers of the\ngospel, doctors, or lawyers. A higher school for medical instruction is\ncalled a \u201cmedical school,\u201d and there are similarly \u201claw schools\u201d and\n\u201cdivinity schools,\u201d whereas, in the college or university, as the term\nis generally used, these three subjects are not taught. College is the\nolder word, and since the institutions in the East are in general the\nolder ones, the name college has been and still is in that region the\nmore common. But in the West, where in general the institutions are on a\nconsiderably lower level, the newer name of university is the more\nusual. No confusion necessarily arises from this, since the institutions\nwhich are styled now college and now university represent countless\ngradations, and the general term is without special significance. No one\nwould think of saying that when he was young he went to a university,\nany more than he would say that on a journey he visited a city. In order\nto make the statement entirely clear, he would add the explicit name of\nthe institution. Every specialist knows that a man who has spent four\nyears in Taylor University in Indiana or at Blackburn University in\nIllinois, or at Leland University in Louisiana, or at other similar\n\u201cuniversities,\u201d will not be nearly so well educated as a man who has\nbeen to Yale College or Princeton College or Columbia College. The\nproper name is the only significant designation, and the addition of\n\u201ccollege\u201d or \u201cuniversity\u201d tells nothing.\n\nOut of this circumstance there has independently developed, in recent\nyears in pedagogical circles, a second sense for the word \u201cuniversity.\u201d\nBy \u201cuniversity\u201d there is coming to be understood an institution which is\nnot only a college or a university in the old sense, but which\nfurthermore has various professional schools. Even in this sense of the\nword, it is not exactly the same as the German conception, since such an\ninstitution includes the college, whereas there is nothing in Germany\nwhich would correspond to this collegiate department. Moreover, here\nbelongs also a part of what the Germans have only in the technological\ninstitute. Finally, there is one more usage which arises in a way from a\nconfusion of the two that we have mentioned. Some persons are inclined\nto mean by \u201cuniversity\u201d a first-class college, and by \u201ccollege\u201d an\ninstitution of an inferior standard; and so, finally, the proper name of\nthe institution is the only thing to go by, and the entire higher system\nof education in the country can be understood only in this way.\n\nTherefore, we shall abstract from the designations of these\ninstitutions, and consider only what they really are. We have before us\nthe fact that hundreds of higher institutions of learning exist without\nany sharp demarcation between them; that is, they form a closely graded\nscale, commencing with secondary schools and leading up to universities,\nof which some are in many respects comparable with the best institutions\nof Germany. In the second place, the groupings of the studies in these\ninstitutions are entirely different from those which prevail in Germany,\nespecially owing to the fact that emphasis is laid on the college, which\nGermany does not have. It could not be different; and this condition is,\nin fact, the patent of American success. If we try to understand the\nconditions of to-day from those of yesterday, the real unity of this\nsystem comes out sharply. What was, then, we have to ask, the national\nneed for higher instruction at the time when these states organized\nthemselves into one nation?\n\nIn the first place, the people had to have preachers, while it was\nclear, nevertheless, that the state, and therefore the entire political\ncommunity, was independent of any church, and must never show any favour\nto one sect over another. And so it became the duty of each separate\nsect to prepare its own preachers for their religious careers as well or\nas badly as it was able. The people, again, had to have lawyers and\njudges. Now the judges, in accordance with the democratic spirit, were\nelected from the people, and every man had the right to plead his own\ncase in court:\u2014so that if any man proposed to educate and prepare\nhimself to plead other men\u2019s cases for them, it was his own business to\ngive himself the proper education and not the business of the community.\nHe had to become an apprentice under experienced attorneys, and the\ncommunity had not to concern itself in the matter, nor even to see to it\nthat such technical preparation was grounded on real learning.\nSchool-teachers were necessary, but in order to satisfy the demands of\nthe times it was hardly necessary for the teacher to go in his own\nstudies very much beyond the members of his classes. A few more years of\ntraining than could be had in the public schools was desirable, but\nthere was no thought of scholarship or science. On the lowest level of\nall, a hundred years ago, stood the science of medicine. It was a purely\npractical occupation, of which anybody might learn the technique without\nany special training. He might be an apprentice with some older\nphysician, or he might pick it up in a number of other ways.\n\nAs soon as we have understood the early conditions in this way, we can\nsee at once how they would have further to develop. It is obvious that\nin their own interests the sects would have to found schools for\npreachers. The administrators of justice would of course consult\ntogether and found schools of law, in which every man who paid his\ntuition might be prepared for the legal career. Doctors would have to\ncome together and found medical schools which, once more, every one with\na public school training would be free to attend. Finally, the larger\ncommunities would feel the necessity of having schools for training\ntheir teachers. In all this the principle of social selection would have\nto enter in at once. Since there were no formal provisions which might\nprescribe and fix standards of excellence, so everything would be\nregulated by the laws of supply and demand. The schools which could\nfurnish successful lawyers, doctors, teachers, and clergymen would\nbecome prosperous, while the others would lead a modest existence or\nperhaps disappear. It would not be, however, merely a question of the\ngood or bad schools, but of schools having entirely different standards,\nand these adapted to purely local conditions. The older states would, of\ncourse, demand better things than the new pioneer states; thickly\nsettled localities would fix higher requirements than rural districts;\nrich districts higher than poor. In this way some schools would have a\nlonger course of study than others, and some schools demand more\nprevious training as a condition of entrance than others. So it would\nsoon come to mean nothing to say simply that one had taken the legal, or\nmedical, or theological course, as the one school might offer a four\nyears\u2019 course and the other a course of two years, and the one,\nmoreover, might demand college training as preparation, and the other\nmerely a grammar-school education. Every school has its own name, and\nthis name is the only thing which characterizes its standard of\nexcellence. In this way there is no harm at all if there are three or\nfour medical schools in one city, and if their several diplomas of\ngraduation are of entirely different value.\n\nWhat is the result of this? It is a threefold one. In the first place,\npopular initiative is stimulated to the utmost, and every person and\nevery institution is encouraged to do its best. There are no formal\nregulations to hamper enterprising impulses, to keep back certain more\nadvanced regions, or to approve mediocrity with an artificial seal of\nauthority. In the second place, technical education is able to adapt\nitself thoroughly to all the untold local factors, and to give to every\nregion such schools of higher training as it needs, without pulling down\nany more advanced sections of the country to an artificially mediocre\nlevel more adapted to the whole country. In the third place, the free\ncompetition between the different institutions insures their ceaseless\nprogress. There are no hard and fixed boundary lines, and whatsoever\ndoes not advance surely recedes; that which leads to-day is surpassed\nto-morrow if it does not adapt itself to the latest requirements. This\nis true both as regards the quality of the teachers and their means of\ninstruction, as regards the length of the course, and more especially\nthe conditions of entrance. These last have steadily grown throughout\nthe country. Fifty years ago the very best institutions in the most\nadvanced portions of the country demanded no more for entrance than the\nprofessional schools of third class situated in more rural regions\ndemand to-day. And this tendency goes steadily onward day by day. If\nthere were any great departures made, the institutions would be\ndisintegrated; the schools which prepare pupils would not be able\nsuddenly to come up to new requirements, and therefore few scholars\nwould be able to prepare for greatly modified entrance examinations. In\nthis way, between the conservative holding to historic traditions and\nthe striving to progress and to exceed other institutions by the highest\npossible efficiency, a compromise is brought about which results in a\ngradual but not over-hasty improvement.\n\nWe have so far entirely left out of account the state. We can speak here\nonly of the individual state. The country as a whole has as little to do\nwith higher education as with lower. But the single state has, in fact,\na significant task\u2014indeed, a double one. Since it aims at no monopoly,\nbut rather gives the freest play to individual initiative, we have\nrecognized the fundamental principle that restrictions are placed\nnowhere. On the other hand, it becomes the duty of the state to lend a\nhelping hand wherever private activities have been found insufficient.\nThis can happen in two ways: either the state may help to support\nprivate institutions which already exist, or it may establish new ones\nof its own, which in that case offer free tuition to the sons and\ndaughters of all taxpayers. These so-called state universities are, in a\nway, the crowning feature of the free public school system. Wherever\nthey exist, the sons of farmers have the advantage of free instruction\nfrom the kindergarten to the degree of doctor of philosophy.\n\nNow private initiative is weakest where the population is poor or stands\non a low level of culture, so that few can be found to contribute\nsufficient funds to support good institutions, and at the same time the\nrich citizens of these less advanced states prefer to send their\nchildren to the universities of the most advanced states. The result is,\nand this is what is hardest for the foreigner to understand, that the\nhigher institutions of learning which are subsidized by the state stand\nfor a grade of culture inferior to that of the private institutions, and\nthat not only the leading universities, like Harvard, Columbia, Johns\nHopkins, Yale, Chicago, Cornell, and Stanford, carry on their work\nwithout the help of the state, but also that the leading Eastern States\npay out much less for higher instruction than do the Western. The State\nof Massachusetts, which stands at the head in matters of education, does\nnot give a cent to its universities, while Ohio entirely supports the\nOhio State University and gives aid to six other institutions.\n\nThe second task of the states in educational matters is shared alike by\nall of them; the state supervises all instruction, and, more than that,\nthe state legislature confers on the individual institution the right to\naward grades, diplomas, and degrees to its students. No institution may\nchange its organization without a civil permit. As culture has advanced\nthe state has found it necessary to make the requirements in the various\nprofessional schools rather high. In practice, once more, a continual\ncompromise has been necessary between the need to advance and the desire\nto stay, by traditions which have been proved and tried and found\npractical. Here, once again, any universal scheme of organization would\nhave destroyed everything. If a high standard had been fixed it would\nhave hindered private initiative, and given a set-back to Southern and\nWestern states and robbed them of the impulses to development. A lower\nuniversal standard, on the other hand, would have impeded the advance of\nthe more progressive portions of the country. Therefore the various\nstate governments have taken a happy middle position in these matters,\nand their responsibility for the separate institutions has been made\neven less complete in that the degrees of these institutions carry in\nthemselves no actual rights. Every state has its own laws for the\nadmission of a lawyer to its bar, or to the public practice of medicine,\nand it is only to a small degree that the diplomas of professional\nschools are recognized as equivalent to a state examination.\n\nThe history of the professional schools for lawyers, ministers,\nteachers, and physicians in America is by no means the history of the\nuniversities. We have so far left out of account the college, which is\nthe nucleus of American education. Let us now go back to it. We saw in\nthe beginning of the development of these states a social community in\nwhich preparation for the professions of teaching, preaching, law or\nmedicine implied a technical and specialized training, which every one\ncould obtain for himself without any considerable preparation. There was\nno thought of a broad, liberal education. Now, to be sure, the level of\nscholarship required for entrance into the professional schools has\nsteadily risen, the duration and character of the instruction has been\nsteadily improved; but even to-day the impression has not faded from the\npublic consciousness, and is indeed favoured by the great differences in\nmerit between the special schools, that such a practical introduction to\nthe treatment of disease, to court procedure, the mastery of technical\nproblems, or to the art of teaching, does not in itself develop educated\nmen. All this is specialized professional training, which no more\nbroadens the mind than would the professional preparation for the\ncalling of the merchant or manufacturer or captain. Whether a man who is\nprepared for his special career is also an educated man, depends on the\nsort of general culture that he has become familiar with. It is thought\nimportant for a man to have had a liberal education before entering the\ncommercial house or the medical school, but it is felt to be indifferent\nwhether he has learned his profession at the stock exchange or at the\nclinic.\n\nThe European will find it hard to follow this trend of thought. In\nEurope the highest institutions of learning are so closely allied to the\nlearned professions, and these themselves have historically developed so\ncompletely from the learned studies, that professional erudition and\ngeneral culture are well-nigh identical. And the general system of\ndistinctions and merits favours in every way the learned professions.\nHow much of this, however, springs out of special conditions may be\nseen, for instance, from the fact that in Germany an equal social\nposition is given to the officer of the army and to the scholar. Even\nthe American is, in his way, not quite consistent, in so far as he has\nat all times honoured the profession of the ministry with a degree of\nesteem that is independent of the previous preparation which the\nminister had before entering his theological school. This fact has come\nfrom the leading position which the clergymen held in the American\ncolonial days, and the close relation which exists between the study of\ntheology and general philosophy.\n\nThe fact that by chance one had taken the profession of law, or\nteaching, or medicine, did not exalt one in the eyes of one\u2019s\ncontemporaries above the great mass of average citizens who went about\ntheir honest business. The separation of those who were called to social\nleadership was seen to require, therefore, some principle which should\nbe different from any professional training. At this point we come on\nyet another historical factor. The nation grew step for step with its\ncommercial activities and undertakings. So long as it was a question of\ngaining and developing new territory, the highest talent, the best\nstrength and proudest personalities entered the service of this\nnationally significant work. It was a matter of course that no secondary\nposition in society should be ascribed to these captains of commerce and\nof industry. The highest degree of culture which they were able to\nattain necessarily fixed the standard of culture for the whole\ncommunity; and, therefore, the traditional concept of the gentleman as\nthe man of liberal culture and refinement came to have that great social\nsignificance which was reserved in Germany for the learned professions.\n\nIn its outer form, the education of such a gentleman was borrowed from\nEngland. It was a four years\u2019 course coming after the high school, and\nlaying special stress on the classical languages, philosophy, and\nmathematics\u2014a course which, up to the early twenties, kept a young man\nin contact with the fine arts and the sciences, with no thought for the\npractical earning of a livelihood; which, therefore, kept him four years\nlonger from the tumult of the world, and in an ideal community of men\nwho were doing as he was doing; which developed him in work, in sport,\nin morals and social address. Such was the tradition; the institution\nwas called a college after the English precedent. Any man who went to\ncollege belonged to the educated class, and it was indifferent what\nprofession he took up; no studies of the professional school were able\nto replace a college education. Now, it necessarily happened that the\nendeavour to have students enter the professional schools with as\nthorough preparation as possible led eventually to demand of every one\nwho undertook a professional course the complete college education. In\nfact, this last state of development is already reached in the best\ninstitutions of America. For instance, in Harvard and in Johns Hopkins,\nthe diploma of a four years\u2019 college course is demanded for entrance\ninto the legal, medical, or theological faculty. But in popular opinion\nthe dividing line between common and superior education is still the\nline between school and college, and not, as in Germany, between liberal\nand technical institutions of learning. One who has successfully passed\nthrough college becomes a graduate, a gentleman of distinction; he has\nthe degree of bachelor of arts, and those who have this degree are\nunderstood to have had a higher education.\n\nThis whole complex of relations is reflected within the college itself.\nIt is supposed to be a four years\u2019 course which comes after the high\nschool, and we have seen that the high school itself has no fixed\nstandard of instruction. The small prairie college may be no better than\nthe Tertia or Sekunda of a German Realschule, while the large and\ninfluential colleges are certainly not at all to be compared simply with\nGerman schools, but rather with the German Prima of a Gymnasium,\ntogether with the first two or three semesters in the philosophical\nfaculty of a university. Between these extremes there is a long, sliding\nscale, represented by over six hundred colleges. We must now bear in\nmind that the college was meant to be the higher school for the general\ncultivation of gentlemen. Of course, from the outset this idealistic\ndemand was not free from utilitarian considerations; the same\ninstruction could well be utilized as the most appropriate practical\ntraining of the school-teacher, and if so, the college becomes\nsecondarily a sort of technical school for pedagogues. But, then, in the\nsame way as the entrance into legal and medical faculties was gradually\nmade more difficult, until now the best of these schools demand\ncollegiate preparation, so also did the training school for teachers\nnecessarily become of more and more professional character, until it\ngradually quite outgrew the college. The culmination is a philosophical\nfaculty which, from its side, presupposes the college, and which,\ntherefore, takes the student about where a German student enters his\nfourth semester\u2014a technical school for specialized critical science\nlaying main stress on seminaries, laboratories, and lectures for\nadvanced students. Such a continuation of the college study beyond the\ntime of college\u2014that is, for those who have been graduated from\ncollege\u2014is called a graduate school, and its goal is the degree of\ndoctor of philosophy. The graduate school is in this way parallel with\nthe law, medical, or divinity school, which likewise presuppose that\ntheir students have been graduated from college.\n\nThe utilitarian element inevitably affects the college from another\nside. A college of the higher type will not be a school with a rigid\ncurriculum, but will adapt itself more or less to the individuality of\nits students. If it is really to give the most it can, it must, at least\nduring the last years of the college course, be somewhat like a\nphilosophical faculty, and allow some selection among the various\nstudies:\u2014so that every man can best perfect his peculiar talent and can\nsatisfy his inclinations for one or other sort of learning. So soon,\nnow, as such academic freedom has been instituted, it is very liable to\nbe used for utilitarian purposes. The future doctor and the future\nlawyer in their election of college studies will have the professional\nschool already in mind, and will be preparing themselves for their\nprofessional studies. The lawyer will probably study more history, the\ndoctor will study biology, the theologian languages, the future\nmanufacturer may study physics, the banker political economy, and the\npolitician will take up government. And so the ideal training school for\ngentlemen will not be merely a place for liberal education, but at the\nsame time will provide its own sort of untechnical professional\ntraining.\n\nInasmuch as everything really technical is still excluded, and the\nmajority of college students even to-day come for nothing more than a\nliberal education, it remains true that the college is first of all a\nplace for the development and refinement of personal character; a place\nin which the young American spends the richest and happiest years of his\nlife, where he forms his friendships and intellectual preferences which\nare to last throughout his life, and where the narrow confines of school\nlife are outgrown and the confines of professional education not yet\nbegun; where, in short, everything is broad and free and sunny. For the\nAmerican the attraction of academic life is wholly centred in the\ncollege; the college student is the only one who lives the true student\nlife. Those who study in the four professional faculties are comparable\nrather to the German medical students of the last clinical\nsemesters\u2014sedate, semi-professional men. The college is the soul of the\nuniversity. The college is to-day, more than ever, the soul of the whole\nnation.\n\nWe have to mention one more factor, and we shall have brought together\nall which are of prime importance. We have seen that the professional\nand the collegiate schools had at the outset different points of view,\nand were, in fact, entirely independent. It was inevitable that as they\ndeveloped they should come into closer and closer relations. The name of\nthe college remained during this development the general designation.\nSpecial faculties have grouped themselves about the college, while a\ncommon administration keeps them together. There are certain local\ndifficulties in this. According to the original idea, a college ought to\nbe in a small, rural, and attractively situated spot. The young man\nshould be removed from ordinary conditions; and as he goes to Jena,\nMarburg, and G\u00f6ttingen, so he should go to Princeton or New Haven, or\nPalo Alto, in order to be away from large cities in a little academic\nworld which is inspired only by the glory of famous teachers and by the\nyouthful happiness of many student generations. A medical or law school,\non the other hand, belongs, according to American tradition, in some\nlarge city, where there is a plenty of clinical material at hand, and\nwhere great attorneys are in contact with the courts. It so happened\nthat the college, as it grew up into a complete university, was\nespecially favoured if it happened to be in the vicinity of a large\ncity, like Harvard College in Cambridge, which had all the attractions\nof rural quiet and nevertheless was separated from the large city of\nBoston only by the Charles River bridge. In later times, to be sure,\nsince the idyllic side of college life is everywhere on the wane, and\nthe outward equipment, especially of laboratories, libraries, etc., has\neverywhere to grow, it is a noticeable advantage for even collegiate\nprosperity to have the resources of a large city at hand. And,\ntherefore, the institutions in these cities, like New York, Baltimore,\nChicago, and San Francisco, develop more rapidly than many colleges\nwhich were once famous but which lie in more isolated places.\n\nAt the head of the administration there is always a president, a man\nwhose functions are something between those of a Rektor and a\nKultus-Minister, most nearly, perhaps, comparable with a Kurator, and\nyet much more independent, much more dictatorial. The direction of the\nuniversity is actually concentrated in his person, and the rise or fall\nof the institution is in large measure dependent on his official\nleadership. In olden times the president was almost always a theologian,\nand at the same time was apt to be professor in moral philosophy. This\nis true to-day of none but small country colleges, and even there the\nPuritan tradition disappears as financial and administrative problems\ncome to be important. The large universities have lately come almost\nalways to place a professor of the philosophical faculty at their head.\nAlmost invariably these are men of liberal endowments. Mostly they are\nmen of wide outlook, and only such men are fit for these positions,\nwhich belong to the most influential and important in the country. The\nopinions of men like Eliot of Harvard, Hadley of Yale, Butler of\nColumbia, Shurman of Cornell, Remsen of Johns Hopkins, Wheeler of\nCalifornia, Harper of Chicago, Jordan of Leland Stanford, Wilson of\nPrinceton, and of many others, are respected and sought on all questions\nof public life, even in matters extending far beyond education.\n\nThe university president is elected for a life term by the\nadministrative council\u2014a deliberative body of men who, without\nemoluments, serve the destinies of the university, and in a certain\nsense are the congress of the university as compared with the president.\nThey confirm appointments, regulate expenditures, and theoretically\nconduct all external business for the university, although practically\nthey follow in large part the recommendations of the faculties. The\nteaching body is composed everywhere of professors, assistant\nprofessors, and instructors. All these receive a fixed stipend. There\nare no such things as private tuition fees, and unsalaried teachers,\nlike the German Privatdocenten, are virtually unknown. The instruction\nconsists, in general, of courses lasting through a year and not a\nsemester. The academic year begins, in most cases, at the end of\nSeptember and closes at the end of June.\n\nDuring his four years\u2019 college course the student prefers to remain true\nto some one college. If this is a small institution, he is very apt, on\nbeing graduated, to attend some higher institution. Even the students in\nprofessional schools generally come back year after year to the same\nschool till they finish their studies. It is only in the graduate\nschool\u2014that is, the German philosophical faculty\u2014that migration after\nthe German manner has come in fashion; here, in fact, the student\nfrequently studies one year here and one year there, in order to hear\nthe best specialists in his science. Except in the state institutions of\nthe West, the student pays a round sum for the year; in the larger\ninstitutions from one hundred to one hundred and fifty dollars. In the\nsmaller colleges the four years\u2019 course of study is almost wholly\nprescribed, and only in the final year is there a certain freedom of\nchoice. The higher the college stands in the matter of scholarship, so\nmuch the more its lecture programme approaches that of a university; and\nin the foremost colleges the student is from the very beginning almost\nentirely free in his selection of studies.\n\nA freedom in electing between study and laziness is less known. The\nstudent may elect his own lectures; he must, however, attend at least a\ncertain number of these, and must generally show in a semi-annual\nexamination that he has spent his time to some purpose. The examinations\nat the end of the special courses are in the college substituted for a\nfinal examination. Any man receives a degree who has passed the written\nexaminations in a certain number of courses. The examinations concern\nnot only what has actually been said in the lectures, but at the same\ntime try to bring out how much the student has learned outside in the\nway of reading text-books and searching into literature. Originally the\nstudents roomed in college buildings, but with the growth of these\ninstitutions this factor of college life has declined. In the larger\nuniversities the student is, in matters of his daily life, as free as\nthe German; but dwelling in college dormitories still remains the most\npopular mode of living, since it lends a social attraction to academic\nlife.\n\nTo go over from this general plan to a more concrete presentation, we\nmay perhaps sketch briefly a picture of Harvard College, the oldest and\nlargest academy in the country. The colony of Massachusetts established\nin 1636 a little college in the vicinity of the newly founded city of\nBoston. The place was called Cambridge in commemoration of the English\ncollege in which some of the colonists had received their education.\nWhen in 1638 a young English minister, John Harvard, left this little\nacademy half his fortune, it was decided to name the college for its\nfirst benefactor. The state had given \u00a3400, John Harvard about \u00a3800. The\nschool building was one little structure, the number of students was\nvery small, and there were a few clergymen for teachers. On the same\nspot to-day stands Harvard University, like a little city within a city,\nwith fifty ample buildings, with 550 members of the teaching staff, over\nfive thousand students, with a regular annual budget of a million and a\nhalf dollars, and in the enjoyment of bequests which add year by year\nmillions to its regular endowments.\n\nThis growth has been constant, outwardly and inwardly; and it has grown\nin power and in freedom in a way that well befits the spirit of American\ninstitutions. Since the colonial r\u00e9gime of the seventeenth century gave\nto the new institution a deliberative body of seven men\u2014the so-called\nCorporation\u2014this body has perpetuated itself without interruption down\nto the present time by its own vote, and without changing any principle\nof its constitution has developed the home of Puritanism into the\ntheatre of the freest investigation, and the school into a great\nuniversity of the world.\n\nNow, as then, there stands at the head this body of seven members, each\nof whom is elected for life. To belong to this is esteemed a high\nhonour. Beside these, there is the board of overseers of thirty members,\nelected by the graduates from among their own number. Five men are\nelected every June to hold office for six years in this advisory\ncouncil. Every Harvard man, five years after he has received his degree\nof bachelor, has the right to vote. Every appointment and all policies\nof the university must be confirmed by this board of overseers. Only the\nbest sons of the alma mater are elected to this body. Thus the\nuniversity administration has an upper and lower house, and it is clear\nthat with such closely knit internal organization the destiny of the\nuniversity is better guarded than it would be if appointments and\nexpenditures were dependent on the caprice and political intrigues of\nthe party politicians in the state legislature. Just on this account\nHarvard has declined, for almost a hundred years, all aid from the\nstate; although this was once customary. On the other hand, it would be\na mistake to suppose that, say in contrast with Germany, this\nself-government of the university implies any greater administrative\nrights for the professors. The German professors have much more\nadministrative influence than their colleagues in America. If, indeed,\nthe advice of the professors in matters of new appointments or\npromotions is important, nevertheless the administrative bodies are in\nno wise officially bound to follow the recommendations of the faculty.\n\nThe president of the university is Charles W. Eliot, the most\ndistinguished and influential personality in the whole intellectual life\nof America. Eliot comes from an old Puritan family of New England. He\nwas a professor of chemistry in his thirty-fifth year; and his essays on\nmethods of instruction, together with his talents for organization, had\nawakened considerable attention, when the overseers, in spite of lively\nprotestations from various sides, were prompted by keen insight in the\nyear 1869 to call him to this high office. It would be an exaggeration\nto say that the tremendous growth of Harvard in the last three decades\nis wholly the work of Eliot; for this development is, first of all, the\nresult of that remarkable progress which the intellectual life of the\nwhole land has undergone. But the fact that Harvard during all this time\nhas kept in the very front rank among all academic institutions is\ncertainly due to the efforts of President Eliot; and once again, if the\nprogress at Harvard has resulted in part from the scientific awakening\nof the whole country, this national movement was itself in no small\nmeasure the work of the same man. His influence has extended out beyond\nthe boundaries of New England and far beyond all university circles, and\nhas made itself felt in the whole educational life of the country. He\nwas never a man after the taste of the masses; his quiet and\ndistinguished reserve are too cool and deliberate. And if to-day, on\ngreat occasions, he is generally the most important speaker, this is\nreally a triumph for clear and solid thought over the mere tricks of\nblatancy and rhetoric. Throughout the country he is known as the\nincomparable master of short and pregnant English.\n\nHis life work has contained nothing of the spasmodic; nor have his\nreforms been in any case sudden ones. To whatever has been necessary he\nhas consecrated his patient energy, going fearlessly toward the goal\nwhich he recognized as right, and moving slowly and surely forward. Year\nby year he has exerted an influence on the immediate circles of his\ncommunity, and so indirectly on the whole land, to bring up the\nconditions for entrance into college and professional schools until at\nthe present time all the special faculties of Harvard demand as an\nentrance requirement a complete college course. He has made Harvard\nCollege over into a modern academy, in which every student is entirely\nfree to select the course of studies which he desires, and has\nintroduced through the entire university and for all time, the spirit of\nimpartial investigation. Even the theological faculty has grown under\nhis influence from a sectarian institution of the Unitarian Church into\na non-sectarian Christian institution in which future preachers of every\nsect are able to obtain their preliminary training. And this\nindefatigable innovator is to-day, as he now has completed his\nseventieth year, pressing forward with youthful energies to new goals.\nJust as he has introduced into the college the opportunity of perfectly\nfree specialization, so now he clearly sees that if a college education\nis necessary for every future student in the special departments of the\nuniversity, that the college course must be shortened from four to three\nyears, or in other words, must be compressed. There is much opposition\nto this idea. All traditions and very many apparently weighty arguments\nseem to speak against it. Nevertheless, any student of average\nintelligence and energy can now get the Harvard A. B. in three years;\nbefore long this will be the rule, and in a short time the entire\ncountry will have followed in the steps of this reform.\n\nIt is true that Eliot\u2019s distinguished position has contributed very much\nto his outward success\u2014that position which he has filled for thirty-five\nyears, and which in itself guarantees a peculiar influence on academic\nlife. But the decisive thing has been his personality. He is\nenthusiastic and yet conservative, bold and yet patient, always glad to\nconsider the objections of the youngest teacher; he is religious, and\nnevertheless a confident exponent of modern science. First of all, he is\nthrough and through an aristocrat: his interest is in the single,\ngifted, and solid personality rather than in the masses; and his\nconception of the inequality of man is the prime motive of his whole\nendeavour. But at the same time he is the best of democrats, for he lays\nthe greatest stress on making it possible for the earnest spirit to\npress on and emerge from the lowest classes of the people. Harvard has\nset its roots as never before through the whole country, and thereby has\ndrawn on the intellectual and moral energies of the entire nation.\n\nUnder the president come the faculties, of which each one is presided\nover by a dean. The largest faculty is the faculty of arts and sciences,\nwhose members lecture both for the college and for the Graduate School.\nThere is really no sharp distinction, and the announcement of lectures\nsays merely that certain elementary courses are designed for younger\nstudents in the college, and that certain others are only for advanced\nstudents. Moreover, the seminaries and laboratory courses for scientific\nresearch are open only to students of the Graduate School. The rest is\ncommon ground.\n\nAs always happens, the faculty includes very unlike material, a number\nof the most distinguished investigators, along with others who are first\nof all teachers. In general, the older generation of men belongs to that\ntime in which the ability to teach was thought more important than pure\nscholarship. On the other hand, the middle generation is much devoted to\nproductive investigations. The youngest generation of instructors is\nsomewhat divided. A part holds the ideal of creative research, another\npart is in a sort of reactionary mood against the modern high estimation\nof specialized work; and has rather a tendency once more to emphasize\nthe idealistic side of academic activity\u2014the beauty of form and the\ncultivating value of belles-lettres as opposed to the dry details of\nscholarship. This last is generally accounted the peculiar work of\nGerman influence, and in opposition to this there is a demand for Gallic\npolish and that scientific connoisseurship of the English gentleman.\nSince, however, these men are thinking not of the main fact, but rather\nof certain insignificant excrescences of German work, and since after\nall nothing but the real work of investigation can lead to new\nachievements which justify in a real university any advancement to\nhigher academic positions, there is no ground for fearing that this\nreactionary mood will exert any particularly harmful influence on more\nserious circles of workers. Such a movement may be even welcomed as a\nwarning against a possible ossification of science. Particularly the\ncollege would be untrue to its ideals, if it were to forget the\nhumanities in favour of scientific matters of fact.\n\nThe lectures naturally follow the principle of thorough-going\nspecialization, and one who reads the Annual Report will probably be\nsurprised to discover how many students take up Assyrian or Icelandic,\nOld Bulgarian, or Middle Irish. The same specialization is carried into\nthe seminaries for the advanced students; thus, for instance, in the\ndepartment of philosophy, there are special seminaries for ethics,\npsychology, metaphysics, logic, sociology, pedagogy, Greek, and modern\nphilosophy. The theological faculty is the smallest. In spite of an\nadmirable teaching staff there remains something still to do before the\nspirit of science is brought into perfect harmony with the strongly\nsectarian character of the American churches. On the other hand, the\nfaculty of law is recognized as the most distinguished in the\nEnglish-speaking world. The difference between the Anglo-American law\nand the Romano-German has brought it about that the entire arrangement\nand method of study here are thoroughly different from the German. From\nthe very beginning law is taught by the study of actual decisions; the\nintroduction of this \u201ccase system,\u201d in opposition to the usual text-book\nsystem, was the most decisive advance of all and fixed the reputation of\nthe law faculty. And this system has been gradually introduced into\nother leading schools of law. The legal course lasts three years, and\neach year has its prescribed courses of lectures. In the first year, for\ninstance, students take up contracts, the penal code, property rights,\nand civil processes. Perhaps the departure from the German method of\nteaching law is most characteristically shown by the fact that the law\nstudents are from the very first day the most industrious students of\nall. These young men have passed through their rather easy college days,\nand when now they leave those early years of study in the elm-shaded\ncollege yard and withdraw to Austin Hall, the law building of the\nuniversity, they feel that at last they are beginning their serious\nlife-work. In the upper story of Austin Hall there is a large\nreading-room for the students, with a legal reference library of over\nsixty thousand volumes. This hall is filled with students, even late at\nnight, who are quite as busy as if they were young barristers\nindustriously working away on their beginning practice.\n\nThe German method is much more followed in the four-year medical course\nof studies, and still there are here striking differences. The medical\nfaculty of Harvard, which is located in Boston on account of the larger\nhospitals to be found in the city, is at this moment in the midst of\nmoving. Already work has been commenced on a new medical quadrangle with\nthe most modern and sumptuous edifices. In somewhat the same way, the\ncourse of studies is rather under process of reformation. It is in the\nstage of experimentation, and of course it is true throughout the world\nthat the astonishing advance of medicine has created new problems for\nthe universities. It seems impossible now for a student to master the\nwhole province, since his study time is of course limited. The latest\nattempt at reform is along the line of the greatest possible\nconcentration. The student is expected for several months morning and\nnight to study only anatomy, to hear anatomical lectures, to dissect and\nto use the microscope; and then again for several months he devotes\nhimself entirely to physiology, and so on. Much is hoped, secondly, from\nthe intuitive method of instruction. While in Germany the teaching of\nphysiology is chiefly by means of lectures and demonstrations, every\nHarvard student has in addition during the period of physiological study\nto work one hundred and eighty hours on prescribed experiments, so that\ntwo hours of experimentation follow every one-hour lecture. In certain\nlines of practical instruction, especially in pathological anatomy, the\nAmerican is at a disadvantage compared with the German, since the supply\nof material for autopsy is limited. Popular democratic sentiment is very\nstrong against the idea that a man who dies in a public poor-house must\nfall a prey to the dissecting knife. The clinical demonstrations are not\ngiven in special university clinics, but rather in the large municipal\nhospitals, where all the chief physicians are pledged to give practical\ninstruction in the form of demonstrations. In the third place, there is\nan increasing tendency to give to the study of medicine a certain\nmobility; in other words, to allow a rather early specialization. As to\nthe substance itself which is taught, Harvard\u2019s medical school is very\nmuch like a German university, and becomes daily more similar. In the\nAmerican as in the German university, the microscope and the retort have\ntaken precedence over the medicine chest.\n\nHarvard has about five thousand students. Any boy who wishes to enter\nmust pass, at the beginning of the summer, a six-day written\nexamination; and these examinations are conducted in about forty\ndifferent places of the country under the supervision of officers of the\nuniversity. Any one coming from other universities is carefully graded\naccording to the standard of scholarship of his particular institution.\nThe amount of study required is not easily determined. Unlike the German\nplan, every course of lectures is concluded at the end of the year with\na three-hour examination, and only the man who passes the examination\nhas the course in question put to his credit. Whoever during the four,\nor perhaps three, college years has taken eighteen three-hour lecture\ncourses extending through the year receives the bachelor\u2019s degree. In\npractice, indeed, the matter becomes enormously complicated, yet\nextensive administrative machinery regulates every case with due\njustice. In the legal and medical faculties, everything is dependent on\nthe final examinations of the year. In the philosophical two, or more\noften three, years of study after the bachelor\u2019s degree lead to the\ndoctorate of philosophy.\n\nThe graduate student always works industriously through the year, but\nthe college student may be one of various types. Part of these men work\nno less industriously than the advanced students; while another part,\nand by no means the worst, would not for anything be guilty of such\nmisbehaviour. These men are not in Harvard to learn facts, but they have\ncome to college for a certain atmosphere\u2014in order to assimilate by\nreflection, as they say. Of course, the lectures of enthusiastic\nprofessors and a good book or two belong to this atmosphere; and yet,\nwho can say that the hours spent at the club, on the foot-ball field, at\nthe theatre, in the Boston hotel, on the river or on horseback do not\ncontribute quite as much\u2014not to mention the informal discussions about\nGod and the world, especially the literary and athletic worlds, as they\nsit together at their window seats on the crimson cushions and smoke\ntheir cigarettes? Harvard has the reputation through the country of\nbeing the rich man\u2019s university, and it is true that many live here in a\ndegree of luxury of which few German students would ever think. And yet\nthere are as many who go through college on the most modest means, who\nperhaps earn their own livelihood or receive financial aid from the\ncollege. A systematic evasion of lectures or excessive drinking or\ncard-playing plays no role at all. The distinctly youthful exuberance of\nthe students is discharged most especially in the field of sport, which\ngets an incomparable influence on the students\u2019 minds by means of the\nfriendly rivalry between different colleges. The foot-ball game between\nHarvard and Yale in November, or the base-ball game in June, or the New\nLondon races, are national events, for which special trains transport\nthousands of visitors. Next to the historical traditions it is indeed\nsport, which holds the body of Harvard students most firmly together,\nand those who belong to the same class most firmly of all\u2014that is, those\nwho are to receive their A. B. in the same year. Year after year the\nHarvard graduates come back to Boston in order to see their old\nclass-mates again. They know that to be a Harvard man means for their\nwhole life to be the body-guard of the nation. They will stand for\nHarvard, their sons will go to Harvard, and to Harvard they will\ncontribute with generous hands out of their material prosperity.\n\nHarvard reflects all the interests of the nation, and all its social\ncontrasts. It has its political, religious, literary and musical clubs,\nits scientific and social organizations, its daily paper for the\ndiscussion of Harvard\u2019s interests, edited by students, and three monthly\nmagazines; it has its public and serious parliamentary debates, and most\npopular of all, operatic performances in the burlesque vein given by\nstudents. Thousands of most diverse personalities work out their life\nproblems in this little city of lecture halls, laboratories, museums,\nlibraries, banquet halls, and club buildings, which are scattered about\nthe ancient elm-shaded yard. Each student has come, in the ardour and\nambition of youth, to these halls where so many intellectual leaders\nhave taught and so many great men of the outside world have spent their\nstudent years; and each one goes away once more into the world a better\nand stronger man.\n\nOne thing that a European visitor particularly expects to find in the\nlecture room of an American university is not found in Harvard. There\nare no women students in the school. Women graduates who are well\nadvanced are admitted to the seminaries and to scientific research in\nthe laboratories, but they are excluded from the college; and the same\nis true of Yale, Columbia, Princeton, and Johns Hopkins. Of course,\nHarvard has no prejudice against the higher education of women; but\nHarvard is itself an institution for men. In an indirect way, the\nteaching staff of Harvard University is utilized for the benefit of\nwomen, since only a stone\u2019s throw from the Harvard College gate is\nRadcliffe College, which is for women, and in which only Harvard\ninstructors give lectures.\n\nThis picture of the largest university will stand as typical for the\nothers, although of course each one of the great academies has its own\npeculiarities. While Harvard seeks to unite humanitarian and specialized\nwork, Johns Hopkins aims to give only the latter, while Yale and\nPrinceton aim more particularly at the former. Johns Hopkins in\nBaltimore is a workshop of productive investigation, and in the province\nof natural sciences and medicine Johns Hopkins has been a brilliant\nexample to the whole country. Yale University, in New Haven, stands\nfirst of all for culture and personal development, although many a\nshining name in scholarship is graven on the tablets of Yale. Columbia\nUniversity, in New York, gets its peculiar character from that great\ncity which is its background; and this to a much greater extent than the\nUniversity of Chicago, which has created its own environment and\natmosphere on the farthest outskirts of that great city. Chicago, and\nCornell University at Ithaca, the University of Pennsylvania, Ann Arbor\nin Michigan, Berkeley and Stanford in California are the principal\ninstitutions which admit women, and therein are outwardly distinguished\nfrom the large institutions of the East.\n\nThe male students from the West have somewhat less polish, but are\ncertainly not less industrious. The Western students come generally out\nof more modest conditions, and are therefore less indifferent with\nregard to their own future. The student from Ann Arbor, Minnesota, or\nNebraska would compare with the student at Yale or Princeton about as a\nstudent at K\u00f6nigsberg or Breslau would compare with one at Heidelberg or\nBonn. Along with that he comes from a lower level of public school\neducation. The Western institutions are forced to content themselves\nwith less exacting conditions for entrance, and the South has at the\npresent time no academies at all which are to be compared seriously with\nthe great universities of the country.\n\nNext to Harvard the oldest university is Yale, which a short time ago\ncelebrated its two-hundredth anniversary. After Yale comes Princeton,\nwhose foundation took place in the middle of the eighteenth century.\nYale was founded as a protest against the liberal tendencies of Harvard.\nPuritan orthodoxy had been rather overridden at Harvard, and so created\nfor itself a more secure fortress in the colony of Connecticut. In this\nthe mass of the population was strictly in sympathy with the church; the\nfree spirit of Harvard was too advanced for the people, and remained so\nin a certain way for nearly two centuries. Therein has lain the strength\nof Yale. Until a short time ago Yale had the more popular place in the\nnation; it was the democratic rallying-ground in contrast with Harvard,\nwhich was too haughtily aristocratic. Yale was the religious and the\nconservative stronghold as contrasted with the free thought and progress\nof Harvard. For some time it seemed as if the opposition of Yale against\nthe modern spirit would really prejudice its higher interests, and it\nslowly fell somewhat from its great historic position. But recently,\nunder its young, widely known president, Hadley, the political\neconomist, it has been making energetic and very successful endeavours\nto recover its lost position.\n\nThe history of Columbia University, in New York, began as early as 1754.\nAt that time it was King\u2019s College, which after the War for Independence\nwas rechristened Columbia College. But the real greatness of Columbia\nbegan only in the last few decades, with a development which is\nunparalleled. Under its president, Seth Low, the famous medical, legal,\nand political economical faculties were brought into closer relations\nwith the college, the Graduate School was organized, Teachers\u2019 College\nwas developed, the general entrance conditions were brought up, and on\nMorningside Heights a magnificent new university quadrangle was erected.\nWhen Seth Low left the university, after ten years of irreproachable and\nmasterly administration, in order to become Mayor of New York in the\nservice of the Reform party, he was succeeded in the presidency by\nButler, a young man who since his earliest years had shown extraordinary\ntalents for administration, and who for many years as editor of the best\npedagogical magazine had become thoroughly familiar with the needs of\nacademic instruction. Columbia is favoured by every circumstance. If\nsigns are not deceptive, Columbia will soon stand nearest to Harvard at\nthe head of American universities. While Harvard and Yale, Princeton,\nPennsylvania, and Columbia are the most successful creations of the\nColonial days, Johns Hopkins and Chicago, Cornell and Leland Stanford\nare the chief representatives of those institutions which have recently\nbeen founded by private munificence. The state universities of\nWisconsin, Michigan, Nebraska, Kansas, Minnesota, Missouri, and\nCalifornia may be mentioned, finally, as the most notable state\nuniversities.\n\nJohns Hopkins was an able railroad president, who died after a long\nlife, in 1873, and bequeathed seven million dollars for a university and\nacademy to be founded in his native city of Baltimore. The\nadministrative council elected Gilman as its president, and it is\nGilman\u2019s memorable service to have accomplished that of which America\nwas most in need in that moment of transition\u2014an academy which should\nconcentrate its entire strength on the furtherance of serious scientific\ninvestigation quite without concessions to the English college idea,\nwithout any attempt to reach a great circle of students, or without any\neffort to annex a legal or theological faculty. Its sole aim was to\nattract really eminent specialists as teachers in its philosophical\nfaculties, to equip laboratories and seminaries in the most approved\nmanner, to fill these with advanced students, and to inspire these\nstudents with a zeal for scientific productiveness. This experiment has\nsucceeded remarkably. It is clear to-day that the further development of\nthe American university will not consist in developing the special\nprofessional school, but will rather combine the ideals of the college\nwith the ideals of original research. But at that time when the new\nspirit which had been imported from Germany began to ferment, it was of\nthe first importance that some such institution should avowedly, without\nbeing hampered by any traditions, take up the cause of that method which\nseeks to initiate the future school-teacher into the secrets of the\nlaboratory. Since Gilman retired, a short time ago, the famous chemist,\nIra Remsen, has taken his place. A brilliant professor of Johns Hopkins,\nStanley Hall, has undertaken a similar experiment on a much more modest\nscale, in the city of Worcester, with the millions which were given by\nthe philanthropist Clark. His Clark University has remained something of\na torso, but has likewise succeeded in advancing the impulse for\nproductive science in many directions, especially in psychology and\neducation.\n\nIn the year 1868, Cornell University was founded in the town of Ithaca,\nfrom the gifts of Ezra Cornell; and this university had almost exactly\nopposite aims. It has aimed to create a university for the people, where\nevery man could find what he needed for his own education; it has become\na stronghold for the utilitarian spirit. The truly American spirit of\nrestless initiative has perhaps nowhere in the academic world found more\ncharacteristic expression than in this energetic dwelling-place of\nscience. The first president was the eminent historian, Andrew D. White,\nwho was appointed later to his happy mission as Ambassador to Berlin. At\nthe present day the philosopher Shurman stands at the helm, whose\nefforts in colonial politics are widely known. Senator Stanford, of\nCalifornia, aimed to accomplish for the extreme West the same thing that\nCornell had done for the East, when in memory of his deceased son he\napplied his entire property to the foundation of an academy in the\nvicinity of San Francisco. Leland Stanford is, so far as its financial\nendowment goes, probably the richest university in the country. As far\nas its internal efficiency has gone, the thirty million dollars have not\nmeant so much, since the West has to depend on its own students and it\nhas to take them as it finds them. In spite of this, the university\naccomplishes an excellent work in many directions under the leadership\nof the zo\u00f6logist Jordan, its possibly too energetic president. While its\nrival, the State University of California, near the Golden Gate of San\nFrancisco, is perhaps the most superbly situated university in the\nworld, Leland Stanford can lay claim to being the more picturesque. It\nis a dream in stone conjured up under the Californian palms. Finally,\nquite different, more strenuous than all others, some say more\nChicagoan, is the University of Chicago, to which the petroleum prince,\nRockefeller, has deflected some twelve million dollars. The University\nof Chicago has everything and offers everything. It pays the highest\nsalaries, it is open the whole year through, it has accommodations for\nwomen, and welcomes summer guests who come to stay only a couple of\nmonths. It has the richest programme of collateral lectures, of\nuniversity publications and of its own periodicals, has an organic\nalliance with no end of smaller colleges in the country, has\nobservatories on the hill-tops and laboratories by the sea; and,\nwhatever it lacks to-day, it is bound to have to-morrow. It is almost\nuncanny how busily and energetically this university has developed\nitself in a few years under the distinguished and brilliant presidential\npolicy of Harper. One must admire the great work. It is possible that\nthis place is still not equal to the older Eastern universities as the\nhome of quiet maturity and reflection; but for hard, scholarly work it\nhas few rivals in the world.\n\nJohns Hopkins and Cornell, Stanford and Chicago, have been carefully\ndesigned and built according to one consistent plan, while the state\nuniversities have developed slowly out of small colleges more like the\nold institutions of Colonial days. Their history is for the most part\nuneventful; it is a steady and toilsome working to the top, which has\nbeen limited not so much by the finances of the states, but rather by\nthe conditions of the schools in the regions about them. The largest\nstate university is that of Michigan, at Ann Arbor, not far from\nDetroit. In number of students it is next to Harvard. One of its\nspecialties is a hom\u0153opathic medical faculty in addition to the\nallopathic.\n\nIt would be a great mistake to suppose that, with the blossoming out of\nthe large and middle-sized universities, all of which have colleges as\none of their departments, the small colleges have ceased to play their\npart. Quite on the contrary; in a certain sense the small college\nsituated in rural seclusion has found a new task to work out in contrast\nto the great universities. It is only in the small college that the\nyoung student is able to come into personal contact with the professor,\nand only there can his special individuality be taken into account by\nhis alma mater. One scheme does not fit all the students, and not only\nin those regions where the homely college represents the highest\nattainable instruction of its kind, but also in many districts of the\nmaturest culture, the college is for many youths the most favourable\nplace for development. Thus the New England States would feel a great\nloss to the cause of culture if such old colleges as Williams, Brown,\nAmherst, and Dartmouth should simply deliver over its students to\nHarvard.\n\nThese smaller colleges fulfil a special mission, therefore, and they do\ntheir best when they do not try to seem more than they really are. There\nwas the danger that the colleges would think themselves improved by\nintroducing some fragments of research work into their curriculum, and\nso spoiling a good humanitarian college by offering a bad imitation of a\nuniversity. Of course, there can be no talk of a sharp separation\nbetween college and university, for the reasons which we have emphasized\nmany times before. It is necessary, as we have seen, that there should\nbe a long continuous scale from the smallest college up to the largest\nuniversity. It is true that many of the small institutions are entirely\nsuperfluous, and not capable of any great development, and so from year\nto year some are bound to disappear or to be absorbed by others. Many\nare really business enterprises, and many more are sectarian\ninstitutions. But in general there exists among these institutions a\nhealthy struggle for existence which prospers the strongest of them and\nmakes them do their best. The right of existence of many of the small\nand isolated professional schools is much more questionable. Almost all\nthe best medical, legal, and theological schools of this order have\nalready been assimilated to this or that college, and the growing\ntogether of the academies which started separately and from small\nbeginnings into organic universities is in conformity with the\ncentralizing tendency everywhere in progress in our time.\n\nMany of the smaller colleges are, like all the state institutions, open\nto both sexes. Besides these, however, there thrive certain colleges\nwhich are exclusively for women. The best known of these are Bryn Mawr,\nVassar, Wellesley, Smith, Radcliffe, and Barnard. Barnard College, in\nNew York, stands in the same relation to Columbia University as\nRadcliffe College does to Harvard. Every one of these leading women\u2019s\ncolleges has its own physiognomy, and appeals rather to its special type\nof young woman. Vassar, Wellesley, Smith, and Bryn Mawr lie in quiet,\nretired little towns or villages: and the four years of college life\nspent together by something like a thousand blooming, happy young women\nbetween the years of eighteen and twenty-two, in college halls which are\nsurrounded by attractive parks, are four years of extraordinary charm.\nOnly Bryn Mawr and Radcliffe lay any special stress on the advanced\ncritical work of the graduates. In Smith, Vassar, and Wellesley it is\nmostly a matter of assimilation, and the standard of scholarship is not\nmuch higher than that of the German Arbiturientenexamen, together with\npossibly one or two semesters of the philosophical faculty. In\nWellesley, women are almost the only teachers; while in Bryn Mawr almost\nall are men, and in Smith the teachers are both men and women.\n\nIn statistical language, the following conditions are found to hold. If\nfor the moment we put college and graduate schools together as the\n\u201cphilosophical faculty,\u201d there studied in the year 1900 in the\nphilosophical faculties, 1,308 students for every million inhabitants;\nin the legal faculties 166, in the medical 333, and in the theological\nfaculties 106. Ten years previously the corresponding figures were 877,\n72, 266, 112, respectively, and twenty-five years ago they were 744, 61,\n196, and 120, respectively. Thus the increase in the last ten years has\nbeen a remarkable one; theology alone shows some diminution in its\nnumbers. If we consider now the philosophical faculties more closely, we\ndiscover the surprising fact that in the last decade the male students\nhave increased 61 per cent., while the female have increased 149 per\ncent. The degrees conferred in the year 1900 were as follows: college\ndegrees of bachelor of arts\u2014to men 5,129, to women 2,140. The degree of\nbachelor of science, which is somewhat lower in its standard, and\nrequires no classical preparation, was given to 2,473 men and 591 women.\nThe degree of doctor of philosophy to 322 men and 20 women. The private\nendowment of all colleges together amounts to 360 million dollars, of\nwhich 160 million consist in income-bearing securities. The annual\nincome amounted to 28 millions, not counting donations of that year, of\nwhich 11 millions came from the fees of students, about 7 millions were\nthe interest on endowments, and 7.5 millions were contributed by the\ngovernment. Thus the student pays about 39 per cent. of what his tuition\ncosts. The larger donations for the year amounted to about 12 millions\nmore. The number of colleges for men or for both sexes was 480, for\nwomen alone 141. This figure says very little; since, in the case of\nmany women\u2019s institutions, the name college is more monstrously abused\nthan in any other, and in the West and South is assumed by every upstart\ngirls\u2019 school. There are only 13 women\u2019s colleges which come up to a\nhigh standard, and it may at once be added that the number of\npolytechnic and agricultural schools whose conditions for entrance\ncorrespond on the average to those of the colleges amounts to 43. Also\nthese stand on many different levels, and at the head of them all is the\nMassachusetts Institute of Technology, in Boston, which is now under the\nbrilliant leadership of President Pritchett. Almost all the technical\nschools are state institutions.\n\nThere were, in the year 1900, 151 medical faculties having 25,213\nstudents: all except three provide a four years\u2019 course of study.\nBesides these, there were 7,928 dental students studying in 54 dental\nschools, and 4,042 students of pharmacy in 53 separate institutions.\nThere were 12,516 law students, and 8,009 theological students. Out of\nthe law students 151, and of the theological 181, were women.\n\n\n\n\n                           CHAPTER SEVENTEEN\n                               _Science_\n\n\nOne who surveys, without prejudice, the academic life of the country in\nreference to scientific work will receive a deep impression of the\nenergy and carefulness with which this enormous national machinery of\neducation furthers the higher intellectual life. And the continuous\ngradation of institutions by which the higher academy is able to adapt\nitself to every local need, so that no least remnant of free initiative\ncan be lost and unlimited development is made possible at every point,\nmust be recognized by every one as the best conceivable system for the\ncountry.\n\nIt is not to be denied that it brings with it certain difficulties and\ndisadvantages. The administrative difficulties which proceed from the\napparent incomparability of the institutions are really not serious,\nalthough the foreigner who is accustomed to uniformity in his\nuniversities, Gymnasia, certificates and doctorial diplomas, is inclined\nto overemphasize these difficulties in America. The real disadvantages\nof the system of continuous gradations is found, not in the outer\nadministration, but in its inner methods. The German undergraduate takes\nthe attitude of one who learns; his teacher must be thoroughly well\ninformed, but no one expects a school-teacher himself to advance\nscience. The graduate student, on the other hand, is supposed to take a\ncritical attitude, and therefore his teacher has to be a teacher of\nmethods\u2014that is, he must be a productive investigator. Wherever, as in\nGermany, there lies a sharp distinction between these two provinces, it\nis easy to keep the spirit of investigation pure; but where, as in\nAmerica, one merges into the other, the principles at stake are far too\nlikely to be confused. Men who fundamentally are nothing but able\nschool-teachers are then able to work up and stand beside the best\ninvestigators in the university faculties, because the principle of\npromotion on the ground of scientific production solely cannot be so\nclearly separated from the methods of selection which are adapted to the\nlower grades of instruction. To be sure, this has its advantages in\nother directions; because, in so far as there is no sharp demarcation,\nthe spirit of investigation can also grow from above down, and therefore\nin many a smaller college there will be more productive scientists\nteaching than would be found, perhaps, in a German school; but yet the\ninfluences of the lower on the higher departments of instruction are the\npredominant ones. Investigation thrives best when the young scholar\nknows that his advancement depends ultimately on strictly scientific\nachievements, and not on work of a popular sort, nor on success in the\nteaching of second-hand knowledge. This fact has often been brought home\nto the public mind in recent years, and the leading universities have\nalready more and more recognized the principle of considering scientific\nachievements to be the main ground for preferment.\n\nBut productive scholarship is interfered with in still other ways.\nProfessors are often too much busied with administrative concerns; and\nalthough this sort of administrative influence may be attractive for\nmany professors, its exercise requires much sacrifice of time. More\nparticularly, the professors of most institutions, although there are\nmany exceptions among the leading universities, are overloaded with\nlectures, and herein the graded transition from low to high works\nunfavourably. Especially in Western institutions, the administrative\nbodies do not see why the university professor should not lecture as\nmany hours in the week as a school teacher; and most dangerous of all,\nas we have already mentioned in speaking of popular education, is the\nfact that the scholar is tempted, by high social and financial rewards,\nto give scientifically unproductive popular lectures and to write\npopular essays.\n\nAnd the list of factors which have worked against scientific\nproductiveness can be still further increased. To be sure, it would be\nfalse here to repeat the old tale that the American professor is\nthreatened in his freedom by the whimsical demands of rich patrons, who\nhave founded or handsomely endowed many of the universities. That is\nmerely newspaper gossip; and the three or four cases which have busied\npublic opinion in the last ten years and have been ridiculously\noverestimated, are found, on closer inspection, to have been cases which\ncould have come up as well in any non-partisan institution in the world.\nThere may have been mistakes on both sides; perhaps the university\ncouncils have acted with unnecessary rigour or lack of tact, but it has\nyet to be proved that there has been actual injustice anywhere. Even in\nsmall colleges purely scientific activity never interferes with the\nwelfare of a professor. A blatant disrespect for religion would hurt his\nfurther prospects there, to be sure, just as in the Western state\ninstitutions the committees appointed by the legislature would dislike a\nhostile political attitude. Yet not even in the smallest college has any\nprofessor ever suffered the least prejudice by reason of his scientific\nlabours. Science in America is not hampered by any lack of academic\nfreedom.\n\nOn the other hand, the American university lacks one of the most\nimportant forces of German universities\u2014the Privatdocent, who lives only\nfor science, and without compensation places his teaching abilities in\nthe service of his own scientific development. The young American\nscholar is welcome only where a paid position is vacant; but if he finds\nno empty instructorship in a large university, he is obliged to be\ncontent with a position in a small college, where the entire\nintellectual atmosphere, as regards the studies, apparatus, and amount\nof work exacted, all work against his desire to be scientifically\nproductive, and finally perhaps kill it entirely. The large universities\nare just beginning to institute the system of voluntary docents\u2014which,\nto be sure, encounters administrative difficulties. There is also a\ndangerous tendency toward academic in-breeding. The former students of\nan institution are always noticeably preferred for any vacant position,\nand the claims of capable scholars are often disregarded for the sake of\nquite insignificant men. Scientific productiveness meets further with\nthe material obstacle of the high cost of printing in America, which\nmakes it often more difficult for the young student here than in Germany\nto find a publisher for his works.\n\nAgainst all this there are some external advantages: first, the\nlavishness of the accessories of investigation. The equipment of\nlaboratories, libraries, museums, observatories, special institutes, and\nthe fitting out of expeditions yield their due benefits. Then there are\nvarious sorts of free assistance\u2014fellowships, travelling scholarships,\nand other foundations\u2014which make every year many young scholars free for\nscientific work. There is also the admirable \u201csabbatical year.\u201d The\nlarge universities give every professor leave of absence every seventh\nyear, with the express purpose of allowing him time for his own\nscholarly labours. Another favourable circumstance is the excellent\nhabit of work which every American acquires during his student years;\nand here it is not to be doubted that the American is on the average,\nand in consequence of his system has to be, more industrious than the\nGerman average student. From the beginning of his course, he is credited\nwith only such lecture courses as he has passed examinations on, and\nthese are so arranged as to necessitate not only presence at the\nlectures, but also the study of prescribed treatises; the student is\nobliged to apply himself with considerable diligence. A student who\nshould give himself entirely to idling, as may happen in Germany, would\nnot finish his first college year. If the local foot-ball gossip is no\nmore sensible than the talk at duelling clubs, at least the practice of\ndrinking beer in the morning and playing skat have no evil counterpart\nof comparable importance in America. The American student recreates\nhimself on the athletic field rather than in the ale-house. Germany is\nexceedingly sparing of time and strength during school years, but lets\nboth be wasted in the universities to the great advantage of a strong\npersonality here and there, but to the injury of the average man.\nAmerica wastes a good deal of time during school years, but is more\nsparing during the college and university courses, and there accustoms\neach student to good, hard work.\n\nAnd most of all, the intellectual make-up of the American is especially\nadapted to scientific achievements. This temperament, owing to the\nhistorical development of the nation, has so far addressed itself to\npolitical, industrial, and judicial problems, but a return to\ntheoretical science has set in; and there, most of all, the happy\ncombination of inventiveness, enthusiasm, and persistence in pursuit of\na goal, of intellectual freedom and elasticity, of feeling for form and\nof idealistic instinct for self-perfection will yield, perhaps soon,\nremarkable triumphs.\n\nWe have hitherto spoken only of the furtherance of science by the higher\ninstitutions of learning, but we must look at least hastily on what is\nbeing done outside of academic circles. We see, then, first of all, the\nmagnificent government institutions at Washington which, without doing\nany teaching, are in the sole service of science. The cultivation of the\nsciences by twenty-eight special institutions and an army of 6,000\npersons, conducted at an annual expense of more than $8,000,000, is\ncertainly a unique feature of American government. There is no other\ngovernment in the world which is organized for such a many-sided\nscientific work; and nevertheless, everything which is done there is\nclosely related to the true interests of government\u2014that is, not to the\ninterests of the dominant political party, but to those of the great\nself-governing nation. All the institutes, as different as they are in\ntheir special work, have this in common\u2014that they work on problems which\nrelate to the country, population, products, and the general conditions\nof America, so that they meet first of all the national needs of an\neconomical, social, intellectual, political, and hygienic sort, and only\nin a secondary way contribute to abstract science.\n\nThe work of these government institutes is peculiar, moreover, in that\nthe results are published in many handsomely gotten-up volumes, and sent\nfree of cost to hundreds of thousands of applicants. The institutions\nare devoted partly to science and partly to political economy. Among the\nscientific institutes are the admirable Bureau of Geological Survey,\nwhich has six hundred officials, and undertakes not only geological but\nalso pal\u00e6ontological and hydrographic investigations, and carries on\nmineralogical and lithological laboratories; then the Geodetic Survey,\nwhich studies the coasts, rivers, lakes, and mountains of the country;\nthe Marine Observatory, for taking astronomical observations; the\nWeather Bureau, which conducts more than one hundred and fifty\nmeteorological stations; the Bureau of Biology, which makes a special\nstudy of the geographical distribution of plants and animals; the Bureau\nof Botany, which studies especially all problems connected with seeds;\nthe Bureau of Forestry, which scientifically works on questions of the\nnational timber supply; the important Bureau of Entomology, which has\nstudied with great success the relations of insects to agriculture; the\nBureau of Agriculture, which statistically works out experiments on\nplanting, and which directs government experiment stations situated\nthroughout the country; the Department of Fisheries, which conducts\nstations for marine biology; and many others. Among the political\neconomic institutes in the broad sense of the word are the Bureau of\nLabour, which undertakes purely sociological investigations into labour\nconditions; the Corporation Bureau, which studies the conditions of\norganized business; the Bureau of General Statistics; the Census Bureau,\nwhich every ten years takes a census more complete than that of any\nother country. The Census of 1890 consisted of 39 large folio volumes,\nand the collecting of information alone cost $10,000,000. The Census of\n1900 is still in course of publication. The Bureau of Education also\nbelongs here, which studies purely theoretically the statistics of\neducation. Then there are the Bureau of Immigration and several others.\nAll these bureaus are really designed to impart instruction and advice;\nthey have no authority to enforce any measures. But the extraordinary\npublicity which is given to their printed reports gives them a very\nconsiderable influence; and the thoroughness with which the\ninvestigations are carried on, thanks to the liberal appropriations of\nCongress, makes of these bureaus scientific and economic institutions of\nthe highest order.\n\nWe have still to speak of the most famous of the government bureaus, the\nSmithsonian Institution. In 1836 the government came into the\npossession, by bequest, of the whole property of the Englishman\nSmithson, as a principal with which an institution should be founded\nbearing his name, and serving the advance and dissemination of science.\nIt was never known just why this Oxonian and mineralogist left his large\nproperty to the city of Washington, which then numbered only 5,000\ninhabitants. Although he had never visited America, he wrote to a\nfriend: \u201cThe best blood of England flows in my veins; my father\u2019s family\nis from Northumberland, my mother\u2019s is related to kings. But I desire to\nhave my name remembered when the titles of the Northumberlands and the\nPercys shall have been forgotten.\u201d His instinct guided him aright, and\nthe Smithsonian Institution is to-day an intellectual centre in\nWashington\u2014that city which is the political centre of the New World. It\nshould be mentioned, in passing, that Congress accepted the bequest only\nafter lively opposition; it was objected that to receive the gift of a\nforeigner was beneath the dignity of the government. As a fact, however,\nthe success of the institution is not due so much to this foreign\nendowment as to the able labours of its three presidents: the physicist\nHenry, who served from 1846 to 1878, the zo\u00f6logist Baird from 1878 to\n1887, and the physicist Langley, who has been at the head since 1887.\nAll three have been successful in finding ways by which the institute\ncould serve the growth and dissemination of science.\n\nIt was agreed from the outset not to found a university which would\ncompete with others already existing, but an institute to complement all\nexisting institutions, and to be a sort of centre among them. The great\ninstitution was divided into the following divisions: first, the\nNational Museum, in which the visible results of all the national\nexpeditions and excavations are gathered and arranged. The American idea\nis that a scientific museum should not be a series of articles with\ntheir labels, but rather a series of instructive labels, illustrated by\ntypical specimens. Only in this way, it is thought, does a museum really\nhelp to educate the masses. The collection, which is visited every year\nby more than 300,000 persons, includes 750,000 ethnological and\nanthropological objects; almost 2,000,000 zo\u00f6logical, 400,000 botanical,\nand almost 300,000 pal\u00e6ontological specimens. Then there is the National\nZo\u00f6logical Park, which contains animal species that are dying out; the\nAstrophysical Observatory, in which Langley carries on his famous\nexperiments on the invisible portion of the solar spectrum; the\nEthnological Bureau, which specially studies the Indian; and much else.\nThe department of exchanges of this institute is a unique affair; it\nnegotiates exchanges between scientists, libraries, and other American\ninstitutions, and also between these and European institutions. As\nexternal as this service may seem, it has become indispensable to the\nwork of American science. Moreover, the library of the institution is\namong the most important in the country; and its zo\u00f6logical,\nethnological, physical, and geological publications, which are\ndistributed free to 4,000 libraries, already fill hundreds of volumes.\n\nAny one examining the many-sided and happily circumstanced scientific\nwork of these twenty-eight institutes at Washington will come to feel\nthat the equipment could be used to better advantage if actual teaching\nwere to be undertaken, and that the organization of the institutes into\na national university attracting students from all parts of the country\nwould tend to stimulate their achievements. In fact, the thought of a\nnational university as the crowning point of the educational system of\nthe country has always been entertained in Washington; and those who\nfavour this idea are able to point to George Washington as the one who\nfirst conceived such a plan. In spite of vigorous agitation, this plan\nis still not realized, chiefly because the traditions of the country\nmake education the concern of the separate states, and reserve it for\nsuch institutions as are independent of politics.\n\nIt is a different question, whether the time will not come when the\nnation will desire an institution of a higher sort\u2014one which will not\nrival the other large universities of the country, but will stand above\nthem all and assume new duties. A purely scientific institution might\nexist, admitting students only after they have passed their doctorial\nexamination, and of which the professors should be elected by the vote\nof their colleagues through the country. There is much need of such a\nuniversity; but the time may not be ripe for it now, and it may be a\nmatter of the far future. And yet at the present rate at which science\nis developing in the country, the far future means only ten or fifteen\nyears hence. When the time is ripe, the needed hundreds of millions of\ndollars will be forthcoming.\n\nFor the present, a sort of half-way station to a national university at\nWashington has been reached. This is the Carnegie Institute, whose\nefficiency can so far not be wholly estimated. With a provisional\ncapital of $10,000,000 given by Andrew Carnegie, it is proposed to aid\nscientific investigations throughout the country, and on the\nrecommendation of competent men to advance to young scientists the\nnecessary means for productive investigations. There is, unfortunately,\na danger here that in this way the other universities and foundations of\nthe country may feel relieved of their responsibility, and so relax\ntheir efforts. It may be that people will look to the centre for that\nwhich formerly came from the periphery, and that in this way the general\nindustry will become less intense. Most of all, the Carnegie Institute\nhas, up to this point, lacked broad fruitful ideas and a real programme\nof what it proposes to do. If the institute cannot do better than it has\nso far done, it is to be feared that its arbitrary and unsystematic aid\nwill do, in the long run, more harm than good to the scientific life of\nthe country.\n\nThe same general conditions, on a smaller scale and with many\nvariations, are found outside of Washington in a hundred different\nscientific museums and collections\u2014biological, hygienic, medical,\nhistorical, economic, and experimental institutions; zo\u00f6logical and\nbotanical gardens; astronomical observatories; biological stations,\nwhich are found sometimes under state or city administration, sometimes\nunder private or corporate management. Thus the Marine Laboratory at\nWoods Hole is a meeting-place every summer for the best biologists.\nSometimes important collections can be found in the most unlikely\nplaces\u2014as, for instance, in the historic museum of the city of Salem,\nwhich, although it has gone to sleep to-day, is still proud of its\nhistory. The large cities, however, like New York, Philadelphia, Boston,\nChicago, and Baltimore, have established admirable institutions, on\nwhich scientific work everywhere depends. Then there are the political\ncapitals, such as Albany, with their institutions. That German who is\nmost thoroughly acquainted with conditions of scientific collections,\nProfessor Meyer, the director of the scientific museums at Dresden, has\ngiven his opinion in his admirable work on the museums of the Eastern\nUnited States as follows: \u201cI have received a profound impression of\nAmerican capabilities in this direction, and can even say that the\nmuseums of natural history of that country are generally on a higher\nplane than those of Europe. We have, so far as buildings and\nadministrative machinery go, very few good and many moderate or\ndownright poor museums, while the Americans have many more good and many\nfewer bad ones; and those which are poor are improving at the rapid\nAmerican pace, while with us improvement is hopelessly slow.\u201d\n\nThere is still another important factor in the scientific societies,\nwhose membership, to be sure, is chiefly composed of the personnel of\nthe higher educational institutions, but which nevertheless exert an\nindependent influence on scientific life. The National Academy of\nScience is officially at the head. It was founded in 1863, having a\nhundred members and electing five new members each year. While its\nannual meetings in Washington observe only the ordinary scientific\nprogramme, the society has as a special function the advising of\nCongress and the government on scientific matters. Thus, this academy\ndrew up the plans for organizing the Geological Survey and for\nreplanting the national forests. The political atmosphere of Washington,\nhowever, has not been too favourable to the success of the Academy, and\nit has never attained the national significance of the Paris and London\nacademies.\n\nThe American Historical Association has a similar character; and its\ntransactions are published at the expense of the government. The popular\nassociations, of course, reach much larger circles; thus, for instance,\nthe American Society for the Advancement of Science, which has existed\nfor fifty years, has about the same functions as the German\nNaturforscherversammlung. It brings together at its annual meetings,\nwhich are always held in different places, a thousand or so scientists,\nand holds in different sections a great many lectures. Still more\npopular are the meetings of the similarly organized National Educational\nAssociation, which brings together more than ten thousand members at its\nsummer meetings, which are often held in pleasant and retired spots. In\nthese and similar sessions, scientific work is popularized, while in the\nspecialized societies it is stimulated toward greater profundity. In\nfact, there is no medical, natural-historical, legal, theological,\nhistorical, economic, philological, or philosophical specialty which has\nnot its special national societies with annual congresses. It is\nincreasingly the custom to hold these popular sessions during the summer\nholidays, but the strictly scientific congresses during the first week\nin January. The physicians, by exception, meet at Easter. In order that\nthe business-like separation of subjects may not exclude a certain\ncontact of scientific neighbours, it is increasingly the plan to\norganize groups of congresses; thus, the seven societies of anatomy,\nphysiology, morphology, plant physiology, psychology, anthropology, and\nfolk-lore always meet at the same time in the same city.\n\nBesides these wandering meetings, finally, there are the local\nsocieties. Of these, the veteran is the Academy in Philadelphia. It was\nfounded by Franklin in 1743, and so far as its membership goes, may\nclaim to have a national character. In a similar way the American\nAcademy, founded in 1780, has its home in Boston. Then there are the New\nYork Academy, the Washington Academy, which has recently enlarged so as\nto include members from the whole country, and which ultimately will\nprobably merge into the National Academy; the academies of Baltimore,\nChicago, New Haven, and a hundred smaller associations, which for the\nmost part are not merely interested in spreading scientific information,\nbut in helping on the results of science.\n\nWe cannot hope to call the complete roll here of scientific production.\nOur purpose was merely to relate some of the favourable and unfavourable\ninfluences under which the American has to make his contribution to the\nscience of the day. Merely for a first orientation, we may give some\nmore detailed accounts in a few departments. At first sight, one might\nbe tempted to give a sketch of present-day production by directly\ndepicting the production with reference to the special higher\ninstitutions. Much more than in Germany, the results of scientific\nresearch are brought before the public eye with the official seal of\nsome university. Every large educational institution publishes its own\ncontributions to many different sciences; thus, the University of\nChicago, which perhaps goes furthest in this respect, publishes journals\nof sociology, pedagogy, biblical studies, geology, astronomy, botany,\netc.; and, besides these, regular series of studies in science,\ngovernment, classical philology, Germanic and Romance languages, English\nphilology, anthropology, and physiology. Johns Hopkins University\npublishes mathematical, chemical, and biological magazines; a journal\nfor experimental medicine, one for psychiatry, for modern philology, for\nhistory, and Assyriology. Among the periodical publications of Harvard\nUniversity, the astronomical, zo\u00f6logical, cryptogamic, ethnological,\nOriental, classical philological, modern philological, historical, and\neconomic journals are the best known. Columbia, Pennsylvania, and\nseveral other universities publish equally many journals. There are also\na great many books published under the auspices of institutions of\nlearning, which relate to expeditions or other special matters. Thus,\nfor instance, Yale University, on the occasion of its two-hundredth\nanniversary in 1901, published commemorative scientific papers by its\nprofessors in twenty-five large volumes; the papers themselves ranging\nfrom such subjects as the Hindu epic and Greek metre to thermo-dynamics\nand physiological chemistry.\n\nThe various universities have always been known to have their scientific\nspecialties. That of Johns Hopkins is natural science; of Columbia, the\nscience of government; of Harvard, literature and philosophy. But the\nuniversities are, of course, not confined to their specialties; for\ninstance, Johns Hopkins has done very much in philology, Columbia in\nbiology, and while Harvard has been famous for its literary men, like\nLongfellow, Holmes, Norton and Child, it has also had such distinguished\nmen on its faculty as the zo\u00f6logist Agassiz, the botanist Gray, and the\nastronomer Pickering.\n\nIt may be more natural to classify scientific production according to\nthe separate sciences. The list is too long to be given entire. The\nvenerable subject of philosophy is generally placed first in the\nuniversity catalogues of lectures. This subject shows at once how much\nand how little is being done. A German, to be sure, is apt to have false\nstandards in this matter; for if he thinks of German philosophy, he\nrecalls the names of Kant, Schopenhauer, Fichte, and Hegel; and he asks\nwhat America has produced to compare with these. But we have seen that\nthe work of productive science was commenced in the New World only a few\ndecades ago, and for this reason we must compare the present day in\nAmerica with the present day in Germany; and to be just, we should\ncompare the American scholar only with the younger and middle-aged\nGermans who have developed under the scientific conditions of the last\nthirty years\u2014that is, with men not over sixty years old. Young geniuses\nare not plentiful, even in Germany to-day; and not only are men like\nKant and Hegel lacking in philosophy, but also in other departments of\nscience; men like Ranke and Helmholtz seem not to belong to our day of\nspecialization. A new wave of idealistic and broadly generalizing\nthought is advancing. The time of great thinkers will come again; but a\nyoung country is not to be blamed for the spirit of the times, nor ought\nits present accomplishment to be measured after the standards of happier\ndays. If we make a perfectly fair comparison, we shall find that\nAmerican philosophy is at present up to that of any other country.\n\nExternally, in the first place, America makes a massive showing, even if\nwe leave out of account philosophical literature of the more popular\nsort. While, for example, England has only two really important\nphilosophical magazines, America has at least five which are as good as\nthe English; and if philosophy is taken in the customary wider sense,\nsociological and pedagogical journals must be included, which are\nnowhere surpassed. The emphasis is laid differently in America and\nGermany; and this difference, which may be seen in almost all sciences,\ngenerally, though not always, has deeper grounds than merely personal\nones, and is in every case apt to distort the judgment of a foreigner.\nAmerica, for instance, is astonishingly unproductive in the history of\nphilosophy. Every need seems to be satisfied by translations from the\nGerman or by very perfunctory text-book compilations. On the other hand,\nthe theory of knowledge, ethics, and above all psychology, are very\nprosperous. Disputes in epistemology have always been carried on in\nAmerica, and the Calvinistic theology, more especially, arrived at\nimportant conclusions. At the beginning of the eighteenth century lived\nJonathan Edwards, who was perhaps the greatest metaphysical mind in the\nhistory of America. The transcendental way of thought, which is\nprofoundly planted in the American soul, was nurtured by German\nidealism, and found expression through the genius of Emerson. Then, in\nmore systematic and academic ways, there have been philosophers like\nPorter and McCosh, who stood under Scotch influence and fought against\npositivism; others, like Harris and Everett, who have represented German\ntendencies; while Draper, Fiske, Cope, Leconte, and others have preached\nthe philosophy of science. In the front ranks to-day of philosophers are\nLadd, Dewey, Fullerton, Bowne, Ormond, Howison, Santayana, Palmer,\nStrong, Hibben, Creighton, Lloyd, and most influential of all, Royce,\nwhose latest work, \u201cThe World and the Individual,\u201d is perhaps the most\nsignificant epistemological system of our day.\n\nPsychology is the most favoured of all the philosophical disciplines in\nAmerica at the present time. This is shown outwardly in the growth of\nlaboratories for experimental psychology, which in size and equipment\nfar exceed those of Europe. America has more than forty laboratories.\nForemost in this psychological movement is William James, who is, next\nto Wundt, the most distinguished psychologist living, and whose\nremarkable analysis of conscious phenomena has been set down with a\nfreshness and liveliness, an energy and discrimination, which are highly\ncharacteristic of American intellect. Then there are other well-known\ninvestigators like Stanley Hall, Cattell, Baldwin, Ladd, Sanford,\nTitchener, Angell, Miss Calkins, Scripture, and many others. In\npedagogy, which is now disporting itself in a great display of paper and\nink, the names of Harris, Eliot, Butler, Hall, Da Garmo, and Hanus are\nthe most respected.\n\nJust as theological and metaphysical speculations, ever since the early\nColonial days, have preceded present-day scientific philosophy, so in\nthe science of history systematic investigators were preceded in early\ndays by the Colonial historians, beginning with Bradford and Winthrop. A\npeople which are so restless to make history, so proud of their doings,\nso grateful to their heroes, and which more than any other people base\ntheir law and public policy avowedly on precedent, will necessarily have\nenjoyed the recounting of their own past. America has had a systematic\nhistory, however, only since the thirties, and two periods of work are\ngenerally distinguished; an earlier one, in which historians undertook\nto cover the whole subject of American history, or at least very large\nportions of it, and a later period embracing the last decade, in which\nhistorical interest has been devoted to minuter studies. Bancroft and\nParkman stand for the first movement. George Bancroft began to write his\nhistory in 1830, and worked patiently thereon for half a century. By\n1883 the development of the country, from its discovery up to the\nadoption of the American Constitution, had been completed in a\nthorough-going fashion. Parkman was the greater genius, and one who\nopened an entirely new perspective in American history by his\ninvestigations and fascinating descriptions of the wars between the\nEnglish and the French colonists. The great works of Hildreth and Tucker\nshould also be mentioned here.\n\nThe period of specialized work, of course, covers less ground. The large\nmonographs of Henry Adams, John Fiske, Rhodes, Schouler, McMaster,\nEggleston, Roosevelt, and of Von Holst, if an adoptive son of America\nmay be included, are accounted the best pieces of work. They have\ndescribed American history partly by geographical regions and partly by\nperiods; and they show great diversity of style, as may be seen by\ncomparing the martial tone of Holst and the majestic calmness of Rhodes.\nTo these must be added the biographies, of which the best known form the\nseries of \u201cAmerican Statesmen.\u201d Americans are particularly fond of\nstudying a portion of national history from the life of some especially\nactive personality. Then too, for twenty years, there has been a\nconsiderable and indispensable fabrication of historical research. Large\ngeneral works and reference books, like those of Winsor, Hart, and\nothers; the biographies, archive studies, correspondences, local\nhistories, often published by learned societies; series of monographs,\njournals, the chief of which is the _American Historical Review_\u2014in\nshort, everything necessary to the modern cultivation of historical\nscience are to be found abundantly. The Revolution, the beginnings of\nthe Federation, the Civil War, and Congress are specially favoured\ntopics. It is almost a matter of course that the independent\ninvestigation into European history is very little attempted; although\nvery good things have been done, such as Prescott\u2019s work on Spanish\nhistory, Motley\u2019s Rise of the Dutch Republic; and in recent times, for\ninstance, Taylor has made important studies in English history, Perkins\nin French, Henderson in German, Thayer in Italian, Lea and Emerton in\necclesiastical history, Mahan in the history of naval warfare, and\nsimilarly others.\n\nThis lively interest in philosophy and history is itself enough to\ndisprove the old fable that American science is directed only toward\nmaterial ends. Perhaps, to be sure, some one might say that philosophy\nis practiced to better mankind and history to teach politicians some\npractical lessons, while both statements are in point of fact false. No\nsuch charge, however, can be made against classical philology; and yet\nno one can read the transactions, which constitute many volumes, of the\nfive hundred members of the Philological Association, or read the\nnumbers of the _American journal of Philology_, or the classical studies\npublished by Harvard, Cornell, and Chicago, without feeling distinctly\nthat here is scientific work of the strictest sort, and that the methods\nof investigations are steadily improving. The movement is younger in\nthis department than in the others. To be sure, the classical authors\nhave been well known in America for two centuries; but in no province\nhas the dilettanteism of the English gentleman so thoroughly prevailed.\nIt was not until the young philologians commenced to visit German\nuniversities, and especially G\u00f6ttingen, that a thorough-going philology\nwas introduced. And such a work as the forty-four students of the great\nclassicist, Gildersleeve, published on the occasion of his seventieth\nbirthday, would have been impossible twenty years ago. The greatest\ninterest is devoted to syntactical investigation, in which the\nbest-known works are those of Goodwin, Gildersleeve, and Hale; while\nthere are some works on lexicography and comparative languages, and\nfewer still on textual criticism. Every classical philologian knows the\nnames of Hadley, Beck, Allen, Lane, Warren, Smyth, White, Wheeler,\nShorey, Dressier, and many others.\n\nThere is an unusual interest in Oriental philology, which is slightly\ninfluenced indeed by practical motives. For instance, the great\nreligious interest taken in the Bible\u2014not by scientists, but by the\ngeneral public\u2014has sent out special expeditions and done much to advance\nthe study of cuneiform inscriptions. The Assyrian collections of the\nUniversity of Pennsylvania are accounted, in many respects, the most\ncomplete in existence. Its curator, Hilprecht, is well known, and Lyon,\nHaupt, and others almost as well. Whitney, of Yale, was undoubtedly the\nleader in Sanskrit. Lanman, of Harvard, is his most famous successor,\nand besides him are Jackson, Buck, Bloomfield, and others. Toy is the\ngreat authority on Semitic languages.\n\nIt would lead us too far away if we were to follow philological science\ninto modern languages. As a matter of course, the English language and\nliterature are the most studied; in fact, English philology has had its\nreal home in the New World since the days of Child. Francis James Child,\none of the most winning personalities in the history of American\nscholarship, has contributed much on Chaucer and ancient English dramas;\nand as his great work, has gathered together English and Scottish\nballads into a collection of ten volumes. This work has often been\nesteemed as America\u2019s greatest contribution to philology. Kittredge, who\nhas succeeded Child at Harvard, works on much the same lines. Lounsbury\nis known especially for his brilliant works on Chaucer; Manley has also\nstudied Chaucer and the pre-Shakesperian drama; Gummere the early\nballads, while Wendell and Furness are the great Shakesperian scholars.\nThe Arthurian legends have been especially studied by Schofield, Mead,\nBruce, and others; the Anglo-Saxon language by Bright, Cook, Brown, and\nCallaway. Lowell was the first great critic of literature, and he has\nbeen followed by Gates and many others. The belles-lettres themselves\nhave given rise to a large historical and critical literature, such as\nthe admirable general works of Steadman, Richardson, and Tyler, and the\nmonographs by Woodberry, Cabot, Norton, Warner, and Higginson. The very\nbest work, however, on American literature, in spite of all aspersions\ncast on the extreme aristocrat, is Barrett Wendell\u2019s \u201cLiterary History\nof America.\u201d We might mention a long list of works on Romance and\nGermanic languages and literature. At least emphasis must be laid on\none, Kuno Francke\u2019s extraordinary book on \u201cSocial Influences in German\nLiterature,\u201d the work of the most gifted herald of German culture in\nAmerica. We may also mention the works of Thomas and Hempl in Germanic,\nand Todd, Elliot, and Cohn in romance languages.\n\nPolitical economy is the favourite study of the American, since the\nhistory of this country has been determined by economic factors more\ndirectly than that of any other nation, and since all the different\neconomic periods have been lived through in the still surveyable past.\nIn a sense, the country looks like a tremendous experimental laboratory\nof political economy. The country is so unevenly developed that the most\ndiverse economic stages are to be found in regions which are\ngeographically near each other, and everything goes on, as it were,\nunder the scientific magnifying glass of the statistical student.\nRemarkably enough, the actual history of economics has been rather\nneglected in American studies, in spite of many beginnings made in\nGermany on the history of American economics. The chief attention of the\nnation has been given rather to the systematic analysis and deductive\ninvestigation of special conditions. In political economy there are, of\ncourse, first the well-known agitators like Henry Carey, the great\nprotectionist of the first half of the century; Henry George, the\nsingle-tax theorist, whose book, \u201cProgress and Poverty,\u201d found in 1879\nextraordinary circulation; and Bellamy, whose \u201cUtopia\u201d was in much the\nsame style: and the political tracts on economic subjects are far too\nnumerous to think of mentioning. The really scientific works form\nanother group. At first we find the pioneer efforts of the seventies and\neighties\u2014Wells\u2019s work on tariff and commerce, Charles Francis Adams\u2019s\nwork on railways, Sumner\u2019s on the history of American finance,\nAtkinson\u2019s on production and distribution, Wright\u2019s on wages, Knox\u2019s on\nbanking, and the general treatises of Walker, who conducted the censuses\nof 1870 and 1880. In recent times the chief works are those of Hadley on\nrailroads, of Clark on capital, of James on political finance and\nmunicipal administration, of Ely on taxation, of Taussig on tariff,\nsilver and wages, of Jenks on trusts, of Brooks on labour movements, of\nSeligman on the politics of taxation, of H. C. Adams on scientific\nfinance, of Gross on the history of English economics, of Patten on\neconomic theory, and of Lowell on the science of government. Moreover,\nthe political economists and students of government have an unusually\nlarge number of journals at their disposal. In sociology there are\nGiddings, Small, and Ward, known everywhere, and after them Willcox,\nRipley, and others.\n\nWe have spent too much time over the historical disciplines. Let us look\nat the opposite pole of the scientific globe from the mental sciences to\nthe natural sciences, and at first to mathematics. Mathematicians were\nespecially late in waking up to really scientific achievements; and this\nwas scarcely ten years ago, so that all the productive mathematicians\nare the younger professors. Of the older period, there are but three\nmathematicians of great importance\u2014Benjamin Peirce, perhaps the most\nbrilliant of American mathematicians, and his pupils, Hill and Newcomb.\nTheir chief interest has been mathematical astronomy. Of their\ngeneration are also Willard Gibbs in mathematical physics, McClintock in\nalgebra, and Charles Peirce in mathematical logic. In the last ten\nyears, it is no longer a question of a few great names. The younger\ngeneration has taken its inspiration from Germany and France, and is\nbusily at work in pure mathematics; there are Moore and Dixon, of\nChicago; Storey and Taber, of Clark; B\u00f6cher and Osgood, of Harvard;\nWhite at Evanston; Van Vleck at Wesleyan, and many others.\n\nWe find again, in the natural sciences, that the American by no means\nfavours only practical studies. There is no less practical a science\nthan astronomy, and yet we find a series of great successes. This is\nexternally noticeable in a general interest in astronomy; no other\ncountry in the world has so many well-equipped observatories as the\nUnited States, and no other country manufactures such perfect\nastronomical lenses. America has perfected the technique of astronomy.\nRoland, for instance, has improved the astronomical spectroscope, and\nPickering has made brilliant contributions to photometry. The catalogue\nof stars by Gould and Langley is an indispensable work, and America has\ncontributed its full share to the observation of asteroids and comets.\nNewcomb, however, who is the leader since forty years, has done the most\nbrilliant work, in his thorough computations of stellar paths and\nmasses. We should also not forget Chandler\u2019s determination of\nmagnitudes, Young\u2019s work on the sun, Newton\u2019s on meteorites, and\nBarnard\u2019s on comets.\n\nSurprisingly enough, the development of scientific physics has been less\nbrilliant so far. Only in optics has really anything of high importance\nbeen done; but in this field there have been such accomplishments as\nMichelson\u2019s measurements of lightwaves, Rowland\u2019s studies of concave\ngratings, Newcomb\u2019s measurements on the speed of light, and Langley\u2019s\nstudies of the ultra-red rays. In all other fields the work is somewhat\ndisconnected; although, to be sure, in the branches of electricity,\nacoustics, and heat, important discoveries have been made by Trowbridge,\nWoodward, Barus, Wood, Cross, Nichols, Hall, B. O. Pierce, Sabine, and\nmany others. In purely technical subjects, especially those related to\nelectricity, much has been done of serious scientific importance; and\nthese triumphs in technical branches are, of course, famous throughout\nthe world. From the hand tool of the workman to locomotives and bridges,\nAmerican mechanics have been victorious. Applied physics has yielded the\nmodern bicycle, the sewing-machine, the printing-press, tool-making\nmachinery, and a thousand other substitutes for muscular labour; has\nalso perfected the telegraph, the incandescent lamp, the telephone and\nthe phonograph, and every day brings some new laurel to the American\ninventor. But it is not to be supposed that Edison, Tesla, and Bell are\nthe sole representatives of American physics. Quiet scientific work of\nthe highest order is carried on in a dozen laboratories. Meteorology\nought to be mentioned as a branch of physics; it has been favoured by\nthe large field of observation which America offers and has developed\nbrilliantly under Ferrel, Hazen, Greely, Harrington, Mendenhall, Rotch,\nand others.\n\nIt is still more true of chemistry than of physics that advance has been\nindependent of the industrial application of science. The leading\nchemists have all worked in the interests of pure science; and this work\nstarted at the beginning of the last century, when Benjamin Silliman, of\nYale, the editor of the first magazine for natural science, laid the\nfoundations for his scientific school. He was followed in succeeding\ngenerations by Hare, Smith, Hunt, and most notably Cooke, whose studies\non the periodic law and the atomic weight of oxygen are specially\nvaluable. Of later men there are Willard Gibbs, the Nestor of chemical\nthermo-dynamics, who became famous by his theory of the phase rule, and\nWolcott Gibbs through his studies on complex acids. Crafts is known for\nhis researches into organic compounds, and Mallet by classical\ninvestigations into the atomic weight of aluminum. Other valuable\ncontributions have been Hillebrand\u2019s analysis of minerals, Stieglitz\u2019s\norganic syntheses, Noyes\u2019s studies on ions, the work of Clark and\nRichards on atomic weights, Gooch\u2019s technical discoveries, Hill\u2019s\nsynthetic production of benzol compounds, Warren\u2019s work with mineral\noils, Baskerville\u2019s study of thorium, not to mention the highly prized\ntext-books of Ira Remsen, the discoverer of saccharin. Among the\nphysiological and agricultural chemists, the best known are Chittenden,\nPfaff, Atwater, and Hilgard. The pioneer of physical chemistry is\nRichards, of Harvard, probably the only American professor so far who\nhas been called to the position of a full professor at a German\nuniversity. He remained in America, although invited to G\u00f6ttingen.\nBancroft and Noyes are at work on the same branch of chemistry.\n\nThe work in chemistry is allied in many ways to mineralogy, petrography,\nand geology. Oddly enough, mineralogy has centred distinctly at one\nplace\u2014Yale University. The elder Dana used to work there, whose \u201cSystem\nof Mineralogy\u201d first appeared in 1837, and while frequently revised has\nremained for half a century the standard book in any language; Dana\u2019s\nchemical classification of minerals has also found general acceptance.\nHis son, the crystallographer, worked here, as also Brush and Penfield,\nwho has investigated more kinds of stone than any other living man.\nBeside these well-known leaders, there are such men as Lawrence Smith,\nCooke, Gerth, Shepard, and Wolff. The advances in geology have been\nstill more brilliant, since nature made America an incomparable field of\nstudy. Hall had already made an early beginning here, and Dana and\nWhitney, Hayden and King, Powell and Gilbert, Davis, Shaler, and Branner\nhave continued the work. Remains of the Glacial Epoch and mountain\nformation have been the favourite topics. And the investigation which\nhas frequently been connected with practical mining interests is among\nthe most important, and in Europe the most highly regarded of American\nscientific achievements.\n\nClosely related to the geological are the geographical studies. The\nGovernment Bureau of Survey figures prominently here, by reason of its\nmagnificent equipment. Most famous are the coast surveys of Pache and\nMendenhall, and the land surveys of Rogers, Whitney, and Gannet. The\nhydrographic investigations of Maury have perhaps had more influence on\ngeography, and his physical geography of the ocean has opened up new\nlines of inquiry; Guyot has done most to spread the interests of\ngeography. Americans have always been greatly interested in expeditions\nto dangerous lands, wherefore many Americans have been pioneers,\nmissionaries, and scientific travellers. In this spirit Lewis and Clark\nexplored the Northwest, Wilkes crossed the Pacific Ocean, Perry went to\nJapan, and Stanley to Africa; others have travelled to South America,\nand many expeditions have been started for the North Pole since the\nfirst expedition of Kane in 1853. Pal\u00e6ontology has been well represented\nin America, and has contributed a good deal to the advance in geology.\nHall commenced the work with studies on invertebrate fossils; then came\nHyatt, who studied fossil cephalopods, Scudder fossil insects, Beecher\nbrachiopods; and then Leidy, Cope, Osborne, and above all, the great\nscientist, Marsh\u2014all of whom have studied fossil vertebrates.\n\nAlmost every one of these men was at the same time a systematic\nzo\u00f6logist. Especially in former days, many young men devoted themselves\nto systematic zo\u00f6logy under the leadership of Audubon, whose pioneer\nwork on \u201cThe Birds of America\u201d appeared in 1827; then later of Say, the\nfirst investigator of butterflies and mussels; and still later of Louis\nAgassiz, the great student of jelly-fish, hydroids and polyps, whose\nson, Alexander Agassiz, has carried on the famous studies of coral\nislands. Besides these men have laboured LeConte, Gill, Packard, and\nVerrill in the province of invertebrates; Baird, Ridgeway, Huntington,\nAllen, Meriam, and Jordan in the field of vertebrates. At the present\ntime interest in America as well as in Europe is turning toward\nhistology and embryology. Here, too, the two Agassizes have taken the\nlead, the senior Agassiz with his studies on turtles, the younger\nAgassiz in studies on starfishes. Next to theirs come the admirable\nworks of Wyman, Whitman, Brooks, Minot, Mark, and Wilson, and the\ninvestigations of Davenport on the subject of variation. The phenomenon\nof life has been studied now by zo\u00f6logists and again by biologists and\nphysiologists. Here belong the researches into the conscious life of\nlower animals carried on by Lee and Parker, and the excellent\ninvestigations of the German-American Jacques Loeb, of California, who\nhas placed the tropisms of animals and the processes of fertilization in\na wholly new light. Of his colleagues in physiology, the best known are\nBowditch, Howell, Porter, and Meltzer.\n\nThe highest organism which the natural scientist can study is man, taken\nnot historically, but anthropologically. The American has been forced to\nturn to anthropology and to ethnology, since circumstances have put at\nhis hand some hundred types of Indians, with the most diverse languages\nand customs, and since, moreover, peoples have streamed from every part\nof the world to this country; millions of African negroes are here, the\nground is covered with the remains of former Indian life, and the\nstrange civilizations of Central America have left their remains near\nby. The Ethnological Bureau at Washington and the Peabody Museum at\nHarvard have instituted many expeditions and investigations. In recent\ntimes the works of Morgan, Hale, Brinton, Powell, Dall, Putnam, McGee,\nand Boas have opened new perspectives, especially on the subject of the\nAmerican Indian.\n\nThe American flora has contributed no less new material to science than\nthe American fauna. European botanists had commenced the work with tours\nof observation, when in the middle of the last century Asa Gray began\nhis admirable life-work. He was in the closest sympathy with European\nbotanists, and published in all more than four hundred papers on the\nclassification and systematic study of the profuse material. Gray died\nin 1888, undoubtedly the greatest botanist that America has produced.\nHis labours have been supplemented by his teacher, Torrey; by Chapman,\nwho worked up the southeastern part of the country; by scientific\ntravellers, such as Wright and Watson; by Engelmann, who studied cacti;\nBebb, who studied the fields; by Coulter, the expert on the plants of\nthe Rocky Mountains; by Bailey and many others. This great work is more\nor less pervaded by the ideas of Gray; but in the last twenty years it\nhas branched off in several directions under a number of leaders. Farlow\nhas reached out into cryptogamic botany, Goodale into plant physiology,\nand Sargent into dendrology. There has been, moreover, considerable\nspecialization and subdivision of labour in the botanical gardens of New\nYork, Boston, and St. Louis, and the herbaria and botanical institutes\nof various universities and of the agricultural experiment stations.\nThese institutions put forth publications under the editorship of such\nable botanists as Robinson, Trelease, Fernald, Smith, and True; and\nthese works are not excelled by those of any other country.\n\nWe have had, perhaps, too much of mere names; and yet these have been\nonly examples, calculated to show the strength and the weakness of the\nscientific development of America. We have sought specially to keep\nwithin the limits of the \u201cphilosophical faculties.\u201d It would be\ninteresting to go into the subjects of theology, law and medicine, and\nof technology in a similar way; but it would lead too far. Yet whether\nthe unprejudiced observer considers such disciplines as we have\ndescribed, or whether he looks out into neighbouring academic fields, he\nwill find the same flourishing condition of things\u2014a bold, healthy, and\nintelligent progress, with a complete understanding of the true aim of\nscience, with tireless industry, able organization, and optimistic\nenergy.\n\nOf course, the actual achievements are very uneven; they are, in some\ndirections, superior to those of England and France\u2014in a few directions\neven to those of Germany, but in others far inferior to German\nattainments. We have seen that the conditions a short time ago were\nunfortunate for science, and that only recently have they given way to\nmore favourable factors. Most people see such favourable factors first\nof all in the financial support offered to the investigator; but the\nchief aid for such work does not lie in the providing of appliances.\nEndowments can do no more than supply books, apparatus, laboratories,\nand collections for those who wish to study, but all that never makes a\ngreat scientist; the average level of study may be improved by material\nsupport, but it will never be brought above a certain level of\nmediocrity. For, after all, science depends chiefly on the personal\nfactor; and good men can do everything, even on narrow means.\n\nThe more important factor in the opulence which science now enjoys is an\nindirect one; it improves the social status of scientific workers, so\nthat better human material is now attracted to the scientific career. As\nlong as scientific life meant poverty and dependence, the only people\nattracted to it were men of the schoolteaching stamp; the better men\nhave craved something fuller and greater, and have wished to expend\ntheir strength in the more thoroughly living province of industrial and\ncommercial life, where alone the great social premiums were to be found.\nBut now the case is different. Science has been recognized by the\nnation; scientific and university life has become rich in significance,\nthe professor is no longer a school-teacher, and the right kind of young\nscholar is stepping into the arena. Another factor is working in the\nsame direction. Substantial families are coming to the third generation,\nwhen they go over from trade to art and science. The sons of the best\npeople with great vitality and great personality prefer now to work in\nthe laboratory rather than in the bank. Each one brings Yankee\nintelligence and Yankee energy with him. This social reappraisement of\nscience, and its effect on the quality of men who become productive\nscholars, are the best indication of the coming greatness of American\nscience.\n\n\n\n\n                            CHAPTER EIGHTEEN\n                              _Literature_\n\n\nWhat does the American read? In \u201cJ\u00f6rn Uhl,\u201d the apprentice in the\nHamburg bookshop says to his friend: \u201cIf I am to tell you how to be wise\nand cunning, then go where there are no books. Do you know, if I had not\nhad my father, I should have gone to America\u2014for a fact! And it would\nhave gone hard with anybody who poked a book at me.\u201d In that way many a\nman in Europe, who is long past his apprenticeship, still pictures to\nhimself America: Over in America nobody bothers about books. And he\nwould not credit the statement that nowhere else are so many books read\nas in America. The American\u2019s fondness for reading finds clearest\nexpression in the growth of libraries, and in few matters of\ncivilization is America so well fitted to teach the Old World a lesson.\nEurope has many large and ancient collections of books, and Germany more\nthan all the rest; but they serve only one single purpose\u2014that of\nscientific investigation; they are the laboratories of research. They\nare chiefly lodged with the great universities, and even the large\nmunicipal libraries are mostly used by those who need material for\nproductive labours, or wish to become conversant with special topics.\n\nExactly the same type of large library has grown up in America; and\nhere, too, it is chiefly the universities whose stock of books is at the\nservice of the scientific world. Besides these, there are special\nlibraries belonging to learned societies, state law libraries, special\nlibraries of government bureaus and of museums, and largest of all the\nLibrary of Congress. The collection of such scientific books began at\nthe earliest colonial period, and at first under theological auspices.\nThe Calvinist Church, more than any other, inclined to the study of\nbooks. As early as 1790 the catalogue of Harvard College contained 350\npages, of which 150 were taken up by theological works. Harvard has\nto-day almost a million books, mostly in the department of literature,\nphilology, history, philosophy, and jurisprudence. There are, moreover,\nin Boston the state library of law, with over a hundred thousand\nvolumes; the Athen\u00e6um, with more than two hundred thousand books; the\nlarge scientific library of the Institute of Technology, and many\nothers. Similarly, in other large cities, the university libraries are\nthe nucleus for scientific labours, and are surrounded by admirable\nspecial libraries, particularly in New York, Chicago, and Philadelphia.\nThen, too, the small academic towns, like Princeton, Ithaca, New Haven,\nand others, have valuable collections of books, which in special\nsubjects are often unique. For many years the American university\nlibraries have been the chief purchasers of the special collections left\nby deceased European professors. And it often happens, especially\nthrough the gift of grateful alumni, that collections of the greatest\nscientific value, which could not be duplicated, come into the\npossession even of lesser institutions.\n\nIn many departments of investigation, Washington takes the lead with the\nlarge collection of the various scientific, economic, and technical\nbureaus of the government. The best known of these is the unique medical\nlibrary of the War Department. Then there is the Library of Congress,\nwith many more than a million volumes, which to-day has an official\nright to one copy of every book published in the United States, and so\nmay claim to be a national library. It is still not comparable to the\nmany-sided and complete collection of the British Museum; the national\nlibrary is one-sided, or at least shows striking gaps. Having started as\nthe Library of Congress, it has, aside from its one copy of every\nAmerican book and the books on natural science belonging to the\nSmithsonian Institution, few books except those on politics, history,\npolitical economy, and law. The lack of space for books, which existed\nuntil a few years ago, made it seem inexpedient to spend money for\npurposes other than the convenience of Congressmen. But the American\npeople, in its love for books, has now erected such a building as the\nworld had never before seen devoted to the storing of books. The new\nCongressional Library was opened in 1897, and since the stacks have\nstill room for several million volumes, the library will soon grow to an\nall-round completeness like that at London. This library has a specially\nvaluable collection of manuscripts and correspondences.\n\nAll the collections of books which we have so far mentioned are\nvirtually like those of Germany. But since they mostly date from the\nnineteenth century, the American libraries are more modern, and contain\nless dead weight in the way of unused folios. Much more important is\ntheir greatly superior accessibility. Their reading-rooms are more\ncomfortable and better lighted, their catalogues more convenient,\nlibrary hours longer, and, above all, books are much more easily and\nquickly delivered. Brooks Adams said recently, about the library at\nWashington as a place for work, that this building is well-nigh perfect;\nit is large, light, convenient, and well provided with attendants. In\nParis and London, one works in dusty, forbidding, and overcrowded rooms,\nwhile here the reading-rooms are numerous, attractive, and comfortable.\nIn the National Library at Paris, one has to wait an hour for a book; in\nthe British Museum, half an hour; and in Washington, five minutes. This\nrapid service, which makes such a great difference to the student, is\nfound everywhere in America; and everywhere the books are housed in\nbuildings which are palatial, although perhaps not so beautiful as the\nWashington Library.\n\nStill, all these differences are unessential; in principle the academic\nlibraries are alike in the New and Old Worlds. The great difference\nbetween Europe and America begins with the libraries which are not\nlearned, but which are designed to serve popular education. The American\npublic library which is not for science, but for education, is to the\nEuropean counterpart as the Pullman express train to the village\npost-chaise.\n\nThe scientific libraries of Boston, including that of Harvard\nUniversity, contain nearly two million printed works; but the largest\nlibrary of all is distinct from these. It is housed on Copley Square, in\na renaissance palace by the side of the Art Museum, and opposite the\nmost beautiful church in America. The staircase of yellow marble, the\nwonderful wall-paintings, the fascinating arcade on the inner court, and\nthe sunlit halls are indeed beautiful. And in and out, from early\nmorning till late evening, weekday and Sunday, move the people of\nBoston. The stream of men divides in the lower vestibule. Some go to the\nnewspaper room, where several hundred daily newspapers, a dozen of them\nGerman, hang on racks. Others wander to the magazine rooms, where the\nweekly and monthly papers of the world are waiting to be read. Others\nascend to the upper stories, where Sargent\u2019s famous pictures of the\nProphets allure the lover of art, in order to look over more valuable\nspecial editions and the art magazines, geographical charts, and musical\nworks. The largest stream of all goes to the second floor, partly into\nthe huge quiet reading-room, partly into the rotunda, which contains the\ncatalogue, partly into the hall containing the famous frescoes of the\nHoly Grail, where the books are given out. Here a million and a half\nbooks are delivered every year to be taken home and read. And no one has\nto wait; an apparatus carries the applicant\u2019s card with wonderful speed\nto the stacks, and the desired book is sent back in automatic cars.\nLittle children meanwhile wander into the juvenile room, where they find\nthe best books for children. And everything invites even the least\npatient reader to sit down quietly with some sort of a volume\u2014everything\nis so tempting, so convenient and comfortable, and so surpassingly\nbeautiful. And all this is free to the humblest working-man.\n\nAnd still, if the citizen of Massachusetts were to be asked of what\nfeature of the public libraries he is most proud, he would probably not\nmention this magnificent palace in Boston, the capital of the state, but\nrather the 350 free public libraries scattered through the smaller\ncities and towns of this state, which is after all only one-third as\nlarge as Bavaria. It is these many libraries which do the broadest work\nfor the people. Each little collection, wherever it is, is the centre of\nintellectual and moral enlightenment, and plants and nourishes the\ndesire for self-perfection. Of course, Massachusetts has done more in\nthis respect than any other part of the country\u2014especially more than the\nSouth, which is backward in this respect. But there is no longer any\ncity of moderate size which has not a large public library, and there is\nno state which does not encourage in every possible way the\nestablishment of public libraries in every small community, giving\nfinancial aid if it is necessary.\n\nPublic libraries have become the favourite Christmas present of\nphilanthropists, and while the hospitals, universities, and museums have\nstill no reason for complaint, the churches now find that superfluous\nmillions are less apt to go to gay church windows than to well-chosen\nbook collections. In the year 1900 there existed more than 5,383 public\nlibraries having over a thousand volumes; of these 144 had more than\nfifty thousand, and 54 had more than a hundred thousand volumes. All\ntogether contained, according to the statistics of 1900, more than\nforty-four million volumes and more than seven million pamphlets; and\nthe average growth was over 8 per cent. There are probably to-day,\ntherefore, fifteen million volumes more on the shelves. The many\nthousand libraries which have fewer than 999 books are over and above\nall this.\n\nThe make-up of such public libraries may be seen from the sample\ncatalogue gotten out by the Library Association a few years since, as a\ntypical collection of five thousand books. This catalogue which, with\nthe exception of the most important foreign classics, contains only\nbooks in English, including, however, many translations, contains 227\ngeneral reference books, 756 books on history, 635 on biography, 413 on\ntravel, 355 on natural science, 694 in belles-lettres, 809 novels, 225\non art, 220 on religion, 424 on social science, 268 on technical\nsubjects, etc. The cost of this sample collection is $12,000. The\nproportions between the several divisions are about the same in larger\ncollections. In smaller collections, belles-lettres have a somewhat\ngreater share. The general interest taken by the nation in this matter\nis shown by the fact that the first edition of twenty thousand copies of\nthis sample catalogue, of six hundred pages, was soon exhausted.\n\nThe many-sidedness of this catalogue points also to the manifold\nfunctions of the public library. It is meant to raise the educational\nlevel of the people, and this can be done in three ways: first, interest\nmay be stimulated along new lines; second, those who wish to perfect\nthemselves in their own subjects or in whatsoever special topics, may be\nprovided with technical literature; and third, the general desire for\nliterary entertainment may be satisfied by books of the best or at least\nnot of the worst sort. The directors of libraries see their duties to\nlie in all three directions. The libraries guide the tastes and\ninterests of the general public, and try to replace the ordinary\nservant-girl\u2019s novel with the best romances of the day and shallow\nliterature with works which are truly instructive. And no community is\nquite content until its public library has become a sort of general\nmeeting-place and substitute for the saloon and the club. America is the\nworking-man\u2019s paradise, and attractive enough to the rich man; but the\nordinary man of the middle classes, who in Germany finds his chief\ncomfort in the Bierhalle, would find little comfort in America if it\nwere not for the public library, which offers him a home. Thus the\npublic library has come to be a recognized instrument of culture along\nwith the public school; and in all American outposts the school teacher\nand librarian are among the pioneers.\n\nThe learned library cannot do this. To be sure, the university library\ncan help to spread information, and conversely the public library makes\nroom for thousands of volumes on all sorts of scientific topics. But the\nemphasis is laid very differently in the two cases, and if it were not\nso neither library would best fulfil its purpose. The extreme quiet of\nthe reference library and the bustle and stir of the public library do\nnot go together. In the one direction America has followed the dignified\ntraditions of Europe; in the other, it has opened new paths and\ntravelled on at a rapid pace. Every year discovers new ideas and plans,\nnew schemes for equipment and the selection of books, for cataloguing,\nand for otherwise gaining in utility. When, for instance, the library in\nProvidence commenced to post a complete list of books and writings\npertaining to the subject of every lecture which was given in the city,\nit was the initiation of a great movement. The juvenile departments are\nthe product of recent years, and are constantly increasing in\npopularity. There are even, in some cases, departments for blind\nreaders. The state commissions are new, and so also the travelling\nlibraries, which are carried from one village to another.\n\nThe great schools for librarians are also new. The German librarian is\nmostly a scholar; but the American believes that he has improved on the\nEuropean library systems, not so much by his ample financial resources\nas by having broken with the academic custom, and having secured\nlibrarians with a special library training. And since there are such\nofficials in many thousand libraries, and the great institutions create\na constant demand for such persons, the library schools, which offer\ngenerally a three years\u2019 course, have been found very successful.\n\nAdmittedly, all this technical apparatus is expensive; the Boston\nlibrary expends every year a quarter of a million dollars for\nadministrative expenses. But the American taxpayer supports this more\ngladly than any other burden, knowing that the public library is the\nbest weapon against alcoholism and crime, against corruption and\ndiscontent, and that the democratic country can flourish only when the\ninstinct of self-perfection as it exists in every American is thoroughly\nsatisfied.\n\nThe reading of the American nation is not to be estimated wholly by the\nbooks in public libraries, since it also includes a tremendous quantity\nof printed material that goes to the home of every citizen. Three\nhundred and forty American publishers place their wares every year on\nthe market, and the part bought by the public libraries is a very small\nproportion. A successful novel generally reaches its third hundred\nthousand; of course, such gigantic editions are limited to novels and\nschool-books. The number of annual book publications is much smaller\nthan in Germany; but it must be considered that, first, the American\nelectrotype process does not lend itself to new and revised editions;\nand that small brochures are replaced in America by the magazine\narticles. On the other hand, the number of copies published is perhaps\nlarger than in Germany. And then, too, among the upper classes, a great\nmany German, French, and Italian books are purchased from Europe.\n\nThe great feature for all classes of the population is the tremendous\nproduction of periodical literature. Statistics show that in the United\nStates in the year 1903, there were published 2,300 daily papers, more\nthan 15,000 weeklies, 2,800 monthlies, and 200 quarterlies\u2014in all,\n21,000 periodicals. These are more periodicals than are published in all\nEurope; in Germany alone there are 7,500. The tremendous significance of\nthese figures, particularly as compared with the European, becomes clear\nonly when one considers the number of copies which these periodicals\ncirculate. Not merely the newspapers of the three cities having over a\nmillion inhabitants, but also those of the larger provincial towns,\nreach a circulation of hundreds of thousands; and more surprising still\nis the unparalleled circulation of the weekly and monthly papers. Huge\npiles of magazines, containing the most serious sort of essays, are sold\nfrom every news-stand in a few hours. And anybody who knows New England\nis not surprised at the statement which T. W. Higginson makes in his\nrecollections, that he came once to a small Massachusetts village of\nonly twenty-four homes, nineteen of which subscribed to the _Atlantic\nMonthly_, a publication which is most nearly comparable to the _Deutsche\nRundschau_.\n\nThe surprisingly large sales of expensive books among rich families is\nquite as gratifying as the huge consumption of magazines among the\nmiddle classes. Editions de luxe are often sold entire at fabulous\nprices before the edition is out, and illustrated scientific works\ncosting hundreds of dollars always find a ready sale. These are merely\nthe symptoms of the fact that every American home has its bookcases\nproportionate to its resources, and large private libraries are found\nnot merely in the homes of scholars and specialists. In the palaces of\nmerchant princes, the library is often the handsomest room, although it\nis sometimes so papered with books that it looks as if the architect had\nsupplied them along with the rugs and chandeliers. One more commonly\nfinds that the library is the real living-room of the house. If one\nlooks about in such treasure apartments, one soon loses the sense of\nwonder completely; rare editions and valuable curiosities are there\nbrought together with the greatest care and intelligence into an\nappropriate home. There are probably very few German private houses with\ncollections of books and paintings comparable, for instance, to that of\nJ. Montgomery Sears in Boston. The whole interior is so wonderfully\nharmonious that even the autograph poems and letters of Goethe and\nSchiller seem a matter of course. But from the book-shelves of the\nmillionaire to the carefully selected little shelf of the poor\nschool-ma\u2019am, from the monumental home of the national library to the\nmodest little library building of every small village, from the nervous\nand rapid perusal of the scholar to the slow making-out of the\nworking-man who pores over his newspaper on the street corner, or of the\nshop-girl with the latest novel in the elevated train, there is\neverywhere life and activity centring around the world of print, and\nthis popularity of books is growing day by day.\n\nBy far the most of what the American reads is written by Americans. This\ndoes not mean that any important book which appears in other parts of\nthe world escapes him; on the contrary just as the American everywhere\nwants only the best, uses the latest machines and listens to the most\nfamous musicians, so in the matter of literature he is observant of\nevery new tendency in poetry, whether from Norway or Italy, and the\ngreat works of the world\u2019s literature have their thoughtful readers.\nThere are probably more persons who read Dante in Boston than in Berlin.\nOf German intellectual productions, the scientific books are most read,\nand if strictly scientific they are read in the original by the best\neducated Americans; the popular books are mostly read in translation. Of\nthe belles-lettres, Schiller and Lessing are generally put aside with\nthe school-books, while Goethe and Heine remain welcome; and beside them\nare translations of modern story-writers from Freytag and Spielhagen\ndown to Sudermann. French literature is more apt to be read in the\noriginal than German, but with increasing distaste. The moral feeling of\nthe American is separated by such a chasm from the atmosphere of the\nParisian romance that modern French literature has never become so\npopular in America as it has in Germany.\n\nAs a matter of course, English literature of every sort has by far the\ngreatest influence; English magazines are little read or appreciated,\nwhile English poetry, novels, dramas, and works of general interest are\nas much read in America as in England. Books so unlike as the novels of\nMrs. Ward, of Du Maurier, and of Kipling have about the same very large\ncirculation; and all the standard literature of England, from Chaucer to\nBrowning, forms the educational background of every American, especially\nof every American woman. In spite of all this, it remains true that the\nmost of that which is read in the United States is written by Americans.\n\nHow and what does the American write?\n\nEurope has a ready answer, and pieces together a mental picture of \u201cecht\namerikanische\u201d literature out of its unfriendly prejudices, mostly\nreminiscent of Buffalo Bill and Barnum\u2019s circus. It is still not\nforgotten how England suddenly celebrated Joaquin Miller\u2019s freakish and\ninartistic poems of the Western prairie as the great American\nachievement, and called this tasteless versifier, who was wholly\nunrecognized in his own country, the American Byron. He was not only\nunimportant, but he was not typically American. And of American humour\nthe European observer has about as just an opinion. Nothing but\nridiculous caricatures are considered. Mark Twain\u2019s first writings,\nwhose sole secret was their wild exaggeration, were more popular in\nGermany than in America; while the truly American humour of Lowell or\nHolmes has lain unnoticed. The American is supposed to be quite\ndestitute of any sense for form or measure, and to be in every way\ninartistic; and if any true poet were to be granted to the New World, he\nwould be expected to be noisy like Niagara. In this sense the real\nliterature of America has hitherto remained un-American, perhaps too\nun-American. For the main thing which it has lacked has been force.\nThere have been men like Uhland, Geibel, and Heyse, but there has so far\nbeen no one like Hebbel.\n\nThere is no absolutely new note in American literature, and especially\nno one trait which is common to all American writings and which is not\nfound in any European. If there is anything unique in American\nliterature, it is perhaps the peculiar combination of elements long\nfamiliar. An enthusiastic American has said that to be American means to\nbe both fresh and mature, and this is in fact a combination which is\nnew, and which well characterizes the literary temperament of the\ncountry. To be fresh and young generally means to be immature, and to be\nmature and seasoned means to have lost the enthusiasm and freshness of\nyouth. Of course, this is not a contradiction realized. It would be\nimpossible, for instance, to be both na\u00efve and mature; but the American\nis not and never has been na\u00efve. Just as this nation has never had a\nchildhood, has never originated ballads, epics, and popular songs, like\nother peoples during their na\u00efve beginnings, because this nation brought\nwith it from Europe a finished culture; so the vigorous youthfulness in\nthe national literary temperament has in it nothing of na\u00efve simplicity.\nIt is the enthusiasm of youth, but not the innocence of boyhood. It\nwould also be impossible to be both fresh and decadent; the American is\nmature but not over-ripe, not weakened by the sceptical ennui of\nsenility.\n\nTo be fresh means to be confident, optimistic and eager, lively,\nunspoiled, and courageous; it means to strive toward one\u2019s best ideals\nwith the ardour of youth; while to be mature means to understand things\nin their historic connection, in their true proportions, and with a due\nfeeling for form; to be mature means to be simple, and reposeful, and\nnot breathlessly anxious over the outcome of things. To be sure, this\noptimistic feeling of strength, this enthusiastic self-confidence, is\nhardly able to seize the things which are finest and most subtle. It\nlooks only into the full sunlight, never into the shadows with their\nless obvious beauties. There are no half-tones, no sentimental and\nuncertain moods; wonder and meditation come into the soul only with\npessimism. And most of all, the enthusiasm of youth not only looks on\nbut wants to work, to change and to make over; and so the American is\nless an artist than an insistent herald. Behind the observer stands\nalways the reformer, enthusiastic to improve the world. On the other\nhand, the disillusionment of maturity should have cooled the passions,\nsoothed hot inspiration, and put the breathless tragic muse to sleep. It\navoids dramatic excitement, holds aloof, and looks on with quiet\nfriendliness and sober understanding of mankind. So it happens that\nfinished art is incompatible with such an enthusiastic eagerness to\npress onward, and sensuous emotion is incompatible with such an\nidealism. And so we find in the American temperament a finished feeling\nfor form, but a more ethical than artistic content, and we find humour\nwithout its favourite attendant of sentiment. Of course, the exceptions\ncrowd quickly to mind to contradict the formula: had not Poe the\ndemoniac inspiration; was not Hawthorne a thorough artist; did not\nWhitman violate all rules of form; and does not Henry James see the\nhalf-tones? And still such variations from the usual are due to\nexceptional circumstances, and every formula can apply only in a general\nway.\n\nStill, in these general traits, one can see the workings of great\nforces. This enthusiastic self-confidence and youthful optimism in\nliterature are only another expression of American initiative, which has\ndeveloped so powerfully in the fight with nature during the colonial and\npioneer days, and which has made the industrial power of America. And,\nas Barrett Wendell has shown, not a little of this enthusiastic and\nspontaneous character is inherited from the old English stock of three\nhundred years ago. In England itself, the industrial development changed\nthe people; the subjects of Queen Victoria were very little like those\nof Queen Elizabeth; the spontaneity of Shakespeare\u2019s time no longer\nsuits the smug and insular John Bull. But that same English stock found\nin America conditions that were well calculated to arouse its\nspontaneity and enthusiasm.\n\nThen, on the other hand, the clear, composed, and formal maturity which\ndistinguish the literary work of the new nation is traceable principally\nto the excellent influence of English literature. The ancient culture of\nEngland spared this nation a period of immaturity. Then, too, there has\nbeen the intellectual domination of the New England States, whose\nPuritan spirit has given to literature its ethical quality, and at the\nsame time contributed a certain quiet superiority to the common turmoil.\nThroughout the century, and even to-day, almost all of the best\nliterature originates with those who are consciously reacting against\nthe vulgar taste. Just because the number of sellers and readers of\nbooks is so much greater than in Europe, the unliterary circles of\nreaders who, as everywhere, enjoy the broadly vulgar, must by their\nnumbers excite the disgust of the real friend of literature; and this\nconscious duty of opposition, which becomes a sort of mission, sharpens\nthe artistic consciousness, fortifies the feeling of form, and struggles\nagainst all that is immature.\n\nUndoubtedly these external conditions are as responsible for many of the\nfailings of American literature as for its excellences; most of all for\nthe lack of shading and twilight tones, of all that is dreamy,\npessimistic, sentimental, and \u201cdecadent.\u201d This is a lack in the American\nlife which in other important connections is doubtless a great\nadvantage. There are no old castles, no crumbling ruins, no picturesque\ncustoms, no church mysticism, nor wonderful symbols; there are no\nstriking contrasts between social groups, no romantic vagabondage, and\nnone of the fascinating pomp of monarchy. Everywhere is solid and\nhealthy contentment, thrifty and well clothed, on broad streets, and\nunder a bright sun. It is no accident that true poets have not described\ntheir own surroundings, but have taken their material so far as it has\nbeen American, as did Hawthorne, from the colonial times which were\nalready a part of the romantic past, or out of the Indian legends, or\nlater from the remote adventurous life of the West, or from the negro\nlife in far Southern plantations; the daily life surrounding the poet\nwas not yet suitable for poetry. And by being so cruelly clear and\nwithout atmosphere as not to invite poetic treatment, it has left the\nwhole literature somewhat glaringly sharp, sane, and homely.\n\nFiction stands in the centre of the characteristic literary productions;\nbut also literature in the broader sense, including everything which\ninterprets human destinies, as history and philosophy, or even more\nbroadly including all the written products of the nation, everything\nreflects the essential traits of the literary temperament. In fact, the\npractical literature, especially the newspaper, reveals the American\nphysiognomy most clearly. In better circles in America, it is proper to\ndeplore the newspaper as a literary product, and to look on it as a\nnecessary evil; and doubtless most newspapers serve up a great deal that\nis trivial and vulgar, and treat it in a trivial and vulgar way. But no\none is forced, except by his own love for the sensational, to choose his\ndaily reading out of this majority. Everybody knows that there is a\nminority of earnest and admirable papers at his disposal. Apart from\nnewspaper politics and apart from the admirable industrial organization\nof the newspaper\u2014both of which we have previously spoken of\u2014the\nnewspapers of the country are a literary product whose high merit is too\noften underestimated. The American newspapers, and of these not merely\nthe largest, are an intellectual product of well-maintained uniformity\nof standard.\n\nTo be sure, the style is often light, the logic unsound, the information\nsuperficial; but, taken as a whole, the newspaper has unity and\ncharacter. Thousands of loose-jointed intellects crowd into journalism\nevery year\u2014more than in any other country; but American journalism, like\nthe nation as a whole, has an amazing power of assimilation. Just as\nthousands of Russians and Italians land every year in the rags of their\nwretchedness, and in a few years become earnest American citizens, so\nmany land on the shores of American journalism who were not intended to\nbe the teachers or entertainers of humanity, and who nevertheless in a\nfew years are quite assimilated. The American newspapers, from Boston to\nSan Francisco, are alike in style and thought; and it must be said, in\nspite of all prejudices, that the American newspaper is certainly\nliterature. The American knows no difference between unpolitical chatter\nwritten with a literary ambition and unliterary comment written with a\npolitical ambition. In one sense the whole newspaper is political, while\nat the same time it is nothing but feuilleton, from the editorials, of\nwhich every large newspaper has three or four each day, to the small\nparagraphs, notes, and announcements with which the editorial page\ngenerally closes. From the Washington letter to the sporting gossip,\neverything tries in a way to have artistic merit, and everything bears\nthe stamp of American literature. Nothing is pedantic. There is often a\ngreat lack of information and of perspective\u2014perhaps, even, of\nconscientiousness in the examination of complaints\u2014but everything is\nfresh, optimistic, clear and forcible, and always humorous between the\nlines.\n\nIn the weekly papers, America achieves still more. The light, fresh, and\ndirect American style there finds its most congenial field. The same is\ntrue of the monthly papers in a somewhat more ambitious and permanent\nway. The leading social and political monthlies, like the venerable\n_North American Review_, which errs merely in laying too much emphasis\non the names of its well-known contributors, and others are quite up to\nthe best English reviews. The more purely literary _Atlantic Monthly_,\nwhich was founded in 1857 by a small circle of Boston friends, Lowell,\nLongfellow, Emerson, Holmes, Whittier, and Motley, and which has always\nattracted the best talent of the country, is most nearly comparable to\nthe _Revue des Deux Mondes_. Every monthly paper specially cultivates\nthat literary form for which America has shown the most pronounced\ntalent\u2014the essay. The magazine essay entirely takes the place of the\nGerman brochure, a form which is almost unknown in America. The\nbrochure, depending as it does wholly on its own merits to attract the\nattention of the public, must be in some way sensational to make up for\nits diminutive size; while an essay which is brought before the reader\non the responsibility of a magazine needs no such motive power. It is\none among many, and takes its due place, being only one of the items of\ninterest that make up the magazine.\n\nWhile in German literary circles the problems of the day are mostly\nargued in brochures, and the essay is a miniature book really written\nfor the easy instruction of a public which would not read long books,\nthe American essay is half-way between. It is living and satirical like\nthe German brochure, but conservative and instructive like the German\n\u201cAbhandlung.\u201d Only when a number of essays on related topics come from\nthe same pen are they put together and published as a separate book. We\nhave already mentioned that America is oversupplied with such volumes of\nessays, which have almost all the same history\u2014they were first lectures,\nthen magazine articles, and now they are revised and published in book\nform. Their value is, of course, very diverse; but in general, they are\ninteresting and important, often epoch-making, and the form is\nadmirable. A distinguished treatment, pointed humour, a rich and clear\ndiction, uncommonly happy metaphors, and a careful polish are united so\nas to make one forget the undeniable haste with which the material is\ngathered and the superficiality of the conclusions arrived at. So it\nhappens that the essayists who appear in book form are much more\nappreciated by the reading public than their German colleagues, and that\nevery year sees several hundred such volumes put on the market. The\nmotto, \u201cfresh and mature,\u201d is nowhere more appropriate.\n\nBut the American remains an American, even in the apparently\ninternational realm of science. It is a matter of course for an\nhistorian to write in the personal style. Parkman, Motley, Prescott, and\nFiske are very different types of historians; and nevertheless, they\nhave in common the same way of approaching the subject and of giving to\nit form and life. But even in so purely a scientific work as William\nJames\u2019s two-volume \u201cPrinciples of Psychology,\u201d one finds such forcible\nand convincing turns of thought, so personal a form given to abstract\nfacts, and such freshness together with such ripe mastery, as could come\nonly from an American.\n\nOratory may be accounted an off-shoot of actual literature. A nation of\npoliticians must reserve an honourable place for the orator, and for\nmany years thousands of factors in public life have contributed to\ndevelop oratory, to encourage the slightest talent for speaking, and to\nreward able speakers well. Every great movement in American history has\nbeen initiated by eloquent speakers. Before the Revolution, Adams and\nOtis, Quincy and Henry, precipitated the Revolution by their burning\nwords. And no one can discuss the great movement leading up to the Civil\nWar without considering the oratory of Choate, Clay, Calhoun, Hayne,\nGarrison, and Sumner; of Wendell Phillips, the great popular leader, and\nEdward Everett, the great academician, and of Daniel Webster, the\ngreatest statesman of them all.\n\nIn the present times of peace, the orator is less important than the\nessayist, and most of the party speeches to-day have not even a modest\nplace in literature. But if one follows a Presidential campaign, listens\nto the leading lawyers of the courts, or follows the parliamentary\ndebates of university students, one knows that the rhetorical talent of\nthe American has not died since those days of quickening, and would\nspring up again strong and vigorous if any great subject, greater than\nwere silver coinage or the Philippine policy, should excite again the\nnation. Keenness of understanding, admirable sense of form in the single\nsentence as in the structure of the whole, startling comparisons,\ntelling ridicule, careful management of the climax, and the tone of\nconviction seem to be everybody\u2019s gift. Here and there the phrase is\nhollow and thought is sacrificed to sound, but the general tendency goes\ntoward brevity and simplicity. A most delightful variation of oratory is\nfound in table eloquence; the true American after-dinner speech is a\nfinished work of art. Often, of course, there are ordinary speeches\nwhich simply go from one story to another, quite content merely to\nrelate them well. In the best speeches the pointed anecdote is not\nlacking either, but it merely decorates the introduction; the speaker\nthen approaches his real subject half playfully and half in earnest,\nvery sympathetically, and seeming always to let his thoughts choose\nwords for themselves. The speeches at the Capitol are sometimes better\nthan those in the Reichstag; but those at American banquets are not only\nbetter than the speeches at Festessen and Kommersen, but they are also\nqualitatively different\u2014true literary works of art, for which the\nAmerican is especially fitted by the freshness, humour, enthusiasm, and\nsense of symmetry which are naturally his.\n\nWhoever looks about among journalists, essayists, historians, and\norators will return more than once to the subject of belles-lettres; and\nthis is truer in America than elsewhere. As we have already seen, pure\nliterature is strongly biased toward the practical; it is glad to serve\ngreat ideas, whether moral or social. Poetry itself is sometimes an\nessay or sermon. We need not think here of romances which merely\nsermonize, and are therefore artistically second-rate, such as \u201cUncle\nTom\u2019s Cabin,\u201d or of such literary rubbish as Bellamy\u2019s \u201cUtopia\u201d; even\ntrue poets like Whittier must, in the history of emancipation, be\nclassed with the political writers. And although the problem novel in\nthe three-volume English form is not favoured in America because of its\npoor literary form, the short satirical and clean-cut society novel,\nwhich may break away at any moment into the essay or journalistic\nmanner, has become all the more popular. Further, this being the time of\nAmerica\u2019s industrial struggle, society has not become so intellectually\naristocratic that being a poet is a life profession. The leading\nnovelists have had to be active in almost all fields of literature; they\nhave frequently begun as journalists, and have generally been essayists,\neditors, or professors at the same time.\n\nThe eighteenth century was unfruitful for the New World, in lyric as in\nepic literature. The literary history discovers many names, but they are\nof men who created nothing original, and who cannot be compared with the\ngreat English geniuses. America was internally as well as externally\ndependent on England; and if one compares the utter intellectual\nunfruitfulness of Canada to-day with the feverish activity of her\nsouthern neighbour, one will inevitably ask whether political colonies\ncan ever create literature. When freedom was first obtained by the\ncolonies, a condition of new equilibrium was reached after a couple of\ndecades of uncertainty and unrest, and then American literature woke up.\nEven then it was not free, and did not care to be free, from English\nprecedents; and yet there were original personalities which came to the\nfront. Washington Irving was, as Thackeray said, the first ambassador\nwhich the New World of literature sent to the Old. English influences\nare unmistakable in the tales of Irving, although he was a strong and\noriginal writer. His \u201cSketch-Book,\u201d published in 1819, has remained the\nmost popular of his books, and the poetic muse has never been hunted\naway from the shores of the Hudson where Rip Van Winkle passed his long\nslumbers.\n\nThe American novel had still not appeared. The romances of Brown, laid\nin Pennsylvania, were highly inartistic in spite of their forcible\npresentation. Then James Fenimore Cooper discovered the untouched\ntreasures of the infinite wilderness. His \u201cSpy\u201d appeared in 1821, and he\nwas at once hailed as the American Scott. In the next year appeared \u201cThe\nPioneers,\u201d the first of his Leather-stocking Tales of wild Indian life.\nAnd after Cooper\u2019s thirty-two romances there followed many tales by\nlesser writers. Miss Sedgwick was the first woman to attain literary\npopularity, and her romances were the first which depicted the life of\nNew England. At the same time a New England youth began to write verses\nwhich, by their serene beauty, were incomparably above all earlier lyric\nattempts of his native land. Bryant\u2019s first volume of poems appeared in\n1821, and therewith America had a literature, and England\u2019s sarcastic\nquestion, \u201cWho ever reads an American book?\u201d was not asked again.\n\nThe movement quickly grew to its first culmination. A brilliant period\ncommenced in the thirties, when Hawthorne, Holmes, Emerson, Longfellow,\nThoreau, Curtis, and Margaret Fuller, all of New England, became the\nluminaries of the literary New World. And like the prelude to a great\nepoch rings the song of the one incomparable Edgar Allan Poe, who did\nnot fight for ideas like a moral New Englander, but sang simply in the\nlove of song. Poe\u2019s melancholy, demoniacal, and melodious poetry was a\nmarvellous fountain in the country of hard and sober work. And Poe was\nthe first whose fantasy transformed the short story into a thing of the\nhighest poetical form. In New England no one was so profoundly a poet as\nNathaniel Hawthorne, the author of \u201cThe Scarlet Letter.\u201d His \u201cMarble\nFaun,\u201d of which the scene is laid in Italy, may show him in his fullest\nmaturity, but his greatest strength lay in the romances of\nMassachusetts, which in their emotional impressiveness and artistic\nfinish are as beautiful as an autumn day in New England. Ralph Waldo\nEmerson, the rhapsodical philosopher, wrote poems teeming over with\nthought, and yet true poems, while Whittier was the inspired bard of\nfreedom; and besides these there was the trio of friends, Longfellow,\nLowell, and Holmes. Harvard professors they were, and men of\ndistinguished ability, whose literary culture made them the proper\neducators of the nation. Thomas Wentworth Higginson is the only one of\nthis circle now living, remaining over, as it were, from that golden\nage. He fought at first to free the slaves, and then he became the stout\ndefender of the emancipation of women, and is to-day, as then, the\nmaster of the reflective essay. His life is full of \u201ccheerful\nyesterdays\u201d; his fame is sure of \u201cconfident tomorrows.\u201d\n\nLongfellow is, to the German, mainly the sensitive transposer of German\npoetry; his sketch-book, \u201cHyperion,\u201d opened up the German world of myth,\nand brought the German romance across the ocean. His ballads and his\ndelightful idyll of \u201cEvangeline\u201d clothed New England life, as it were,\nin German sentiment; and even his Indian edda, \u201cHiawatha,\u201d sounds as if\nfrom a German troubadour wandering through the Indian country.\nLongfellow became the favourite poet of the American home, and American\nyouth still makes its pilgrimage to the house in Cambridge where he once\nlived. Lowell was perhaps more gifted than Longfellow, and certainly he\nwas the more many-sided. His art ranged from the profoundest pathos by\nwhich American patriotism was aroused in those days of danger, to the\nbroadest and most whimsical humour freely expressed in dialect verses;\nand he also wrote the most finished idyllic poetry and keenly satirical\nand critical essays. It is common to exalt his humorous verses, \u201cThe\nBiglow Papers,\u201d to the highest place of typical literary productions of\nAmerica; nevertheless, his essential quality was fine and academic. Real\nAmerican humour undoubtedly finds its truer expression in Holmes. Holmes\nwas also a lyric poet, but his greatest work was the set of books by the\n\u201cAutocrat.\u201d His \u201cAutocrat of the Breakfast Table\u201d has that serious smile\nwhich makes world literature. It was the first of a long series, and at\nthe writing he was a professor of anatomy, sixty-four years old.\n\nThen there were many lesser lights around these great ones. At the\nmiddle of the century Harriet Beecher Stowe wrote her \u201cUncle Tom\u2019s\nCabin,\u201d of which ten thousand copies were sold every day for many\nmonths. And romance literature in general began to increase. At the same\ntime appeared the beautiful songs of Bayard Taylor, whose later\ntranslation of Faust has never been surpassed, and the scarcely less\nadmirable lyrics of Stedman and Stoddard. So it happened that at the\ntime when the Civil War broke out, America, although deficient in every\nsort of productive science except history, had a brilliant literature.\nScience needed, first of all, solid academic institutions, which could\nonly be built patiently, stone on stone\u2014a work which has been witnessed\nby the last three decades of the century. Poetry, however, needed only\nthe inner voice which speaks to the susceptible heart, and the\nencouragement of the people. For science there has been a steady, quiet\ngrowth, parallel with the growth of the institutions; for letters there\nhave been changing fortunes, times of prosperity and times of\nstagnation. When the powder and smoke of the Civil War had blown away\nthe happy days of literature were over; it began to languish, and only\nat the present day is it commencing to thrive once more.\n\nThis does not mean that there has been no talent for three decades, or\nthat the general interest in literature has flagged. Ambitious writers\nof romance like Howells, James, Crawford, and Cable; novelists like\nAldrich, Bret Harte, and Hale, Mary Wilkins, and Sarah Orne Jewett;\npoets like Lanier and Whitman, and humourists like Stockton and Mark\nTwain, have done much excellent work, and work that is partly great, and\nhave shown the way to large provinces of literary endeavour.\nNevertheless, compared with the great achievements which had gone\nbefore, theirs is rather a time of intermission. And yet many persons\nare quite prepared to say that Howells is the greatest of all American\nauthors, and his realistic analyses among the very best modern romances.\nAnd Howells himself pays the same tribute to Mark Twain\u2019s later and\nmaturer writings.\n\nBut there is one poet about whom only the future can really decide; this\nis Walt Whitman. His \u201cLeaves of Grass,\u201d with their apparently formless\nverse, were greatly praised by some; by others felt to be barbarous and\ntasteless. There has been a dispute similar to that over Zarathustra of\nNietzsche. And even as regards content, Whitman may be compared with\nNietzsche, the radical democrat with the extreme aristocrat, for the\nexaggerated democratic exaltation of the ego leads finally to a point in\nwhich every single man is an absolute dictator in his own world, and\ntherefore comes to feel himself unique, and proudly demands the right of\nthe Uebermensch. \u201cWhen they fight, I keep silent, go bathing, or sit\nmarvelling at myself,\u201d says this prophet of democracy. \u201cIn order to\nlearn, I sat at the feet of great masters. Oh, that these great masters\nmight return once more to learn of me.\u201d The similarity between American\nand German intellects could readily be traced further, and was, perhaps,\nnot wholly unfitted to reveal a certain broad literary perspective. As\nwe have compared Whitman and Nietzsche, so we might compare Bryant with\nPlaten, Poe with Heine, Hawthorne with Freytag, Lowell with Uhland,\nWhittier with R\u00fcckert, Holmes with Keller, Howells with Fontane,\nCrawford with Heyse, and so on, and we should compare thus\ncontemporaries of rather equal rank. But such a parallelism, of course,\ncould not be drawn too far, since it would be easy to show in any such\npair important traits to belie the comparison.\n\nIn the positively bewildering literature of to-day, the novel and the\nshort story strongly predominate. The Americans have always shown a\nspecial aptitude and fondness for the short story. Poe was the true\nmaster of that form, and the grace with which Aldrich has told the story\nof Marjorie Daw, and Davis of Van Bibber, the energy with which Hale has\ncogently depicted the Man Without a Country, or Bret Harte the American\npioneer, and the intimacy with which Miss Wilkins and Miss Jewett have\nperpetuated the quieter aspects of human existence, show a true instinct\nfor art. A profound appreciation, fresh vigour, and fine feeling for\nform, graceful humour and all the good qualities of American literature,\ncombine to make the short story a perfect thing. It is not the German\n_Novelle_, but is, rather, comparable to the French _conte_. The short\nstories are not all of the single type; some are masculine and others\nfeminine in manner. The finely cut story, which is short because the\ncharm of the incidents would vanish if narrated in greater detail, is of\nthe feminine type. And, of the masculine, is the story told in cold,\nsharp relief, which is short because it is energetic and impatient of\nany protracted waits. In both cases, everything unessential is left out.\nPerhaps the American is nowhere more himself than here; and short\nstories are produced in great numbers and are specially fostered by the\nmonthly magazines.\n\nOf humourists there are fewer to-day than formerly. Neither the refined\nhumour of Irving, Lowell, and Holmes, nor the broader humour of Bret\nHarte and Mark Twain, finds many representatives of real literary\nimportance. There are several, it is true, who are delighted with\nDooley\u2019s contemporary comment in the Irish dialect, but there is a much\ntruer wit in the delicately satirical society novels of Henry James, and\nto a less degree in those of Grant, Herrick, Bates, and a hundred\nothers, or in the romances of common life, such as Westcott\u2019s \u201cDavid\nHarum.\u201d\n\nThe historical romance has flourished greatly. At first the fantasy went\nto far regions, and the traditional old figures of romance were tricked\nout in the gayest foreign costumes. The most popular of all has been\nWallace\u2019s \u201cBen Hur.\u201d The Americans have long since followed the road\nwhich German writers have taken from Ebers to Dahn and Wildenbruch, and\nhave revived their own national past. To be sure, the tremendous\neditions of these books are due rather to the desire for information\nthan the love of poetry. The public likes to learn its national history\nwhile being entertained, since the national consciousness has developed\nso noticeably in the last decade and the social life of America in the\nseventeenth and eighteenth centuries has doubtless become thus living\nand real for millions of Americans. \u00c6sthetic motives predominate,\nnevertheless, and although books like Churchill\u2019s \u201cThe Crisis,\u201d\nBacheller\u2019s \u201cD\u2019ri and I,\u201d Miss Johnston\u2019s \u201cAudrey,\u201d Ford\u2019s \u201cJanice\nMeredith,\u201d and others similar are merely books of the day, and will be\nreplaced by others on the next Christmas-trees, nevertheless they are\nworks of considerable artistic merit. They are forcibly constructed,\ndramatic, full of invention and delightful diction. It is undeniable\nthat the general level of the American romance is to-day not inferior to\nthat of Germany.\n\nHistorical romance aims, first of all, to awaken the national\nconsciousness. So, for instance, the romances of the versatile\nphysician, Weir Mitchell, are first of all histories of the\nRevolutionary period of the whole nation, and, secondarily, histories of\nearly Pennsylvania. But the story which depends on local colour\nflourishes too. Here shows itself strongly that trait which is\ndistinguishable in American writing through the whole century, from\nIrving, Cooper, and Bryant to the present day\u2014the love of nature. Almost\nevery part of the country has found some writer to celebrate its\nlandscape and customs, not merely the curious inhabitants of the prairie\nand gold-fields, but the outwardly unromantic characters of the New\nEngland village and the Tennessee mountains, of the Southern plantations\nand the Western States. And new stories of this sort appear every day.\nEspecially the new West figures prominently in literature; and the\ntireless ambition on which the city of Chicago is founded is often\ndepicted with much talent. The novels of Fuller, Norris, and others are\nall extraordinarily forceful descriptions of Western life and\ncivilization. The South of to-day, which shows symptoms of awaking to\nnew life, is described more from the Northern than from the Southern\npoint of view. It is surprising that the mental life of the American\nnegro has attracted so little attention, since the short stories of\nChestnut point to unexplored treasures.\n\nThe longer efforts are always in prose, and since the time of Evangeline\nepic verse has found almost no representative. Verse is almost wholly\nlyrical. The history of American lyric is contained in the large and\nadmirable collections of Stedman, Onderdonk, and others; and it is the\nhistory of, perhaps, the most complete achievement of American\nliterature. One who knows the American only in the usual caricature, and\ndoes not know what an idealist the Yankee is, would be surprised to\nlearn that the lyric poem has become his favourite field. The romantic\nnovel, which appeals to the masses, may have, perhaps, a commercial\nmotive, while the book of verse is an entirely disinterested production.\nThe lyric, in its fresh, intense, and finished way, reveals the inner\nbeing of American literature, and surprisingly much lyric verse is being\nwritten to-day. Even political newspapers, like the _Boston Transcript_,\npublish every day some lyric poem; and although here as everywhere many\nvolumes of indifferent verse see the light of day, still the feeling for\nform is so general that one finds very seldom anything wholly bad and\nvery often bits of deep significance and beauty. Here, too, the\nbest-known things are not the most admirable. We hear too much of\nMarkham\u2019s \u201cThe Man With the Hoe,\u201d and too little of Santayana\u2019s sonnets\nor of Josephine Preston Peabody. Here, too, local colour is happily in\nevidence\u2014as, for instance, in the well-known verses of Riley. The\nWestern poet goes a different road from the Eastern. The South has never\nagain sent a messenger so full of melodies as Sidney Lanier.\n\nThere is a strong lyric tendency also in the dramatic compositions of\nthe day. The true drama has always been more neglected than any other\nbranch of art, and if it is true that the Americans have preserved the\ntemperament and point of view of Elizabethan England, it is high time\nfor some American Shakespeare to step forth. Until now, extremely few\nplays of real literary worth have been written between the Atlantic and\nthe Pacific Oceans. Dramatists there have been always, and the stage is\nnow more than ever supplied by native talent; but literature is too\nlittle considered here. The rural dramas having the local colour of\nVirginia and New England are generally better than the society pieces:\nand the very popular dramatizations of novels are stirring, but utterly\ncheap. On the other hand, the American has often applied the lyric gift\nin dramatic verse, and in dramas of philosophic significance such as\nSantayana\u2019s admirable \u201cLucifer\u201d or Moody\u2019s \u201cMasque of Judgment.\u201d The\nstunted growth of American dramatic writing is closely connected with\nthe history of the American stage, a subject which may lead us from\nliterature to the sister arts.\n\n\n\n\n                            CHAPTER NINETEEN\n                                 _Art_\n\n\nThe history of the theatre leads us once more back to Puritan New\nEngland. Every one knows that the Puritan regarded the theatre as the\nvery temple of vice, and the former association of the theatre and the\nbar-room\u2014a tradition that came from England\u2014naturally failed to make\npublic opinion more favourable. In the year 1750 theatrical productions\nwere entirely forbidden in Boston. One theatre was built in 1794, and a\nfew others later, but the public feeling against demoralizing influences\nof the stage so grew that one theatre after another was turned from its\nprofane uses and made over into a lecture hall or something of the sort.\nIn 1839 it was publicly declared that Boston should never again have a\ntheatre. Nevertheless by 1870, it had five theatres, and to-day it has\nfifteen. Other cities have always been more liberal toward the theatre,\nand in the city of New York, since 1733, ninety-five theatres have been\nbuilt, of which more than thirty are still standing to-day and in active\noperation. Thus the Puritan spirit seems long since to have disappeared,\nand the backwardness of the drama seems not to be connected with the\nreligious past of the country. But this is not the case.\n\nLet us survey the situation. There is certainly no lack of theatres, for\nalmost every town has its \u201copera house,\u201d and the large cities have\nreally too many. Nor is there any lack of histrionic talent; for,\nalthough the great Shakespearian actor, Edwin Booth, has no worthy\nsuccessor, we have still actors who are greatly applauded and\nloved\u2014Mansfield, Sothern, Jefferson, Drew, and Gillette; Maude Adams,\nMrs. Fiske, Blanche Bates, Henrietta Crosman, Julia Arthur, Julia\nMarlowe, Ada Rehan, Nance O\u2019Neill, and many others who are certainly\nsincere artists; and the most brilliant actors of Europe, Irving and\nTree, Dus\u00e9, Bernhardt, Sorma, and Campbell come almost every year to\nplay in this country. The American\u2019s natural versatility gives him a\ngreat advantage for the theatrical career; and so it is no accident that\namateur theatricals are nowhere else so popular, especially among\nstudent men and women. The equipments of the stage, moreover, leave very\nlittle to be desired, and the settings sometimes surpass anything which\ncan be seen in Europe; one often sees marvellous effects and most\nconvincing illusions. And these, with the American good humour, verve,\nand self-assurance, and the beauty of American women, bring many a\ngraceful comedy and light opera to a really artistic performance. The\ngreat public, too, is quite content, and fills the theatres to\noverflowing. It seems almost unjust to criticise unfavourably the\ncountry\u2019s theatres.\n\nBut the general public is not the only nor even the most important\nfactor; the discriminating public is not satisfied. Artistic productions\nof the more serious sort are drowned out by a great tide of worthless\nentertainments; and however amusing or diverting the comedies, farces,\nrural pieces, operettas, melodramas, and dramatized novels may be, they\nare thoroughly unworthy of a people that is so ceaselessly striving for\ncultivation and self-perfection. Such pieces should not have the\nassurance to invade the territory of true art. And, although the lack of\ngood plays is less noticeable, if one looks at the announcements of what\nis to be given in New York on any single evening, it is tremendously\nborne home on one by the bad practice of repeating the plays night after\nnight for many weeks, so that a person who wants to see real art has\nsoon seen every production which is worth while. In this respect New\nYork is distinctly behind Paris, Berlin, or Vienna, although about on a\nlevel with London; and in the other large cities of America the\nsituation is rather worse. Everywhere the stage caters to the vulgar\ntaste, and for one Hamlet there are ten Geishas.\n\nIt cannot be otherwise, since the theatre is entirely a business matter\nwith the managers. Sometimes there is an artist like the late Daly, who\nis ready to conduct a theatre from the truly artistic point of view, and\nwho offers admirable performances; but this is an expensive luxury, and\nthere are few who will afford it. It is a question of making money, and\ntherefore of offering humorous or sentimental pieces which fill the\ntheatre. There is another fact of which the European hardly knows; it is\ncheaper to engage a company to play a single piece for a whole year with\nmechanical regularity than to hire actors to give the study necessary to\na diversified repertoire. After many repetitions, even mediocre actors\ncan attain a certain skill, while in repertoire only good actors are\nfound at all satisfactory, and the average will not be tolerated by the\npampered public. Then, too, the accessories are much cheaper for a\nsingle piece.\n\nNow, in a town of moderate size, one piece cannot be repeated many\nnights, so that the companies have to travel about. The best companies\nstay not less than a week, and if the town is large enough, they stay\nfrom four to six weeks. These companies are known by the name of the\npiece which they are presenting, or by the name of the leading actor,\nthe \u201cstar.\u201d The theatre in itself is a mere tenantless shell. In early\nfall the whole list of companies which are to people its stage through\nthe next thirty weeks is arranged. In this way, it is true that the\nsmall city is able to see the best actors and the newest pieces. Yet one\nsees how sterile this principle is by considering some of the extreme\ncases. Jefferson has played his Rip Van Winkle and almost nothing else\nfor thirty years; and the young people of Chicago, Philadelphia, and\nBoston would be very unhappy if he were not to come in this r\u00f4le for a\ncouple of weeks every winter. And he has thus become several times a\nmillionaire.\n\nBut the business spirit has not stopped with this. The hundreds of\ncompanies compete with one another, so that very naturally a theatrical\ntrust has been formed. The syndicate of Klaw, Erlanger & Frohman was\norganized in 1896 with thirty-seven leading theatres in large cities,\nall pledged to present none but companies belonging to the syndicate,\nwhile, in return, the syndicate agreed to keep the theatres busy every\nweek in the season. The favourite actors and the favourite companies\nwere secured, and the independent actors who resisted the tyranny found\nthat in most of the large cities only second-rate theatres were open to\nthem. One after another had to give in, and now the great trust under\nthe command of Frohman has virtually the whole theatrical business of\nthe country in its hands. The trust operates shrewdly and squarely; it\nknows its public, offers variety, follows the fashions, gives the great\nmimes their favourite r\u00f4les, pays them and the theatre owners well,\nrelieves the actors from the struggle for promotion, and vastly amuses\nthe public. It is impossible to resist this situation, which is so\nadverse to art.\n\nAll are agreed that there is only one way to better matters. Permanent\ncompanies must be organized, in the large cities at first, to play in\nrepertoire. And these must be subsidized, so as not to be dependent for\ntheir support on the taste of the general public. Then and then only\nwill the dramatic art be able to thrive, or the theatre become an\neducational institution, and so slowly cultivate a better demand, which\nin the end will come to make even the most eclectic theatre\nself-supporting. So it has always been on the European Continent;\nprinces and municipalities have rivalled with one another to raise the\nlevel of dramatic art above what it would have to be if financially\ndependent solely on the box-office. In the United States there is\ncertainly no lack of means or good will to encourage such an educational\ninstitution. Untold millions go to libraries, museums, and universities,\nand we may well ask why the slightest attempt has not been made to\nprovide, by gift or from the public treasury, for a temple to the drama.\n\nIt is just here that the old Puritan prejudice is still felt to-day. The\ntheatre is no longer under the ban of the law, but no step can be taken\ntoward a subvention of the theatre. Most taxpayers in America would look\nwith disfavour on any project to support a theatre from public funds.\nWhy a theatre more than a hotel or restaurant? The theatre remains a\nplace of frivolous amusement, and for that reason no millionaires have\nso far endowed a theatre. Men like Carnegie know too well that the\ngeneral mass of people would blame them if they were to give their\nmillions to the theatre, as long as a single town was still wishing for\nits library or its college.\n\nThe history of music in America has shown what can be attained by\nendowment\u2014how the public demand can be educated so that even the very\nbest art will finally be self-supporting. The development of the Boston\nSymphony Orchestra, which is still the best musical organization in the\ncountry, is thoroughly typical. It was realized that symphony concerts,\nlike the best given in Germany, would not be self-supporting, in view of\nthe deficient musical education of the country. In 1880 Boston had two\nsymphony orchestras, but both were of little account. They were composed\nof over-busied musicians, who could not spare the time needed for study\nand rehearsals. Then one of the most liberal and appreciative men of the\ncountry, Henry Lee Higginson, came forward and engaged the best\nmusicians whom he could find, to give all their time and energy to an\norchestra; and he himself guaranteed the expenses. During the first few\nyears he paid out a fortune annually, but year by year the sum grew\nless, and to-day Boston so thoroughly enjoys its twenty-four symphony\nconcerts, which are not surpassed by those of any European orchestra,\nthat the large music-hall is too small to hold those who wish to attend.\nThis example has been imitated, and now New York, Chicago, Philadelphia,\nand other cities have excellent and permanent orchestras.\n\nLikewise various cities, but especially New York, enjoy a few weeks of\nGerman, French, and Italian opera which is equal to the best opera in\nEurope, by a company that brings together the best singers of Europe and\nAmerica. In the case of opera the love of music has prevailed over the\nprejudice against the theatre. Extraordinarily high subscriptions for\nthe boxes, and a reduced rental of the Metropolitan Opera House, which\nwas erected by patrons of art, have given brilliant support to the\nundertaking. Without going into questions of principle, an impartial\nfriend of music must admit that even the performances of Parsifal were\nartistically not inferior to those of Bayreuth, and the audience was\nquite as much in sympathy with the great masterpiece as are the\nassemblages of tourists at Bayreuth. The artistic education proceeding\nfrom these larger centres is felt through the entire country, and there\nis a growing desire for less ambitious but permanent opera companies.\n\nThe symphony and the opera are not the only evidences of the serious\nlove of music in America. Every large city has its conservatory and its\nsurplus of trained music teachers, and almost every city has societies\nwhich give oratorios, and innumerable singing clubs, chamber concerts,\nand regular musical festivals. Even the concerts by other soloists than\nthat fashionable favourite of American ladies, Paderewski, are well\nattended. And these are not new movements; opera was given in New York\nas early as 1750, and the English opera of the eighteenth century was\nfollowed in 1825 by Italian opera. Also Baltimore, Philadelphia, and New\nOrleans early developed a love for music.\n\nBoston has been the great centre for oratorio. The H\u00e4ndel and Haydn\nSociety dates from 1810, and in 1820 a great many concerts were given\nall through the East, even in small towns. And the influence of the\nmusical Germans was strongly felt by the middle of the century. The\nGermania Orchestra of Boston was founded in 1848, and now all the\nWestern cities where German influences are strong, such as Milwaukee,\nCincinnati, Chicago, and St. Louis, are centres of music, with many male\nchoruses and much private cultivation of music in the home.\n\nThe churches, moreover, are a considerable support to music. The Puritan\nspirit disliked secular music no less than the theatre; but the popular\nhymns were always associated with the service of God, and so the love\nfor music grew and its cultivation spread. Progress was made from the\nsimplest melodies to fugue arrangements; organs and stringed instruments\nwere introduced; the youth was educated in music, and finally in the\nlast century church worship was made more attractive by having the best\nmusic obtainable. And thus, through the whole country, chorus and solo\nsinging and instrumental skill have been everywhere favoured by the\npopular religious instinct.\n\nSo much for the performance of music. Musical composition has not\nreached nearly such a high point. It is sufficient to look over the\nprogrammes of recent years. Wagner leads among operatic composers, then\nfollow Verdi, Gounod, and Mozart; Beethoven is the sovereign of the\nconcert-hall, and The Messiah and The Creation are the most popular\noratorios. Sometimes a suspicion has been expressed that American\ncomposers must have been systematically suppressed by the leading German\nconductors like Damrosch, Seidl, Gericke, Thomas, and Paur. But this is\nnot remotely true. The American public is much more to be blamed; for,\nalthough so patriotic in every other matter, it looks on every native\nmusical composition with distrust, and will hardly accept even the\nAmerican singer or player until he has first won his laurels in Europe.\n\nStill, there has been some composition in America. There were religious\ncomposers in the eighteenth century, and when everything English was put\naway at the time of the Revolution, the colonists replaced the\npsalm-tunes which they had brought over with original airs. Billings and\nhis school were especially popular, although there was an early reaction\nagainst what he was pleased to call fugues. The nineteenth century\nbrought forth little more than band-master music, with no sign of\ninspiration in real orchestral or operatic music. Only lately there have\nstepped into the field such eminent composers as MacDowell, Paine,\nChadwick, Strong, Beech, Buck, Parker, and Foot. Paine\u2019s opera of\n\u201cAzara,\u201d Chadwick\u2019s overtures, and MacDowell\u2019s interesting compositions\nshow how American music will develop.\n\nMore popular was a modest branch of musical composition, the song in the\nstyle of folk-songs. America has no actual folk-songs. The average\nEuropean imagines \u201cYankee Doodle\u201d to be the real American song,\nanonymous and dreadful as it is, and in diplomatic circles the\nantiquated and bombastic \u201cHail Columbia\u201d is conceived to be the official\nhymn of America. The Americans themselves recognize neither of these\nairs. The \u201cStar Spangled Banner\u201d is the only song which can be called\nnational; it was written in 1814 to an old and probably English melody.\nThe Civil War left certain other songs which stir the breast of every\npatriotic American.\n\nOn the other hand, folk-songs have developed in only one part of the\ncountry\u2014on the Southern plantations\u2014and with a very local colouring. The\nnegro slaves sang these songs first, although it is unlikely that they\nare really African songs. They seem to be Irish and Scotch ballads,\nwhich the negroes heard on the Mississippi steamboats. Baptist and\nMethodist psalm-tunes and French melodies were also caught up by the\nmusical negroes and modified to their peculiar melody and rhythm. A\nremarkable sadness pervades all these Southern airs.\n\nMany song composers have imitated this most unique musical product of\nthe country. In the middle of the century Stephen Foster rose to rapid\npopularity with his \u201cOld Folks at Home,\u201d which became the popular song,\nrivalled only by \u201cHome Sweet Home,\u201d which was taken from the text of an\nAmerican opera, but of which the melody is said to have originated in\nSicily. There are to-day all sorts of composers, some in the sentimental\nstyle and others in the light opera vein, whose street tunes are\ninstantly sung, whistled and played on hurdy-gurdies from the Atlantic\nto the Pacific, and, worst of all, stridently rendered by the\ngraphophones, with megaphone attachments, on verandahs in summer. There\nare composers of church hymns, of marches _\u00e0 la_ Sousa, and writers of\npiano pieces by the wholesale. All serious musicians agree that the\nAmerican, unlike the Englishman, is decidedly musically inclined, but he\nis the incontestable master of only a very modest musical art\u2014he can\nwhistle as nobody else.\n\nUnlike American music, American paintings are no longer strange to\nEurope. In the art division of the last Paris Exposition Americans took\ntheir share of the honours, and they are highly appreciated at most of\nthe Berlin and Munich picture shows. Sargent and Whistler are the best\nknown. Sargent, as the painter of elegant ladies, prosperous men, and\ninteresting children, has undoubtedly the surest and most refined gift\nwith his brush of any son of the New World. When, a few years ago, a\nlarge exhibition of his works was brought together in Boston, one felt\non standing before that gathering of ultra-polite and almost living\nhumanity, that in him the elegant world has found its most brilliant,\nthough perhaps not its most flattering, transcriber. Whistler is\ndoubtless the greater, the real sovereign. This most nervous of all\nartists has reproduced his human victims with positively uncanny\nperspicacity. Like Henry James, the novelist, he fathoms each human\nriddle, and expresses it intangibly, mysteriously. Everything is mood\nand suggestion, the dull and heavy is volatilized, the whole is a\nsceptical rendering in rich twilight tones.\n\nAmerica is proud of both artists, and still one may doubt whether the\nart of the New World would be justly represented if it sent across the\nocean only these two pampered and somewhat whimsical artists. Firstly,\nin spite of much brilliant other work, they are both best known as\nportraitists, while it becomes plainer every day that landscape painting\nis the most typical American means of expression. The profound feeling\nfor nature, which pervades American poetry and reflects the national\nlife and struggle therewith, brings the American to study landscape.\nMany persons think even that if American artists were to send ever so\nmany easel pictures across the ocean, the artistic public of Europe\nwould still have no adequate judgment of American painting, because the\nbest talent is busied with the larger pieces intended for wall\ndecoration. The great number of monumental buildings, with their large\nwall surfaces and the desire for ambitious creations, attract the\nAmerican to-day to wall-painting. And they try to strengthen the\nnational character of this tendency by a democratic argument. The easel\npicture, it is said, is a luxury designed for the house of the wealthy\nand is, therefore, decadent, while the art of a nation which is working\nout a democracy must pertain to the people; and therefore just as early\nart adorned the temples and churches, this art must adorn the walls of\npublic buildings, libraries, judicial chambers, legislatures, theatres,\nrailway stations and city halls. And the more this comes to be the case,\nthe less correct it is to judge the pinctile efforts of the time by the\nframed pictures that come into the exhibitions. Moreover, many of the\nmore successful painters do not take the trouble to send any of their\nworks across the ocean.\n\nSargent and Whistler also\u2014and this is more important\u2014speak a language\nwhich is not American, while the country has now developed its own\ngrammar of painting, and the most representative artists are seldom seen\nin Europe. In painting, as in so many other branches, the United States\nhas developed from the provincial to the cosmopolitan and from the\ncosmopolitan to the national, and is just now taking this last step. It\nis very characteristic that the untutored provincial has grown into the\nnational only by passing through a cosmopolitan stage. The faltering\npowers of the beginner do not achieve a self-conscious expression of\nnational individuality until they have first industriously and\nsystematically imitated foreign methods, and so attained a complete\nmastery of the medium of expression.\n\nAt first the country, whose poor population was not able to pay much\nattention to pictures, turned entirely to England. West and Copley are\nthe only pre-Revolutionary Americans whose pictures possess any value.\nThe portraits of their predecessors\u2014as, for instance, those in Memorial\nHall at Harvard\u2014are stiff, hard, and expressionless. Then came Gilbert\nStuart at the end of the eighteenth century, whose portraits of George\nand Martha Washington are famous, and who showed himself an artistic\ngenius and quite the equal of the great English portraitists. John\nTrumbull, an officer in the Revolutionary Army, who lived at the same\ntime, was still more important for the national history by his war\npictures, the best of which were considerably above contemporary\nproductions. The historical wall-paintings which he made in 1817, for\nthe Capitol at Washington, are in his later and inferior manner. They\nseem to-day, like everything which was done in the early part of the\ncentury to decorate the Capitol, hackneyed and tiresome. And if one goes\nfrom the Capitol to the Congressional Library, which shows the condition\nof art at the end of the nineteenth century, one feels how far the\npublic taste of Trumbull\u2019s time was from appreciating true art.\nPortraiture was the only art which attained tolerable excellence, where,\nbesides Stuart, there were Peale, Wright, and Savage. Then came the day\nof the \u201cAmerican Titian,\u201d Allston, whose Biblical pictures were greatly\npraised for their brilliant colouring.\n\nHitherto artists had gone to England to study or, indeed, sometimes to\nItaly. In the second third of the century they went to D\u00fcsseldorf; they\npainted American landscapes, American popular life, and historical\npictures of American heroes, all in German fashion. They delighted in\ngenre studies in the D\u00fcsseldorf manner, and painted the Hudson River all\nbathed in German moonlight. While the popular school was still painting\nthe world in blackish brown, the artistic secession began at about the\ntime of the Civil War. Then artists began to go to Paris and Munich, and\nAmerican painting developed more freely. It was a time of earnest,\nprofound, and independent study such as had so far never been. The\nartist learned to draw, learned to see values, and, in the end, to be\nnatural. The number of artists now began to increase, and to-day\nAmericans produce thousands of pictures each year, and one who sees the\nEuropean exhibitions in summer and the American in winter does not feel\nthat the latter are on a much lower level.\n\nSince Allston\u2019s time the leaders in landscape have been Cole, Bierstadt,\nKensett, and Gifford; in genre, Leslie, Woodville, and particularly\nMount; in historical painting, Lentze and White; and in portraiture,\nInman and Elliott. The first who preached the new doctrine of\nindividuality and colour was Hunt, and in the early seventies the new\nschool just graduated from Paris and Munich was bravely at work. There\nare many well-known names in the last thirty years, and it is a matter\nrather of individual choice what pictures one prefers of all the large\nnumber. Yet no one would omit George Inness from the list, since he has\nseen American landscapes more individually than any one else. Besides\nhis pictures every one knows the marines of Winslow Homer, the street\nscenes of Childe Hassam, the heads of Eaton, the autumn forests of\nEnneking, the apple trees in spring-time of Appleton Brown, the delicate\nlandscapes of Weir and Tryon, the wall pictures of Abbey, Cox, and Low,\nGaugengigl\u2019s little figure paintings, Vedder\u2019s ambitious symbolism, the\nbrilliant portraits of Cecilia Beaux and Chase, the women\u2019s heads of\nTarbell, the ideal figures of Abbot Thayer, and the works of a hundred\nother American artists, not to mention those who are really more\nfamiliar in London, Paris, and Munich than in America itself.\n\nBesides the oil pictures, there are excellent water-colours, pastelles,\nand etchings; and, perhaps most characteristic of all, there is the\nstained glass of La Farge, Lathrop, the late Mrs. Whitman, Goodhue, and\nothers. The workers in pen-and-ink are highly accomplished, of whom the\nbest known is Gibson, whose American women are not only artistic, but\nhave been socially influential on American ideals and manners. His\nsketches for Life have been themselves models for real life. Nor should\nwe forget Pennell, the master of atmosphere in pen-and-ink.\n\nSculpture has developed more slowly. It presupposes a higher\nunderstanding of art than does painting; and, besides that, the\nprudishness of the Puritan has affected it adversely. When John Brazee,\nthe first American amateur sculptor, in the early part of the nineteenth\ncentury, asked advice of the president of the New York Academy of Arts,\nhe was told that he would better wait a hundred years before practicing\nsculpture in America. The speech admirably showed the general lack of\ninterest in plastic art. But the impetuous pressure toward\nself-perfection existing in the nation shortened the century into\ndecades; people began to journey through Italy. The pioneers of\nsculpture were Greenough, Powers, Crawford, and Palmer, and their\nstatues are still valued for their historical interest. The theatrical\ngenre groups of John Rogers became very popular; and Randolph Rogers,\nwho created the Columbus bronze doors of the Capitol, was really an\nartist. Then came Storey, Ball, Rinehart, Hosmer, Mead, and many others\nwith works of greater maturity. Squares and public buildings were filled\nwith monuments and busts which, to be sure, were generally more\ninteresting politically than artistically, and which to-day wait\npatiently for a charitable earthquake. And yet they show how the taste\nfor plastic art has slowly worked upward.\n\nMore recent movements, which are connected with the names of Ward,\nWarner, Partridge, French, MacMonnies, and St. Gaudens, have already\nleft many beautiful examples of sculpture. Cities are jealously watchful\nnow that only real works of art shall be erected, and that monuments\nwhich are to be seen by millions of people shall be really\ncharacteristic examples of good art. More than anything else, sculpture\nhas at length come into a closer sympathy with architecture than perhaps\nit has in any other country. The admirable sculptural decorations of the\nChicago World\u2019s Fair, the effective Dewey Triumphal Arch and the\npermanent plastic decorations of the Congressional Library, the more\nrestrained and distinguished decorations of the Court of Appeals in New\nYork City, and of many similar buildings show clearly that American\nsculpture has ended its period of immaturity. Such a work as St.\nGaudens\u2019s Shaw Memorial in Boston is among the most beautiful examples\nof modern sculpture; and it is thoroughly American, not only because the\nnegro regiment marches behind the mounted colonel, but because the\nAmerican subject is handled in the American spirit. These men are\ndepicted with striking vigour, and the young hero riding to his death is\nconceived with Puritan sobriety. Vigorous and mature is the American, in\nplastic art as well as in poetry.\n\nThe development of architecture has been a very different one. A people\nmust be housed, and cannot stay out of doors until it has learned what\nis beautiful in architecture. People could wait for poetry, music, and\npainting while they were busy in keeping off the Indians and felling the\nforests; but they had to have houses at once. And since at that time\nthey had no independent interests in art, they imitated forms with which\nthey had been familiar, and everywhere perpetuated the architectural\nideas of their mother country. But the builder is at a disadvantage\nbeside the painter, the singer, and the poet, in that when he imitates\nhe cannot even do that as he will, but is bound down by climate, by\nsocial requirements, and especially by his building material. And when\nhe is placed in new surroundings, he is forced to strike out for\nhimself.\n\nAlthough the American colonist remained under the influence of English\narchitecture, his environment forced him in the first place to build his\nhouse of wood instead of stone as in England, and in wood he could not\nso easily copy the pattern. It had to be a new variation of the older\nart. And so architecture, although it more slavishly followed the mother\ncountry than any other art, was the earliest to strike out in some\nrespects on an independent course. It borrowed its forms, but originated\ntheir applications; and while it slowly adopted new ideas of style and\nbecame gradually free of European styles, it became free even earlier in\ntheir technical application, owing to the new American conditions. More\nthan any other feature of her civilization, American architecture\nreveals the entire history of the people from the days when the Puritans\nlived in little wooden villages to the present era of the sky-scraper of\nthe large cities; and in this growth more than in that of any other art\nthe whole country participates, and specially the West, with its\ntremendous energy, which is awkward with the violin-bow and the crayon\nbut is well versed in piling stone on stone.\n\nIn colonial days, English renaissance architecture was imitated in wood,\na material which necessitated slender columns and called for finer\ndetail and more graceful lines than were possible in stone. One sees\nto-day, especially in the New England States, many such buildings quite\nunaltered; and the better of these in Salem, Cambridge, and Newport are,\nin spite of their lightness, substantial and distinguished as no\nEuropean would think possible in so ordinary a material as wood. Large,\nbeautiful halls, with broad, open staircases and broad balusters, greet\nthe visitor; large fireplaces, with handsomely carved chimney-pieces,\nhigh wainscotings on the walls and beautiful beams across the ceilings.\nThe more modest houses show the same thing on a smaller scale. There was\nthis one style through the whole town, and its rules were regarded as\ncanonical. In certain parts of the country there were inconspicuous\ntraces of Spanish, French, and Dutch influence, which survive to-day in\nmany places, especially in the South, and contribute to the\npicturesqueness of the architectural whole.\n\nAfter the Revolutionary period, people wished to break with English\ntraditions, and the immigration from many different countries brought a\ngreat variety of architectural stimulation. A time of general imitation\nhad arrived, for in architecture also the country was to grow from the\nprovincial to the national through a cosmopolitan stage. At the end of\nthe eighteenth century, architecture was chiefly influenced by the\nclassic Greek. Farmhouses masqueraded as big temples, and the\nthoughtless application of this form became so monotonous that it was\nnot continued very long in private houses. Then the Capitol at\nWashington was begun by Latrobe and finished by the more competent\nBulfinch, and it became the model for almost all state capitols of the\nUnion. Bulfinch himself designed the famous State House of\nMassachusetts, but it was the Puritan spirit of Boston which selected\nthe austere Greek temple to typify the public spirit. The entire\ncentury, in spite of many variations, stood under this influence, and\nuntil recently nobody has ventured to put up a civil structure in a\nfreer, more picturesque style.\n\nMany of these single state capitols built during the century, such as\nthe old one at Albany, are admirable; while the post-offices,\ncustom-houses, and other buildings dedicated to federal uses have been\nput up until recently cheaply and without thought. Lately, however, the\narchitect has been given freer play. Meanwhile taste had wandered from\nthe classic era to the Middle Ages, and the English Gothic had come to\nbe popular. The romantic took the place of the classic, and the\nbuildings were made picturesque. The effect of this was most happy on\nchurch edifices, and about the middle of the century Richard Upjohn,\n\u201cthe father of American architecture,\u201d built a number of famous churches\nin the Gothic style.\n\nBut in secular edifices this spirit went wholly to architectural\nlawlessness. People were too little trained to preserve a discipline of\nstyle along with the freedom of the picturesque. And even more\nunfortunate than the lack of training of the architect, who committed\nimproprieties because uncertain in his judgment, there was the\ntastelessness of the parvenu patron, and this particularly in the West.\nThen came the time of unrest and vulgar splurge, when in a single\nresidential street palaces from all parts of the world were cheaply\ncopied, and just as in Europe forgotten styles were superficially\nreproduced. The Queen Anne style became fashionable; and then native\ncolonial and Dutch motives were revived.\n\nThis period is now long past. The last twenty-five years in the East and\nthe last ten years in the West have seen this tasteless, hap-hazard, and\nignorant experimenting with different styles give place to building\nwhich is thoughtful, independent, and generally beautiful; though, of\ncourse, much that is ugly has continued to be built. Architecture itself\nhas developed a careful school, and the public has been trained by the\narchitects. Of course, many regrettable buildings survive from former\nperiods, so that the general impression to-day is often very confused;\nbut the newer streets in the residential, as well as the business,\nportions of cities and towns display the fitting homes and office\nbuildings of a wealthy, independent, and art-loving people. In\ncomparison with Europe, a negative feature may be remarked; namely, the\nnotable absence of rococo tendencies. It is sometimes found in interior\ndecorations, but never on exteriors.\n\nThe positive features which especially strike the European are the\nprevalence of Romanesque and of the sky-scrapers. The round arch of the\nRomans comes more immediately from southern France; but since its\nintroduction to America, notably by the architectural genius Richardson,\nthe round arch has become far more popular than in Europe, and has given\nrise to a characteristic American style, which is represented to-day in\nhundreds of substantial buildings all over the country. There is\nsomething heavy, rigid, and at the same time energetic, in these great\narches resting on short massive columns, in the great, pointed, round\ntowers, in the heavy balconies and the low arcades. The primitive force\nof America has found its artistic expression here, and the ease with\nwhich the new style has adapted itself to castle-like residences, banks,\nmuseums, and business houses, and the quickness with which it has been\nadopted, in the old streets of Boston as in the newer ones of Chicago\nand Minneapolis, all show clearly that it is a really living style, and\nnot merely an architectural whim.\n\nThe Romanesque style grew from an artistic idea, while the sky-scraper\nhas developed through economic exigencies. New York is an island,\nwherefore the stage of her great business life cannot be extended, and\nevery inch has had to be most advantageously employed. It was necessary\nto build higher than commercial structures have ever been carried in\nEurope. At first these buildings were twenty stories high, but now they\nare even thirty. To rest such colossal structures on stone walls would\nhave necessitated making the walls of the lower stories so thick as to\ntake up all the most desirable room, and stone was therefore replaced by\nsteel. The entire structure is simply a steel framework, lightly cased\nin stone. Herewith arose quite new architectural problems. The\nsubdivision of the twenty-story fa\u00e7ade was a much simpler problem than\nthe disposal of the interior space, where perhaps twenty elevators have\nto be speeding up and down, and ten thousand men going in and out each\nday. The problem has been admirably solved. The absolute adaptation of\nthe building to its requirements, and its execution in the most\nappropriate material\u2014namely, steel and marble\u2014the shaping of the rooms\nto the required ends, and the carrying out of every detail in a\nthoroughly artistic spirit make a visit to the best office buildings of\nNew York an \u00e6sthetic delight. And since very many of these are now built\nside of one another, they give the sky-line of the city a strength and\nsignificance which strike every one who is mature enough to find beauty\nin that to which he is not accustomed. When the problem had once been\nsolved, it was natural for other industrial cities to imitate New York,\nand the sky-scraper is now planted all over the West.\n\nAmerican architecture of to-day is happily situated, because the\npopulation is rapidly growing, is extraordinarily wealthy, and seriously\nfond of art. An architect who has to be economical, must make beauty\nsecondary to utility. In the western part of the country, considerable\neconomy is often exercised and mostly in the very worst way. The\npretentious appearance of the building is preserved, but the\nconstruction is made cheap; the exterior is made of stucco instead of\nstone, and the interior finish is not carved, but pressed. This may not,\nafter all, be so much for the sake of economy, as by reason of a\ndeficient \u00e6sthetic sense. People who would not think of preferring a\nchromo-lithograph to an oil-painting do not as yet feel a similar\ndistinction between architectural materials. For the most part, however,\nthe buildings now erected are rich and substantial. The large public and\nsemi-public buildings, court-houses and universities, state capitols and\ncity halls, libraries and museums are generally brilliant examples of\narchitecture. The same is true of the buildings for industrial\ncorporation, offices, banks, hotels, life-insurance companies,\nstock-exchanges, counting-houses, railway stations, theatres and clubs,\nall of which, by their restrained beauty, inspire confidence and attract\nthe eye. These are companies with such large capital that they never\nthink of exercising economy on their buildings. The architect can do\nquite as he likes. New York has a dozen large hotels, each one of which\nis, perhaps, more splendid in marble and other stones than any hotel in\nEurope; and while Chicago, Boston, and other cities have fewer such\nhotels, they have equally handsome ones.\n\nThe fabulously rapid and still relatively late growth of handsome public\nbuildings in the last decade is interesting from still another point of\nview. It reveals a trait in the American public mind which we have\nrepeatedly contrasted with the thought of Europe. American ambitions\nhave grown out of the desire for self-perfection. The American\u2019s own\nperson must be scrupulously, neatly, and carefully dressed, his own\nhouse must be beautiful; and only when the whole nation, as it were, has\nsatisfied the needs of the individual can \u00e6sthetic feeling go out to the\ncommunity as a whole\u2014from the individual persons to the city, from the\nprivate house to the public building. It has been exactly the opposite\non the European Continent. The ideal individual was later than the ideal\ncommunity. Splendid public buildings were first put up in Europe, while\npeople resided in ugly and uninviting houses.\n\nThere was a period in which the American did not mind stepping from his\ndaily bath, and going from his sumptuous home immaculately attired to a\nrailway station or court-house which was screamingly hideous and reeking\nwith dirt. And similarly there was a time in which the Germans and the\nFrench moved in and out of the wonderful architectural monuments of\ntheir past in dirty clothing, and perhaps without having bathed for many\ndays. In Germany the public building has influenced the individual, and\neventually worked toward beautifying his house. In America the\nindividual and the private house have only very slowly spread their\n\u00e6sthetic ideals through the public buildings. The final results in both\ncountries must be the same. There is exactly the same contrast in the\nethical field; whereas in Germany and France public morals have spread\ninto private life, in America individual morals have spread into public\nlife. As soon as the transition has commenced it proceeds rapidly.\n\nIn Germany few private houses are now built without a bathroom, and in\nAmerica few public buildings without consideration for what is\nbeautiful. The great change in railway stations indicates the rapidity\nof the movement. Even ten years ago there were huge car-sheds in the\ncities, and little huts in country districts, which so completely lacked\nany pretensions to beauty that \u00e6sthetic criticism was simply out of\nplace. Now, on the contrary, most of the large cities have palatial\nstations, of which some are among the most beautiful in the world, and\nmany railway companies have built attractive little stations all along\ntheir lines. As soon as such a state of things has come about, a\nreciprocal influence takes place between the individual and the communal\ndesire for perfection, and the \u00e6sthetic level of the nation rises daily.\nSo, too, the different arts stimulate one another. The architect plans\nhis work from year to year more with the painter and sculptor in mind,\nso that the erection of new buildings and the growth and wealth of the\npeople benefit not merely architecture, but the other arts as well.\n\nStill other factors are doing their part to elevate the artistic life of\nthe United States. And here particularly works the improved organization\nof the artistic professions. In former times, the true artist had to\nprefer Europe to his native home, because in his home he found no\ncongenial spirits; this is now wholly changed. There is still the\ncomplaint that the American cities are even now no Kunstst\u00e4dte; and,\ncompared with Munich or with Paris, this is still true. But New York is\nno more and no less a Kunstst\u00e4dte than is Berlin. In all the large\ncities of America the connoisseurs and patrons of art have organized\nthemselves in clubs, and the national organizations of architects,\npainters, and sculptors, have become influential factors in public life;\nand the large art schools with well-known teachers and the studios of\nprivate masters have become great centres for artistic endeavour. A\ngeneral historical study of architecture has even been introduced in\nuniversities, and already the erection of a national academy of art is\nso actively discussed that it will probably be very soon realized.\nCertainly every American artist will continue to visit Europe, as every\nGerman artist visits Italy; but all the conditions are now ripe in\nAmerica for developing native talent on native soil.\n\nThe artistic education of the public is not less important nor far\nbehind the professional education of the artist. We have discussed the\ngeneral appreciation of architecture, and the same public education is\nquietly going on in the art museums. Of course, the public art galleries\nof America are necessarily far behind those of Europe, since the art\ntreasures of the world were for the most part distributed when America\nbegan to collect. And yet it is surprising what treasures have been\nsecured, and in some branches of modern painting and industrial art the\nAmerican collections are not to be surpassed. Thus the Japanese\ncollection of pottery in Boston has nowhere its equal, and the\nMetropolitan Museum in New York leads the world in several respects.\nModern German art is unfortunately ill represented, but modern French\nadmirably. Here is a large field open for a proper German ambition;\nGerman art needs to be recognized much more throughout the country. It\nmust show that American distrust is absolutely unjustified, that it has\nmade greater artistic advances than any other nation, and that German\npictures are quite worthy of a large place in the collections.\n\nThere are many extraordinary private collections which were gathered\nduring the cosmopolitan period that the nation has gone through. Just as\nforeign architecture was imitated, so the treasures of foreign countries\nin art and decoration were secured at any price; and owing to the great\nwealth, the most valuable things were bought, often without intelligent\nappreciation, but never without a stimulating effect. One is often\nsurprised to find famous European paintings in private houses, often in\nremote Western cities; and the fact that for many years Americans have\nbeen the best patrons of art in the markets of the world, could not have\nbeen without its results. At the height of this collecting period\nAmerican art itself probably suffered: a moderately good French picture\nwas preferred to a better American picture; but all these treasures have\nindirectly benefited native art, and still do benefit it, so much that\nthe better artists of the country are much opposed to the absurd\nprotective tariff that is laid on foreign works of art. The Italian\npalace of Mrs. Gardner in Boston contains the most superb private\ncollection; but just here one sees that the cosmopolitan period of\ncollection and imitation is, after all, merely an episode in the history\nof American art. An Italian palace has no organic place in New England,\nalthough the artistic merits of the Gardner collection are perhaps\nnowhere surpassed.\n\nThe temporary exhibitions which are just now much in fashion have,\nperhaps, more influence than the permanent museums. Every large city has\nits annual exhibitions, and in the artistic centres, one special\ncollection comes after another. And the strongest general stimulation\nhas emanated from the great expositions. When the nation visited\nPhiladelphia in 1876, the American artistic sense was just waking up,\nand the impetus there started was of decisive significance. It is said\nthat the taste for colour in household decoration and fittings, for\nhandsome carpets and draperies, came into the country at that time. When\nChicago built its Court of Honour in 1893, which was more beautiful than\nwhat Paris could do seven years later, the country became for the first\ntime aware that American art could stand on its own feet, and this\n\u00e6sthetic self-consciousness has stimulated endeavour through the entire\nnation. In Chicago, for the first time, the connection between\narchitecture and sculpture came properly to be appreciated; and, more\nthan all else, the art of the whole world was then brought into the\nAmerican West, and that which previously had been familiar only to the\nartistic section between Boston and Washington was offered to the masses\nin Illinois, Michigan, Ohio, and Missouri. Chicago has remained since\nthat time one of the centres of American architecture, and the \u00e6sthetic\nlevel of the entire West was raised, although it is still below that of\nthe Eastern States. And once more, after a very short pause, St. Louis\nis ambitious enough to try the bold experiment which New York and\nBoston, like Berlin and Munich, have always avoided. The World\u2019s Fair at\nSt. Louis will surely give new impetus to American art, and especially\nto the artistic endeavour of the Western States.\n\nIf a feeling for art is really to pervade the people, the influence must\nnot begin when persons are old enough to visit a world\u2019s fair, but\nrather in childhood. The instruction in drawing, or rather in art, since\ndrawing is only one of the branches, must undertake the \u00e6sthetic\neducation of the youth in school. It cannot be denied that America has\nmore need of such \u00e6sthetic training of children than Germany. The\nAnglo-Saxon love of sport leads the youth almost solely to the bodily\ngames which stimulate the fancy much less than the German games of\nchildren, and other influences are also lacking to direct the children\u2019s\nemotional life in the road of \u00e6sthetic pleasure. On the other hand, it\nmust be admitted that the problem has been well solved in America. The\nAmerican art training in school, say on the Prang system, which more\nthan 20,000 teachers are using in class instruction, is a true\ndevelopment of the natural sense of beauty. The child learns to observe,\nlearns technique, learns the value of lines and colours, and learns,\nmore than all, to create beauty. In place of merely copying he divides\nand fills a given space harmoniously, and so little by little goes on to\nmake small works of art. Generations which have enjoyed such influences\nmust look on their environment with new eyes, and even in the poorest\nsurroundings instinctively transform what they have, in the interests of\nbeauty.\n\nCorresponding to these popular stimulations of the sense of beauty is\nthe wish to decorate the surroundings of daily life, most of all the\ninterior; even in more modest circles to make them bright, pleasing, and\nlivable, whereas they have too long been bare and meaningless. The arts\nand crafts have taken great steps forward, have gotten the services of\ntrue artists, and accomplished wonderful results. The glittering glasses\nof Tiffany and many other things from his world-famous studios are\nunsurpassed. There are also the wonderfully attractive silver objects of\nGorham, the clay vases of the Rockwood Pottery, objects in cut-glass and\npearl, furniture in Old English and Colonial designs, and much else of a\nsimilar nature. And for the artistic sense it is more significant and\nimportant that at last even the cheap fabrics manufactured for the large\nmasses reveal more and more an appreciation of beauty. Even the cheap\nfurniture and ornaments have to-day considerable character; and no less\ncharacteristic is the general demand, which is much greater than that of\nEurope, for Oriental rugs. The extravagant display of flowers in the\nlarge cities, the splendid parks and park-ways such as surround Boston,\nthe beautification of landscapes which Charles Eliot has so admirably\neffected, and in social life the increasing fondness for coloured and\n\u00e6sthetic symbols, such as the gay academic costumes, the beautiful\ntypography and book-bindings, and a thousand other things of the same\nsort, indicate a fresh, vigorous, and intense appreciation of beauty.\n\nWhile such a sense for visible beauty has been developed by the wealth\nand the artistic instruction of the country, one special condition more\nhas affected not only the fine arts but also poetry and literature. This\nis the development of the national feeling, which more than anything\nelse has stimulated literary and artistic life. The American feels that\nhe has entered the exclusive circle of world powers, and must like the\nbest of them realize and express his own nature. He is conscious of a\nmission, and the national feeling is unified much less by a common past\nthan by a common ideal for the future. His national feeling is not\nsentimental, but aggressive; the American knows that his goal is to\nbecome typically American. All this gives him the courage to be\nindividual, to have his own points of view, and since he has now studied\nhistory and mastered technique, this means no longer to be odd and\nfreakish, but to be truly original and creative. He is now for the first\ntime thoroughly aware what a wealth of artistic problems is offered by\nhis own continent, by his history, by his surroundings, and by his\nsocial conditions. And just as American science has been most successful\nin developing the history, geography, geology, zo\u00f6logy, and anthropology\nof the American Continent, so now his new art and literature are looking\nabout for American material.\n\nHis hopes are high; he sees indications of a new art approaching which\nwill excite the admiration of the world. He feels that the great writer\nis not far off who will express the New World in the great American\nnovel. Who shall say that these hopes may not be realized to-morrow? For\nit is certain that he enjoys an unusual combination of favourable\nconditions for developing a world force. Here are a people thoroughly\neducated in the appreciation of literature and art\u2014a people in the\nhey-day of success, with their national feeling growing, and having, by\nreason of their economic prosperity, the amplest means for encouraging\nart; a people who find in their own country untold treasures of artistic\nand literary problems, and who in the structure of their government and\ncustoms favour talent wherever it is found; a people who have learned\nmuch in cosmopolitan studies and to-day have mastered every technique,\nwho have absorbed the temperament and ambitions of the most diverse\nraces and yet developed their own consistent, national consciousness, in\nwhich indomitable will, fertile invention, Puritan morals, and\nirrepressible humour form a combination that has never before been\nknown. The times seem ripe for something great.\n\n\n\n\n                             CHAPTER TWENTY\n                               _Religion_\n\n\nThe individualistic conception of life and the religious conceptions of\nthe world favour each other. The more that an individual\u2019s religious\ntemperament sees this earthly life merely as a preparation for the\nheavenly, the more he puts all his efforts into the development of his\nindividual personality. General concepts, civilizations, and political\npowers cannot, as such, enter the gates of heaven; and the perfection of\nthe individual soul is the only thing which makes for eternal salvation.\nOn the other hand, the more deeply individualism and the desire for\nself-perfection have taken hold on a person, so much the deeper is his\nconviction that the short shrift before death is not the whole meaning\nof human existence, and that his craving for personal development hints\nat an existence beyond this world. Through such individualism, it is\ntrue, religion is in a sense narrowed; the idea of immortality is unduly\nemphasized. Yet the whole life of an individualistic nation is\nnecessarily religious. The entire American people are in fact profoundly\nreligious, and have been from the day when the Pilgrim Fathers landed,\ndown to the present moment.\n\nOn the other hand, individualism cannot decide whether we ought to look\non God with fear or with joy, to conceive Him as revengeful or\nbenevolent, to think human nature sinful or good. The two most\nindependent American thinkers of the eighteenth century, Jonathan\nEdwards and Benjamin Franklin, represent here the two extremes. The men\nwho have made American history and culture took in early times the point\nof view of Edwards, but take to-day rather that of Franklin.\n\nCan it be said that America is really religious to-day? From first\nimpressions, a European may judge the opposite; first and most of all,\nhe observes that the government does not concern itself with the church.\nArticle VI of the Constitution expressly forbids the filling of any\noffice or any political position of honour in the United States being\nmade dependent on religion, and the first amendment adds that Congress\nmay never pass a law aiming to establish any official religion or to\nhinder religious freedom. This provision of the Constitution is closely\nfollowed in the Constitutions of the several states. The government has\nnothing to do with the church; that is, the church lacks the powerful\nsupport of the state which it receives in all monarchical countries; and\nin fact the state interprets this neutrality prescribed by the\nConstitution so rigorously that, for example, statistics of religious\nadherence for the last great census were obtained from the church\norganizations, because the state has not the right to inquire into the\nreligious faith of citizens. Ecclesiastics pass no state examinations to\nshow their fitness to preach; millions of people belong to no church\norganization; the lower masses are not reached by any church, and the\npublic schools have no religious instruction. It might thus appear as if\nthe whole country were as indifferent to religion as European humourists\nhave declared it to be, in saying that the Almighty Dollar is the\nAmerican\u2019s only god.\n\nOn looking more closely, one finds very soon that the opposite is the\ncase. Although it is true that the state is not concerned with religion,\nyet this provision of the Constitution in no wise signifies any wish to\nencourage religious indifference. The states which united to form the\nFederation were profoundly religious; both Protestants and Catholics had\ncome to the New World to find religious freedom, had made great\nrenunciations to live in their faith untroubled by the persecutions of\nthe Old World, and every sect of Europe had adherents on this side of\nthe ocean. Not a few of the states were, in their general temperament,\nactually theocratic. Not only in Puritan New England had the church all\nthe power in her hands, but in the colony of Virginia, the seat of the\nEnglish High-Churchmen, it was originally the law that one who remained\ntwice away from church was flogged, and on the third time punished with\ndeath. When America broke away from England, almost every state had its\nspecial and pronounced religious complexion. The majority of the\npopulation in the separate colonies had generally forced their religion\non the whole community, and religious interests were everywhere in the\nforeground.\n\nAlthough, finally, Jefferson\u2019s proposition constitutionally to separate\nchurch and state was accepted, this move is not to be interpreted as\nindifference, but rather as a wish to avoid religious conflicts. In view\nof such pronounced differences as those between Puritans, Quakers,\nHigh-Churchmen, Catholics, etc., the establishment of any church as a\nstate institution would have required a subordination of the other sects\nwhich would have been felt as suppression. The separation of the church\nfrom the state simply meant freedom for every sect. Then, too, not all\nthe separate states followed the federal precedent; the New England\nStates especially favoured, by their taxation laws, the Calvinistic\nfaith until the beginning of the nineteenth century; and Massachusetts\nwas the last to introduce complete religious neutrality, as lately as\n1833. In the Southern States, the relations between church and state\nwere more easily severed; and in the Middle States, even during colonial\ntimes, there was general religious freedom.\n\nWhether or not the separation was rapid or slow, or whether it took\nplace under the passive submission, or through the active efforts of the\nclergy, the churches everywhere soon became the warmest supporter of\nthis new condition of things. All the clergy found that in this way the\ninterests of religion were best preserved. The state does nothing to-day\nfor the churches except by way of laws in single states against\nblasphemy and the disturbance of religious worship, and by the\nrecognition, but not the requirement, of church marriage. There are also\nremnants of the connection in the recognized duty of the President to\nappoint the annual day of Thanksgiving, and in cases of signal danger to\nappoint days of fasting and prayer, and one more remnant in the fact\nthat the legislatures are opened by daily prayer. Otherwise, the state\nand church move in separate dimensions of space, as it were, and there\nis no attempt to change this condition.\n\nIt was, therefore, no case of an orthodox minority being forced to\ncontent itself with an unchurchly state; but neither party nor sect nor\nstate had the slightest wish to see church and state united. The\nappreciation of this mutual independence is so great that public opinion\nturns at once against any church which tries to exert a political\ninfluence, whether by supporting a certain political body in local\nelections or by trying to obtain public moneys for its educational\ninstitutions and hospitals. When, for instance, the principal\nanti-Catholic organization, the so-called American Protective\nAssociation, became regrettably wide-spread, it got its strength, not\nfrom any Protestant ecclesiastical opposition, but only from the\npolitical antipathy against that church which seemed the most inclined\nto introduce such un-American side influences in party politics. Every\none felt that a great American principle was there at stake.\n\nThus the legal status of the churches is that of a large private\ncorporation, and nobody is required to connect himself with any church.\nSpecial ecclesiastical legislation is, therefore, superfluous; every\nchurch may organize, appoint officers, and regulate its property matters\nand disciplinary questions as it likes, and any disputed points are\nsettled by civil law, as in the case of all corporations. Just as with\nbusiness companies, a certain sort of collective responsibility is\nrequired; but the competition between churches, as between industrial\ncorporations, is unhampered, and the relation of the individual to his\nchurch is that of ordinary contract. One hundred and forty-eight\ndifferent sects appeal to-day for public favour. To the European this\nsounds at first like secularization, like a lowering of the church to\nthe level of a stock company\u2014like profanation. And still no Catholic\nbishop nor Orthodox minister would wish it different. Now how does this\ncome about?\n\nIn the first place individualism has even here victoriously carried\nthrough its desire for self-determination. Nobody is bound to belong to\nany congregation, and one who belongs is therefore willing to submit\nhimself to its organization, to subscribe to its by-laws, and to support\nits expenditures. Nobody pays public taxes for any church, nor is under\necclesiastical authority which he does not freely recognize. The church\nis, therefore, essentially relieved of any suspicion of interfering with\nindividual freedom. The individual himself is for the same reason not\nonly free to adopt or to reject religion, but also to express his\npersonal views in any form or creed whatsoever. Only where the church\nexercises no authority on thought or conscience can it be supported by\nthe spirit of self-determination. Thus, the Mennonite Church has already\ndeveloped twelve sects, the Baptist thirteen, the Methodist seventeen,\nand all of these are equally countenanced. At the same time the reproach\ncan never be made that the church owes its success to the assistance of\nthe state: what it does is by its own might; and so its success is\nthoroughly intrinsic and genuine, its zeal is quickened, and its whole\nactivities kept apart from the world of political strife and directed\ntoward ideals.\n\nThe church which is not supported by any written laws of the state is\nnot, for that reason, dependent alone on the religious ideals of its\nadherents, but also on the unwritten law of the social community. The\nless the authority of the state, the more the society as a whole\nrealizes its duties; and while society remains indifferent as long as\nreligion is enforced by external means, it becomes energetic as soon as\nit feels itself responsible for the general religious situation. The\nchurch has had no greater fortune than in having religion made\nindependent of the state and made the affair of society at large. Here\nan obligation could be developed, which is perhaps more firm and\nenergetic than that of the state, but which is nevertheless not felt as\nan interference, firstly, because the political individual is untouched,\nand secondly, because the allegiance to a certain social class is not\npredetermined, but becomes the goal and the honourable achievement of\nthe individual. Of course, even the social obligation would not have\ndeveloped had there not been a deep religious consciousness living in\nthe people; but such individual piety has been able to take much deeper\nroot in a soil socially so favourable. A religiously inclined\npopulation, which has made churchliness a social and not a political\nobligation, affords the American church the most favourable condition\nfor its success that could be imagined.\n\nOne may see even from the grouping of sects, how much the church is\nsupported by society. If anywhere democracy seems natural, it should be\nin the eyes of God; and yet, if Americans show anywhere social\ndemarcations, it is in the province of religion. This is true, not only\nof different churches where the expense of membership is so unequal that\nin large cities rich and poor are farther apart on Sundays than on\nweek-days, but it is true of the sects themselves. Methodists and\nEpiscopalians or Baptists and Unitarians form in general utterly\ndifferent social groups, and one of these sects is socially predominant\nin one section of the country, another in another. But just because\nreligious differences are so closely related to the differences existing\nin the social world, the relations between the sects are thoroughly\nfriendly. Each has its natural sphere.\n\nIt is certain that the large number of sects are helpful in this\ndirection, since they make the distinction between related faiths\nextremely small, sometimes even unintelligible to all except the\ntheological epicure; and, indeed, they often rest on purely local or\nancestral distinctions. Thus the German Reformed and the Dutch Reformed\nchurches are called two sects, and even the African Methodist\nEpiscopalians and the Coloured Methodist Episcopalians wish to be\ndistinguished from each other as from the other negro sects. Where large\nparties oppose each other, a war for principles can break out; but where\nthe religions merge into one another through many small gradations, the\nconsciousness of difference is less likely to be joined to any feeling\nof opposition. The real opponent of churches is the common enemy, the\natheist, although the more straitlaced congregations are not quite sure\nthat the Unitarians, who are most nearly comparable to members of the\nGerman Protestantenverein, are not best classed with the atheists. And,\nlastly, envy and jealousy do not belong to the American optimistic\ntemperament, which does not grudge another his success. Thus everything\nworks together to make the churches get on peacefully with one another.\nThe religion of the country stretches from one end to the other, like a\nbrilliant and many-hued rainbow.\n\nThe commingling of church and society is shown everywhere. The church is\npopular, religious worship is observed in the home, the minister is\nesteemed, divine worship is well attended, the work of the church is\ngenerously supported, and the cause of religion is favoured by the\nsocial community. These outlines may now be filled in by a few details.\nThe American grows up with a knowledge of the Bible. The church,\nSabbath-school, and the home influences work together; a true piety\nrules in every farm-house, and whosoever supposes this to be in anywise\nhypocrisy has no notion of the actual conditions. In many city homes of\nartisans the occupants do not know the Bible and do not wish to know it;\nbut they are in nowise hypocritical, and in the country at large\nreligion is so firmly rooted that people are much more likely to make\nsham pretences of general enlightenment than of religious belief. Thus,\nit is mostly a matter of course that festivals, banquets, and other\nmeetings which in Germany would not call for any religious demonstration\nwhatsoever, are opened and closed by prayer. Religious discussions are\ncarried on with animation in every class of society, and one who travels\nabout through the country finds that business and religion are the two\ngreat topics of conversation, while after them come politics. It is only\namong individuals who are so religiously disposed, that such vagaries of\nthe supernatural consciousness, as spiritualism, healing by prayer,\netc., could excite so much interest. But also normal religious questions\ninterest an incomparably large circle of people; nine hundred\necclesiastical newspapers and magazines are regularly published and\ncirculated by the millions.\n\nWe have said, furthermore, that divine service is well attended, and\nthat clergymen are highly esteemed. In the non-political life,\nespecially in the East, the great preachers are among the most\ninfluential people of the day. The most brilliant ecclesiastic of recent\ndecades was, by common consent, Phillips Brooks, by whose speech and\npersonality every one was attracted and ennobled; and it has often been\nsaid that at his death, a few years ago, the country mourned as never\nbefore since the death of Lincoln. No one equal to him has appeared\nsince, but there are many ministers whose ethical influence must be\naccounted among the great factors of public life; and this is true, not\nonly of the Protestant ministers, but also of several Catholic\necclesiastics.\n\nThe same is true in the more modest communities. The influence of the\npreacher is more profound in small communities of America than it is in\nGermany. But it is weakened at once if the representative of the church\ndescends to politics. He is welcomed as an appropriate fellow-worker\nonly in questions that border both on politics and on morals\u2014as, for\ninstance, the temperance question. The high position of the clergy is\ninterestingly shown from the fact that the profession is very often\nrecruited from the best classes of society. Owing to the American effort\nto obliterate social differentiation as much as possible, it is\ndifficult to make sure of the facts of the situation; but it seems\npretty certain that the men who study for the ministry, especially in\nthe Episcopalian, Presbyterian, Congregational, and Unitarian churches,\nare better born than the men who become school teachers and physicians.\n\nThe preacher steps into the pulpit and faces his hearers in a way which\nis typically American. Of course, it is impossible to reduce the\nministerial bearing in the 194,000 churches of the country to a single\nformula; but one thing may always be noted, by the European, in contrast\nto what he has seen at home\u2014the obvious reference of the sermon to the\nworldly interests of the congregation. Its outer form already shows\nthis; the similes and metaphors are borrowed from ordinary and even\nvulgar life, the applications are often trivial, but forcible and\nstriking, and even anecdotes are introduced and given in colloquial\nform. More than that, the topic itself is chosen so as to concern\npersonally nearly every one sitting in the pews; the latest vexation or\ndisappointment, the cherished hope, or the duty lying nearest to the\nindividual forms the starting-point of the sermon, and the words of the\nBible are brought home to the needs of the hearers like an expected\nguest. The preacher does not try to lure the soul away from daily life,\nbut he tries to bring something higher into that life and there to make\nit living; and if he is the right sort of a preacher, this never works\nas a cheapening of what is divine, but as an exaltation of what is\nhuman.\n\nDoubtless it is just on this account that the church is so popular and\nthe services so well attended. To be sure, frequently the minister is a\nsensational pulpit elocutionist, who exploits the latest scandal or the\nnewest question of the day in order to interest the public and attract\nthe curious to church. Often the worldly quality of the sermon tends to\nanother form of depreciation. The sermon becomes a lecture in general\nculture, a scientific dissertation, or an educational exercise. Of\ncourse, the abandonment of the strictly religious form of sermon brings\nmany temptations to all except the best preachers; yet, in general, the\nAmerican sermon is unusually powerful.\n\nThe popularity of the church does not depend only on the applicability\nof the sermon, but in part on social factors which are not nearly so\nstrong in any part of Europe. If the congregation desires to bring the\ngeneral public to church, it will gain its end most surely by offering\nattractions of a religiously indifferent nature. These attractions may\nindirectly assist the moral work of the church, although their immediate\nmotive is to stimulate church-going. The man who goes to church merely\nin order to hear the excellent music has necessarily to listen to the\nsermon; and one who joins the church for the sake of its secular\nadvantages is at least in that way detained from the frivolous\nenjoyments of irreligious circles. Thus, the church has gradually become\na social centre with functions which are as unknown in Germany as the\n\u201cparlours\u201d which belong to every church in America. The means of social\nattraction must naturally be adapted to the character of the\ncongregation; the picnics which are popular in the small towns, with\ntheir raffles and social games, their lemonade and cake, would not be\nappropriate to the wealthy churches on Fifth Avenue. In the large\ncities, \u00e6sthetic attractions must be substituted\u2014splendid windows, soft\ncarpets, fine music, elegant costumes, and fashionable bazars for\ncharity\u2019s sake.\n\nBut the social enjoyment consists not solely in what goes on within the\nwalls of the church, but specially in the small cities and rural\ndistricts the church is the mediator of almost all social intercourse. A\nperson who moves to a new part of the town or to an entirely new\nvillage, allies himself to some congregation if he is of the middle\nclasses, in order to form social connections; and this is the more\nnatural since, in the religious as in the social life of America, the\nwomen are the most active part of the family. Even the Young Men\u2019s\nChristian Associations and similar social organizations under church\nauspices play an important r\u00f4le utterly unlike anything in Europe. In\nGermany such organizations are popularly accounted flabby, and their\nvery name has a stale flavour. In America they are the centres of social\nactivity, even in large cities, and have an extraordinary influence on\nthe hundreds of thousands of members who meet together in the splendid\nclub buildings, and who are as much interested in sport and education as\nin religion.\n\nHow fully the church dominates social life may be seen in the prevalent\ncustom of church weddings. The state does not make a civil wedding\nobligatory. As soon as the local civil board has officially licensed the\nmarried couple, the wedding may legally be performed either by a civil\nofficer or by a minister; yet it is a matter of course with the great\nmajority of the population that the rings shall be exchanged before the\naltar. An avowed atheist is not received in any social circles above\nthat of the ordinary saloon, and while a politician need not fear that\nhis particular religion will prevent his being supported by the members\nof other churches, he has no prospects for election to any office if he\nshould be found an actual materialist. When Ingersoll, who was the great\nconfessed atheist of the country, travelled from city to city for many\nyears preaching somewhat grotesquely and with the looseness of a\npolitical agitator, the arguments of David Friedrich Strauss, in return\nfor an admission price, he found everywhere large audiences for his\nstriking oratory, but very few believers among all the curious\nlisteners.\n\nThe man who is convinced that this mechanical interaction of material\nforces is the whole reality of the world, and who therefore in his soul\nrecognizes no connection between his will and a moral or spiritual\npower\u2014in short, the man who does not believe something, no matter\nwhether he has learned it from the church or from philosophy\u2014is regarded\nby the typical American as a curious sort of person and of an inferior\ntype; the American does not quite understand what such a man means by\nhis life. By picturing to one\u2019s self the history of America as the\nhistory of a people descended from those who have been religiously\npersecuted, and who have made a home for such as are persecuted, ever\nsince the days when the \u201cMayflower\u201d landed with the Puritans down to\nthese days when the Jews are flocking over the ocean from Russia and the\nArmenians from Turkey, and by picturing how this people have had to open\nup and master the country by hard fighting and hard work, and how they\nwere therefore constrained to a rigid sense of duty, a serious\nconception of life, and an existence almost devoid of pleasure, and how\nnow all historical and social traditions and all educational influences\nstrengthen the belief in God and the striving for the soul\u2019s\nsalvation\u2014one sees that it cannot be otherwise, and that the moral\ncertainty of the nation cannot be shaken by so-called arguments.\n\nIt is true, of course, that one hears on all sides complaints against\nthe increasing ungodliness; and it is not to be denied that the\nproletariat of the large cities is for the most part outside of the\nchurch. The population which owns no church allegiance is estimated at\nfive millions, but among these there is a relatively large fraction of\nindifferent persons, who are too lazy to go to church; a free-thinking\nanimosity to religion is uncommon. The American who feels that his\nchurch no longer corresponds to his own belief has an ample opportunity\nto choose among all the many sects one which is just adapted to himself.\nHe will leave his own church in order to join some other straightway;\nbut even if he leaves church attendance in future to his wife and\ndaughters, or if he with his whole family leaves the congregation, this\ngenerally means that he can serve God without a minister. Real\nirreligion does not fit his character; and any doubt which science may\nperhaps occasion in him ends, not by shaking his religion, but by making\nit more liberal. This process of increasing freedom from dogma and of\nintellectualization of the church goes on steadily in the upper classes\nof society. The development of the Unitarian Church out of Orthodox\nCalvinism has been most influential on the intellectual life of the\nnation, but its fundamental religious tone has not been lessened\nthereby.\n\nTo be churchly means not only to comply with the ordinances of the\nchurch, but to contribute to the funds of the church and to give one\u2019s\nlabour. And since the state does not impose any taxes in the interests\nof the church, material support is wholly dependent on the good will of\nthe community. In fact, lay activity is everywhere helpful. Of this the\nSunday-schools are typical, which are visited by eight million children,\nand supported everywhere by the willing labour of unpaid teachers. The\nknown property belonging to churches is estimated at seven hundred\nmillion dollars, and the rental of seats brings them handsome incomes.\nMore than this, all church property is exempt from taxation.\n\nNevertheless, so many ecclesiastical needs remain unsatisfied that a\ngreat deal of money has to be raised by mite-boxes, official\nsubscriptions, and bequests, in order for the churches to meet their\nexpenses; and they seldom beg in vain. Members of the congregations\ncarry on their shoulders the missions among the irreligious population\nin large cities and the heathen of foreign lands, the expense of church\nbuildings, and of schools and hospitals belonging to the sect, and the\nsalaries of ministers. The theological faculties are likewise church\ninstitutions, whether they are formally connected with universities or\nnot. There are to-day 154 such seminaries, and this number has for some\ntime remained almost unchanged. In 1870 there were only 80, but there\nwere 142 in 1880, and 145 in 1890. It appears from the statistics that,\nof the present 154, only 21 have more than a hundred students, while\ntwelve have less than ten students. The total number of students was\n8,009, and of teachers 994. The property of these theological seminaries\namounts to thirty-four million dollars, and more than a million was\ngiven them during the last year.\n\nThe pedagogical function of the church is not limited to the\nSunday-school for children and the seminaries for ministers; but in\nthese two branches it has a monopoly, while in all other fields, from\nthe elementary school to the university, it competes with secular\ninstitutions, or more exactly, it complements their work. We have\nalready shown how important a r\u00f4le private initiative plays in the\neducational life of the United States, and it is only natural that such\nprivate institutions should be welcomed by a part of the public when\nthey bear the sanction of one or another religious faith. There are\ngrammar schools, high schools, colleges, and universities of the most\ndiverse sects to meet this need; and their relation to religion itself\nis equally diverse, and ranges from a very close to a very loose one.\nBoston College, for instance, is an excellent Catholic institution\nconsisting of a high school and college under the instruction of\nJesuits, in which the education is at every moment strongly sectarian.\nThe university of Chicago, on the other hand, is nominally a Baptist\ninstitution: yet nobody asks whether a professor who is to be appointed\nis a Baptist; no student is conscious of its Baptist character, and no\nlectures give any indication thereof. Its Baptist quality is limited to\nthe statute that the president of the university and two-thirds of the\nboard of overseers must be Baptists, as was the founder of the\ninstitution.\n\nWhile among the larger universities, Harvard, Columbia, Johns Hopkins,\nPrinceton, Cornell, and all state universities, are officially\nindependent of any sect, Yale is, for instance, said to be\nCongregational, although neither teachers nor students trouble\nthemselves with the question. The smaller colleges have a much more\ntruly sectarian character; and there is no doubt that this is approved\nby large circles, especially in the Middle and Western States. The\nsectarian colleges outnumber the non-sectarian; and, to take a random\nexample, we may note that in the state of Michigan the State University\nat Ann Arbor is independent of sect, while Adrian College is Methodist,\nAlbion College Episcopalian, Alma College Presbyterian, Detroit College\nCatholic, Hilledale College Baptist, Hope College Reformed, and Olivet\nCollege is Congregational. This inclination, especially noticeable in\ncountry districts, to a religious education however so slightly\ncoloured, shows how deeply religion pervades the whole people.\n\nTo follow the separate religions and their diverse religious offshoots\ncannot be our purpose; we must be content with a few superficial\noutlines. There is no really new religious thought to record; an\nAmerican religion has, so far, not appeared. The history of the church\nin the New World has only to report how European religions have grown\nunder new conditions. The apparently new associations are only\nunimportant variations. Some enthusiasts have appeared from time to time\nto preach a new religion with original distortions of the moral or\nsocial sense, but they have expressed no moral yearning of the time, and\nhave remained without any deep influence. This rests in good part on the\nconservative nature of Americans. They snatch enthusiastically at the\nnewest improvements and the most modern reform, but it must be a reform\nand not a revolution. The historical continuity must be preserved. The\nMormons, the Spiritualists, and the adherents of Christian Science\nmight, with some propriety, be called pure American sects; but although\nall three of these excite much public curiosity, they have no importance\namong those religions which are making the civilization of the present\nmoment.\n\nThe religions of the United States which have the most communicants are\nthe Methodist, Baptist, and Roman Catholic. The religions, however,\nwhich have had the most important influence on culture are the\nCongregational, Episcopalian, Presbyterian, and Unitarian. Besides\nthese, there are the Lutheran, the Reformed, and the Jewish churches;\nall the other denominations are small and uninfluential. The churches\nwhich we have named can be more or less distinguished by their locality,\nalthough they are represented in almost every state. The\nCongregationalists and Unitarians are specially numerous in the New\nEngland States, the Episcopalians and Presbyterians in New York and\nPennsylvania, while the Methodists are specially strong in the South,\nthe Baptists in the Middle West, and the Catholics all through the East.\nSuch special demarcation rests firstly on the relation of the churches\nto different races which have settled in different places; the\nEpiscopalians and Congregationalists are mainly English, the\nPresbyterians are Scotch, the Catholics are Irish and South German, the\nLutherans are North German and Scandinavian, the Reformed Church is\nGerman and Dutch, and Methodism has spread widely among the negroes.\n\nIn close connection herewith are the social distinctions. The Methodist,\nBaptist, and Catholic religions are specially religions of the masses;\nthe others are more exclusive. It is especially those religions of the\nlower classes which yield to every tendency toward breaking up into\nsects; only Catholicism maintains a firm unity in the New as in the Old\nWorld.\n\nThe old Calvinistic faith which was brought over by the Puritans to the\nNew England colonies still lives in the Congregational Church. This\nchurch has played a greater political part than any other from the\ncolonial days, when no one could vote who was not a communicant, down to\nthe time when it took an active stand against slavery. Its expansion was\nlimited by an agreement with the Presbyterian Church; only since this\nwas given up, has it entered all the states of the Union. And yet to-day\nthere are in Massachusetts almost 700 Congregational church buildings,\nand 400 in the small State of Connecticut; but only 300 in the State of\nNew York, 100 in Pennsylvania, a few in the West, and still fewer in the\nSouth.\n\nAs in the case of all churches, the proportion of the population\nbelonging to this church can only be approximately given. Since the\nofficial census may ask no questions concerning religion, we have to\nrely on the figures of the church itself, which regularly refer to the\nactual members in the congregations. Now in these Evangelical, Catholic,\nand Jewish congregations, the conditions for membership are so unlike\nthat the figures are not directly comparable; and even among the\nEvangelical churches, it is clearly false to find the total number of\nsouls allied to that church, as this is usually found, by multiplying\nthe number of communicants by some average figure, like 3.5. In view of\nthe social and ethnical differences between these churches, the\npercentage of children, for instance, is very different. It may be said\nthen, although with caution, that the Congregational population embraces\nabout two million souls; but their importance in the shaping of American\ncivilization has greatly exceeded their numerical representation. The\nspirit of this church has lent ethical seriousness and a vigorous sense\nof duty to the whole nation. It has founded the first schools, and is\nresponsible for the independence of the country.\n\nIt is even more necessary to weigh the votes and not to count them, when\nwe speak of the optimistic daughter church of austere Calvinism, the\nUnitarian. Probably not more than one quarter of a million persons\nbelong to the Unitarian Church; but the influence of these people on\nliterature and life, science and philosophy, has been incomparable. The\nchurch has existed officially since 1815, although the new faith began\nto spread much earlier within the Calvinistic Church itself. There is\nnothing theologically new here, since the main teachings, that the\nTrinity is only a dogma, that God is One, and that Christ was an\nexemplary man but not God, go back, of course, to the fourth century.\nThese are the Arian ideas, which have also been held in Europe in times\npast. The significance of the American Trinitarian controversy does not\nlie in the province of theology. In a sense, the Unitarian Church has no\nbinding belief, but aims only to be an influence of ever-increasing\nfaith in God, which welcomes investigation, advance, and difference of\nindividual thought, within the unity of a moral and ideal view of the\nuniverse.\n\nThus it has been an entirely natural development, for example, for the\ntheological faculty of Harvard University to go over from the\nCongregational to the Unitarian faith as early as the second decade of\nthe last century, and in recent times to become non-sectarian and\nbroadly Christian, filling its professional chairs with theologians of\nthe most diverse denominations. The significance for civilization does\nnot lie in the Unitarian view of God, but in its anti-Calvinistic\nconception of man. This church says that man is not naturally sinful,\nbut, being the image of God, is naturally good, and that the salvation\nof his soul is not determined by a predestination of divine grace, but\nby his own right-willing. Channing was the Unitarian leader, and the\nthinkers and writers in the middle of the century followed in his\nfootsteps. Their work was a source of moral optimism. This confession\nhas necessarily remained small by reason of its radical theology, which\ntoo little satisfies the imagination of the profoundly pious; but the\nUnitarian ideas have come everywhere into the worship of aristocratic\nchurches.\n\nThe Episcopalian faith, which is English Protestantism, came to the\nshores of the New World even earlier than the faith of Calvin. The\nEnglish faith was organized in Virginia as early as 1607, and for a long\ntime no other faith was even tolerated; and in the middle colonies the\nEnglish High Church spread rapidly under the influence of many\nmissionaries from England. The secession of the colonies from the mother\ncountry was destined to bring a check, but soon after the war the\nEpiscopalian Church of America organized itself independently, and grew\nsteadily through the East. It has to-day seventy-five bishops. It is\ngoverned by a council which meets every three years in two divisions\u2014an\nupper, which consists of bishops, and a lower, composed of delegates\nsent from the various dioceses. The diocese elects its own bishop. Their\ncreed is, to all intents and purposes, identical with that of the Church\nof England, and some two million souls are affiliated with this church.\n\nAlso the Presbyterian Church of the New World goes back to the\nseventeenth century; it was first definitely organized in the beginning\nof the eighteenth, under Scotch and Irish influences. It stands on a\nCalvinistic foundation, but the church government is the distinguishing\nfeature; at its head are the elders, the Presbyters. Twelve different\nsects have grown out of this church\u2014as, for instance, the Cumberland\nPresbyterians, who broke away in a popular religious movement in 1810;\nother sects had started already on European soil\u2014as, for instance, the\nPresbyterian Church of Wales, which is perpetuated in America. The\nPresbyterian population amounts to about four million souls.\n\nThe Methodist and Baptist congregations are much larger. Methodism comes\nfrom that great movement, at the University of Oxford in 1729, of John\nand Charles Wesley, whose Sacred Club, with its Biblical bigotry, was,\non account of its methodical precision, ridiculed as the Methodist Club;\nand the nickname was accepted and held to. It was a question of bringing\nthe English church closer to the heart, of profoundly moving every\nindividual and instilling a deeper piety in the people. In order to\npreach the word of God, it needed neither professional theologians nor\nchurch buildings; laymen were to be the preachers, and the canopy of\nheaven their church. The movement began to spread in America in 1766,\nand while in England it remained for a longer time nominally within the\nestablished church, American Methodism took very early a different\ncourse from Episcopalianism.\n\nThe peculiar organization of the congregation is a prominent feature.\nCandidates for membership are accepted after a six months\u2019 probation,\npopular prayer-meetings are held at any chosen spot, the lay preachers\nare permitted to deliver religious talks without giving up their secular\noccupations, and no pastor may remain longer than five years over any\ncongregation. These and other provisions are rather in the nature of\nconcessions to the religious needs of ordinary people; the special items\nof faith differ slightly from those of the mother church, and are of\ncomparatively little significance. The number of communicants has grown\nrapidly, especially among the negroes of the South, owing to the large\ncamp-meetings, where many persons sing and pray together, and work\nthemselves up to a more or less hysterical point of excitement under the\nopen sky. As is usual among less cultivated classes, the tendency to\nform sects has been very great; small groups are continually breaking\naway, because they cannot believe in this or that feature of the main\nchurch. Seventeen principal groups may be distinguished, and some of\nthese only by the colour of the communicants. The Methodist\nEpiscopalians are by far the most numerous, and all the Methodist\nchurches together must embrace more than sixteen million people.\n\nThe twelve or thirteen sects of Baptists are in some cases widely\ndifferent in the matter of faith, although the main body of regular\nBaptists are Calvinistic, and the church is organized like the\nCalvinistic Congregational Church. Each congregation governs itself, and\nthe one point which all have in common is that they renounce infant\nbaptism; he only may be baptized who is formally able to acknowledge\nChrist, and he must be baptized not by sprinkling, but by immersion.\nThis cult originated in Switzerland at the time of the Reformation, and\ngradually gained adherents all through Europe, but it first became\nwidely spread in America, where it embraces about twelve million people.\nJust as Methodism is a sort of popular form of the Episcopalian Church,\nthe Baptist faith is a popularization of the Congregational Church. The\nmain division of the regular Baptists is made between the Northern and\nSouthern churches, a division which originated in the middle of the\ncentury, owing to the diversity of opinion about slavery; and the third\nmain group of Baptists is made up of negroes.\n\nThe first Lutherans to come to the New World were Dutchmen, who landed\non Manhattan Island in 1623. But the Dutch authorities there suppressed\nall churches except the Reformed Church, and it was not until New York\ncame into the hands of the English that the Lutheran Church got its\nfreedom. Lutherans from the Palatinate settled in Pennsylvania in 1710,\nand in the middle of the eighteenth century began their definite\norganization into synods under the influence of their pastor,\nM\u00fchlenberg. The church grew in consequence of German, and later of\nScandinavian, immigration. Most of its communicants still speak German,\nSwedish, Norwegian, Finnish, and Icelandic, and those who speak English\nare mostly of German descent. All together they make a population of\nfour million persons, of whom one-fifth live in Pennsylvania. The\nLutherans have formed sixteen sects.\n\nThere is another small Protestant sect, which likewise originated in\nGermany; this is the sect of Mennonites. As is well known, they combine\nthe Baptist refusal of infant baptism with the principle of\nnon-resistance. They came from Germany to Pennsylvania at the end of the\nseventeenth century in order to escape persecution, and were there known\nas the German Friends. Their little band has the honour of having\nregistered, in 1688, the first protest against American slavery. Their\nnumbers have since been augmented from Holland, Switzerland, Germany,\nand Russia, and to-day the largest part of the Mennonites is said to be\nin America\u2014in spite of which they number hardly more than 150,000\npersons.\n\nIn many respects the Quakers may be compared with the Mennonites. The\nQuaker Church was founded in the middle of the seventeenth century by an\nEnglishman, John Fox, and spread to America as early as 1656, where it\nnow numbers, perhaps, 400,000 persons, living chiefly in Indiana, Ohio,\nand Pennsylvania. The Quakers lay great emphasis on silence, and even in\ntheir meetings they observe long pauses, in which each member communes\nwith the Holy Spirit. The sins for which a Quaker may be excommunicated\nfrom his church are the denial of the divinity of Christ or of the\ndivine origin of the Bible, enlistment in the army, encouragement of\nwar, trading in alcohol, drunkenness, blasphemy, making wagers,\nparticipation in lotteries, giving an oath in court, and requiring an\noath. They dress in black or grey, and are known for their mild, gentle,\nand yielding characters.\n\nThe Roman Catholic Church in America is little different from the Church\nin Europe. It has grown rapidly in the nineteenth century, owing to the\ntremendous numbers of Irish, South German, Polish, Hungarian, Italian,\nand Spanish immigrants. Catholic missionaries, it is true, were the\nfirst Christian ministers in the New World. They accompanied the Spanish\nexpeditions, and their first bishop landed in 1528. Maryland was the\nchief English colony of Catholics, while most of the other colonies were\nvery intolerant of the Romish Church. In 1700 New York, which has to-day\na half million Catholics, is said to have had only seven Catholic\nfamilies; and even in 1800 the Catholic population of the whole United\nStates was estimated at less than 150,000. In 1840 they had increased\ntenfold, and number to-day probably ten millions, with sixteen\narchbishops and a cardinal. The Catholic centres, in the order of the\nsize of congregations, are, New York, Boston, Chicago, Philadelphia, St.\nPaul, New Orleans, Baltimore, Cleveland, Buffalo, Newark, Providence,\nPittsburg, Cincinnati, and Milwaukee.\n\nThe Jews, who are said to have first come from Brazil in 1654, have\nlikewise increased rapidly in recent years, owing to the extraordinary\nimmigration from the East of Europe. They must number to-day about a\nmillion people, and if the latest estimates are correct, nearly one-half\nof these have not gone farther than New York City, which would therefore\nhave a larger Jewish population than any other city in the world. The\nlarger part of these people are Russian Jews, who live together in great\npoverty and are very little Americanized. The division made by the\ncensus into Orthodox and Reformed Jews does not represent two sects, but\nmerely a manner of grouping, since the congregations present a very\ngradual transition from rigid Asiatic orthodoxy to a reform so complete\nas to be hardly Jewish at all, and in which the rabbis are merely\nlecturers on \u201cethical culture.\u201d\n\nMany other churches might be mentioned, such as the widely spread sect\nof Disciples of Christ, which originated in America, or the Moravians,\nDunkards, and others which have come from Europe. But it will be enough\nhere to speak of only a few specially typical sects that have been\nmanufactured in America. The profane expression is in place, since they\nare all artificially devised organizations, whose founders have often\nbeen thought dishonest; such are the Adventists, the Mormons, the\nSpiritualists, and the Christian Scientists. The Adventists were\ngathered in by William Miller, of Massachusetts, who in the year 1831\ncalculated from figures which he found in the Bible that Christ would\nappear again on earth in the year 1843. This prophecy caused a great\nmany small congregations to spring up, and when the momentous year came\nand brought disillusionment, and even after a second similar\ndisappointment at a later year, these congregations did not break up,\nbut contented themselves with the less risky prediction that Christ\nwould make His appearance soon. There are Adventists in all the states,\nand especially in Michigan. They have broken up into smaller sects, of\nwhich a few are always making new computations for the coming of Christ.\nIn all, they amount to about two hundred thousand people.\n\nMore famous, or perhaps more notorious, are the Mormons. Their first\nprophet, Joseph Smith, began in 1823, when he was eighteen years of age,\nto have dreams in which he was intrusted with a religious mission. Four\nyears later, with the help of certain persons of his dreams, he\n\u201cdiscovered\u201d the Book of Mormon\u2014a set of metal tablets on which the\nhistory of America was written in \u201creformed Egyptian\u201d characters. The\nfirst American colony had been organized, according to the Book of\nMormon, by a race of people which had helped to build the Tower of\nBabel, and which in 600 B.C. had settled in South America. The American\nIndians, the book says, descend from this race; and Christ also, it\nsays, was for a time in America. Finally, an angel came who appointed\nSmith and a friend of his as priests, and they then began the regular\nformation of a church. Miracles were rumoured; missionaries were sent\nout and congregations formed in several states, even before polygamy was\nordained. In 1843 Smith received the inspired message which proclaimed\nthe new ordinance of \u201cheavenly marriage.\u201d In the following year Smith\nwas murdered, and his successor, Brigham Young, when hostile\ndemonstrations became frequent, led the group of believers on a bold\nexpedition into what was at that time the almost impassable West\u2014to\nUtah, on the Great Salt Lake.\n\nThe settlement grew, and under its rigorously theocratic government made\nremarkable economic progress. A large garden was planted in the\nwilderness, and Salt Lake City is to-day a large, modern town on the\nrailroad line to California, and the Mormons compose only half its\npopulation. But they alone and under terrific difficulties carried\ncivilization across the prairies, and as a token of their industry the\nlargest church in America stands there, the Mormon Temple, which they\nbuilt by forty years of labour, exactly according to the plans which\nYoung saw in a vision. While people are readily admitted to the curious\nhall of prayer, no strangers are allowed to enter the Temple. Polygamy\nwas introduced, undoubtedly, from no immoral motives, but from the\nreligious belief that an unmarried woman will not go to heaven. Economic\nmotives may have helped the matter along, since the priests permitted\nnew marriages only when the contracting parties had sufficient means to\nsupport several families, and so used the satisfaction of polygamous\ninstincts as a reward for unusual economic industry.\n\nThe stern morality of the American people has always looked on the\nMormon tribe as a thorn in the flesh, and yet it was difficult for a\nlong time for the federal government to suppress the abuse. Serious\nopposition began in the early eighties with the passing of special laws;\nthousands of Mormons were put in prison, and millions of dollars were\npaid in fines. The Mormons fought with every legal means, but were\nrepudiated by the Supreme Court, and finally gave in. In the year 1890\ntheir president, Woodruff, published an ordinance forbidding new\npolygamous marriages. This has not prevented the Mormons from holding\npolygamy sacred, and they have abandoned it only on compulsion. The\nmarriages which were solemnized before 1890 are still in force. Such\npolygamous families do not impress a stranger unfavourably, since, in\nspite of its complexity, their family life appears to be a happy one.\nFrom Utah the sect has spread to Idaho and other Western States, and\nembraces now perhaps half a million people.\n\nThere have been some other curious religious congregations with unusual\nmarriage ordinances. For instance, the Oneida Community has had an\napparently most immoral form of cohabitation. It is here a question not\nso much of religion as of a communistic and economic experiment. Such\nexperiments are, for the most part, short-lived and flourish secretly.\nCelibacy is practised by fifteen communities of Shakers, who live in a\ncommunistic way. They broke away from the Quakers at the end of the\neighteenth century, and have unique religious ideas. God, and,\ntherefore, every human soul, is thought to be a double principle, both\nmale and female. The male principle was revealed in Christ, the female\nin an English woman, Anne Lee, a Quakeress whose visions during\nimprisonment occasioned the formation of this sect.\n\nThe Shakers were so called because they are \u201cshaken\u201d by religious\nfervour; and the lower classes of the American populace are uncommonly\npredisposed to this ecstatic and hysterical religious excitement.\nGeneral revivals, great camp-meetings, and hysterical and tumultuous\nmeetings of prayer, with theatrical conversions and divine\nilluminations, have always played a prominent role in America. Thus at\nthe end of the fifties, after a time of declining piety, a wave of\nreligious conversion swept over the country, having all the appearance\nof a nervous epidemic. The doings of the rapidly growing Salvation Army\nalso often have a somewhat neurotic character.\n\nIt is difficult to say why this is so. As in every form of hysteria,\nsuggestion is, of course, an important factor; but the manifestations\nare so marked that there must be some special disposition thereto. It\nalmost seems as if a lack of other stimulants produced a pathological\ndemand for religious excitement. Certainly in those portions of the\ncountry which are most affected, the life of the great masses, at least\nuntil recently, has been colourless and dull. There has been no\nstimulation of the fancy, such as is afforded by the Catholic Church, or\nin former days was provided by the romantic events of monarchical\nhistory. People have lacked the stimulation of amusements, festivals,\nthe theatre and music; daily life has been hard, morality rigorous, and\nalcohol was thought sinful. Where religion has been the single\nintellectual stimulus, it has become an intoxicant for the pining soul:\nand persons drank until they obtained a sort of hysterical relief from\ndeadly reality.\n\nThe seeds of mysticism easily take root on such a soil, and it is no\naccident that the chief mystical movements of our times have gone on in\nAmerica, the country which so many suppose to be the theatre of purely\nmaterial interests. Here we find, first of all, the Spiritualistic\nmovement which began in 1848, when mysterious knockings were heard by\nthe Fox family in a village of New York State. The sounds were\ninterpreted as messages from dead friends, and as soon as these spirits\ncommenced their material manifestations it was only a short step for\nthem to appear in person. The leading card of Spiritualism is its\nsupposed proof of life after death, and all its other features are\nsecondary.\n\nOn the other hand, it is natural for a teaching which depends on such\nmysterious phenomena to turn its interest to other supposably\nunexplained phenomena, and therewith to become a general rallying-ground\nfor mysticism. Although the Spiritualistic Church has about fifty\nthousand members, these are by no means all of the actual Spiritualists\nin America. Indeed, if Spiritualism were to be taken in a broader sense,\nincluding a belief in telepathic influences, mysterious communications,\netc., the number of believers would mount into the millions, with some\nadherents in the most highly educated circles. Even in enlightened\nBoston a Spiritualistic church stands in the best section of the town.\nIts services have been grievously exposed from time to time, but the\ndeceptions have been quickly forgotten, and this successful \u201creligious\u201d\nenterprise is once more given credence. A short time ago, in\nPhiladelphia, the spirit of Darwin was constrained to write a pious\nfinal contribution to his works for the benefit of a well-paying\naudience, on a typewriter which stood in the middle of the room, and\nwhich, of course, could be easily operated electrically from some other\nroom.\n\nTo be sure, it would be unfair to say that all spiritualism is based on\ndeception, although the lively wish to see dead relatives, or receive\ncommunications from them, puts a high premium on the pious fraud.\nIndeed, it would be over-hasty to say that all the spiritualistic\nconceptions go against the laws of nature; for, since the philosophy of\nSpiritualism has conceived of an ether organism which pervades the\nmolecular body and survives death, it has fairly cleverly met the\ndemands of casual explanation. And it may well be thought probable that\nin the world of mental influences there is much remaining to be found\nout, just as a hundred years ago there were hypnotism and R\u00f6ntgen rays;\nso that the zeal of very many people to assist in the solving of these\nmysteries is, perhaps, easily understood.\n\nBut just where these most serious motives prevail and all idea of\nconscious deception is excluded, one sees the profound affiliation of\nintellectual interests with the mystical tendency. Even the Society for\nPsychical Research, which aims to investigate mysterious phenomena in a\nthoroughly scientific way, has, after all, mostly held the interest of\nmen who are more inclined to mysticism than to science. Mrs. Piper, of\nArlington, may be called the most important spiritualistic medium, and\nHodgson her most interesting prophet. The whole movement is, after all,\nreligious. Spiritualism has a near neighbour in Theosophy, which is\nspecially strong in California. The great literary charm of Hindu\nphilosophy makes this form of mysticism more attractive to minds that\nare repelled by its vulgar forms. Hindu mysticism has, undoubtedly, a\nfuture in America.\n\nThere is a still larger circle of people who believe in Christian\nScience, the discovery of Mary Baker G. Eddy. When Mrs. Eddy suffered a\nsevere illness at Lynn in 1867, she was seized by the idea that all\nillness might be only an illusion or hallucination of the soul, since\nGod alone is real, and in Him there can be naught but good. It was\ntherefore necessary only to realize this deceptive unreality, in order\nto relieve the soul of its error and so to regain health. She herself\nbecame well and proceeded to read her principle of mental healing into\nthe Bible, and so to develop a metaphysical system. She commenced her\nwork of healing without medicine, and in 1875 published her book,\n\u201cScience and Health, With a Key to the Holy Scriptures.\u201d The book is a\nmedium-sized work, has a system not unskilfully constructed, although\nunskilfully expressed, and one who is familiar with the history of\nphilosophy will find in it not one original thought. In spite of this,\nthe book must be called one of the most successful of modern times. It\nis a rather expensive book, but has been bought by the hundreds of\nthousands. Congregations have formed all over the country, and built\nsome magnificent churches; and, finally, the infectious bacillus of this\nsocial malady has been wafted across the ocean. The great feature of\nthis new sect is its practice of healing; there are to-day some thirty\ninstitutions giving instruction in the art of metaphysical healing, and\nthe public supports thousands of spiritual healers.\n\nThe movement is benefited by the general mistrust of academic medicine\nwhich pervades the lower classes of America, as may be seen from the\nridiculous popularity of patent medicines. The cult is also undoubtedly\nhelped by actual and often surprising cures. The healing power of faith\nis no new discovery; the effects of auto-suggestion are always important\nin nervous disorders, and there are indeed few pathological conditions\nin which nervous disorders do not play a part. Mrs. Eddy\u2019s disciples, in\ntheir consultation offices, do with the help of the inner consistency of\ntheir metaphysical system, which the logic of the average patient cannot\nbreak down, what Catholicism does at Lourdes by stimulating the\nimagination. The main support of Christian Science is, after all, the\ngeneral mystical and religious disposition. Where religion plays such a\nmighty r\u00f4le in the popular mind, religious vagaries and perversions must\nbe the order of the day; but even the perversions show how thoroughly\nthe whole American people is pervaded by the religious spirit.\n\nNot only would it be unfair to estimate the religion of America by its\nperversions, but even if the religious life of the country were amply\ndescribed in the many forms of its conservative congregations and\nconfessions, the most important thing would be still unmentioned: the\nspirit of moral self-perfection common to all the religions of the\ncountry. To be sure, it is not to be supposed that all the morality in\nthis nation is of religious origin. One sees clearly that this is not\nthe case if one looks at American social ethics, which are independent\nof religious ethics, and if one notices how often motives from the two\nspheres unite in bringing about certain actions. The Americans would\nhave developed a marked morality if they had not been brought up in\nchurch; but the church has co-operated, specially when the nation was\nyoung and when far-reaching impulses were being developed. And while the\nforms of faith have changed, the moral ideas have remained much the\nsame.\n\nBenjamin Wadsworth was president of Harvard College in the beginning of\nthe eighteenth century, and no greater religious contrast could be found\nthan that between him and his present successor in office; between the\northodox Calvinist who said that it is by God\u2019s unmerited grace that we\nare not all burning in the flames of hell, as our sins so richly\ndeserve, and the liberal Unitarian of to-day. And yet President Eliot\ncould rightly say that, even after these two hundred years, he gladly\nsubscribes to all the moral tenets of his early predecessor. Wadsworth\nexhorted parents to teach their sons to live soberly, virtuously, and in\nthe fear of God; to keep them from idleness, pride, envy, and malice; to\nteach them simple, kindly, and courteous behaviour; to see that they\nlearn to be useful in the world, and so marry and carry on their daily\nbusiness as to avoid temptation and to grow in grace and in the fear of\nGod.\n\nBenjamin Franklin\u2019s catalogue of virtues which he desired to realize in\nhimself, was: temperance, silence, order, simplicity, industry, honesty,\njustice, self-restraint, purity, peacefulness, continence, and modesty.\nIn this he was not thinking of the church, but his worldly morals came\nto much the same thing as the Puritan\u2019s ethics. The goal is everywhere\nmoral self-perfection\u2014to learn, first of all, to govern one\u2019s natural\ndesires, not for the sake of the effect on others, but for the effect on\none\u2019s self. To put it extremely, the religious admonition might have\nread: Give, not that your neighbour may have more, but that you may have\nless; not in order to give your neighbour pleasure, but to discipline\nyourself in overcoming greed. The social morality developed the opposite\nmotives; and even to-day the joining of both tendencies may be followed\neverywhere, and especially in many philanthropic deeds. The two extremes\ngo together: social enthusiasm for being helpful, and the fundamentally\nreligious instinct to give alms.\n\nWithin the circle of ecclesiastical influences, moral concern for the\nself is everywhere in great evidence\u2014the desire to be sober, temperate,\nindustrious, modest, and God-fearing. It has been said that these\ncenturies of self-mastery are the cause of America\u2019s final triumph. Too\nmany other factors are there left out of account, but undoubtedly the\ntheocratic discipline which held back all immoderation and indulgence,\nand often intolerantly extinguished the lower instincts, has profoundly\ninfluenced national life. And to this all churches have contributed\nalike. It seems as if the Calvinistic God of severity had been\ncomplemented by a God of love; but practically all churches have worked\nas if it was necessary, first of all, to improve radically evil men, to\nconvert evildoers, and to uproot natural instincts. The American church\nis to-day what it has always been, whether in or outside of Calvinism, a\nchurch militant, strong in its battle against unrighteous desires. To be\nchurchly means to be in the battle-camp of a party; in the camp itself\nthey make merry, but every one is armed against the enemy.\n\nThe final result in the great masses of people is an uncommonly high\ndegree of personal purity as compared with the masses of Europe. Here\none is not to think of the slums of large cities nor of the masses of\nstill un-Americanized immigrants from Southern Europe, nor of those\npeople who are under the influence of temporary abnormal conditions,\nsuch as the adventurers who flock together wherever gold and silver are\ndiscovered. One must look at the people in the fields and the\nwork-shops, in the country and the small city, or at the average citizen\nof the large city, and one will get from these bustling millions an\nimpression of moral earnestness, simplicity, and purity. These people\nare poor in imagination and vulgar; and yet one feels that, in the\nhumble home where the average man has probably grown up, the family\nBible lay on the table. It is not accidental that the zealous Puritans\nof Colonial times believed not only that man is preserved from hellfire\nby the special grace of God, but also that the colonists were a chosen\npeople and favoured by God with a remarkably large proportion who\nenjoyed His grace. They saw a moral rigour everywhere around them, and\ncould not suppose that such Puritan living was the path to everlasting\ntorment. Since then life has become endlessly complicated, the pressure\nof circumstances has increased, temptations are a thousandfold more\nnumerous, and consequently the general level of morality has shifted.\nMuch is to-day called harmless which was then called sinful; but to-day,\nas then, the number of those who live above the general level of moral\nrequirements is astonishingly large.\n\nAs everywhere in the world, so in America; temptation and distress fill\nthe prisons with unfortunate and mistaken human beings. But this fact\nbelongs in a wholly different social connection. We are thinking here of\nthe life of those who are not amenable to law; for intemperance, envy,\nincontinence, coarseness, servility, brutality, lack of character and\nkindness, and vulgarity are, in themselves, not punishable. If we speak\nof those who are thus within the law, we find that life in America is\npurer, simpler, and more moral than in Europe. And the average American\nwho lives for some time on the Continent of Europe comes home dismayed\nat the exaggerated and specious politeness of Europe and rejoiced at the\ngreater humanity of the Americans. The incontinence of France, the\nintemperance of Germany, the business dishonesty of Southern Europe, are\nfavourite examples in America of European lack of virtue; and aside from\nall local differences, the Americans believe that they find everywhere\nin Europe the symptoms of moral decadence and laxity, and on finding the\nsame things in large American cities, they put the blame on Europe.\n\nAt first sight it looks as if one who lives in a glass house were\nthrowing stones. The foreigner, on hearing of American Sabbath\nobservance, piety, temperance, continence, benevolence, and honesty, is\nat once inclined to call up the other side of the situation: he has seen\ncases of hypocrisy, he knows how many divorces and bank robberies there\nare; he has heard about benevolence from purely selfish motives, and\nabout corruption.\n\nAll this is true, and, nevertheless, false. On examining the situation\nmore closely, the foreigner will see that however many sins there are,\nthe life of the people is intrinsically pure and moral and devout. It is\ntrue that there are many divorces, and that these are made extremely\neasy in some states; but infidelity is seldom the motive. The cause lies\nin the democratic spirit of self-determination, which wants to loosen\nbonds that individuals no longer freely recognize. It might be said that\nthis is a higher individual morality which ends marriage when it has\nlost its inner sanctity. The American divorce does not indicate any lack\nof marriage fidelity; married life is, throughout the nation, distinctly\npurer than it is in Europe, and this is still more true of the life of\nyoung men. To be sure, it is easy to get material for piquant booklets,\nas \u201cFrom Darkest America,\u201d and there is very much vice in Chicago, New\nOrleans, and San Francisco. The American is no saint, and a large city\nis a large city the world over. But undoubtedly the sexual tension is\nincomparably less in American life than in European, as may be seen by\ncomparing the life of American students with that of German students of\nthe same age. This is not due to deficient romantic feeling, for there\nis nowhere more flirting going on than in America; but a genuine respect\nof womanhood, without regard to social class, lends purity to the life\nof the men.\n\nIt is true that American temperance does not prevent some men from\ndrinking too much, and the regular prohibition laws of many of the\nstates have not succeeded in suppressing a desire for physiological\nstimulation; and it may be even affirmed that the legal interdiction of\nthe sale of alcohol in states or communities, unless an overwhelming\nmajority of the population believes in abstinence, has done more harm\nthan good. But it is clear that the fight against alcohol which has been\ncarried on for a hundred years, and notably by the church, has done an\ninfinite amount of good. The whole nation is strongly set against\ntippling, and only the dregs of society gather in the saloons. And much\nmore has been done by moral than by legislative influence to suppress\nthe unhappy licentious and criminal consequences of drink among the\nlower classes; and among higher classes the deadening intellectual\ninfluence of sitting in beer-houses and so wasting strength, time, and\nmoral vigour, is almost unknown. In good society one does not drink in\nthe presence of ladies except at dinner, and the total abstainer becomes\nthereby no more conspicuous than the man in Germany who will not smoke;\nand those who drink at table are content with very little. Evening table\ngatherings, such as the German Kommerse, are accounted incorrect, and\ndrunkenness is dishonourable. These ideas are making their way among the\nlower classes; railway companies and other corporations have not the\nleast difficulty in employing only temperance men. The temperance\nmovement, in spite of its mistakes and exaggerations, and aside from its\ngreat benefit to the health of the social organism, represents a\nsplendid advance in moral self-control. A nation which accounts as\nimmoral all indulgence in alcohol that interferes with self-control has\nmade thereby a tremendous ethical advance.\n\nIt would be still easier to expose the caricatures which are published\nrelative to Sabbath observance. One may say it is hypocritical for the\nlaw to forbid theatrical performances on Sunday for which the scenes are\nchanged and the curtain dropped, but to allow several New York theatres\nto perform the cheapest vaudeville without curtain and without a change\nof scenes. But the fact is merely that the heavy immigration from Europe\nhas brought about conditions in the metropolis which do not accord with\nthe ideas of the rural majority in the state. In Boston no one would\nthink of evading such a law, because the theatres would remain empty;\nwhere the attempt has been made to keep large exhibitions open on\nSunday, it has been unsuccessful.\n\nThe American people still cling to a quiet Sabbath observance, and the\nday of rest and meditation is a national institution. No law and no\nscruples forbid the railway companies to run more trains on Sunday than\non other days, as they do in Germany; but instead of this there are\nfewer railway trains, and these are poorly patronized. People do not\ntravel on Sunday, even if they no longer visit the grave-yard, which was\nthe Puritan idea of a permissible Sunday stroll. Concessions are more\nand more made to Sunday amusements, it is true; golf is played on Sunday\nin many places, and in contrast to England the Sunday newspapers have\nbecome so voluminous that if one read their fifty or sixty pages\nthrough, one would not have time to go to church. But in the main the\nentire American-born population, without constraint and therefore\nwithout hypocrisy, observes Sunday as a day of self-abnegation; and even\nmany men who are not abstainers during the week drink no wine on Sunday.\n\nThe masses of the people are to a high degree truthful and honourable.\nIt has been well said that the American has no talent for lying, and\nmistrust of a man\u2019s word strikes the Yankee as specifically European.\nFrom the street urchin to the minister of state, frankness is the\npredominant trait; and all institutions are arranged for a\nthorough-going and often exaggerated confidence. We have shown before\nthat in the means of conveyance, such as street cars, the honesty of the\npublic is not watched, that in the country the farm-house door is hardly\nlocked, and that the most important mercantile agreements are concluded\nby a word of mouth or nod of the head. There are scoundrels who abuse\nall this, who swindle the street-car companies and circulate false\nchecks; but the present customs could never have arisen if the general\npublic had not justified this blind confidence. It is true that many a\nbank cashier robs the treasury; but it is much more characteristic to\nsee a newspaper boy, when one gives him five cents by mistake, run after\none in order to return the right amount. It is true that many an Irish\npolitician has entered politics in order to steal from the public funds,\nbut it is a more characteristic fact that everywhere letters too large\nto go in the letter-box are laid on top of it in the confidence that\nthey will not be stolen. A school-boy who lies to the teacher often has,\nin Europe, the sympathy of the whole class, but not in America; children\ndespise a lie, and in this sense the true American remains a child\nthrough life.\n\nAs the American education makes for honesty, so it does for\nself-sacrifice, which is the finest result of the Puritan idea of\nself-perfection. The ascetic sacrifice for the mere sake of sacrifice\ngoes against the American love of activity, although if the many New\nEngland popular tales are really taken from life, even this way of\npleasing God is not uncommon in the North-Eastern States. But all\nclasses of the population are willing to make sacrifices for an end,\nhowever abstract and impersonal. The spirit of sacrifice is not genuine\nwhen it parades itself before the public; it works in secret. But\nanybody who watches what goes on quietly, who notes the life of the\nteacher, the minister, and the physician in all country districts, who\nsees how parents sometimes suffer in order to give their children a\nbetter education than they themselves had, will be surprised at the\ninfinite and patient sacrifices which are daily made by hard-working\npeople. The spirit of quiet forbearance, so little noticeable on the\nsurface, is clear to every one who looks somewhat deeply into American\nlife.\n\nThus the more dangerous forms of missionary activity have always\nattracted Americans; and nowhere else has the nurse\u2019s profession, which\nrequires so much patience, attracted so many women. All the world knows\nthe sacrificing spirit which was shown during the war against slavery,\nand there is no less of that spirit in times of peace. Every day one\nobserves the readiness of men to risk their own lives in order to save\nthose of others; and one is surprised to see that the public understands\nthis as a matter of course. The more modest and naturally more frequent\nform of self-sacrifice consists in giving of one\u2019s own possessions,\nwhether a small sum to the contribution-box of the Salvation Army, or a\npresent of millions to benevolent institutions. It is true that private\nbenefactions are open to interpretation; sometimes they are made for the\nsake of social recognition, more often they are merely superficial,\ninconsiderate, or ill-timed, and therefore they are often detrimental to\nthe community. But after all allowances, the volume of contributions to\nall benevolent purposes is simply astonishing; and here, too, the\nhistorical development shows that of all motives the religious has been\nthe strongest.\n\nYet in all these movements the religious motive, the soul\u2019s salvation,\nhas been only one among other influences that are rather social.\nAmerican philanthropy is perhaps more often religiously coloured than it\nis in Germany; but the more benefaction comes to be in the hands of\norganizations with a trained administration, the more the social and\neconomic factors appear. In the same way, Sunday observance and\ntemperance have come to be social problems which are almost distinct\nfrom ecclesiastical considerations; and if the American is honest,\nupright, and pure, he himself scarcely knows to-day whether he is so as\na Christian or as a gentleman. Questions of morality point everywhere\nfrom religious to social considerations.\n\n\n\n\nPART FOUR\nSOCIAL LIFE\n\n\n\n\n                           CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE\n                     _The Spirit of Self-Assertion_\n\n\nOn landing in New York, the European expects new impressions and\nsurprises\u2014most of all, from the evidences of general equality in this\nNew World. Some have heard, with misgivings, of the horrors of upstart\nequality; but more look with glad expectancy on the country where no\ntraditions of caste impose distinctions between human beings, and where\nthe Declaration of Independence has solemnly recognized as a fundamental\ntruth that all men are born free and equal. Those who fear the equality\nare generally soon put at ease. They find that social classes, even in\nNew York, are nicely distinguished; no work-stained overalls are found\nwhere a frock coat is in order. The other travellers are just as quickly\ndisillusioned in their hopes of equality. It is a short distance from\nthe luxury of Fifth Avenue to miserable tenement districts;\u2014an abrupt\nsocial contrast, in all its Old World sharpness and hardness.\n\nIf the newcomer, then, in his surprise turns to those who know the\ncountry, his questions will be differently answered by different\npersons. The average citizen will try to save the reputation of\nequality. No doubt, he says, equality rules in America\u2014equality before\nthe law, and equality of political rights. And such average patriot\nwould be surprised to hear that this sort of equality is found in Europe\nalso. But perhaps our newcomer chances on a mind of less typical habit.\nThis one may reply, with the incomparably sly wink of the thoughtful\nAmerican, that there is no more equality in America than in Europe. We\nindulge in such glittering generalities in our Declaration of\nIndependence, to give our good local politicians a congenial theme on\npublic holidays, and so that badly paid shop clerks may solace\nthemselves with such brave assertions as a compensation for their small\npay. But we are not so foolish as to run amuck of nature, which after\nall has very wisely made men unlike one another.\n\nBut both replies are in a way false, or, at least, do not touch the root\nof the matter. It is undeniable that one can no longer speak of an\nequality of wealth or means of enjoyment, or even, in spite of\noccasional modest claims to the contrary, of an equal opportunity for\neducation and development. In spite of this, it is a mistake to suppose\nthat on this account the spirit of equality is found only in judicial\nand political spheres. There is another, a social equality, of which\nmost Americans are not conscious, because they do not know and can\nhardly imagine what life would be without such equality; they do not\nmeditate on social equality, because, unlike political or legal\nequality, it is not abstractly formulative. The American is first aware\nof it after living some time in Europe, and the European grasps the idea\nonly after a serious study of American life.\n\nThe social sentiment of equality, although variously tinged yet\nvirtually the same throughout the United States, in nowise militates\nagainst social distinctions which result from difference of education,\nwealth, occupation, and achievement. But it does demand that all these\ndifferent distinctions shall be considered external to the real\npersonality. Fundamentally, all Americans are equal. The statement must\nnot be misunderstood. It by no means coincides with the religious\ndistinction that men are equal in the eyes of God, and it is not to be\nassociated with any ethical ideas of life. Equality before God, and the\nequal worth of a moral act, whether done by the greatest or the humblest\nof God\u2019s children, are not social conceptions; they are significant only\nin religious, and not in social, life. And these two spheres can\neverywhere be separated. It can even be said that, as profoundly as\nreligion pervades every-day life in America, the characteristic\nprinciple of equality in the social community is wholly independent of\nthe ethics of the New Testament.\n\nIt is still less a metaphysical conception. The American popular mind\ndoes not at all sympathize with the philosophical idea that\nindividuality is only an appearance, and that we are all fundamentally\none being. The American thinks pluralistically, and brings to his\nmetaphysics a firm belief in the absolute significance of the\nindividual. And finally, the American principle of equality which we\nwish to grasp is not rationally humanitarian; whether all human beings\nare really equal is left out of account. It is a question actually of\nthis one social community living together in the United States and\nhaving to regulate its social affairs.\n\nLet us suppose that a group of similarly employed good friends were on\nan excursion, and that the young people for the sake of diversion were\nagreed to represent for a while various sorts of human occupation\u2014one is\nto play millionaire, another beggar, still others judge, teacher,\nartisan, labourer, high official, and valet. Each one plays his part\nwith the greatest abandon; one commands and the other obeys, one\ndictates and the other trembles. And yet behind it all there is a\npleasant feeling that at bottom they are all just alike, and that the\nwhole game is worth while merely because they know that one is in fact\nas good as another. If a real beggar or servant were to come into the\ncircle, there would be no more fun, and the game would be wholly\nmeaningless. Strange as it may sound, this feeling is at the bottom of\nsocial life in America. Every one says to himself: All of us who inhabit\nthis incomparable country are at bottom comrades; one bakes bread and\nthe other eats it, one sits on the coachman\u2019s box and the other rides\ninside; but this is all because we have agreed so to assign the r\u00f4les.\nOne commands and the other obeys, but with a mutual understanding that\nthis merely happens to be the most appropriate distribution of functions\nunder the circumstances in which we happen to be placed.\n\nThe real man, it is felt, is not affected by this differentiation, and\nit would not be worth while either to command or to obey if all men did\nnot tacitly understand that each esteems the other as an equal. A\ndivision of labour is necessary, but as long as any one does the work\napportioned to him he belongs of course to the fraternal circle, quite\nas well as the one who by reason of industrial conditions or natural\ntalents comes to take a more distinguished or agreeable position.\nWhoever makes this claim honestly for himself assumes that every one\nelse does likewise. On the other hand, whosoever thinks himself equal to\nthose above him, but superior to those beneath him, conceives external\ndifferences to be intrinsic, and makes thus a presumptuous demand for\nhimself. The man who truly sees social equality as a real part of the\nsocial contract, will feel toward those above as toward those below him.\nHe will make his own claims good by the very act of recognizing the\nclaims of others. The spirit of social self-assertion requires the\nintrinsic equality of all one\u2019s neighbours who belong to the social\ncommunity in question.\n\nSo long as one seeks equality by trying to imitate one\u2019s more wealthy,\nmore educated, or more powerful neighbours and trying to gloze over the\ndifferences, or by consciously lowering one\u2019s self to the level of the\npoor, the uninfluential, and the uneducated, and either by spiritual or\nby material aid obliterating the distinction, one is not really\nbelieving in equality, but is considering the outer distinctions as\nsomething actual. Indeed, the zeal to wipe out distinctions is the most\nobvious admission that one feels actual differences to exist in the\nsocial fabric. Where the spirit of self-assertion, with the recognition\nof one\u2019s neighbour as an equal social being, prevails, there will be no\nlack of striving for outward similarity, of trying to help one\u2019s self\nalong, and of helping others up to one\u2019s own position; but this is\nlooked on as a technical matter and not as referring intrinsically to\nthe participants in the social game.\n\nIt is doubtful whether a European can fully appreciate this social point\nof view, because he is too apt to distort the idea into an ethical one.\nHe is ready to abstract artificially from all social differences, and to\nput the ethical idea of moral equality in the stead of social\ndifferentiation. The social system is secondary then to the moral\nsystem, as in fact religion actually teaches. The American, however,\ngoes in just the opposite direction. He presupposes, as a matter of\ncourse, that the citizens of the United States are socially equal,\nwhether they live in the White House or work in the coal mine; and this\npoint of view is not dependent on any ethical theory, but is itself the\nbasis of such a theory. When we were speaking of the influence of\nreligion on morality, we especially emphasized the fact that religious\nethics are everywhere complemented by a purely social ethic, and now we\nmeet this new form of ethics. Religion requires a morality of which the\nprinciple is clearly, though somewhat derogatorily, designated in\nphilosophical discussions as the morality of submission, and which finds\nits counterpart in the ethical theories of moral lordship\u2014the forcible\nand conscious suppression of the weak. Now the American constructs a\nmorality of comradeship which is as far from the morality of submission\nas from that of lordship; which is unlike either the morality of the\npietist based on the religious idea of immortality, or the morality of\nNietzsche, based on biological exigencies. This morality of comradeship\nis based entirely on the idea of society.\n\nThis does not mean that it is a question of fulfilling moral\nrequirements in order to escape social difficulties, or to gain social\nadvantages, but of recognizing this morality simply as a social\nrequirement. Such actions may be called moral because they are unselfish\nand arise from no other motive than that of the inner desire; and still\nthey are not, in the ordinary sense, moral because they are not\nuniversally valid, and refer no further than the circle of the special\nsocial community. They may be compared to the requirements which arise\nin some communities out of a peculiar conception of honour; but the\nsociety here is a whole nation, without caste and without distinction.\nAnd, moreover, an idea of honour gets its force from the self-assertion\nof a personality, while the social morality of the American arises in a\ndemand for the recognition of another. The fundamental feeling is that\nthe whole social interplay would have no meaning, and social ambition\nand success would yield no pleasure, if it were not clearly understood\nthat every other member of the social community is equal to one\u2019s self,\nand that he has the absolute right to make such a claim.\n\nThe criminal and the man without honour have forfeited that right; they\nare excluded from the community and cut off from the social game. But\ndistinctions of position, of education, of heredity, and of property,\nhave nothing to do with this right. If we are to strive for social\nsuccess, we must be perfectly sure at the outset that we are all\ncomrades, participating in the various labours of the great gay world\nwith mutual approval and mutual esteem; and we must show that we believe\nthis, by our actions. And because here it is not a question of rigorous\nmorality, but rather of the moral consequences of social ideals, the\nethical goes by inappreciable steps into the ethically indifferent, into\npurely social customs and habits; and in many cases into evils and\nabuses that follow from the same social ideals. We may picture to\nourselves the salient traits which are essential to this spirit of\nsocial self-assertion.\n\nA stranger first notices, perhaps, the perfect confidence with which\neverybody goes about his business, without feeling oppressed by those\nabove nor exalted by those beneath him. He feels himself an equal among\nequals. There is no condescension to those beneath nor servility to\nthose above. The typical American feels himself in every social\nsituation self-assured and equal; he is simply master of himself, polite\nbut frank, reserved but always kind. He detests patronage and\ncondescension as much as servility and obsequiousness. For condescension\nemphasizes the difference in the rank, and presumes to challenge a\npossible forgetting of this difference by suggesting that both the\npersons do recognize the distinction as intrinsic. A man who asserts his\ntrue equality and expects in every other honourable man the same\nself-assertion, scarcely understands how purely technical differences of\nsocial position can affect the inner relations of man to man.\n\nOne who grows up in such a social atmosphere does not lose his feeling\nof assurance on coming into quite a different society. Archibald Forbes,\nthe Englishman, describes somewhere the American war correspondent,\nMacGahan, who was the son of an Ohio farmer, as he appeared in a Russian\ncamp. \u201cNever before,\u201d writes Forbes, \u201chave I seen a young man appear so\nconfident among high officers and officials. There was no trace in his\nmanner of impudence or presumption. It was as if he had conceived the\nmatter on a single principle: I am a man\u2014a man who, in an honourable way\nand for a specific purpose, which you know or which I will gladly tell\nyou, needs something which you are best able to give me\u2014information, a\npass, or something of the sort; therefore I ask it of you. It is\nindifferent to the logic of the situation whether you are a small\nlieutenant or a general in command, a messenger boy, or an imperial\nchancellor.\u201d And some one else has added, \u201cMacGahan could do anything\nwith Ignatieff; he calmly paid court to Mme. Ignatieff, patronized\nPrince Gortschakoff, and gave a friendly nod to the Grand Duke\nNicholas.\u201d\n\nIt is not surprising that Englishmen are the ones who feel this trait of\nthe Americans most markedly. England, which is most similar to America\npolitically, is, in this respect of real belief in social equality, most\ndissimilar; and in curious contrast to Russia, which is politically the\nvery furthest removed from America, but which in its common life has\ndeveloped most of all a feeling of social equality. And still the\nAmerican feeling is very different from the Russian. In the Russian man,\nall the deeper sensibilities are coloured by a religious conception; he\naccounts himself at bottom, neither better nor worse than the most\nmiserable: whereas the American feels, on the contrary, that he is at\nbottom not inferior to the very best. The Russian sense of equality\npulls down and the American exalts.\n\nAs for the Englishman, Muirhead relates as follows in his book, \u201cThe\nLand of Contrasts\u201d: \u201cThere is something wonderfully rare and delicate in\nthe finest blossoms of American civilization\u2014something that can hardly\nbe paralleled in Europe. The mind that has been brought up in an\natmosphere theoretically free from all false standards and conventional\ndistinctions acquires a singularly unbiased, detached, absolute, purely\nhuman way of viewing life. In Matthew Arnold\u2019s phrase, \u2018it sees life\nsteadily and sees it whole\u2019; just this attitude seems unattainable in\nEngland; neither in my reading nor my personal experience have I\nencountered what I mean elsewhere than in America.... The true-born\nAmerican is absolutely incapable of comprehending the sense of\ndifference between a lord and a plebeian that is forced on the most\nphilosophical among ourselves by the mere pressure of the social\natmosphere. It is for him a fourth dimension of space; it may be talked\nabout, but practically it has no existence.... The British radical\nphilosopher may attain the height of saying, \u2018With a great sum obtained\nI this freedom\u2019; the American may honestly reply, \u2018But I was\nfree-born.\u2019\u201d\n\nBut what Muirhead thus says of the colour of the finest flowers is true,\nif we look more closely, of the entire flora; it may not be so delicate\nand exquisite as in these flowers; it is often mixed with cruder\ncolours, but every plant on American soil, if it is not just an ordinary\nweed, has a little of that dye.\n\nIt is not correct to suppose that inequalities of wealth work directly\nagainst this feeling. In spite of all efforts and ambitions toward\nwealth and the tendencies to ostentation, the American lacks just that\nwhich makes the possession of property a distinction of personal\nworth\u2014the offensive lack of consideration toward inferiors and the envy\nof superiors. As gladly as the American gets the best and dearest that\nhis purse can buy, he feels no desire to impress the difference on those\nwho are less prosperous. He does not care to outdo the poorer man; his\nluxury signifies his personal pleasure in expenditure as an indication\nof his success in the world. But so far as he thinks of those who are\nlooking on, it is of those richer persons whom he would like to imitate,\nand not of those who can afford less than himself.\n\nEnvy was not planted in the American soul. Envy is not directed at the\npossession, but at the possessor; and therefore, it recognizes that the\npossessor is made better by what he owns. A person who asserts himself\nstrains every nerve to improve his own condition, but never envies those\nwho are more favoured. And envy would be to him as great a degradation\nas pure servility. Undoubtedly here is one of the most effective checks\nto socialism. Socialism may not spring directly from envy, but a people\ngiven to envy are very ready to listen to socialism; and in America\nsocialism remains a foreign cult, which is preached to deaf ears. A man\nwho feels himself inferior, and who envies his wealthier fellows, would\nbe glad to bring about an artificial equality by equalizing ownership:\nwhereas the man who accounts himself equal to every one else is ready to\nconcede the external inequality which lends fresh impetus and courageous\nendeavour to his existence; and this the more as the accumulation of\ncapital becomes an obviously technical matter, not immediately\ncontributory to the enjoyment of life. The billionaire enjoys no more\nthan the millionaire, but merely works with a more complicated and\npowerful apparatus. Even direct economic dependence does not depress the\nspirit of self-assertion. We shall have later to speak, indeed, of\nstrong opposite tendencies, and to speak of social differentiation; but\nthis trait remains everywhere. It is much more strongly in evidence in\ntown and country than in the large city, and much more in the West than\nin the East.\n\nThe tokens of greeting are thoroughly characteristic. An American doffs\nhis hat to ladies out of respect to the sex; but men meet one another\nwithout that formality, and the finer differences in the nod of the\nhead, expression of the eyes, and movements of the hat indicate the\ndegree of personal familiarity and liking, but not of social position.\nPosition is something technical, professional, and external, which is\nnot in question when two men meet on the street. They greet because they\nknow each other, and in this mutual relation of personal acquaintance\nthey are merely equal human beings, and not the representatives of\nprofessional grades. The careful German adjustment of the arc through\nwhich the hat is carried and of the angle to which the body bends, in\ndeference to social position, strikes the American as nonsensical. The\nfundamental disregard of titles and orders is, of course, closely\nconnected with such a feeling. This has two sides, and has particularly\nits exceptions, which we shall not fail to speak of; but, on the whole,\ntitles and orders are under the ban. The American feels too clearly that\nevery form of exaltation is at the same time a degradation, for it is\nonly when all are equal that no one is inferior, and so soon as some one\nis distinguished, the principle of the inequality is admitted and he in\nturn subordinates himself to others.\n\nIt would be unfair to draw the conclusion from this that Americans hate\nevery sort of subordination. On the contrary, one who watches American\nworkmen at their labour, or studies the organization of great business\nhouses, or the playing of games under the direction of a captain, knows\nthat for a specific purpose American subordination can become absolute.\nThe much-boasted American talent for organization could not have been so\nbrilliantly confirmed if it had not found everywhere an absolute\nwillingness for conscious subordination. But the foot-ball player does\nnot feel himself inferior to the captain whose directions he follows.\nThe profound objection to subordination comes out only where it is not a\nquestion of dividing up labour, but of the real classification and\ngrading of men. It is naturally strongest, therefore, in regard to\nhereditary titles where the distinction clearly cannot be based on the\npersonal merits of the inheritor.\n\nOne of the most interesting consequences of this feeling is very\nnoticeable to a stranger. The American thinks that any kind of work\nwhich is honourable is in principle suitable for everybody. To be sure,\nthis looks differently in theory and in practice; the banker does not\ncare to be a commercial traveller, nor the commercial traveller a\nbar-tender, nor the bar-tender a street-cleaner; and this not merely\nbecause he regards his own work as pleasanter, but as more respectable.\nNevertheless, it is at once conspicuous with what readiness every useful\nsort of labour is recognized as honourable; and while the European of\nthe better classes is vexed by the query how one can work and\nnevertheless remain respectable, the American finds it much harder to\nunderstand how one can remain respectable without working. The way in\nwhich thousands of young students, both men and women, support\nthemselves during their years of study is typical. The German student\nwould feel that some sort of teaching or writing was the only work\nsuitable to him; at the utmost he would undertake type-writing. But we\nhave seen in connection with the universities that the American student\nin narrow circumstances is not afraid during the summer vacations to\nwork as porter in a hotel, or as horse-car driver, in order to stay a\nyear longer at the university. Or perhaps, during the student year, he\nwill earn a part of his board by taking care of a furnace. And none of\nthe sons of millionaires who sit beside him in the lecture rooms will\nlook down on him on that account. The thoughtless fellow who heaps up\ndebts is despised, but not the day-labourer\u2019s son, who delivers milk in\nthe early morning in order to devote his day to science.\n\nThis is everywhere the background of social conceptions. No honourable\nwork is a discredit, because the real social personality is not touched\nby the casual role which may be assumed in the economic fabric.\nTherefore it is quite characteristic that the only labour which is\nreally disliked is such as involves immediate personal dependence, such\nas that of servants. The chamber-maid has generally much easier work\nthan the shop girl; yet all women flock to the shops and factories, and\nfew care to go into household service. Almost all servants are\nimmigrants from Ireland, Scotland, Sweden, and Germany, except the\nnegroes and the Chinese of the West. Even the first generation of\nchildren born in the country decline to become servants. With the single\nindividual, it is of course a matter of imitating his comrades and\nfollowing general prejudices; but these prejudices have grown logically\nout of the social ideals. The working-man professionally serves industry\nand civilization, while the servant appears to have no other end than\ncomplying with the will of another person. The working-man adjusts\nhimself to an abstract task, quite as his employer; while the servant\nsells a part of his free-will and therefore his social equality, to\nanother man.\n\nMost notorious is the fixed idea that blacking shoes is the lowest of\nall menial services; and this is an hallucination which afflicts not\nonly those born in the country, but even the immigrant from Northern\nEurope, as soon as he passes the Statue of Liberty in New York harbour.\nThe problem of getting shoes blacked would be serious were it not for\nthe several million negroes in the country and the heavy immigration\nfrom Southern Europe which does not get the instant prejudice against\nshoe-polish. But the theoretical problem of why servants will gladly\nwork very hard, but strike when it comes to blacking shoes, is still not\nsolved. There is possibly some vague idea that blacking shoes is a\nsymbol of grovelling at some one\u2019s feet, and therefore involves the\nutmost sacrifice of one\u2019s self-respect.\n\nClosely connected with this is the American aversion against giving or\naccepting fees. Any one giving a fee in a street-car would not be\nunderstood, and there are few things so unsympathetic to the American\nwho travels in Europe as the way in which the lower classes look for an\nobolus in return for every trivial service or attention. A small boy who\naccompanies a stranger for some distance through a village street in\norder to point out the way, would feel insulted if he were offered a\ncoin for his kindness. The waiters in the large hotels are less offended\nby tips, for they have adopted the custom brought over by European\nwaiters; but this custom has not spread much beyond the large cities. It\nis, in general, still true that the real American will accept pay only\nin so far as he can justly demand it for his labour. Everything above\nthat makes him dependent on the kindness of some one else, and is\ntherefore not a professional, but a personal matter, and for the moment\nobliterates social equality.\n\nJust as any sort of work which does not involve the sacrifice of the\nworker\u2019s free-will is suitable for every one, so the individual is very\nmuch less identified with his occupation than he is in Europe. He very\noften changes his occupation. A clergyman who is tired of the pulpit\ngoes into a mercantile employment, and a merchant who has acquired some\nnew interests proceeds to study until he is proficient in that field; a\nlawyer enters the industrial field, a manufacturer enters politics, a\nbook dealer undertakes a retail furniture business, and a letter-carrier\nbecomes a restaurant keeper. The American does not feel that a man is\nmade by the accidents of his industrial position, but that the real man\nputs his professional clothes on or lays them off without being\ninternally affected. The belief in social equality minimizes to the\nutmost the significance of a change of occupation; and it may be that\nthe well-known versatility and adaptability of the American are mainly\ndue to this fact. For he is so much more conscious than any European\nthat a change of environment in nowise alters his personality, and\ntherefore requires no really new internal adjustment, which would be\ndifficult always, but only an outward change\u2014the mastery of a new\ntechnique.\n\nA foreigner is most astonished at these changes of occupation when they\ncome after a sudden reverse of fortune. The readiness and quietness with\nwhich an American takes such a thing would be absolutely impossible, if\nthe spirit of self-assertion had not taught him through his whole life\nthat outward circumstances do not make the man. If a millionaire loses\nhis property to-day, his wife is ready to-morrow to open a\nboarding-house; circumstances have changed, and as it has been her lot\nin the past to conduct her salon in a palace, it is now her business to\nprovide a good noon-day meal for young clerks. She enjoyed the first a\ngreat deal more, and yet it too brought its burdens. The change is one\nof occupation, and does not change her personality. The onlooker is\nagain and again reminded of actors who play their part; they appear to\nlive in every r\u00f4le for the moment that they are playing it, but it is\nreally indifferent to them at bottom whether they are called on to play\nin a cloak of ermine or in blue-jeans. One is as good as the other, even\nwhen the parts require one to swagger about and the other to sweat.\n\nIf the members of the community feel themselves really equal, they will\nlay special importance, in their social intercourse, on all such factors\nas likewise do not accentuate external differences, but bind man to man\nwithout regard to position, wealth, or culture. This is the reason of\nthe remarkable hold which sport has on American life. The American likes\nsport of every sort, especially such games as foot-ball and base-ball,\nrowing, wrestling, tennis and golf and polo, in all of which bodily\nexercise is used in competition. After these in favour come hunting,\nfishing, yachting, riding, swimming, and gymnastic exercises. The sport\nof mountain-climbing is less popular, and in general the American is not\na great walker.\n\nAmerican sport is, indeed, combined with many unsportsmanlike elements.\nIn the first place, betting has taken on such proportions that financial\nconsiderations are unduly influential, and the identification of\nopposing teams with special clubs, universities, or cities too often\nbrings it about, that the sportsmanlike desire to see the best side win\nis often made secondary to the unsportsmanlike desire to see one\u2019s own\nside win at any cost. And yet even the fervour with which the spectators\non the grand-stand manifest their partisanship is only another\nexpression of the fact that the average American is intensely moved by\nsport; and this interest is so great as to overcome all social\ndistinctions and create, for the time being, an absolutely equal\nfellow-feeling.\n\nBase-ball is the most popular game, and is played during the spring and\nsummer. The autumn game of foot-ball is too complicated, and has become\ntoo much of a \u201cscience\u201d to be a thoroughly popular game. In the huge\ncrowds which flock to see a university foot-ball game, the larger part\nis not always aware of what is happening at every moment, and can\nappreciate only the more brilliant plays. Tennis and golf are too\nexpensive to be popular; and in golf, moreover, the success of a player\nis too independent of the skill of his antagonist. Water sports are out\nof the question in many localities. But every lad in city or country\nplays base-ball. It can be played everywhere, can be easily followed by\nspectators, and combines the interest of team work with the more na\u00efve\ninterest in the brilliant single play. It is said that on every warm\nSaturday afternoon, base-ball matches are played in more than thirty\nthousand places, before audiences of some five million amateurs in\nsport. Around the grounds sit labouring men, clergymen, shop-boys,\nprofessors, muckers, and millionaires, all participating with a\ncommunity of interest and feeling of equality as if they were worlds\nremoved from the petty business where social differences are considered.\n\nThere is only one more sovereign power than the spirit of sport in\nbreaking down all social distinctions; it is American humour. We could\nnot speak of political or intellectual life without emphasizing this\nirrepressible humour; but we must not forget it for a moment in speaking\nof social life, for its influence pervades every social situation. The\nonly question is whether it is the humour which overcomes every\ndisturbance of the social equilibrium and so restores the consciousness\nof free and equal self-assertion, or whether it is this consciousness\nwhich fosters humour and seeks expression in a good-natured lack of\nrespect. No immoderation, no improper presumption, and no pomposity can\nsurvive the first humorous comment, and the American does not wait long\nfor this. The soap-bubble is pricked amid general laughter, and equality\nis restored. Whether it is in a small matter or whether in a question of\nnational importance, a latent humour pervades all social life.\n\nNot a single American newspaper appears in the morning without some\npolitical joke or whimsical comment, a humorous story, or a satirical\narticle; and those who are familiar with American papers and then look\ninto the European newspaper, find the greatest contrast to be in the\nabsence of humour. And the same is true of daily life; the American is\nalways ready for a joke and has one always on his lips, however dry the\nsubject of discussion may be, and however diverse the social \u201cposition\u201d\nof those present. A happy humorous turn will remind them all that they\nare equal fellow-citizens, and that they are not to take their different\nfunctions in life too solemnly, nor to suppose that their varied outward\ncircumstances introduce any real inequality. As soon as Americans hear a\ngood story, they come at once to an understanding, and it is well-known\nthat many political personalities have succeeded because of their wit,\neven if its quantity was more than its quality.\n\nAmerican humour is most typically uttered with great seriousness; the\nmost biting jest or the most extravagant nonsense is brought out so\ndemurely as not at all to suggest the real intent. The American is a\nmaster at this, and often remarks the Englishman\u2019s incapacity to follow\nhim. The familiar American criticism of their English cousins is, in\nspite of _Punch_, certainly exaggerated\u2014as if there were no humour at\nall in the country which produced Dickens. But it cannot be denied that\nAmerican humour to-day is fresher and more spontaneous. And this may be\nin large part due to the irrepressible feeling of equality which so\ncarries humour into every social sphere. The assurance of this feeling\nalso makes the American ready to caricature himself or his very best\nfriend. But it is necessary especially to observe the masses, the\nparticipants in a festival, citizens on voting day, popular crowds on\nthe streets or in halls, in order to feel how all-powerful their humour\nis. A good word thrown in makes all of them forget their political\ndifferences, and an amusing occurrence repays them for every\ndisappointment. They say, Let\u2019s forget the foolish quarrel about trivial\ndifferences; we would rather be good-natured, now that we are reminded,\nin spite of all differences, of our social equality.\n\nNow, out of this feeling of equality there spring far-reaching duties.\nEspecially there are those which concern one\u2019s self, and these are the\nsame as proceeded from the Puritan spirit of self-perfection. They are\nthe same requirements, although they are expressed in different ethical\nlanguage and somewhat differently accentuated. The fundamental impulse\nin this group of feelings is wholly un-Puritan and entirely social. I\nassert myself to be equal to all others who are worthy of esteem, and\ntherefore I must recognize for myself all the duties which those who are\nricher, more educated, and more influential impose on themselves; in\nshort, I must behave like a gentleman. The motto, which certainly has\nnothing to do with religion, is _noblesse oblige_; but the nobility\nconsists in being a citizen of America, and as such subordinate to no\nman. The duties which accrue are, however, quite similar to religious\nobligations. The gentleman requires of himself firstly self-control and\nsocial discipline. Also in this connection we find a sexual purity which\nis not known on the Continent; one may sit in jovial men\u2019s society after\ndinner with cigars around the fireplace a hundred times without ever\nhearing an unclean story: and if a young fellow tried to boast to his\nfriends of his amorous adventures, in the European manner, he would be\nsnubbed. Nowhere in the world is a young girl so safe in the protection\nof a young man.\n\nThe gentleman is marked, first of all, by his character; everything\nwhich is low, unworthy, malicious, or even petty is fundamentally\ndisagreeable to him. The true American is not to be judged by certain\nscandal-mongering papers, nor by city politics. As known in private\nlife, he is admirable in all his social attitudes. He has a real\ndistaste, often in part \u00e6sthetic, for what is vulgar or impure; and this\nis true in wider as in more exclusive circles. In business he may look\nsharply to his own advantage; but even there he is not stingy or\ntrivial, and he will seldom make use of a petty advantage, of doubtful\nactions, or dishonourable flattery and obsequiousness in order to gain\nhis end, nor be brutal toward a weak competitor. That is opposed to the\nAmerican national character. It is less opposed, however, to the\nassimilated immigrant population, especially the Irish.\n\nThe relation of one man to his neighbour is correspondingly upright. The\nspirit of self-assertion educates to politeness, helpfulness,\ngood-nature, and magnanimity. European books on America are fond of\nsaying that the fundamental principle of American life is, \u201cHelp\nyourself.\u201d If that is understood to mean that the individual person is\nnot expected to keep quiet and wait for some higher power to help him,\nand is expected, instead of waiting for the government, to go ahead and\naccomplish things for himself, it is true. We have already everywhere\ndiscovered the principle of individual and private initiative to be the\ngreat strength of the American state; the community is to act only when\nthe strength of the individual is not sufficient. And the American\nbelieves in self-help in still another sense. He teaches his children to\nthink early of economic independence; the sons even of the wealthy man\nare to begin with a small income and work up for themselves. Here the\ntraditions of the pioneers are in a way perpetuated, for they had to\nconquer the soil by their own hard work. This training in self-help has\ncontributed very much to make the American strong, and will doubtless\ncontinue to be regarded as the proper plan of education, however much\nthe increasing prosperity may tend in the opposite direction.\n\nOn the other hand, the motto \u201cHelp yourself\u201d is thoroughly misleading,\nif it is taken to mean that every one must help himself because his\nneighbour will not help him. A readiness to help in every way is one of\nthe most marked traits of the American, from the superficial courtesy to\nthe noblest self-sacrifice. The American\u2019s unlimited hospitality is well\nknown. Where it is a question of mutual social intercourse, hospitality\nis no special virtue, and the lavish extravagance of present-day\nhospitality is rather a mistake. But it is different when the guest is a\nstranger, who has brought, perhaps, merely a short note of introduction.\nThe heartiness with which such an one is promptly taken into the house\nand provided with every sort of convenience, arises from a much deeper\nimpulse than mere delight in well-to-do sociability. In the large\ncities, the American affords his guests such lodging and entertainment\nas a European is accustomed to bestow only in the country.\n\nMore or less remotely, all hospitality involves an idea of exchange; the\nentirely one-sided devotion begins first in philanthropy. When men feel\nthemselves essentially equal, they may welcome external dissimilarities\nwhich incite them to redoubled efforts; but they will not like to see\nthis unlikeness go beyond a certain point. Differences of power,\neducation, and wealth are necessary to keep the social machinery moving;\nbut there is a certain lower boundary where helplessness, illiteracy,\nand poverty do really threaten the true personality. And then the whole\nsignificance of social community is lost. One\u2019s neighbour must not be\ndebased nor deprived by outward circumstances of his inner self; he must\nhave at once the means of working for culture and striving for power and\npossessions. Otherwise, an inner unlikeness would arise which would have\nto be recognized, and which would then contradict the presuppositions of\ndemocratic society. The feeling of justice is aroused at the sight of\nhelplessness, the desire for reform at the sight of illiteracy; and\npoverty inspires eager assistance.\n\nIn its outward effects social helpfulness amounts to the same as\nreligious benevolence, although they are at bottom far removed, and\ntheir difference may be recognized, however much they work into one\nanother. In the world of self-perfection there is pity for the needy,\nand benevolence is offered as a religious sacrifice. In the world of\nself-assertion, the consciousness of right is uppermost, which will not\nsuffer the debasing influence of poverty; and here benevolence is felt\nas a social duty by the performance of which social equality is\npreserved. It is a natural consequence of pity and sacrifice to\nencourage beggary and unsystematic alms-giving; and the fact that in\nAmerica everything is directed against beggary and against letting\nanybody feel that he is receiving alms, speaks for the predominance of\nthe social over the religious motive in America. The one who receives\nalms lowers himself, while the true social purpose is not in the\ncharitable intent to help up the fallen, but to protect the social\norganism from the pathological symptom of such debasement; the belief in\nequality and the right of self-assertion must not be taken from any\nindividual in America. The other extreme, state aid, legal enactments,\nor illness and accident insurance, or insurance against old age or lack\nof employment, would be politically impossible. They would be an attempt\non the individual\u2019s right of self-determination, which would be opposed\nfor the sake of principle. The American social system demands, rather,\ndevelopment along a line somewhere between individual alms-giving and\ngovernment insurance. It is a question of creating permanent social\norganizations to do away with poverty, illness, depravity, crime, and\ndistress in a systematic, intelligent fashion.\n\nThe connection with the state would thus be preserved, since the state\npoor-laws supervise and regulate such organizations; on the other hand,\nthe connection with individuals would be preserved, since they derive\nmost of their means from private gifts and enlist a great deal of\npersonal service, particularly that of women. Besides these private and\nsemi-public organizations, there is the co-operation of certain state\ninstitutions on the one hand, and on the other of quiet individual\nbenevolence, for which any amount of organization always leaves plenty\nof scope. Care of the poor and of children, social settlements and\neducational funds, whatever the forms of helpfulness, the same spirit of\nalmost exaggerated benevolence inspires the gift of unlimited money,\nadvice, time, and strength. Philanthropy could be improved in its\noutward technique in many states. Too often politics have a disturbing\ninfluence; inexperience and religious narrowness are in evidence;\nefforts are sometimes directed partly against one another; and many\nconditions of distress arising from the mixed population of the great\nthinly settled tracts of land, present problems which are still\nunsolved. But this has nothing to do with the recognition of the\nbenevolent traits of American character.\n\nThe readiness of the American to give to good purposes is the more\nimpressive the closer one looks. From a distance, one sees gifts of\nmillions of dollars which less impress one; everybody knows that men\nlike Carnegie, Rockefeller, and Vanderbilt make no sacrifices in\ncontributing sums even in seven figures. But the person who is nearer\nthe scene observes that there is also the widow\u2019s mite, and that the\nwell-to-do middle class often gives away a proportion of its income that\nseems almost too large, according to European ideas. And this giving is\nnever a thoughtless throwing away; the giver always investigates. Almost\neverybody has a special interest, where he fulfils his benevolent duties\nthoughtfully and intelligently, Vanity hardly figures at all; the\nlargest gifts are often anonymous and unheard of by the newspapers.\nThose who are often in the position of appealing to American public\nspirit for good purposes, soon lose the feeling that they are reminding\nthe public of a duty or asking for an offering. The American gives in a\nway which suggests that he is delighted to be called on for so worthy a\ncause; he often adds a word of thanks to a contribution which is larger\nthan was expected, for having his attention called to the cause in hand.\n\nAnd his benevolence is not all a matter of the check-book. Whether the\nwind has blown some one\u2019s hat off in the street, or some greater\nmischance has brought unhappiness, the American feels that he lives in\nthe midst of a kindly disposed community. A feeling of comradeship is\nalways more or less in evidence. In any case of sudden accident or\nmisfortune, the way in which the American unselfishly lends a hand, or\nthe crowd instinctively organizes itself to give aid, always astonishes\na newcomer.\n\nThis fundamental motive shows itself in many ways; magnanimity is one of\nthe most characteristic variations. The American takes no advantage of\nthe weakness or misfortune of another; he likes competition, but that\npresupposes that the competitors have equal advantages. An opponent\u2019s\ndisadvantage takes away the pleasure of victory. During the Spanish War,\nthe ovations accorded to the Spanish \u201cheroes\u201d were often decidedly\nbeyond the limits of good taste; and even during the Civil War, when the\nembitterment was extreme, people outdid themselves in their kind\ntreatment of the prisoners. And leading men of the North have lately\nproposed, in spirited public addresses, to erect a national monument to\nGeneral Lee, the great leader of the Southern States. As in war so it is\nin peace. The presidential candidates of the two parties arranged some\nyears ago to speak in the same places during the same week; but one of\nthem was detained by illness in his family, and the other cancelled his\nspeeches in order not to profit by the misfortune of his opponent. In\nthe case of a difference of opinion which is settled by vote, say in a\nsmall club or committee meeting, the cheerful submission of the minority\nis generally surpassed by the magnanimity of the majority.\n\nThis same magnanimity is shown in helping the weak; there are no\nbetter-natured, more considerate, and patient people than the American,\nso long as the social side of life is in question. Their temperamental\ncoolness and humour stand them in good stead. At bottom it is the\nfeeling that they are all equal, and that if one has made a miss-step\nto-day and needs help, one needed it one\u2019s self yesterday, and may need\nit again to-morrow. The accident that one is doing one\u2019s duty at the\nmoment while another is careless, indiscreet, or foolish is not to be\nmagnified nor taken to mean that one\u2019s self is a better sort of a man.\nSuch kindliness greatly makes for general informality.\n\nAmong the current complaints of Europeans is, that the American life\nlacks just this serene cordiality, the German Gem\u00fctlichkeit. It is true,\nindeed, that the rhythm of American life is quicker and more energetic;\nso that the stranger, until he has become accustomed to the more\nstrenuous pace, remains at first oppressed by a disagreeable sense of\nhaste; just as the American who visits Germany has at first a\ndisagreeable feeling of hide-bound pedantry and careless indifference.\nSuch a first impression is superficial. As soon as the American is\nadapted to the adagio of German life, he feels that the slowness is not\ncarelessness; and the German, when he has learned the smarter marching\ntime of American life, knows in the same way that the quick, strong\naccent by no means excludes serenity and comfort. It is true that in the\ntwo countries these feelings are differently distributed. The German\nChristmas-tide is certainly more fervent and serene than the American,\nbut it is a question whether German popular life has any holiday more\nwarmly solemnized than the Thanksgiving Day of New England. The American\nnature favours a purely social comfort which has less to do with\nsentiment and feeling than with the sense of affiliation.\n\nGerman informality develops itself always among social equals, because\nin Germany social differences seem to extend to the deepest traits of\npersonality; but social distinctions do not stand in the way of the\nsympathetic intercourse of Americans, because they hardly ever forget\nthat such differences are external. In this sense the South German\nenjoys more Gem\u00fctlichkeit than the North German, and the American more\nthan any European. The most indiscriminately chosen group can be brought\nto a unity of feeling by the merest comical or pathetic accident, so\nthat all social distinctions fall away like dead leaves. In the most\ndignified assembly, as at the busiest office, a single word or jest\ncreates unconsciously a sympathetic mood, in which the youngest\nmessenger and the most important director come at once into equality. A\nfeeling runs through the whole social life, as if one would like to say,\nwith a jovial wink, that no one believes really in all the social\ndistinctions, but is looking for what is good in the inner personality.\n\nThe most energetic expression of this inner striving for equality lies\nin the feeling of justice. There is no province in which American and\nGerman feelings are so different. This is especially true in the matter\nof penal law. A crime is naturally a crime here as there, and the\ndifferences in penalty are mainly due to different political, social,\nand industrial institutions. The American is perhaps astonished at the\nrigour of German law regarding the press or _l\u00e8se majest\u00e9_, and at the\nmild punishment for duelling, or certain social delinquencies; while the\nGerman is amazed at the severe American laws relating to temperance and\nat the mild punishment for slander of officials, etc. But all this does\nnot show the least difference in the sense of justice, but only in the\ninstitution. The real difference is deeper. The German, we might say,\nlays the chief emphasis in seeing to it that on no account a criminal\nshall evade the law, while the American will on no account let an\ninnocent man be punished. It is a matter of course that every social\ncommunity includes delinquents, and that for the protection of society a\npenal code must do its best to suppress, to intimidate, or to improve\nthe lawless will. But in view of such necessary machinery, the American\nfeels that every effort should be made that his guiltless neighbour\nshall not be molested, since the neighbour is one like himself. It is\nbetter for a hundred guilty persons to escape the punishment they\ndeserve than for a single innocent person to be in the least aggrieved.\n\nThe real distinctions, therefore, do not lie in the penal code, but in\nthe way it is administered; to put it extremely, the German who is\naccused is guilty until he proves his innocence, while the American is\ninnocent until he is proved guilty. A single example will make the\nmatter clear. Any one in the United States who has been charged with\nmurder or any other misdeed and on trial found not guilty, can never\nagain during his whole life be tried for the same crime; not even if\nentirely new and convincing evidence comes up later, nor even if he\nshould himself confess the crime. The American jurist says that the\nstate has been given sufficient opportunity to prove the defendant\u2019s\nguilt. If the counsel of the state as plaintiff has not been able to\nconvince the jury, the accused man is legally innocent, and is protected\nas a matter of principle from the dread of any renewal of the\naccusation. In American legal opinion the German method of procedure\ninvolves a certain arbitrariness, which according to the opinion of many\nlawyers, is tolerated in Germany only because of the admirable quality\nof the judges. American jurists say that about half of the testimony\nadmitted in the German court-room, and two-thirds admitted in the\nFrench, are entirely incompatible with the legal supposition that every\nman is innocent until proved guilty.\n\nThe different use of the oath is also characteristic of these two\ncountries. The sworn testimony on the basis of \u201cinformation and belief\u201d\nis admitted without more ado, and so two contradictory pieces of\nevidence under oath are not only admissible, but are very common; and\nthe German acceptance of the oath of one party and exclusion of that of\nthe other seems a downright impossibility from the point of view of\nAmerican law. In the same category is the requirement that the verdict\nof the jury shall be unanimous. The twelve jurymen may not leave the\ncourt except under surveillance until they have pronounced the verdict;\nand thus it happens that they often have to sleep and eat for days in\nthe court house in order to be guarded from outside influences. If after\nall they can come to no agreement, the case is dropped and the situation\nremains exactly as it was before the trial; and the state attorney is\nfree to bring a new accusation. Only an unanimous \u201cguilty\u201d or \u201cnot\nguilty\u201d can be accepted. In this connection, too, is found the unusual\nsignificance of the judicial injunctions, and especially of the writ of\nhabeas corpus, derived from Magna Charta, which says that no free man is\nto be deprived of life, liberty, or property, except according to the\nlaw of the land and by the verdict of his peers.\n\nOn looking over the judicial practice of the country as a whole, one\nwill feel, quite as in Germany, that this great machinery succeeds in\npunishing crime and protecting society; but in America the instinctive\nfear of the law is accompanied by a profounder feeling that any innocent\nman is perfectly safe. Every trial shows, in a way, most clearly the\nnegative side of the process, that the rights of the defendant are to be\ncarefully protected. And if a newcomer in the country recalls certain\nexaggerated reports in German newspapers of corruption in American\ncourts, he should bear in mind the words of Choate. Shortly before going\nas ambassador to England, he made a speech before a society of jurists,\nof which he was president, on the advantages and disadvantages of trial\nby jury. As to the theoretical possibility of bribery in such cases, he\nsaid that he could pass the matter over, since, during his experience of\nforty years in law, he had not seen a single case in which even one\nmember of any jury had been accused of having been bribed. Unreliability\nin the administration of justice would do away at once with the\nfundamental principle of American social life. When men believe\nsincerely in their equality, they naturally develop a strong sense of\njustice, and regard the protection of the innocent man against every\nsort of prejudice, hostility, dislike, or disregard as the very highest\nfunction of the law.\n\nWe have depicted the brighter side of the American sense of equality,\nand may now, with a few strokes, put in the shadows. No one has denied\nthat there are unfortunate features, although some assert that they must\nbe accepted or else more important advantages sacrificed. A stranger is\nat once struck by the tendency to uniformity which arises from the\nbelief in general equality. The spirit of comradeship is unfavourable to\nindividual differentiation, no matter whether it is a question of a\nman\u2019s hat and necktie or his religion and his theory of the universe. He\nis expected to demonstrate his uniformity by seeming no different from\nevery one else. In outward matters this monotony is considerably\nfavoured by industrial conditions, which produce staple articles in\ngreat quantities and distribute them from one end of the country to\nanother. Exactly the same designs in fashion, arts and crafts, furniture\nand machinery are put on exhibition at the same time in the show-windows\nfrom New York to San Francisco. On the other hand, it is the economic\ncustom of the American to replace everything which he uses very\nfrequently. This is due to the cheapness of all manufactured articles\nand the high price of the manual labour which is necessary to make\nrepairs. It is actually cheaper to buy new shoes and underclothing at\nfrequent intervals than to have the old ones mended, and this also\nprovides every man with the latest styles. If a new style of collar is\nbrought out to-day, there will, say among the thousands of Harvard\nstudents, be hardly a hundred to-morrow wearing the old style. This\ntendency is, of course, aided by the general prosperity, which enables\nan unusually large proportion of persons to have considerably more than\nthey need, and to indulge, perhaps imitatively, in the fashionable\nluxuries of the day.\n\nAs much as the general prosperity favours this rapid adoption of new\nfashions, it is still clear that wealth might, in itself, also help its\npossessors to distinguish themselves in outward ways; but this does not\nhappen in the United States by reason of these prevalent social ideals.\nNow, the desire to do as others do affects even the inner life; one must\nplay the same game and must read the same novel, not because one thinks\nit is better, but because others do it, and because one feels in inner\naccord with the social community only by loving and hating the same\nthings as it. Those who do not like what others like, find themselves\nextremists at once; they are instinctively held off by society as\nbizarre or over-intense, and relegated to the social periphery. There\nare too few intermediate stages between the many who follow one another\nand the few who follow no one, and the finer shadings of personality are\ntoo much lost in this way. Americans ape one another as the officers of\nan army, and not merely in uniform, but in the adjustment of all their\nhabits and desires, until comradeship becomes sterile uniformity.\n\nIn many ways the American inventive talent tends to relieve the general\nmonotony. But this effort all the time to discover new solutions of this\nor that social problem, new surprises, new entertainments, is itself\nonly a sort of game which is played at by all uniformly. The small city\nimitates the large one, the rural population imitates the metropolitan;\nno profession cares to keep its own social individuality; and the press\nand politics of the entire country tend to obliterate all professional\nand local differences in social life, and to make of the whole nation a\nhuge assembly of gentlemen and ladies who, whether high or low, desire\nto be just gentlemen and ladies at large. It is still not difficult\nto-day to distinguish a gentleman of Omaha from a New Yorker; but this\nis in spite of the former, who, as a matter of principle, aims to\npresent the same appearance. East and West, and recently in both North\nand South, one sees the same countenance, and it is seldom that one\nhears something of an intelligent effort to kindle local sentiment in\ncontrast to national uniformity. There is an appeal to provincialism to\nfree itself from the system of empty mutual imitation, and yet everybody\nmust see that the profoundest instincts of this country are unfavourable\nto the development of individual peculiarities.\n\nThe dangers of this uniformity are chiefly \u00e6sthetic, although it is not\nto be forgotten that uniformity very easily grows into intellectual\nmediocrity, and under some circumstances may bring about a certain\nethical listlessness. On the other hand, the unfavourable effects of\nthat good-nature which dominates American life are all of them ethical.\nTheir amiable good-nature is, in a certain sense, the great virtue of\nthe Americans; in another sense, their great failing. It is actually at\nbottom his good-nature which permits him everywhere to overlook\ncarelessness and crookedness, and so opposes with a latent resistance\nall efforts at reform. The individual, like the nation, has no gift for\nbeing cross; men avoid for their own, but more especially for others\u2019\nsake, the disagreeable excitement. Since the country is prosperous and\nthe world wags pretty well, no one ought to grumble if he is now and\nthen imposed on, or if some one gets an advantage over him, or makes\nmisuse of power. Among comrades nobody ought to play the stern pontiff.\n\nAn earnest observer of the country said, not long since, that the hope\nof the country does not lie in those amiable people who never drop the\nsmile from their lips, but in those who, on due provocation, get\nthoroughly excited. Dust is settling on the country, and there is no\ngreat excitement to shake it off. The cobwebs of economic interests are\nbeing spun from point to point, and will finally hide the nation\u2019s\nideals. Good-nature produces a great deal of self-content in the United\nStates, and those are not the worst friends of the country who wish it\nmight have \u201cbad times\u201d once more, so that this pleasant smile might\ndisappear, and the general indifference give place to a real agitation\nof spirit. The affair with Spain brought nothing of the sort; there was\nonly enough anger to produce a pleasant prickling sensation, and the\neasy victory strengthened in every way the national feeling of\ncontentment. There have been a few large disasters, due to somebody\u2019s\nneglect of duty, such as the burning of a Chicago theatre, which have\ndone something to stimulate the public conscience and to impress on\npeople how dangerous it is to let things go just as they will; but even\nthe disastrous accidents which result from this carelessness are quickly\nforgotten.\n\nThe shadows are darkest where the spirit of social equality attempts\nartificially to do away with those differences which properly exist in\nschool and family life. It may be partly a reaction against the\nover-strict bringing up of former generations; but everywhere\npedagogical maxims seem senselessly aiming to carry over the idea of\nequality from the great social world into the nursery. It has become a\ndogma to avoid all constraint and, if possible, all punishment of\nchildren, and to make every correction and rebuke by appealing to their\ninsight and good-will. Thus the whole education and schooling goes along\nthe line of least resistance; the child must follow all his own\ninclinations. And this idea is nothing at bottom but a final consequence\nof the recognition of social equality between all persons. To constrain\nanother person, even if he is a mere child, means to infringe his\npersonal liberty, to offer him an ethical affront, and so to accustom\nhim to a sort of dependence that appears to be at variance with the\nAmerican idea. Of course, the best people know that lack of discipline\nis not freedom, and that no strength is cultivated in the child that has\nalways followed the line of least resistance and never experienced any\nfriction. But the mass of people thoughtlessly overlooks this, and is\ncontent to see even in the family the respect of children for their\nparents and elders sacrificed to this favourite dogma.\n\nNature happily corrects many of these evils. It may be sport, most of\nall, which early in the child\u2019s life introduces a severe discipline; and\nhere the American principle is saved, since the outwardly rigid\ndiscipline which is enforced on every participant in the game is,\nnevertheless, at every moment felt to be his own will. The boy has\nhimself sought out his comrades. If he had also chosen his parents there\nwould be nothing against their giving him a good, sound punishment\noccasionally, instead of yielding indulgently to all his moods. If sport\nand the severe competition of public life were not here to save, it\nwould be incomprehensible that such spoiled children should grow up into\na population which keeps itself so strictly organized. Lack of\ndiscipline remains, however, in evidence wherever the constraint appears\nto be artificial and not self-chosen. Where, for instance, the\ndiscipline of the army sometimes leads to situations which apparently\ncontradict \u201csound common sense,\u201d the free American will never forget\nthat the uniform is nothing but an external detail apart from his inner\nself. And even the commanding general will resort to the publicity of\nthe press. In intellectual matters, all this is repeated in the lack of\nrespect shown in forming judgment; every one thinks himself competent to\ndecide all questions, and the most competent judgments of others are\noften discounted, because every one thinks himself quite as good and\ndesires to assert himself, and feels in nowise called on to listen with\nrespect to the profounder knowledge, reasoning, or experience of\nanother.\n\nWe have so far said nothing of those whose self-assertion and claims to\nequality are the most characteristic expression of American life\u2014the\nAmerican women. We must not merely add a word about them at the end of\nthe chapter; they are, at least, a chapter by themselves. And many who\nhave studied American life would say that they are the entire story.\n\n\n\n\n                           CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO\n                     _The Self-Assertion of Women_\n\n\nIt is said that the United States is the only country in which parents\nare disappointed on the appearance of a boy baby, but will greet the\narrival of a girl with undisguised pleasure. Who will blame them? What,\nafter all, will a boy baby come to be? He will go to work early in life,\nwhile his sisters are left to go on and on with their education. He may\nwork for a position in society, but it will be mainly in order to let\nhis wife play a r\u00f4le; he may amass property, but most of all in order to\nprovide bountifully for his daughter. He will have to stand all his life\nthat she may sit; will have to work early and late, in order that she\nmay shine. Is it really worth while to bring up a boy? But the little\nprincess in the cradle has, indeed, a right to look out on the world\nwith laughing eyes. She will enjoy all the privileges which nature\nspecially ordained for woman, and will reach out confidently, moreover,\nfor those things which nature designed peculiarly for man. No road is\nclosed to her; she can follow every inclination of her soul, and go\nthrough life pampered and imperious. Will she marry? She may not care\nto, but nobody will think if she does not that it is because she is not\nable to realize any cherished desire. Will she be happy? Human destiny\nis, after all, destiny; but so far as nature and society, material\nblessings, and intellectual considerations can contribute toward a happy\nlife, then surely the young American woman is more favoured by fortune\nthan either man or woman in any other part of the world can hope to be.\nIs this advantage of hers also a gain to the family, to society, and the\nnation?\n\nIt is not perfectly correct to speak of the American woman as a type\u2014the\nSouthern girl is so different from the daughter of New England, the\nwomen of California so different from those of Chicago, and the\ndifferent elements of population are so much more traceable in women\nthan in men. And yet one does get a characteristic picture of the\naverage woman. It may be too much influenced by the feminine figures\nwhich move in the better circles to be a faithful average likeness.\nPerhaps the young girl student has been too often the model, perhaps\nthere is a reminiscence of the Gibson girl; and nevertheless, one\ndiscovers some general features of such youth in the fair women whose\nhair has turned grey, and there is something common to the daughters of\ndistinguished families and the young women of the less favoured classes.\n\nThe American woman is a tall, trim figure, with erect and firm carriage;\nshe is a bit like the English girl, and yet very different. This latter\nis a trifle stiff, while the American girl is decidedly graceful; the\nlines of her figure are well moulded, and her appearance is always aided\nby the perfect taste of her raiment. In the expression of her face there\nis resolution and self-control, and with the resolution a subtle\nmischievous expression which is both tactful and amiable. And with her\nevident self-control there is a certain winsome mobility and seemingly\nunreserved graciousness. The strength appears not to contradict the\ngrace, the determination not to be at variance with the playfulness; her\neyes and play of expression reveal the versatile spirit, fresh\nenthusiasm, and easy wit; yet her forehead shows how earnestly she may\nthink and desire to be helpful in society, and how little contented\nsimply to flirt and to please men.\n\nAnd then her expression may change so suddenly that one asks in vain\nwhether this energy was, perhaps, merely put on; was perhaps a whimsical\ncaprice; perhaps her intellectual versatility was merely an elegant\nsuperficiality. Is she at bottom only in search of enjoyment? Is this\nshow of independence real moral self-assertion, and this decision real\ncourage, or does she emancipate herself merely out of ennui; is it a\nsearch for excitement? And is her eagerness to reach out for everything\nmerely an effect of her environment which is ready to give everything?\nBut could this slim figure really be so wonderfully seductive, if her\neyes and features did not awaken doubt and unsolved questions; if\neverything were clear, simple, and obvious? Woman is everywhere full of\ncontradictions; and if the American woman is different from all her\nsisters, it is because the contradictions in her face and mien seem more\nmodern, more complex and unfathomable.\n\nBut it is vain to speak of the American woman without considering her\nrelations to her environment\u2014the background, as it were, of her\nexistence, the customs and institutions under which she has grown up and\ncontinues to live. We must speak of the education and schooling, the\nstudies and occupations of women, of their social and domestic position,\ntheir influence, and their organized efforts; and then we shall be\nbetter able critically to evaluate that in the American woman which is\ngood, and that which is perhaps ominous.\n\nThe life of the American girl is different from that of her European\nsisters from the moment when she enters school. Public school\ninstruction is co-educational, without exception in the lower grades,\nand usually in the upper. Of the six hundred and twenty-eight cities of\nthe country, five hundred and eighty-seven have public schools for boys\nand girls together, from the primary to the most advanced classes; and\nof those cities that remain, only thirteen, and all of them are in the\nEast, separate the boys and girls in every grade. In the country, boys\nand girls are always together at school. In private schools in cities,\nthe instruction is more apt to be apart; but the public schools educate\n91 per cent. of the youth\u2014that is, about 7,700,000 boys and 7,600,000\ngirls.\n\nCo-education has been adopted to a different extent in the different\nstates, and even in the different grades of school has not developed\nequally. The instruction of boys and girls together has spread from the\nelementary classes, and while the idea took the West by storm, it was\nless immediately adopted by the conservative East. Practical exigencies,\nand especially the matter of economy, have greatly affected this\ndevelopment; and yet, on the whole, it has been favoured by principle.\nThere is no doubt that, quite apart from the expense, a return to\nseparate instruction for boys and girls would be regarded by the\nmajority of the people to-day as an unallowable step backward: there has\nbeen considerable theoretical discussion of the matter; but the fact\nremains that the nation regards the great experiment as successful. This\ndoes not mean that the American thoughtlessly ignores sex differences in\neducation; he is aware that the bodily, moral, and intellectual strength\nof the two sexes is different, and that their development proceeds along\ndifferent lines. But firstly, the American school system, as we have\nseen, leaves in general great freedom in the selection of studies. The\ngirls may take more French, while the boys in the same class more often\nstudy Latin; and many subjects are introduced in the curriculum\nexpressly for one or the other sex\u2014such as sewing, cooking, and\ntype-writing for the girls, and carpentry for the boys.\n\nIt is said, moreover, that just as boys and girls eat the same food at\nthe family table, although it goes to make very different sorts of\nbodies, so too the same intellectual nourishment will be digested in a\ndifferent way, and not work against the normal intellectual differences.\nIt is important only for the instruction like the nourishment to be of\nthe best sort, and it is feared that the girls\u2019 school would drop below\nthe level of the boys\u2019 school if the two were to be made distinct. Equal\nthoroughness is assured only by having one school. Opponents of the idea\naffirm that this one school is virtually nothing but a boys\u2019 school\nafter all, with girls merely in attendance, and that the school is not\nsufficiently adapted to the make-up of the young girls.\n\nThe main point, however, lies not in the similarity of instruction, but\nin the bringing together of boys and girls. It is true that the success\nof expensive private schools in large cities proves that there is\nconsiderable desire among parents to have their sons go to school with\nboys and their daughters only with girls; but the nation, as a whole,\ndoes not take this point of view, but believes that boys and girls,\ngrowing up as they do together in the home and destined to live together\nas adults, should become accustomed to one another during the formative\nperiod of school instruction. The girls, it is said, are made stronger\nby actually working with the boys; their seriousness is emphasized and\ntheir energy developed, while the boys are refined by contact with the\ngentler sex\u2014induced to be courteous, and influenced toward \u00e6sthetic\nthings. And if theorists were actually to fear the opposite result\u2014that\nis, that the boys should be made weak and hysterical and the girls rough\nand coarse\u2014they would need only to look to practical experience, which\nspeaks unanimously to the contrary.\n\nA still less well-grounded fear is that of those who wish to separate\nthe sexes especially during the adolescent period. So far as this\nexceedingly complicated question admits of a brief summing up, the\nnation finds that the sexual tension is decreased by the contact in the\nschool; the common intellectual labour, common ambitions, and the common\nanxieties awaken comradeship and diminish all ideas of difference. Boys\nand girls who daily and hourly hear one another recite their lessons,\nand who write together at the black-board, are for one another no\nobjects of romantic longing or seductive mystery. Such a result may be\ndeplored from another point of view\u2014namely, that for reasons not\nconnected with the school, such romanticism is desirable; but one must\nadmit that the discouragement of unripe passion in the years of\ndevelopment means purer and healthier relations between the sexes, both\nphysically and mentally. All regrettable one-sidedness is done away\nwith. Just as in the stereoscope a normal perception of depth is brought\nout by the combination of two flat pictures, so here the constant\ncombination of the masculine and feminine points of view results in a\nnormal feeling of reality.\n\nThen, too, the school in this wise prepares the way for later social\nintercourse. Boys and girls are brought together without special\nsupervision, innocently and as a matter of course, from the nursery to\nearly manhood and womanhood. It is only the artificial separation of the\ntwo sexes, the American says, which produces that unsound condition of\nthe fancy that makes the relation of the sexes on the European Continent\nso frivolous and dubious. The moral atmosphere of the United States is\nundoubtedly much freer from unhealthful miasms. A cooler and less\nsensual temperament contributes much to this, but the comradely\nintercourse of boys and girls from the early school days to the time of\nmarriage is undoubtedly an equally purifying force. The small boy very\nearly feels himself the natural protector of his weaker playmate, and\nthe girl can always, whether in the nursery or as a young lady in her\nmother\u2019s parlour, receive her friends alone, even when her parents are\nnot at home. A little coquetry keeps alive a certain sense of\ndifference, always, but any least transgression is entirely precluded on\nboth sides. The boy profoundly respects his girl friend as he does his\nown sister, and she could not be safer than in his protection. The\ngallantry of the European is at bottom egotistic. It is kind in order to\nwin, and flatters in order to please; while the gallantry of the\nAmerican is not aimed to seduce, but to serve; it does not play with the\nidea of male submission, but sincerely and truly gives the woman first\nplace.\n\nThe only logical consequence, when boys and girls enjoy not only\nequivalent but absolutely equal school training, is that their further\neducation shall go on parallel. We have seen the peculiar position of\nthe American college; how it is almost incomparable with any German\ninstitution, being a sort of intermediate member between the high school\nand true university\u2014the scene of a four-year intellectual activity,\nresembling in some respects the German school, and in others the German\nuniversity. We have seen how the college removes the young man from the\nparental influences from his eighteenth to twenty-second years, and\nplaces him in a new, small, and academic world of special ideals which\nis centred around some beautiful college yard. We have seen how two\nthings happen in these years; on the one hand, he is prepared for his\nfuture occupation, especially if he is to enter a professional faculty\nof the university, and on the other he receives a broad, humanitarian\ntraining. We have seen also that these hundreds of colleges form a scale\nof very small gradations, whose different steps are adapted to the\ndifferent social needs of various sections of the country; that the\nbetter colleges are like a German Prima, with three or four semesters in\nthe philosophical faculty of a university, and that the inferior\ncolleges hardly reach the level of the Unterprima. In such an\ninstitution, we have found the source of the best that is in American\nintellectual life. Now this institution opens wide its doors to women.\n\nHere, in truth, co-education is less prominent. The conservative\ntendency of Eastern colleges has worked against the admission of women\ninto the better of them, and the advantages of colleges for none but\nwomen are so well attested that the East at least will hardly make a\nchange, although the Middle and Western States look on it virtually as a\nsin against inborn human rights, to establish colleges for anything but\nthe education of both sexes alike. It was easier to oppose mixed\neducation in the college sphere than in the school, because the common\nelementary training was needed at the outset for both sexes, while the\ndemand for college training for women came up much later, when the\ntradition of colleges for men was already well established. Harvard\nCollege was already two hundred years old when, for the first time, an\nAmerican college as an experiment admitted women; this was Oberlin\nCollege in Ohio, which began the movement in 1833. The first women\u2019s\ncollege was established, three years later, in Georgia\u2014a pioneer\ninstitution in the South.\n\nBut progress was slow. It was not until 1862 that the government gave\nten million acres of land for educational institutions; and then higher\ninstitutions became much more numerous, especially in the West, and from\nthat time it was agreed that women should have equal privileges with men\nin these new colleges. Since then co-education in college and university\nhas grown to be more and more the rule, except in the East. All state\ncolleges and universities are open to women, and also the endowed\nuniversities\u2014Brown, Chicago, Cornell, Leland Stanford, and the\nUniversity of Pennsylvania; some few others, as Yale, Columbia, and\nJohns Hopkins, allow women to attend the graduate schools or the\nprofessional faculties, but not the college. Statistics for all the\ncolleges in the country show that, in the year 1880, only 51 per cent.\nwere co-educational; in 1890 there were 65 per cent., and in 1900, 72\nper cent. Practically, however, the most significant form of female\ncollege education is not the co-educational, but one which creates a\nspecial college paradise for young women, where there are no male\nbeguilements and distractions.\n\nThere are six principal institutions which have taken the lead in making\nthe college life of women the significant thing that it now is. Vassar\nCollege was the first, established on the Hudson River in 1861; then\ncame Wellesley College, near Boston; Bryn Mawr, near Philadelphia; Smith\nCollege, in Northampton; Radcliffe College, in Cambridge; Barnard, in\nNew York. There is a large number of similar institutions, as Holyoke,\nBaltimore, and others in ever-diminishing series down to institutions\nwhich are hardly distinguishable from girls\u2019 high schools. The number of\ngirls attending strictly women\u2019s colleges in the whole country, in 1900,\nwas 23,900; while in mixed colleges and in the collegiate departments of\nuniversities there were 19,200 women students\u2014just a quarter of the\ntotal number of college students. It is notable here that the students\nin women\u2019s colleges since 1890 have increased by 700, and in mixed\ncolleges by 9,000. It may be mentioned, in passing, that there are\n35,000 women students in normal schools.\n\nThe instruction in women\u2019s colleges is mostly by women, who number\n1,744\u2014that is, about 71 per cent. of the instructors\u2014while in mixed\ncolleges the 857 women are only 10 per cent. of the teaching staff. In\nthe leading co-educational universities, like Chicago, Ann Arbor, Leland\nStanford, Berkeley, and others, the women are almost wholly taught by\nmen. The leading women\u2019s colleges pursue different policies. Wellesley\nhas almost exclusively women; Bryn Mawr, Vassar, and Smith have both;\nRadcliffe and Barnard are peculiar, in that by their by-laws Radcliffe\nis taught only by Harvard instructors, and Barnard only by instructors\nin Columbia University. This identification with the teaching staffs of\nHarvard and Columbia assures these two women\u2019s colleges an especially\nhigh intellectual level. And the same thing is accomplished, of course,\nfor women by their being admitted to full privileges in Chicago,\nStanford, and in the large state universities, such as Ann Arbor. But\none can realize the whole charm and poetry of women\u2019s colleges only on a\nvisit to the quiet groves of Wellesley, Bryn Mawr, Vassar, or Smith.\n\nIn broad, handsomely kept parks there lie scattered about attractive\nvillas, monumental halls of instruction, club-houses and laboratories;\nand here some thousand girls, seldom younger than eighteen nor older\nthan twenty-five, spend four happy years at work and play, apart from\nall worldly cares. They row, play tennis and basket-ball, and go through\ngymnastic exercises; and, as a result, every girl leaves college\nfresher, healthier, and stronger than when she entered it. And the type\nof pale, over-worked neurasthenic is unknown. These girls have their own\nambitions in this miniature world\u2014their positions of honour, their\nmeetings, their clubs and social sets; in which, however, only\npersonality, talent, and temperament count, while wealth or parental\ninfluence does not come in question. The life is happy; there are\ndancing, theatrical performances, and innumerable other diversions from\nthe opening celebration in the fall to the festivities in June, when the\nacademic year closes. And the life is also earnest. There is no day\nwithout its hours of conscientious labour in the lecture hall, the\nlibrary or study, whether this is in preparation for later teaching, for\nprofessional life or, as is more often the case, solely for the\nharmonious development of all the student\u2019s faculties. One who looks on\nthese fresh young girls in their light costumes, the venerable English\nmitre-caps on their heads, sitting in the alcoves of the library or\nplaying in the open air, or in their formal debates, in the seminary or\nin the festive procession on class-day,\u2014sees that here is a source of\nthe purest and subtlest idealism going out into American life.\n\nOn such a foundation rests the professional training of the real\nuniversity. Since the girl students in all the colleges of the country\noutdo the men in their studies, win the highest prizes, and attend the\nmost difficult lectures, the old slander about deficient brain substance\nand mental incapacity can no longer serve as a pretext for closing the\nuniversity to competing womanhood. In fact, the graduate schools, which\ncorrespond to the advanced portion of a German philosophical faculty,\nand the legal and medical faculties of all state universities and of a\nfew private universities are open to women. But one is not to suppose\nthat the number of women who are thus preparing for the learned\nprofessions, as that of medicine, law, or the ministry, is very large.\nThere are to-day 44,000 women college students, but only 1,253 women\ngraduate students; and in 1890 there were only 369. There are hardly\nmore than a thousand in the purely professional faculties, and these\nform only 3 per cent. of the total number of students. The American\nwomen study mostly in colleges, therefore, and their aim is generally to\nget a well-grounded, liberal education, corresponding to a Gymnasium\ntraining, together with a few semesters in the philosophical faculty.\nBut there are no limitations by principle; woman as such is denied no\n\u201crights,\u201d and the verdict is unanimous that this national experiment is\ntechnically successful. There is no indication of moral deterioration,\nof a lowered level of instruction, or of a mutual hindrance between men\nand women in the matter of study. The university, in short, opens the\nway to the learned professions.\n\nWhen a European hears of the independent careers of American women, he\nis apt to imagine something which is unknown to him\u2014a woman in the\njudicial wig or the minister\u2019s robe; a woman doctor or university\nprofessor. Thus he represents to himself the self-supporting women, and\nhe easily forgets that their number is vanishingly small beside the\nmasses of those who earn their living with very much less preparation.\nThe professional life of the American woman, her instinct to support\nherself, and so to make herself equal to the man in the social and\neconomic worlds, cannot be understood merely from figures; for\nstatistics would show a much larger percentage of women in other\ncountries who earn their living, where the instinct for independence is\nvery much less. The motive is the main point. One might say that the\nEuropean woman works because the land is too poor to support the family\nby the labour of the man alone. The American woman works because she\nwants her own career. In travelling through Europe, one notices women\ntoiling painfully in the fields; this is not necessary in America,\nunless among the negroes. Passing through New England, one sees a\nhammock in front of every farm-house, and often catches the sound of a\npiano; the wives and daughters have never thought of working in the\nfields. But women crowd into all occupations in the cities, in order to\nhave an independent existence and to make themselves useful. They would\nrather work in a factory or teach than to stay on the farm and spend\ntheir time at house-work or embroidery.\n\nAs a matter of course, very many families are actually in need, and\ninnumerable motives may lead a woman to the earning of a living. But if\none compares the changes in the statistics of different employments, and\nlooks into the psychology of the different kinds of occupation, one sees\nclearly that the spirit of self-determination is the decisive factor,\nand that women compete most strongly in the professions which involve\nsome rational interest, and that they know where it pays to crowd the\nmen out. There is no male profession, outside of the soldiery and the\nfire department, into which women have not felt themselves called.\nBetween the Atlantic and Pacific oceans there are 45 female locomotive\nengineers, 31 elevator attendants, 167 masons, 5 pilots, 196\nblacksmiths, 625 coal miners, 3 auctioneers, and 1,320 professional\nhuntresses.\n\nApart from such curiosities, and looking at only the large groups, we\nshall discover the following professional activity of women: In 1900,\nwhen the last census was made, there were 23,754,000 men and 5,319,000\nwomen at paid employment\u2014that is, only 18 per cent. of the bread-winners\nwere women. Of these, only 971,000 were engaged in agriculture as\nagainst 9,404,000 men, while in the so-called professions, the\nintellectual occupations, there were 430,000 women against 828,000 men.\nIn domestic positions, there were 2,095,000 women against 3,485,000 men;\nin trade there were 503,000 against 4,263,000, and in manufactures\n1,313,000 against 5.772.000. The total number of wage-earning women has\nsteadily increased. In 1890 it amounted to only 17 per cent., and in\n1880 to only 15 per cent. The proportions in different parts of the\ncountry are different, and not only according to the local forms of\nindustry, but also to the different stages of civilization; the more\nadvanced the civilization, the more the women go into intellectual\nemployments. Among a hundred wage-earning women, for instance, in the\nNorth Atlantic States, there are only 1.9 per cent. engaged in\nagriculture, but 7.6 per cent. in intellectual occupations, 37.5 per\ncent. engaged in domestic service, 12.9 per cent. in trade, and 40.1 per\ncent. in manufactures. In the Southern Middle States, on the other hand,\nout of a hundred women only 7.2 per cent. are in manufactures, 2.6 per\ncent. in trade, and 4.4 per cent. in intellectual professions.\n\nOf these occupations, the most interesting are the intellectual,\ndomestic, and trading activities of women. The great majority in\nintellectual employments are teachers; the whole story of American\nculture is told by the fact that there are 327,000 women pedagogues\u2014an\nincrease of 80,000 in ten years\u2014and only 111,000 male teachers. The\nnumber of physicians has increased from 4,557 in 1890 to 7,399 in 1900;\nbut this is not ominous in comparison with their 124,000 male\ncolleagues. There are 52,000 musicians and music teachers, 11,000\nteachers in drawing, 5,984 authors\u2014a figure which has doubled since\n1890; and in the newspaper world the troup of women reporters and\njournalists has grown in ten years from 888 to 2,193. There are 8,000\nwomen officials employed by the state, over I,000 architects produce\nfeminine architecture, and 3,405 ministers preach the gospel.\n\nTurning to domestic activity, we find of course the international corps\nof house-servants to include the greater part; they number 1.283.000,\nand the statistics do not say whether, perhaps, one or two of these who\nhave a white skin were born in the country. This number was 1,216,000 in\n1890, so that it has increased only 5.5 per cent.; while during the same\ntime population has increased 20.7 per cent., and the increasing wealth\nhas greatly raised the demand for service. Let us compare with this the\nincreased number of trained nurses, whose occupation is an arduous but\nindependent and in itself useful career. The number of trained nurses\nhas increased from 41,000 to 108,000\u2014that is, by 163 per cent. The\nfigures for all such domestic employments as admit of social\nindependence have also increased. The female restaurant keepers have\nincreased from 86,000 to 147,000; the boarding-house proprietresses\nnumber 59,455, double the figure of ten years ago. The independent\nprofession of washer-woman attracts 325,000, while there are only\n124,000 independent domestic labourers as compared with 2,454,000 men in\nthe same occupations. The increase in the figures for such free\nprofessions as are classed under trade and commerce is in part even more\nstriking. The number of female insurance agents, which in 1890 was less\nthan 5,000, is now more than 10,000; book-keepers have increased from\n27,000 to 74,000; sales-women, from 58,000 to 149,000; typists and\nstenographers from 21,000 to 86,000\u2014that is, fourfold\u2014and there are now\n22,000 telephone and telegraph operators. The number of shop-keepers at\n34,000 has not increased much, and is relatively small beside the\n756,000 men. There are only 261 women wholesale merchants against 42,000\nmen, 946 women commercial travellers against 91,000 men; the profession\nof lady banker has decreased shamefully from 510 to 293, although this\nis no ground for despairing of the future of American banking, since the\nnumber of bankers other than women has increased in the same time from\n35,000 to 72,000.\n\nFinally, let us look at industry and manufactures. The number of\nseamstresses has been the same for ten years with mathematical\nexactitude; that is, 146,000. Since the population has increased by\none-fifth, it is clear that this form of work has been unpopular,\ndoubtless because it involves personal abasement and exposure to the\narbitrariness of customers, and is therefore unfavourable to\nself-assertion. At the same time the workers in woollen and cotton\nfactories have increased from 92,000 to 120,000, in silk factories from\n20,000 to 32,000, and in cigar factories from 27,000 to 43,000. There\nare 344,000 garment-workers, 86,000 milliners, 15,000 book-binders,\n16,000 printers, 17,000 box-makers, and 39,000 in the shoe industry. The\nwhole picture shows a body of women whose labour is hardly necessary to\nsupport the families of the nation, but who are firmly resolved to\nassert themselves in economic and intellectual competition, who press\ntheir way into all sorts of occupations, but avoid as far as possible\nanything which restricts their personal independence, and seek out any\noccupation which augments their personality and their consciousness of\nindependence. If all women who were not born on American soil, or if so\nwere born of coloured parentage, were omitted from these statistics,\nthen the self-asserting quality of American women who earn their living\nwould come out incomparably more clearly.\n\nThe bread-winning activity of women is, however, only a fraction of\ntheir activity outside of the home. If of the 39,000,000 men in the\ncountry, 23,754,000 have an occupation, and of the 37,000,000 women only\n5,319,000 work for a living, it is clear that the great majority of\ngrown-up women earn nothing. But nobody who knows American life would\ntake these women who earn no wages from the list of those who exert a\ngreat influence outside of the family circle, and assert themselves in\nthe social organization. Between the two broad oceans there is hardly\nany significant movement outside of trade and politics which is not\naided by unpaid women, who work purely out of ideal motives. Vanity,\nambition, self-importance, love of diversion, and social aspirations of\nall kinds, of course, play a part; but the actual labour which women\nperform in the interests of the church or school, of public welfare,\nsocial reform, music, art, popular education, care of the sick,\nbeautification and sanitation of cities, every day and everywhere,\nrepresents incontestably a powerful inborn idealism.\n\nOnly one motive more, which is by no means unidealistic, dictates this\npurely practical devotion; it is the motive of helping on this very\nself-assertion of women. Work is done for the sake of work, but more or\nless in the consciousness that one is a woman and that whatever good one\ndoes, raises the position of the sex. Thus, in women\u2019s clubs and\norganizations, through noisy agitation or quieter feminine influences,\nthe American woman\u2019s spirit of self-assertion impresses itself in a\nhundred thousand ways. Women are the majority in every public lecture\nand in every broadly benevolent undertaking; schools and churches, the\ncare of the poor and the ill are enlivened by their zeal, and in this\nrespect the East and the West feel quite alike. Certainly this influence\nbeyond the home does not end with direct self-conscious labour; it goes\non where there are no women presidents, secretaries, treasurers, and\ncommittee members, but wherever women go for enjoyment and relaxation.\nWomen form a large majority in art exhibitions, concerts, theatres, and\nin church services; women decide the fate of every new novel; and\neverywhere women stand in the foreground, wide awake and self-assertive.\n\nIt is incredible to the European how very much the unselfish and\nhigh-minded women of America are able to accomplish, and how so many of\nthem can combine a vast deal of practical work with living in the midst\nof bustling social affairs, and themselves entertaining perhaps in a\nbrilliant way. Such a woman will go early in the morning to the\ncommittee meeting of her club, inspect a school or poor-house on the\nway, then help to draw up by-laws for a society, deliver an address,\npreside at some other meeting, and meet high officials in the interests\nof some public work. She expends her energy for every new movement,\nkeeps in touch with every new tendency in art and literature, and is yet\na pleasant and comfortable mother in her own home. This youthful\nfreshness never succumbs to age. In Boston, the widow of the zo\u00f6logist\nAgassiz, although now eighty years of age, is still tirelessly active as\nhonourary president of Radcliffe College; and Julia Ward Howe, the\nwell-known poetess, in spite of her eighty-four years, presides at every\nmeeting of the Boston Authors\u2019 Club, still with her quiet but fresh and\ndelightful humour.\n\nThe leadership of women which is a problem to be discussed, as far as\npublic life is concerned, is an absolute dogma which it would be\nsacrilege to call in question, so far as social and domestic life go.\nJust as Lincoln said that the American government is a government \u201cof\nthe people, by the people, and for the people,\u201d so certainly American\nsociety is a government of the women, by the women, and for the women.\nThe part which the wife plays determines so unconditionally the social\nstatus of every home, that even a man who has his own social ambitions\ncan accomplish his end in no better way than by doing everything to\nfurther the plans and even the whims of his wife. And the luxury in\nwhich she is maintained is so entirely a symbol of social position that\nthe man comes instinctively to believe that he is himself enjoying\nsociety when he worries and over-works in order to provide jewelry and\nfunds for the elaborate entertainments of his wife\n\nJust as the wife of the millionaire has her place arranged to suit\nherself, so the modest townswoman does in her small home, and so also\nthe wife of the day labourer, in her still narrower surroundings. The\nman pushes the baby carriage, builds the kitchen fire, and takes care of\nthe furnace, so that his wife can attend to getting fashionable\nclothing; he denies himself cigars in order to send her into the country\nfor the summer. And she takes this as a matter of course. She has seen\nthis done from her childhood by all men, and she would be offended if\nher husband were to do anything less. The American woman\u2019s spirit of\nself-assertion would be aroused directly if social equality were to be\ninterpreted in such a ridiculous way as to make the man anything but the\nsocial inferior.\n\nThe outward noise would make one believe that the self-assertion of the\nfeminine soul were most energetically concerned with political rights;\nwoman\u2019s suffrage is the great watchword. But the general noise is\ndeceptive; the demands for equal school and college education for young\nwomen, for admission to industrial positions on the same footing with\nmen, for an independent existence and life career for every woman who\nwants it, and for social domination\u2014all these are impulses which really\npervade the national consciousness. But the demand for equal suffrage is\nnot nearly so universal. In the nature of things, it is often put forth\nby radical lecturers on woman\u2019s rights; and it is natural that some\nlarge societies support the efforts, and that even masculine logic\nshould offer no objections in many cases. The familiar arguments known\nto all the world have hardly been augmented by a single new reason on\nthe woman\u2019s side. But the old arguments appear on the surface to be such\nsound deductions from all the fundamental political, social, and\neconomic principles of America that they come here to have new force. If\nin spite of this their practical success is still exceedingly small, and\nthe most energetic opposition is not from the stronger sex but from the\nwomen themselves, it shows clearly that there is some strong opposing\nimpulse in the American public mind. The social self-assertion of women,\nin which every American believes with all his heart, is just as little\nlikely ever to lead to universal political suffrage for women as\nAmerican industrial self-assertion will ever lead to socialism.\n\nBut the irony of world history has brought it about that women began\nwith just those rights which to-day some of them are demanding. When\nEnglish law was brought across the ocean by the colonists in the\nseventeenth century, the women had the constitutional right to vote, and\nin exceptional cases made use of it; not one of the constitutions of the\nthirteen states limited the suffrage to men. The State of New York was\nthe first to improve or to injure its constitution by adding the\nqualification \u201cmale,\u201d in the year 1778. One state followed after\nanother, and New Jersey was the last, in 1844. But just as the last door\nwas closed, the hue and cry was raised that they all ought to be opened.\nThe first woman\u2019s convention to make an urgent appeal for the restoring\nof these rights was held in New York in 1848. There was a violent\nopposition; but the movement extended to a great many states, and\nfinally, in 1866, a national organization was formed which asked for a\nnational law. This was just after the Civil War, when the amendment\ngiving the suffrage to the negroes was the chief subject of political\ndiscussion. A petition with eighty thousand signatures was gotten up\nurging that the Constitution should be interpreted so as to give women\nthe right to vote. Two women brought legal action, which went up through\nall the courts to the Supreme Court, but was there decided against the\nwomen, and therefore the sex has not the suffrage.\n\nNo national movements have, therefore, to-day any practical significance\nunless three-quarters of all state legislatures can be induced to vote\nfor an amendment to the Constitution in favour of woman\u2019s suffrage\u2014that\nis, to vote that no state be allowed to exclude women from the ballot.\nThis is hardly more likely to happen than a Constitutional amendment to\nintroduce hereditary monarchy. Meanwhile, the agitation in the various\nstates has by no means entirely stopped. Time after time attempts have\nbeen made to alter the constitution of a single state, but\nunsuccessfully. The only states to introduce complete woman\u2019s suffrage\nhave been Wyoming in 1869, Colorado in 1893, and Utah in 1895. Kansas\nallows women to vote in municipal elections. The agitation has been\nreally successful in only one direction; it has succeeded in getting\nfrom a majority of the states the right to vote for the local school\ncommittees.\n\nSuch experience as the country has had with woman\u2019s suffrage has not\nbeen specially favourable to the movement. A good deal goes to show\nthat, even if full privileges were granted, they would remain a dead\nletter for the overwhelming majority of women. The average woman does\nnot wish to go into politics. It has been affirmed that in the modern\nway of living, with servants to do all the house-work, factories to do\nthe spinning and weaving and every sort of economic convenience, the\nmarried woman has too little to do, and needs the political field in\nwhich to give her energies free play. But so long as statistics show\nthat four-fifths of the married women in the country do all their\nhouse-work, and so long as such a great variety of ethical,\nintellectual, \u00e6sthetic and social duties lie before every woman, it is\nno wonder that very few are eager to take on new responsibilities at the\nballot-box. Those, however, who would make most use of the suffrage\nwould be, as the women who oppose the movement say, the worst female\nelement of the large cities, and they would bring in all the worst evils\nof a low class of voters led by demagogues. Political corruption at the\nballot would receive a new and specially dangerous impetus; the\npolitical machines would win new and disgusting strength from the\nfeebleness of these women to resist political pressure, and instead of\nwomen\u2019s ennobling and refining political ethics, as their partisans\nhope, they would be more apt to drag politics down to the very depths.\nThose who oppose the movement see a decided prejudice to political\nsoundness even in the mere numerical doubling of the voting class.\n\nMost of all, the conservative element can assert, with an excellent\narray of facts, that the healthy progress of woman\u2019s self-assertion best\nproceeds by keeping away from politics and turning directly toward the\nimprovement of the conditions of living and of instruction, toward the\nopening up of professions, the framing of industrial laws, and-other\nreforms. The radical political demands of women in all other fields, and\nmost especially in the socialistic direction, inclining as they\nnaturally do to be extreme, have worked rather to hinder than to aid the\nsocial progress of women. Even where the social independence of women is\nproperly contested, there works the deterring consideration that\npolitics might bring about differences between husband and wife. Taken\nall in all, the self-assertion of women in political matters is hardly a\npractical question. One who looks into their tracts and propaganda feels\nfor a long while that the last one he has read, on which ever side it\nis, is wrong; but when he has come to a point where he meets only the\nold arguments revamped, he feels that on the whole the radical side has\nstill less justice than the other. And the nation has come to the same\nconclusion. We may thus leave politics quite out of account in turning\nfinally to the main question which relates to women; this is, How has\nthis remarkable self-assertion of woman affected the life of the nation,\nboth on the whole and in special spheres?\n\nLet us look first at the sphere of the family. The situation here is\noften decidedly misinterpreted; the frequent divorces in America are\ncited very often in order to put American family life in an unfavourable\nlight. According to the census report of 1900, the ratio of divorced to\nmarried men was 0.6 per cent., and of women 0.8 per cent.; while in 1890\nthe respective figures were only 0.4 per cent. and 0.6 per cent.\nNevertheless, the total number of divorced persons is only 0.3 per cent.\nof the whole population, as compared with 5.1 per cent. who are widows,\n36.5 per cent. who are married, and 57.9 per cent. of bachelors\u2014with a\nsmall remainder unaccounted for. It is true that divorced persons who\nhave remarried are here included among the married persons; but even if\nthe number of dissolved marriages is somewhat greater than it appears in\nthe statistics, that fact shows nothing as to the moral status of\nmarriage in America.\n\nAnybody familiar with the country knows that, much more often than in\nEurope, the real grounds which lead to divorce\u2014not the mere legal\npretexts given\u2014are highly ethical ones. We have hinted at this when we\nanalyzed the religious life; the main reason is the ethical objection to\ncontinuing externally in a marriage which has ceased to be spiritually\ncongenial. It is the women especially, and generally the very best\nwomen, who prefer to take the step, with all the hardships which it\ninvolves, to prolonging a marriage which is spiritually hypocritical and\nimmoral. Infidelity of the woman is the ground of divorce in only a\nvanishingly small number of cases, and the sexual purity of marriage is\non a high plane throughout the people. The pure atmosphere of this\nsomewhat unemotional people, which makes it possible for any woman to\nwend her way without escort through the streets of a large city in the\nevening and to travel alone across the Continent, and which protects the\ngirl on the street from being stared at or rudely accosted, protects\neven more the married woman. Although French society dramas are\npresented on the American stage, one feels from the general attitude of\nthe public that it really fails to understand the psychology of what is\nbeing performed, because all the ethical presuppositions are so entirely\ndifferent. What the Parisian finds piquant, the New Englander finds\nshameless; and the woman over whom the Frenchman smiles disgusts the\nAmerican.\n\nAnd in still another sense American marriage is purer than the European;\nit lacks the commercial element. As characteristic as this fact is in\neconomic life, it is even more significant in social life. This does not\nmean that the man who pays court to the daughter of a millionaire is\nentirely unconscious of the economic advantages which such a marriage\nwould bring. But the systematic searching around for a dowry, with some\nwoman attached to it, is unknown in the New World, and is thoroughly\nun-American. This may be seen in American plays; the familiar German\ncomedies, in which the search for a rich bride is a favourite motive,\nstrike the American public as entirely vapid and humourless. Americans\neither do not understand or else look down with pity on the marital\ndepravity of the Old World, and such stage scenes are as intrinsically\nforeign as those others, so familiar to Europe, in which the rich young\nnobleman who after all marries the poor governess, is held up as a\nremarkable example of magnanimity.\n\nThe purely human elements are the only ones which count in marriage. It\nis a congenial affiliation of two persons, without regard to social\nadvantage or disadvantage, if only the persons care for each other. And\nthis idea is common to the whole nation, and gives marriage a high moral\nstatus. Moreover, the surpassing education of the young American woman,\nher college life, works in one way to exalt marriage. If she has learned\nanything in her college atmosphere, it is moral seriousness. She has\ngone there to face duties squarely and energetically, to account small\nthings small, and large things large; and so, when she approaches the\nnew duty of making a home, she overcomes all obstacles there with\nprofound moral determination.\n\nIn spite of this, one may ask, Is her development in the right direction\nfor subsequent events? While so much has contributed to the exaltation\nand purity of her marriage, has she not learned a great deal else which\ntends rather indirectly and perhaps unnoticeably to disorganize\nmarriage, the home, the family, and the people? Is the increasing social\nself-assertion of woman really in the interests of culture? Let us\npicture to ourselves the contrast, say with Germany. There too the\ninterests in the social advance of women is lively on all sides; but the\nsituation is wholly different. Four main tendencies may be easily picked\nout. One relates to a very small number of exceptional women who have\nshown great talent or perhaps real genius. Such women are to be\nemancipated and to have their own life career. But the few who are\ncalled to do great things in art or science or otherwise, are not very\napt to wait for others to emancipate them, and the number of these women\nis so small that this movement has hardly any social or economic\nimportance in comparison with the other three which concern large\nnumbers of women.\n\nOf these other three, the first concerns the women of the lower classes,\nwho throughout Germany are so poor that they have to earn a livelihood,\nand are in danger of sacrificing their family life. The lever is applied\nto improve their social condition, to put legal limits to the labour of\nwomen, and to protect them, so that the poor man\u2019s wife shall have more\nopportunities in the family. Another movement is to benefit the\ndaughters of more well-to-do people, to give them when they marry, a\nmore intellectual career, to elevate the wife through a broader\neducation above the pettiness of purely domestic interests and the\nsuperficiality of ordinary social life, and so to make her the true\ncomrade of her husband. And the last movement concerns those millions of\nwomen who cannot marry because women are not only the more numerous, but\nalso because one-tenth of German men will not marry. They are urged to\nreplace the advantages which they would have in marriage by a life\noccupation; and although women of the lower classes have had enough\nopportunity to work, those of the upper classes have until recently been\nexcluded from any such blessing. A great deal has been done here to\nimprove the situation and partly in direct imitation of the American\nexample.\n\nBut the real background of all these movements in Germany has been the\nconviction that marriage is the natural destiny of woman. The aim has\nbeen to improve marriage in the lower classes by relieving the woman of\ndegrading labour, in upper classes by giving the woman a superior\neducation; and the other two movements are merely expedients to supply\nsome sort of substitute for life\u2019s profoundest blessing, which is found\nonly in marriage. There is no such background in America; there is a\ndesire to protect American marriage, but it is not presupposed that\nmarriage is, in and of itself, the highest good for woman. The\ncompletion of woman\u2019s destiny lies rather in giving to her as to the man\nan intrinsically high life content whether she is married or not\nmarried; it is a question of her individual existence, as of his.\nMarriage is thus not the centre, and an independent career is in no\nsense a compensation or a makeshift; even the betterment of marriage is\nonly intended as a means of bettering the individual. Woman is on\nexactly the same footing as man. The fundamental German principle that\nwoman\u2019s destiny is found in marriage, while the man is married only\nincidentally, involves at once the inequality of the sexes; and this\nfundamental inequality is only slightly lessened by these four new\nGerman movements. It is a secondary consequence that the woman is\ngrowing to be more nearly like the man. But according to the American\npoint of view, her fundamental equality is the foundation principle;\nboth alike aim to expand their individual personalities, to have their\nown valuable life content, and by marriage to benefit each other. And\nonly secondarily, after marriage is accomplished, does the consequence\nappear that necessarily the woman has her special duties and her\ncorresponding special rights; and then the principle of equality between\nthe two finds its limitations. Now when this takes place, the\nself-assertion of the American woman is found to be not wholly\nfavourable to the institution of marriage; it gives the married woman a\nmore interesting life content, but it inclines the unmarried woman much\nless toward marriage; it robs society of that great support of\nmarriage\u2014the feeling that it is woman\u2019s destiny.\n\nHere, again, the most diverse factors work together. The social freedom\nof communication between men and women, the secure propriety of\nassociating with men, and the independent freedom to go about which is\npeculiar to the American girl\u2019s education give to the unmarried girl all\nthose rights and advantages which in Europe she does not have until she\nis married. The American girl has really nothing but duties to face,\ndomestic cares and perhaps quite unaccustomed burdens, in case she\nmarries a man in limited circumstances; externally she has nothing to\ngain, and internally she is little disturbed by any great passion. She\nflirts from her youth up, and is the incomparable mistress of this\nlittle social art; but the moving passion is apt to be neglected, and\none may question whether all her mischievous roguery and graceful\ncoquetry are anything more than a social accomplishment, like dancing or\nskating or playing golf\u2014whether it in any way touches the heart. It is a\ndiversion, and not a true life content.\n\nThen, too, the girl has a feeling of intellectual superiority which for\nthe most part is entirely justified. The European girl has been brought\nup to believe in the superiority of the man, accustomed to feel that her\nown gifts are incomplete, that they come to have real value only in\nconjunction with a man, and her inferior scientific training suggests to\nher unconsciously that she will be intellectually exalted when she\nallies herself to some man. That will fill out her intellectual\npersonality. The American girl has hardly ever such an idea; she has\nlearned in the school-room how foolish boys are, how lazy and careless,\nand then, too, she has continued her own education it may be years after\nthe men of her acquaintance have gone into practical life. Many high\nschools have one-third of their pupils boys and two-thirds girls, and\nthe ratio grows in favour of the girls. Moreover, everything tends to\ngive the girl her own aspirations and plans independent of any\nman\u2014aspirations which are not essentially furthered or completed by her\nmarriage alliance. American women often laugh at the way in which German\nwomen introduce abstract questions at the Kaffeeklatsch: \u201cNow my husband\nsays\u2014.\u201d The intellectual personality of the American girl must develop\nso much the more independently of male influence as the distinction\nwhich commences in school years is even more actual in the years of\nmaturity. The older the American man grows the more he concentrates\nhimself on business or politics, while his wife in a certain way\ncontinues her schooling, devotes her entire time to every sort of\nintellectual stimulation; the wife reads books, while the husband reads\nnewspapers. It is undeniable that in the average American home the woman\nmakes the profounder intellectual impression on every visitor, and the\nnumber of women is continually growing who instinctively feel that there\nis no advantage in marrying a man who is intellectually an inferior;\nthey would rather remain single than contract a marriage in which they\nhave to be the intellectual head.\n\nWhile, therefore, there are neither novel social advantages nor any\nemotional urgency, nor yet intellectual inducements, to persuade women\nto marry, there are other circumstances which urge her strongly not to\ndo so. In the first place, marriage may interfere directly with the life\ncareer which she has planned for herself. A woman who has taken an\noccupation to save herself from misery looks on marriage with a man who\nearns enough to support a family as a sort of salvation; while the woman\nwho has chosen some calling because her life means so much more if it is\nuseful to the world, who is earnestly devoted to her work, truly\nambitious and thoroughly competent, ponders a long time before she goes\ninto a marriage which necessarily puts an end to all this. She may well\nprefer to sacrifice some sentimental inclination to the profound\ninterest she feels in her work.\n\nThe American girl is, moreover, not fond of domestic cares. It would not\nbe fair to say that she is a bad house-keeper, for the number of wives\nwho have to get along without servants is much greater than in Germany.\nAnd even in spite of the various economic advantages which she enjoys,\nit is undeniable that the American woman takes her home duties\nseriously, looks after every detail, and keeps the whole matter well in\nhand. But nevertheless, she feels very differently toward her capacities\nalong this line. The German woman feels that her household is a source\nof joy; the American woman, that it is a necessary evil. The American\nwoman loves to adorn her home and tries to express in it her own\npersonality, not less than her German sister; but everything beyond\nthis\u2014the mere technique of house-keeping, cleaning, purchasing,\nrepairing, and hiring servants\u2014she feels to be, after all, somewhat\ndegrading. The young woman who has been to college attacks her household\nduties seriously and conscientiously, but with the feeling that she\nwould rather sacrifice herself by nursing the suffering patients in a\nhospital. The perfect economic appliances for American house-keeping\nsave a great deal of labour which the German wife has to perform, and\nperhaps just on that account the American woman feels that the rest of\nit is vexatious work which women have to do until some new machines can\nbe devised to take their places. This disinclination to household\ndrudgery pervades the whole nation, and it is only the older generations\nin country districts that take a pride in their immaculate\nhouse-keeping, while the younger generations even there have the\ntendency to shirk household work. The daughters of farmers would rather\nwork in a factory, because it is so much more stimulating and lively,\nthan ironing or washing dishes or tending baby brother and sister at\nhome; for the same reason, they will not become domestic servants for\nany one else. And so, for the upper and the lower classes, the\ndisinclination to house-work stands very much in the way of marriage.\n\nThis disinclination affects marriage in still another way. Families are\ntending more and more to give up separate houses and live in family\nhotels, or, if more modestly circumstanced, in boarding-houses. The\nexpense of servants has something to do with this, but the more\nimportant factor is the saving of work for the wife. The necessary\nconsequence is the dissolution of intimate family life. When a dozen\nfamilies eat year in and year out in the same dining-room, the close\nrelations which should prevail in the family take on a very different\nshading. And thus it is that the intellectual self-assertion of women\nworks, in the most diverse ways, against the formation of marriages and\nagainst family life. There is one argument, however, which is always\nurged by the opponents of woman\u2019s emancipation which is not valid\u2014at\nleast, not for America. It is the blue-stocking bugbear. This\nunattractive type of woman is not produced by higher education in\nAmerica. Many a young American girl, who has arrived at years of\npersonal independence during her college life, may have lost her\ninterest in the average sort of marriage; but she has by no means lost\nthe attraction she exerts on men.\n\nThe tendency of woman\u2019s self-assertion against marriage appears to go\neven further; the exaggerated expression, \u201crace suicide,\u201d has sometimes\nbeen used. It is true that the increase of native population, especially\nin the more civilized parts of the country, is ominously small; this is\nprobably the result of diverse factors. There are physicians, for\ninstance, who claim that the intellectual training of women and the\nnervous excitement incident to their independent, self-reliant attitude\nare among the main causes; but more important, others say, are the\nvoluntary precautions which are dictated by the desire of ease and\ncomfort. This last is a serious factor, and there lies behind it again\nthe spirit of self-assertion; the woman wants to live out her own life,\nand her individualistic instinct works against the large family. But\nthere is nothing here which threatens the whole nation; since, even\naside from the very large immigration which introduces healthy,\nprolific, and sturdy elements, the births of the whole country exceed\nthose of almost any of the European nations. In Germany, between 1890\nand 1900, for every thousand inhabitants the births numbered annually\n36.2 and the deaths 22.5\u2014so that there were 13.7 more births; in England\nthe births were 30.1 and deaths 18.4, with a difference of 11.7; in the\nUnited States the births were 35.1 and deaths 17.4, with a difference of\n17.7 more births.\n\nOf course, these figures would make all anxiety seem ridiculous, if the\nproportions were equally distributed over the country, and through all\nthe elements of the population. As a matter of fact, however, there are\nthe greatest differences. In Massachusetts, for instance, we may\ndistinguish three classes of population; those white persons whose\nparents were born in the country, and those whose parents were\nforeigners, and the blacks. This negro population of Massachusetts has\nthe same birth and death rate as the negro elsewhere; for every thousand\npersons there are 17.4 more births than deaths. For the second\nclass\u2014that is, the families of foreign parentage\u2014there are actually 45.6\nmore births than deaths; while in the white families of native parentage\nthere are only 3.8. In some other North Atlantic States, the condition\nis still worse; in New Hampshire, for instance, the excess of births in\nfamilies of foreign parentage is 58.5, while in those of native\nparentage the situation is actually reversed, and there are 10.4 more\ndeaths than births. So it happens that for all the New England States,\nthe native white population, in the narrower sense, has a death\npreponderance of 1.5 for every thousand inhabitants; so that, in the\nintellectually superior part of the country, the strictly native\npopulation is not maintaining itself.\n\nInteresting statistics recently gathered at Harvard University show that\nits graduates are also not holding their own. Out of 881 students who\nwere graduated more than twenty-five years ago, 634 are married, and\nthey have 1,262 children. On the probable assumption that they will have\nno more children, and that these are half males, we find that 881\nstudent graduates in 1877 leave in 1902 only 631 sons. The climatic\nconditions cannot be blamed for this, since the surplus of births in\nfamilies born of foreign parents is not only very great, but is far\ngreater than in any of the European countries from which these immigrant\nparents came. Of European countries, Hungary has the greatest excess of\nbirths\u2014namely, 40.5, as compared with 13.7 in Germany. That population\nof America which comes from German, Irish, Swedish, French, and Italian\nparentage has, even in New England, a birth surplus of 44.5. The general\nconditions of the country seem, therefore, favourable to fecundity, and\nthis casts a greater suspicion on social conditions and ideals. And the\ncircumstance must not be overlooked, that the increased pressure of\nwomen into wage-earning occupations lessens the opportunities of the\nmen, and so contributes indirectly to prevent the man from starting his\nhome early in life. In short, from whatever side we look at it, the\nself-assertion of woman exalts her at the expense of the family\u2014perfects\nthe individual, but injures society; makes the American woman perhaps\nthe finest flower of civilization, but awakens at the same time serious\nfears for the propagation of the American race.\n\nThere are threatening clouds in other quarters of the horizon. The\nmuch-discussed retroactive effect of feminine emancipation on the family\nshould not distract attention from its effect on culture as a whole.\nHere the dissimilarity to the German conditions is obvious. The German\nwoman\u2019s movement aims to give the woman a most significant r\u00f4le in\ngeneral matters of culture, but still does not doubt, as a matter of\ncourse, that the general trend of culture will be determined by the men.\nJust as it is a dogmatic presupposition in Germany that marriage is the\nmost desirable occupation for women, so it is tacitly presupposed that\nintellectual culture will take its actual stamp from the men. In America\nnot only this view of marriage, but even this view of culture, has been\nopposed for a long time; and the people behave as if both were\nantiquated and superstitious notions, devised by the stronger sex for\nits own convenience, and as if their reversal would benefit the entire\nrace.\n\nAnybody who looks the matter squarely in the face is not left to doubt\nthat everything in America is tending not only to sacrifice the\nsuperiority of man and to give the woman an equal position, but to\nreverse the old situation and make her very much the superior. In\nbusiness, law, and politics, the American man is still sovereign, and in\nspite of the many women who press into the mercantile professions he is\nstill in a position where he serves rather than directs. And it is very\ncharacteristic of the moral purity of the people that, in spite of the\nincomparable social power of women, they have not a trace of personal\ninfluence on important political events. On the other hand, they dictate\nin matters of education, religion, literature and art, social problems,\nand public morals. Painting, music, and the theatre cater to woman, and\nfor her the city is beautified and purified; although she does not do it\nherself, it is her taste and feeling which decide everything; she\ndetermines public opinion, and distributes all the rewards at her good\npleasure. If the family problem is shown in a lurid light by the\ndecrease of births in the native New England population, the problem of\nculture comes out into broad daylight only in those figures which we\nhave seen before; the 327,614 women teachers and the 111,710 men.\n\nThus three-quarters of American education is administered by women; and\neven in the high school where the boys go till they are eighteen or\nnineteen years old, 57.7 per cent. of the teachers are women; and in\nthose normal schools where both men and women go to fit themselves for\nteaching, 71.3 per cent. of the instructors are women. It appears, then,\nthat the young men of the country, even in the years when boyhood ripens\nto youth, receive the larger part of their intellectual impetus from\nwomen teachers, and that all of those who are going to be school\nteachers and shape the young souls of the nation are in their turn\npredominantly under the influence of women. In colleges and universities\nthis is still not the case, but soon will be if things are not changed;\nthe great number of young women who pass their doctorial examinations\nand become specialists in science will have more and more to seek\nuniversity professorships, or else they will have studied in vain. And\nhere, as in the school, the economic conditions strongly favour the\nwoman; since she has no family to support, she can accept a position on\na salary so much smaller that the man is more and more crowded from the\nfield. And it may be clearly foreseen that, if other social factors do\nnot change, women will enter as competitors in every field where the\nlabour does not require specifically masculine strength. So it has been\nin the factories; so it is in the schools; and so, in a few decades, it\nmay be in the universities and in the churches.\n\nEven although the professorial chairs still belong for the most part to\nmen, the presence of numerous women in the auditorium cannot be wholly\nwithout influence on the routine of work. The lecturer is forced to\nnotice, as is the speaker in any public gathering, that at least\ntwo-thirds of his hearers present the cheerful aspect of gay millinery\nand lace collar, so that intellectual culture and public opinion on\nnon-political questions come more and more to be dominated by women\u2014as\nmany persons are beginning to see. Most of them greet this unique turn\nin human history as the peculiar advantage of this nation; the man looks\nafter the industry and politics, and the woman after moral, religious,\nartistic, and intellectual matters. If there is any doubt that she is\ncompetent to do this, most Americans are satisfied to observe the\nearnestness and conscientiousness with which the American woman attends\nto her duties, at the zeal and success with which she applies herself to\nher studies, and at her victory over men wherever she competes.\n\nHere and there, however, and their number is increasing every day, men\nare feeling that earnestness is not necessarily power, zeal is not\nmastery, and that success means little if the judgment is pronounced by\nthose who are partial to the winners. The triumph in industrial\ncompetition is no honour if it consists in bidding under the market\nprice. In fact, it is not merely a question of the division of labour,\nbut a fundamental change in the character of the labour. An impartial\nobserver of the achievements of American women as teachers or as\nuniversity students, in professional life or social reform or any other\npublic capacity, is forced to admire the performance, and even to\nrecognize certain unique merits; but he has to admit that it is a\nspecial sort of work, and different from the achievements of men. The\nemancipation of the American woman and her higher education, although\ncarried almost to the last extreme, give not the slightest indication\neven yet that woman is able to accomplish in the intellectual field the\nsame that man accomplishes. What she does is not inferior, but it is\nentirely different; and the work which, in all other civilized\ncountries, is done by men cannot in the United States be slipped into\nthe hands of women without being profoundly altered in character.\n\nThe feminine mind has the tendency to unify all ideas, while a man\nrather separates independent classes. Each of these positions has\nadvantages and drawbacks. The immediate products of the feminine\ntemperament are tactfulness and \u00e6sthetic insight, sure instincts,\nenthusiasm, and purity; and, on the other hand, a lack of logical\nconsecutiveness, a tendency to over-hasty generalization,\nunderestimation of the abstract and the deep, and an inclination to be\ngoverned by feeling and emotion. Even these weaknesses may be beautiful\nin domestic life and attractive in the social sphere; they soften the\nhard and bitter life of men. But women have not the force to perform\nthose public duties of civilization which need the harder logic of man.\nIf the entire culture of the nation is womanized, it will be in the end\nweak and without decisive influence on the progress of the world.\n\nThe intellectual high life in colleges and universities, which seems to\nspeak more clearly for the intellectual equality of women, brings out\nexactly this difference. That which is accomplished by the best women\u2019s\ncolleges is exemplary and admirable; but it is in a world which is,\nafter all, a small artificial world, with all rough places smoothed over\nand illumined with a soft light instead of the hard daylight. Although\nin the mixed universities women often do better than men, it is not to\nbe forgotten that the American lecture system, with its many\nexaminations, puts a higher value on industry, attention, and good-will\nthan on critical acumen or logical creativeness. It cannot be denied\nthat, even a short time since, the American university cultivated in\nevery department the spirit of learning rather than of investigation\u2014was\nreproductive rather than productive\u2014and that the more recent development\nwhich has laid the emphasis on productive investigation has gone on for\nthe most part in the leading Eastern universities, such as Harvard,\nJohns Hopkins, Columbia, Yale, and Princeton, where women are still not\nadmitted, while the Western universities, and most of all the state\nuniversities, which are found only in the West, where women are in a\nmajority, belong in many respects to the old type. To be sure, there are\nseveral American women whose scientific work is admirable, and to be\nclassed with the best professional achievements of the country; but they\nare still rare exceptions. The tendency to learn rather than to produce\npervades all the great masses of women; they study with extraordinary\nzeal up to the point where critical production should begin, and there\nthey are all too apt to stop. And unless one persistently looks at the\nvery few exceptions, one would hardly assert that the true spirit of\nscience could unfold and grow if American women were to be its only\nguardians.\n\nThis distinction is much plainer in the lower walks of life. The\nhalf-educated American man refrains from judging what is beyond his\nscope; but an American woman who has scarcely a shred of education looks\nin vain for any subject on which she has not firm convictions already at\nhand, and her influence upon public opinion\u2014politics always apart\u2014spins\na web of triviality and misconception over the whole culture. Cobwebs\nare not ropes, and a good broom can sweep them down; but the arrogance\nof this feminine lack of knowledge is the symptom of a profound trait in\nthe feminine soul, and points to dangers springing from the domination\nof women in intellectual life. In no other civilized land is scientific\nmedicine so systematically hindered by quack doctors, patent medicines,\nand mental healing; the armies of uneducated women protect them. And in\nno other civilized land are ethical conceptions so worm-eaten by\nsuperstitions and spiritualistic hocus-pocus; hysterical women carry the\nday. In no other country is the steady and sound advance of social and\npedagogical reform so checked by whimsies and short-lived innovations,\nand good sound work held back by the partisans of confused ideas; here\nthe women work havoc with their social and pedagogical alarms.\n\nThis does not mean, however, that a good deal of the work of American\nwomen is not better done by them than it would be by the men. In the\nfirst place, there is no doubt that the assistance of women in teaching\nhas had very happy results on American culture. When it was necessary to\ntame the wild West of its pioneer roughness and to introduce good\nmanners, the milder influence of women in the school-room was far more\nuseful than that of men could have been; and so far as it is a question\nof making over the immigrant children of the large cities into young\nAmericans, the patient woman teacher is invaluable. And the drama of the\nschool-room is played in other more public places; in a thousand ways\nthe participation of women in public life has refined and toned down\nAmerican culture and enriched and beautified it, but not made it\nprofounder or stronger. Woman\u2019s inborn dilettanteism works too often for\nsuperficiality rather than profundity.\n\nAnd it is indubitable that this undertaking of the burdens of\nintellectual culture by woman has been necessary to the nation\u2019s\nprogress\u2014a kind of division of labour imperatively indicated by the\ntremendous economic and political duties which have preoccupied the men.\nNo European country has ever had to accomplish economically,\ntechnically, and politically, in so short a time, that which the United\nStates has accomplished in the last fifty years in perfecting its\ncivilization. The strength of the men has been so thoroughly enlisted\nthat intellectual culture could not have been developed or even\nmaintained if the zeal and earnestness of women had not for a time taken\nup the work. But is this to be only for a time? Will the man bethink\nhimself that his political and economic one-sidedness will in the end\nhurt the nation? This is one of the greatest questions for the future of\nthis country. It is not a question of woman\u2019s retrograding or losing any\nof her splendid acquirements; no one could wish that this fine\nintellectuality, this womanly seriousness, this desire for a meaning in\nher life should be thoughtlessly sacrificed, nor that the sisters and\nthe mothers of the nation should ever become mere dolls or domestic\nmachines. Nothing of this should be lost or needs to be lost. But a\ncompensatory movement must be undertaken by the men of the country in\norder to make up for amateurish superficiality and an inconsequential\nlogic of the emotions.\n\nIn itself, the intellectual domination of the women will have the\ntendency to strengthen itself, the more the higher life bears the\nfeminine stamp. For by so much, men are less attracted to it. Thus the\nnumber of male school teachers becomes smaller all the time, because the\nmajority of women teachers makes the school more and more a place where\na man does not feel at home. But other factors in public opinion work\nstrongly in the opposite direction; industrial life has made its great\nstrides, the land is opened up, the devastations of the Civil War are\nrepaired, internal disturbances have yielded to internal unity,\nrecognition among the world powers has been won, and within a short time\nthe wealth of the country has increased many fold. It will be a natural\nreaction if the energies of men are somewhat withdrawn from industry and\nagriculture, from politics and war, and once more bestowed on things\nintellectual. The strength of this reaction will decide whether the\nself-assertion of the American women will, in the end, have been an\nunalloyed blessing to the country or an affliction. Woman will never\ncontribute momentously to the culture of the world by remaining\nintellectually celibate.\n\n\n\n\n                          CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE\n                       _Aristocratic Tendencies_\n\n\nIn the caricatures of the American which are so gladly drawn by the\nEuropean, and so innocently believed in, there is generally, beside the\nshirt-sleeved clown who bawls \u201cequality\u201d and the barbarian who chases\nthe dollar, the rich heiress bent on swapping her millions for a\ncoronet. The longing for bankrupt suitors of undoubted pedigree is\nsupposed to be the one symptom of any social aspiration, which the\nYankee exhibits. The American begs leave to differ. He is not surprised\nthat the young American woman of good family, with her fine intellectual\nfreshness and her faculty of adaptation, should be sought out by men of\nall nations; nor is he filled with awe if there are some suitors of\nhistoric lineage among the rest. But the day is long gone in which such\nmarriages are looked on as an enviable piece of good fortune for the\ndaughter of any American citizen. Even the newspapers lightly smile at\nsuch marriages to a title, and they are becoming less and less frequent\nin the really best circles of American society. Besides, no such cheap\nand superficial aspirations are really indicative of aristocratic\ntendencies. The American is, by principle, very far from making his way\ninto the international aristocracy of Europe, and he neither does nor\nwill he ever attempt any artificial imitation of aristocratic\ninstitutions.\n\nIt is a capital mistake to suppose that the American, put face to face\nwith European princedom, forgets or tries to hide his democracy.\nAristocratic institutions, particularly those of England, interest him\nas a bit out of history; he seeks such social contact just as he wanders\nthrough quaint castles, without wishing thereby to transfer his own\ncountry house on the Hudson into a decaying group of walls and turrets.\nHe takes an \u00e6sthetic pleasure in the brilliancy of courts, the pomp of\nmilitary life, the wealth and colour of symbols; and, quite\nindependently of that, he feels indeed a lively interest in certain\nfascinating figures of European politics\u2014most of all, perhaps, in the\nGerman Kaiser. But whether his interest is historical, \u00e6sthetic, or\npersonal, it is never accompanied by any feeling of inferiority to the\npersons who represent these aristocratic institutions. When Prince\nHenry, on his visit to the New World, quickly won the hearts of\nAmericans as a man, there was nothing in the tone or accent of the\ngreetings addressed to him which was out of accord with the fundamental\nkey of democracy. The dinner speakers commenced their speeches in the\ndemocratic fashion, which is always first to address the presiding host:\n\u201cMr. Mayor, your Royal Highness.\u201d\n\nAt the same time the peculiarly democratic contempt for things\nmonarchical is disappearing, too; the cultivated American feels\nincreasingly that every form of state has arisen from historic\nconditions, and that one is not in and for itself better than another.\nHe feels that he is not untrue to his republican fatherland in attesting\nhis respect for crowned heads. He shows most of all his respect, because\nit is just the friendly, neighbourly intercourse which makes possible a\nrelation of mutual recognition. Democracy is itself the gainer by giving\nup the absurd pose of looking down on aristocracy. Thus it happens that,\nof recent years, even native-born Americans have sometimes received\nEuropean orders. They know well enough that it will not do to wear the\nbutton-hole decoration on American soil, but they feel it to be\nungracious to decline what is offered in a friendly spirit; unless,\nindeed, it is a politician who wishes to accentuate and propagate a\ncertain principle. Democracy feels sure enough of itself to be able to\naccept a courtesy which is offered, with equal courtesy; but nobody\nsupposes, for a moment, that European monarchical decorations have any\nmagic to exalt a man above his democratic equality. Indeed, the feeling\nof entire equality, and the belief in a mutual recognition of such\nequality, are almost the presupposition of modern times, and only in\nIrish mass-meetings do we still hear protests against European tyranny.\nThis much is sure: America shows not the slightest tendency to become\naristocratic by imitating the historic aristocracies of Europe.\n\nThere are many who seem to believe that, therefore, the only aristocracy\nof America consists in the clique of multi-millionaires which holds its\ncourt in Newport and Fifth Avenue. The whole country observes their\nfollies and eccentricities; their family gatherings are described at\nlength by the press, quite as any court ceremonies are described in\nEuropean papers; and to be taken into this sacred circle is supposed to\nbe the life ambition of industrious millionaires. Many Americans who are\nunder the influence of the sensational press would probably agree with\nthis; and, judging by outward symptoms, one might in fact suppose that\nthese Cr\u0153suses along the Cliff-walk at Newport were really the\nresponsible social leaders of America. This must seem very contemptible\nto all who look on from a distance, for everything which the papers tell\nto the four winds of heaven about these people is an insult to real and\nsound American feeling. The fountains of perfumery, the dinners on\nhorseback, the cotillons where the favours are sun-bursts of real\ngems\u2014in short, the senseless throwing away of wealth in the mere\ninterests of rivalry and without even any \u00e6sthetic compensations, cannot\nprofoundly impress a nation of pioneers.\n\nOn looking more closely, one sees that the facts are not so bad, and\nthat the penny-a-liners rather than the multi-millionaires are\nresponsible for such sensational versions. In fact, in spite of many\nextravagances, there is a great deal of taste and refinement in those\nvery circles; much good sense, an appreciation of true art, honest\npleasure in sport, especially if it is on a grand scale; polished\naddress, accomplished elegance in costume, and at table a hospitality\nwhich proudly represents a rich country. In the matter of style and\naddress, these people are in fact leaders, and deserve to be. Their\nsociety, it is true, is less interesting than that of many very much\nmore modest circles; but the same is true throughout the world of those\npeople who make pleasure their sole duty in life. Their ostentatious\nenjoyments display much less individuality, and are more along\nprescribed lines, than those of European circles which live in a\ncomparable luxury\u2014a fact which is due largely to the universal\nuniformity of fashion that prevails in every class of Americans, and\nthat is too little tolerant of individual picturesqueness. In spite of\nall this, neither diplomatic Washington, nor intellectual Boston, nor\nhospitable Baltimore, nor conservative Philadelphia, nor indomitable\nChicago, nor cosmopolitan San Francisco, can point to any collection of\npersons which, in that world where one is to be amused expensively at\nany cost, is better qualified to take the lead than just the Four\nHundred of New York and Newport.\n\nAnd yet there is a fundamental error in the whole calculation. It is\nsimply not true that these circles exercise any sort of leadership for\nthe nation, or have become the starting-point of a New World\naristocracy. The average American, if he is still the true Puritan, is\noutraged on reading of a wedding ceremony where more money is spent on\ndecorating the church than the combined yearly salaries of thirty school\nteachers, or of the sons of great industrial leaders wasting their days\nin drinking cocktails and racing their automobiles. If, on the other\nhand, he is a true city-bred man, he takes a considerable pleasure in\nreading in the newspaper about the design and equipment of the latest\nyacht, the decorations in the ball-room of the recently built palace, or\nabout the latest divorce doings in those elect circles. The two sorts of\nreaders\u2014that is, the vexed and the amused\u2014agree only in one\nthing;\u2014neither of them takes all this seriously from the national point\nof view. The one is outraged that in his large, healthy, and\nhard-working country, such folderol and licentiousness are gaped at or\ntolerated. And the other is pleased that his country has become so rich\nand strong as to be able to afford such luxuriousness and extravagance;\nhe looks on quizzically as at a vaudeville theatre, but even he does not\ntake the actors in this social vaudeville the least bit seriously. The\none accounts this clique a sort of moral slum, and the other a quickly\npassing and interesting froth; and both parties overestimate the\neccentric whimsies and underestimate the actual constant influence of\nthese circles in improving the taste for art and in really refining\nmanners. But this clique is accounted a real aristocracy merely by\nitself and by the tradesmen who purvey to it.\n\nIn spite of this, American society is beginning to show important\ndifferentiations. It is not a mere sentimental and fanciful aristocracy,\ntrying to imitate European monarchianism, and it is not the\npseudo-aristocracy dancing around the golden dinner-set; it is an\naristocracy of leading groups of people, which has risen slowly in the\nsocial life of the nation, and now affords the starting-point of a\nsteadily increasing individuation of social layers. The influence of\nwealth is not absent here, but it is not mere wealth as such which\nexalts these people to the nobility; nor is the historical principle of\nfamily inheritance left out of account, although it is not merely the\nnumber of one\u2019s identifiable ancestors that counts. It is, most of all,\nthe profounder marks of education and of personal talent. And out of the\ncombination of all these factors and their interpenetration proceed a\nNew World group of leaders, which has in fact a national significance.\n\nIf one were to name a single person who should typically represent this\nnew aristocracy, it would be Theodore Roosevelt. In the year 1649, Claes\nRoosevelt settled in New Netherlands, which is now New York, and from\ngeneration to generation his sturdy descendants have worked for the\npublic good. James Roosevelt, the great-grandfather of the President,\ngave his services without remuneration to the Continental Army in the\nwar for independence; the grandfather left the largest part of his\nfortune to charitable purposes; and the father was tirelessly active in\nfurthering patriotic undertakings during the Civil War. And as this\nfamily inherited its public spirit, so also it inherited substance and a\ntaste for sport and social life.\n\nNow this product of old family traditions has been greatly influenced by\nthe best intellectual culture of New England. Theodore Roosevelt is\ndistinctly a Harvard graduate; all the elements of his nature got new\nstrength from the classic world of Harvard. The history of his nation\nhas been his favourite study, and he has written historical treatises of\ngreat breadth of view. Therewith he possesses a strong talent for\nadministration, and has advanced rapidly by reason of his actual\nachievements. And thus education, public service, wealth, and family\ntraditions have combined to make a character which exalts this man\nsocially much higher than the Presidential office alone could do.\nMcKinley was in some ways greater, perhaps\u2014but in McKinley\u2019s world there\nwas no third dimension of aristocratic differentiation; it was a flat\npicture, where one might not ask nor expect any diversification in the\nother dimension. Roosevelt is the first aristocrat since many years, to\ncome into the White House.\n\nAristocratic shadings can occur in a country that is so firmly grounded\nin democracy only when the movement goes in both directions, upward and\ndownward, and when it evolves on both sides. If it were a question on\nthe one side of demanding rights and forcing credence in pretentious\ndisplay, and on the other side of demanding any sort of submission from\nless favoured persons or assigning them an inferior position, the whole\neffort would be hopeless. The claim to prerogative which is supported by\nan ostentation calculated to hypnotize the vulgar and a corresponding\nobsequiousness of the weak, can do nothing more than perhaps to preserve\naristocracy after it has taken deep historic root. But such a degenerate\nform cannot be the first stage of aristocracy in a new country. When a\nnew aristocracy is formed, it must boast not of prerogatives, but of\nduties, and the feeling of those not included cannot be one of\ninferiority, but of confidence. And this is the mood which is growing in\nAmerica.\n\nSuch duties are most clearly recognized by wealth, and wealth has\nperhaps contributed most to begin the aristocratic differentiation in\nAmerican society; but it has not been the wealth which goes into\nextravagant display or other arrogant demonstration, but the wealth\nwhich works toward the civilized advance of the nation. However much it\nmay contradict the prejudices of the Old World, wealth alone does not\nconfer a social status in America. Of course, property everywhere makes\nindependence; but so long as it remains merely the power to hire things\ndone, it creates no social differentiation. The American does not regard\na man with awe because he stands well with trades-people and\nstock-brokers, but discriminates sharply between the possessions and the\npossessor. In his business life he is so accustomed to dealing with\nimpersonal corporations, that the power to dispense large sums of money\ngives a man no personal dignity in his eyes. Just in the Western cities,\nwhere society centres about questions of money much more than in the\nEast, the notion of property differentiation between men is developed\nleast of all so far as it concerns social station. The mere circumstance\nthat one man has speculated fortunately and the other unfortunately,\nthat the real estate of one has appreciated and of the other\ndeteriorated in value, occasions no belief in the inner difference of\nthe two men; the changes are purely economic, and suggest nothing of a\nsocial difference.\n\nAt most there is a certain curiosity, since property opens up a world of\npossibilities to a man; and he is considerably scrutinized by his\nneighbours to see what he will do. In this sense especially in the small\nand middle-sized cities, the local magnates are the centre of public\ninterest, just as the billionaires are in large cities. But to be the\nobject of such newspaper curiosity does not mean to be elevated in the\ngeneral respect. The millionaire is in this respect very much like the\noperatic tenor; or, to put it less graciously, the hero of the last\npoisoning case. It is the more a question of a mere stimulation to the\npublic fancy, since in reality the differences are surprisingly small.\n\nIf one looks away from the extravagant eccentricities of small circles,\nthe difference in general mode of life is on the whole very little in\nevidence. The many citizens in the large American city who have a\nproperty of five to ten million dollars seem to live hardly differently\nfrom the unfortunate many who have to get on with only a simple million.\nOn the other hand, the average man with a modest income exerts all his\nstrength to appear in clothing and social habits as rich as possible. He\ndoes not take care to store up a dowry for his children, and he lays by\nlittle because he does not care to become a bond-holder; he would rather\nwork to his dying day, and teach his children while they are young to\nstand on their own feet. So it happens that the differences which\nactually exist are very little in evidence; the banker has his palace\nand his coach, and his wife wears sealskin; but his shoe-maker has also\nhis own house, his horse and buggy, and his wife wears a very good\nimitation of seal\u2014which one has to rub against in order to recognize.\n\nBut the situation becomes very different when it is a question of\nwealth, not as a means of actual enjoyment, but as a measure of the\npersonal capacities that have earned it. Then the whole importance of\nthe possession is indeed transferred to the possessor. We must again\nemphasize the fact that this is the real impulse underlying American\neconomic life\u2014wealth is the criterion of individual achievements, of\nself-initiative; and since the whole nation stretches every nerve in a\nrestless demonstration of this self-initiative, the person who is more\nsuccessful than his neighbours gains necessarily their instinctive\nadmiration. The wealth won by lucky gambles in stocks, or inherited, or\nderived from a merely accidental appreciation of values or by a chance\nmonopoly, is not respected; but the wealth amassed by caution and\nbrilliant foresight, by indomitable energy and tireless initiative, or\nby fascinating originality and courage, meets with full recognition. The\nAmerican sees in such a creator of material wealth the model of his\npioneer virtues, the born leader of economic progress, and he looks up\nto him in sincere admiration, and respects him far higher than his\nneighbour in the next palace who has accidentally fallen heir to a\ntenfold larger sum. It is not the power which wealth confers, but the\npower which has conferred wealth, that is respected.\n\nAnd then there is a more important factor\u2014the respect for that force of\nmind which puts wealth, even if it is only a modest amount, in the\nservice of higher ends. Men have different tastes; one who builds\nhospitals may not understand the importance of patronizing the fine\narts; one who supports universities may do very little for the church;\nor another who collects sculptures may have no interest in the education\nof the negro. But the fundamental dogma of American society is that\nwealth confers distinction only on a man who works for ideal ends; and\nperhaps the deepest impulse toward the accumulation of wealth, after the\neconomic power which it confers, is the desire for just this sort of\ndignity. And this desire is deeper undoubtedly than the wish for\npleasure, which anyhow is somewhat limited by the outward uniformity of\nAmerican life. How far social recognition is gotten by public-spirited\nactivities and how far social recognition incites men to such activity,\nis in any particular case hard to decide. But as a matter of fact, a\nsocial condition has come about in which the _noblesse oblige_ of\nproperty is recognized on all sides, and in which public opinion is more\ndiscriminating as to the social respect which should be meted out to\nthis or that public deed, than it could be if it were a question of\nconferring with the greatest nicety orders and titles of different\nvalues.\n\nThe right of the individual to specialize in various directions, to\nfocus his benefactions on Catholic deaf-mutes or on students of insects,\non church windows, or clay cylinders with cuneiform inscriptions, is\nrecognized fully. Confident of the good-will of men of property, so many\ndiverse claims have arisen, that it would be quite impossible for a\nsingle man out of mere general sympathy with civilization to lend a\nhelping hand in all directions. The Americans esteem just that\ncarefulness with which the rich man sees to it that his property is\napplied according to his personal ideas and knowledge. It is only\nthereby that his gifts have a profound personal significance, and are\nfundamentally distinguished from sentimental sacrifice or from\nostentatious patronage. Giving is a serious matter, to which wealthy men\ndaily and hourly devote conscientious labour. A man like Carnegie, whose\nuseful bequests already amount to more than a hundred million dollars,\ncould dispose at once of his entire property if he were in a single week\nto respond favourably to all the calls which are made on him. He\nreceives every day hundreds of such letters of request, and gives almost\nhis entire strength to carrying out his benevolent plans.\n\nAnd the same is true on a smaller scale of all classes. Every true\nAmerican feels that his wealth puts him in a position of public\nconfidence, and the intensity with which he manifests this conviction\ndecides the social esteem in which his property is held. The real\naristocrats of wealth in this part of the world are those men whom\npublic opinion respects both for the gaining and the using of their\nproperty; both factors, in a way, have to be united. The admirable\npersonal talents which accumulate large properties, and the lofty ideals\nwhich put them to the best uses, may appear to be quite independent\nmatters, and indeed they sometimes do exclude each other, but the\naristocratic ideal demands the two together. And the Americans notice\nwhen either one is absent; they notice when wealth is amassed in\nimposing quantities, but then employed trivially or selfishly; or, on\nthe other hand, when it is employed for the very highest ends, but in\nthe opinion of competent men has been accumulated improperly. The public\nfeels more and more inclined to look into the business methods of men\nwho make large gifts. The American does not recognize the _non olet_,\nand there have often been lively discussions when ill-gotten wealth has\nbeen offered in public benefaction.\n\nWealth gotten by distinguished enterprise and integrity, and employed\nconscientiously and thoughtfully, confers in fact high social\ndistinction. But it is only one factor among others. A second factor is\nfamily tradition, the dignity of a name long respected for civil\nhigh-mindedness and refinement. A European has only the barest\nimpression of the great social significance of American genealogies, and\nwould be surprised to see in the large libraries whole walls of\nbook-shelves that contain nothing but works on the lineage of American\nfamilies. The family tree of the single family of Whitney, of\nConnecticut, takes up three thick volumes amounting to 2,700 pages; and\nthere even exists a thick and handsome volume with the genealogies of\nAmerican families of royal extraction. There are not only special papers\ndevoted to the scientific study of genealogies, but even some of the\nlarge daily papers have a section devoted to this subject. Much of this\nis mere curiosity and sport\u2014a fashionable whim, which collects ancestors\nmuch like coins or postage stamps. Although the preserving of family\ntraditions and an expansive pride in historic lineage do not contradict\ndemocratic principles, yet the interest in pedigree, if it takes real\nhold on the public mind, very soon leads to a genuine social\ndifferentiation.\n\nSuch differentiation will be superficial at first. If none but\ndescendants of Puritans who came over in the \u201cMayflower\u201d are invited to\na set of dances, a spirit of exclusiveness is shown which is indeed\nundemocratic; but this sort of thing is in fact only a playful matter in\nAmerican society. The large organizations that choose their membership\non the ground of peculiar ancestry make no pretence to special\nprivileges, and many of them are nothing but philanthropic societies. On\nthe other hand, if the aristocracy of family were to assume special\nrights, it would be no innovation on American soil, because in the\nearliest colonial days many of the social differences of English society\nwere brought over, and the English class spirit did not disappear until\nafter the Revolution, when the younger sons of English gentlemen no\nlonger came over to this country. In the South, a considerable spirit of\naristocracy persisted until after the Civil War.\n\nSuch superficial differentiation has virtually disappeared to-day. The\nmere tinsel of family aristocracy has been torn off, but for this reason\nthe real importance and achievements of certain families come out all\nthe more clearly. The representatives of venerable family names are\nlooked on with peculiar public confidence; and the more the American\nnation becomes acquainted with the history of these families, which have\nbeen active on American soil for eight or ten generations, the more it\nrespects their descendants of the present day.\n\nIt is true that conditions are still provincial, and that almost no\nfamily has a national significance. The names of the first families of\nVirginia, which are universally revered in the South, are almost unknown\nin the North; the descendants of Knickerbocker families, whose very name\nmust not be mentioned in New York without a certain air of solemnity,\nare very much less considered in Baltimore or Philadelphia; and the\nwestern part of the country is naturally still too young to have\nestablished such traditions at all until recently. But the following is\na typical example for the East:\n\nHarvard University is governed by seven men who are chosen to fill this\nresponsible position, solely because the academic community has profound\nconfidence both in their integrity and in their breadth of view. And yet\nit is no accident that among these seven men, there is not one whose\nfamily has not been of service to the State of Massachusetts for seven\ngenerations. So that, even in such a model democratic community as\nPuritan New England, the names of families that have played an important\npublic part in the middle of the seventeenth century are as much\nrespected as the old \u201cm\u00e4rkische Adel\u201d in Prussia. And although they are\nwithout the privileges of nobility, the whole dignity of the past is\nfelt by every educated person to be preserved in such family names.\n\nBut the most important factor in the aristocratic differentiation of\nAmerica is higher education and culture, and this becomes more important\nevery day. In speaking of universities, we have carefully explained why\nhigher culture is less closely connected with the learned professions in\nAmerica than in the European countries. We have seen that the learned\nprofessions are fed by professional and very practical schools, which\nturn out a doctor, lawyer, or preacher without requiring a broad and\nliberal previous training; and how, on the other hand, the college has\nbeen the independent institution for higher culture, and how these two\ninstitutions have slowly grown together in the course of time, so that\nthe college course has come at length to be the regular preparation for\nthose who attend professional schools. Now, in considering the social\nimportance of higher individual culture, we have not to consider the\nlearned professions, but rather the general college training; and in\nthis respect we find undoubtedly that common opinion has slowly shifted\ntoward an aristocratic point of view. The social importance ascribed to\na college graduate is all the time growing.\n\nIt was kept back for a long time by unfortunate prejudices. Because\nother than intellectual forces had made the nation strong, and\neverywhere in the foreground of public activity there were vigorous and\ninfluential men who had not continued their education beyond the public\ngrammar school, so the masses instinctively believed that insight, real\nenergy, and enterprise were better developed in the school of life than\nin the world of books. The college student was thought of as a weakling,\nin a way, who might have many fine theories about things, but who would\nnever take hold to help solve the great national problems\u2014a sort of\nacademic \u201cmugwump,\u201d but not a leader. The banking-house, factory, farm,\nthe mine, the law office, and the political position were all thought\nbetter places for the young American man than the college lecture halls.\nAnd perhaps the unpractical character of college studies was no more\nfeared than the artificial social atmosphere. It was felt that an ideal\natmosphere was created in the college to which the mind in its best\nperiod of development too readily adapted itself, so that it came out\nvirtually unprepared for the crude reality of practical life. This has\nbeen a dogma in political life ever since the Presidency of Andrew\nJackson, and almost equally so in economic life.\n\nThis has profoundly changed now, and changes more with every year. It is\nnot a question of identifying the higher culture with the learned\nprofessions, as in Germany\u2014there is no reason for this; and such a point\nof view has developed in Germany only by an accident of history. In\nAmerica it is still thought that a graduate of one of these\ncolleges\u2014that is, a man who has gone about as far as the German student\nof philosophy in the third or fourth semester\u2014is equal to anybody in\nculture, no matter whether he afterward becomes a manufacturer, or\nbanker, or lawyer, or a philologian. The change has taken place in\nregard to what is expected of the college student; distrust has\nvanished, and people realize that the intellectual discipline which he\nhas had until his twenty-second year in the artificial and ideal world\nis after all the best training for the great duties of public life, and\nthat academic training, less by its subject-matter than by its methods,\nis the best possible preparation for practical activity.\n\nThe man of academic training is the only one who sees things in their\nright perspective, and gives them the right values. Even the large\nmerchant knows to-day that the young man who left college at twenty-two\nwill be, when he is twenty-seven years of age, generally ahead of his\ncontemporaries who left school at seventeen and \u201cwent to work.\u201d The\ngreat self-made men do indeed say a good deal to comfort those who have\nhad only a school training, but it may be noted that they send their own\nsons to college. As a matter of fact, the leading positions in the\ndisposal of the nation are almost entirely in the hands of men of\nacademic training, and the mistrust of the theorizing college spirit has\ngiven place to a situation in which university presidents and professors\nhave much to say on all practical questions of public life, and the\ncollege graduates are the real supporters of every movement toward\nreform and civilization.\n\nAll in all, it can no longer be denied that a class of national leaders\nhas risen above the social life of the masses, and not wholly, as\ndemocracy would really require, by reason of their personal talents. A\nwealthy man has a certain advantage by his wealth, the man of family by\nhis lineage, the man of academic training by the fact that his parents\nwere able to send him to the university. This is neither plutocracy nor\nhereditary aristocracy, nor intellectual snobbery. We have seen that\nwealth wins consideration only when well expended, that ancestry brings\nno privileges or prerogatives with it, and that an academic education is\nnot equivalent to merely technical erudition. The personal factor is not\nlacking, since we have seen that the rich man must plan his\nbenefactions, the man of family must play his public part, and that\nacademic training is in the reach of every young man who will try for\nit. The fundamental principles of democracy are therefore not destroyed,\nbut they are modified. The spirit of self-assertion which calls for\nabsolute equality is everywhere brought face to face with men who are\nsuperior, whose claims cannot be discounted, and who are tacitly\nadmitted to belong rightfully to an upper class.\n\nDifferentiation, once more, works not merely upward, but also downward;\nthe public leader pushes himself ahead, and at the same time the great\nmasses are looking for some one whom they may follow. It is not a matter\nof subjection, but of confidence\u2014confidence in men who are recognizedly\nbetter than many others. There can be no doubt that a reaction is going\non throughout America to-day, not against democracy, but against those\nopinions which have prevailed in the democracy ever since the days of\nthe pioneers. A great many people feel instinctively that the time is\nripe to oppose the one-sidedness of domination by the masses; people are\nforcibly impressed by the fact that in politics, government, literature\nand art, the great achievements are thwarted by vulgar influences, that\nthe original individual is impressed into the ordinary mould, and that\ndilettanteism and mediocrity rule triumphant and keep out the best\ntalents from public life. People see the tyranny of greed, the reproach\nof municipal corruption, the unwholesome influence of a sensational\npress and of unscrupulous capital. They see how public life becomes\nblatant, irresponsible, and vulgar; how all authority and respect must\ndisappear if democracy is not to be curbed at any point.\n\nThe time has come, a great many feel, in which the moral influence of\nauthority is needed, and the educational influence of those more\ncultivated persons who will not yield to the \u00e6sthetic tastes of the\nvulgar must be infused into the democracy. The trained man must speak\nwhere the masses would otherwise act from mere caprice; the disciplined\nmind must lead where incompetence is heading for blind alleys; the best\nminds must have some say and people must be forced to listen, so that\nother voices and opinions shall have weight than those that make the\nbabel of the streets. The eclectic must prevail over the vulgar taste,\nand the profound over the superficial, since it is clear that only in\nthat way will America advance beyond her present stage of development.\nAmerica has created a new political world, and must now turn to\n\u00e6sthetics and culture. Such a reaction has not happened to-day or\nyesterday, but has been going on steadily in the last few decades, and\nto-day it is so strong as to overcome all resistance. The desire for the\nbeauty and dignity of culture, for authority and thoroughness, is\ncreeping into every corner of American life.\n\nThe time is already passing which would do away with all discipline and\nsubmission in school and family life; public life brings the trained\nexpert everywhere into prominence. The disgust at the vulgarity of daily\nlife, as in the visible appearance of city streets, increases rapidly.\nThe sense of beauty is everywhere at work; and men of taste, education,\nand traditions, rather than the city fathers who are elected by the\nrabble, are finally being called to positions of leadership. The\ndemocratic spirit is not crumbling, and certainly the rights of the\nmasses are not to be displaced by the rights of the better educated and\nmore \u00e6sthetic; but democracy is in a way to be perfected, to be brought\nas high as it can be brought by giving a representation to really all\nthe forces that are in the social organism, and by not permitting the\nmore refined ones to be suppressed by the weight of the masses. The\nnation has come to that maturity where the public is ready to let itself\nbe led by the best men.\n\nIt is true that the public taste still prevails too widely in many\nbranches of social life; there is too much triviality; too many\ninstitutions are built on the false principles that everybody knows best\nwhat is good for him, and too many undertakings flatter the taste which\nthey should educate. But opposite tendencies are present everywhere. The\nmore the economic development of the country is rounded off, the greater\nis its demand for social differentiation, for the recognition of certain\ninfluences as superior, for subordination, and for finer organization.\nJust as economic life has long since given up free competition, and the\ngreat corporations show admirably that subordination is necessary to\ngreat purposes, and the world of labour has become an army with\nstrictest discipline and blind allegiance, so in the non-economic world\na tendency toward subordination, individuation, and aristocracy becomes\nevery moment more evident.\n\nTo this tendency there is added the new conception of the state.\nDemocracy is, from the outset, individualistic. We have seen everywhere\nthat the fundamental force in this community is the belief of every man\nin his own personality and that of others. The state has been the sum\ntotal of individuals, and the state as something more than the\nindividual has appeared as a bare abstraction. The individual alone has\nasserted itself, perfected and guided itself, and taken all the\ninitiative. And this belief in the person is no less firm to-day; but\nanother belief has come up. This is a belief in the ethical reality of\nthe state. Public opinion is still afraid that if this belief increases,\nthe old confidence in the value of the individual, and therewith of all\nthe fundamental virtues of American democracy, may be shaken. But the\nbelief spreads from day to day, and produces its change in public\nopinion. Politics are trending as are so many other branches of life;\nthe emphasis is passing from the individual to the totality. As we have\nseen that the Americans adorned their houses before their public\nbuildings, quite the opposite of what Europeans have done, so they have\ngiven political value to the millions of individuals long before they\nlaid weight on the one collective will of the state. The men who would\nhave sacrificed everything rather than cheat their neighbours have had\nno conscientious scruples in plundering the state.\n\nIt is different to-day. The feeling grows that honour toward the state,\nsacrifice for it, and confidence in it are even more important than the\nrespect for the totality of individuals. These opinions cannot be spread\nabroad without having their far-reaching consequences; the state is\nvisible only in symbols, and its representatives get their significance\nby symbolizing not the population, but the abstract state. The\nindividual representative of government is thus exalted personally above\nthe democratic level. To fill an office means not merely to do work, but\nto experience a broadening of personality, much as that which the priest\nfeels in his office; it is an enlargement which demands on the other\nside respect and subordination. This tendency is still in its\nbeginnings, and will never be so strong as in Europe, because the\nself-assertion of the individual is too lively. Nevertheless, these new\nnotes in the harmony are much louder and more persistent than they were\nten years ago.\n\nThus there are many forces which work to check the spirit of\nself-assertion; in spite of the liveliest feeling of equality, a social\ndifferentiation is practically working itself out in all American life.\nDifferences of occupation are, perhaps, the least significant; a\nprofession which has such a great claim to superiority as, for instance,\nthat of the army officer in Germany, does not exist in the United\nStates. Perhaps the legal profession would be looked on as the most\nimportant, and certainly it absorbs a very large proportion of the best\nstrength of the nation. The high position given the jurist is probably\nin good part because, unlike his Continental colleague, as we have\nexplained at length, he actually takes part in shaping the law. In a\ndifferent way the preacher is very greatly respected, but his profession\ndecreases slowly in attractiveness for the best talents of the country.\nThe academic professions, on the other hand, have drawn such talent more\nand more, and will continue to do so as the distinction grows sharper\nbetween the college teacher and the real university professor. The\npre-eminently reproductive activities are naturally less enticing than\nthose which are creative, and wherever talent is attracted it quickly\naccomplishes great things, and these work to improve the social status\nof the profession. The political profession, as such, is far down in the\nscale; only governors, senators, and the highest ministerial officials\nplay an important social part. Of course, one cannot speak of the\nespecial recognition of mercantile or industrial professions, because\nthese offer too great a variety of attainment; but certainly their most\ninfluential representatives are socially inferior to none in the\ncommunity.\n\nSocial differentiation does not rest on a sharp discrimination of\nprofession, and yet it is realized from the highest to the lowest\ncircles of society, and to a degree which fifty years ago would have\ngreatly antagonized at least the entire northern part of the country. In\nWashington, the exclusive hostess invites only the wives of senators,\nbut not those of representatives, to her table; and in the Bowery,\naccording to the accounts, the children of the peanut vendor do not\ndeign to play with the children of the hurdy-gurdy man, who are vastly\nmore humble. The Four Hundred in the large city quietly but resolutely\ndecline to invite newly made millionaires to dinner; and the seamstress,\nwho comes to the house to sew or mend, refuses to sit down at table with\nthe servants. Already, in the large cities, the children of better\nfamilies are not sent to public, but to private schools. The railroads\nhave only one class of passenger coach; but the best society declines\nthat, and rides in the Pullman cars. The same distinctions hold\neverywhere, and not merely as a matter of greater luxury for the rich,\nbut as a real social distinction. At the theatre, the person who\nsocially belongs in the parquet prefers to sit in one of the worst seats\nthere to going into the balcony, where he does not belong, even though\nhe might hear and see better.\n\nThe increasing sympathy with badges, costumes, and uniforms\u2014in short,\nwith the symbols of differentiation\u2014is very typical. There was a time in\nwhich a free American would have refused to wear a special livery; but\nto-day nobody objects, from the elevator boy to the judge, to wear the\nmarks of office. The holiday processions of working-men and veterans\nbecome gayer and gayer. Those who have seen the recent inaugurations of\nthe presidents of Yale and Columbia have witnessed parades of hundreds\nof gay and, it seemed, partly fantastic costumes, such as are now worn\nat every university celebration in America\u2014symbolic emblems which would\nhave seemed impossible in this monotonous democracy twenty years ago.\n\nThe inner life of universities gives also lively indication of social\ncleavage. In Harvard and Yale, there are exclusive clubs of the social\nleaders among the students. It is true that hundreds of students go\nthrough the university without paying any attention to such things; but\nthere are almost as many more whose chief ambition is to be elected into\nan exclusive circle, and who would feel compensated by no sort of\nscientific success if they were disappointed in their aspirations for\nclub life. In the same way many families which have become wealthy in\nthe West move to New York or Boston, in the vain hope of breaking into\nsociety. The social difference between near-lying residential sections\nis, indeed, much greater than in Europe; and real estate on a street\nwhich comes to be occupied by socially inferior elements rapidly\ndepreciates, because the inhabitants of any residential section must\nstand on the same plane.\n\nThe transformations which the place of the President in public\nconsciousness has gone through are very characteristic. A newly elected\nPresident is to-day inaugurated with almost monarchical pomp, and he\nreviews the Navy, as he never would have thought of doing some years\nago. He sits down first at the table and is served first. An invitation\nto the White House is felt as a command which takes precedence over any\nother engagement. All this has happened recently. It was not long ago\nthat persons refused an invitation to the White House, because of\nprevious engagements. In social life all men were merely \u201cgentlemen,\u201d\nregardless of the capacities which they had during business hours, and\nin matters of invitation one visited the host who was first to invite\none. All this is different now.\n\nThere is even some indication of the use of titles. Twenty years ago\nstudents addressed their professors with a mister, but to-day more often\nwith the title of professor; and the abuse of military titles which goes\non in the West amuses the whole country. In the army itself aristocratic\ntendencies are strongly manifest, but only here and there come to\ngeneral notice. Contrary to the spirit of official appointments, men are\nnot advanced so rapidly who work up from a socially inferior level, but\nthe social \u00e9lite is favoured. Etiquette in social life is becoming more\ncomplicated; there is more formality, more symbolism in social\nintercourse. A nation which pays every year more than six million\ndollars for cut roses and four millions for carnations has certainly\nlearned to decorate social life. There is even more etiquette in\nprofessional life. The professional behaviour of lawyers, physicians,\nand scholars is in some respects, at least in the East, more narrowly\nprescribed than it is even in Europe.\n\nLooking at the situation as a whole, one sees the power of this new\nspirit, not so much in these petty symptoms as in the great movements of\nwhich we have spoken at length in other connections. There is the spirit\nof imperialism in foreign politics, and it cannot expand in its pride\nwithout working against the old democratic tendencies. There is the\nspirit of militarism, triumphantly proud of the victorious army and\nnavy, demanding strict discipline and blind obedience to the commander.\nThere is the spirit of racial pride, which persecutes the negro and the\nChinese, and hinders the immigration of Eastern and Southern Europeans.\nThere is the spirit of centralization, exalting the power of the state\nabove the conflicting desires of the individual, and in economic matters\nhoping more from the intelligent initiative of the state as a whole than\nfrom the free competition of individuals, and assigning to the\nFederation tremendous undertakings, such as the irrigation of the West\nand the cutting of the Panama Canal. There is the spirit of aristocracy,\ntempting more and more the academically cultured and the wealthy into\nthe political arena. There is the spirit of social differentiation\ncoming into art and science, and bringing to the life of the nation\nideals of beauty and of knowledge which are far above the vulgar\ncomprehension. Eclectic taste is winning a victory over popular taste.\nThe judgment of the most learned, the refinement of the most educated,\nand the wisdom of the most mature are being made prominent before the\npublic mind. We have already seen how this new spirit grows and unfolds,\nand how the one-sidedness and eccentricities of political, economic,\nintellectual, and artistic democracy are being outgrown day by day, and\nhow the America of Roosevelt\u2019s time is shaping itself in accordance with\nthe civilizations of Western Europe.\n\nThere are some who behold this development with profound concern. That\nwhich has made America\u2019s greatness, which seemed to be her mission in\nthe world, was the belief in the ethical worth of the individual. The\ndoctrines of self-determination, self-initiative, and self-assertion,\nand the civilization which rested on such a foundation, have nothing to\nhope and much to fear from social differentiation and imperialism.\nAristocratic tendencies appear to undermine this ethical democracy, and\nthe imperialistic symbols of our day mock the traditions of the past.\nThere will certainly be many reactions against these aristocratic\ntendencies; perhaps they will be only small movements working through\nthe press and at the ballot-box against the encroachments on the spirit\nof the past and against the expansion of office, and hindering those\naristocratic tendencies which depart too far from the traditions of the\nmasses. Perhaps, some day, there will be a great reaction. Perhaps the\ntremendous power possessed by the labouring classes in the country will\nlead to battles for ethical principles, in which the modern \u00e6sthetic\ndevelopment will be reversed; it would not be the first time on American\nsoil that ethical reform has produced social deterioration, for \u201creform\u201d\nmeans always the victory of naked, equalizing logic over the\nconservative forces which represent historic differentiation. So the\nRevolution abolished the patrician society of New England, whose\naristocratic members survive in the portraits of Copley; and the day may\ncome when trades-unions will be victorious over that aristocracy which\nSargent is now painting. Even the reform which emancipated the slaves\ndestroyed a true and chivalrous aristocracy in the South.\n\nBut it is more likely that the steady development will go on, and that\nthere will be a harmonious co-operation between the fundamental\ndemocratic forces and the lesser aristocratic ones. It cannot be doubted\nthat that democracy of which we have aimed to describe the real intent,\nwill remain the fundamental force under the American Constitution; and\nhowever strict military discipline may become, however aristocratic the\nsocial differentiations, however imperialistic the politics, however\nesoteric art and science, undoubtedly the greatest question put by every\nAmerican to his brother will be: \u201cWhat do you, purely as an individual,\namount to?\u201d The ethical rights and the ethical duties of the individual\nwill be the ultimate standard, and aristocratic pomp will always be\nsuppressed in America whenever it commences to restrain the passion for\njustice and for self-determination.\n\nThe most serious Americans are in the position of Tantalus; they see, in\na thousand ways and at a thousand places, that a certain advance could\nbe made if somehow the vulgar masses could be got out of the way; they\nsee how civic and national ends could be attained almost without trouble\nby the ample means of the country, if as in Europe, the most intelligent\nminds could be put in control. They want all this most seriously; and\nyet they cannot have it, because in the bottom of their hearts they\nreally do not wish it. They feel too profoundly that the gain would be\nonly apparent, that the moral force of the nation would be sacrificed if\na single citizen should lose the confidence that he himself is\nresponsible for the nation which he helps to guide and to make. The easy\nattainment of success is only a secondary matter; the purity of the\nindividual will is the main consideration. With this stands or falls\nAmerican culture. Development is first of all an ethical problem; just\nbecause the world is incomplete, is hard, and unbeautiful, and\neverywhere needs to be transformed by human labour, just on that account\nhuman life is inexhaustibly valuable. This is the fundamental thought,\nand will remain so as long as the New World remains true to its ideals.\nThe finer notes are only an overtone in the great chord; it is only\nfaintly discerned that the world is valuable when it is beautiful\u2014after\nit has been mastered and completed.\n\nIn this opposition between the ethical and the \u00e6sthetic, between the\ndemocratic and the aristocratic, America will never sacrifice her\nfundamental conviction, will never follow aristocratic tendencies\nfurther than where they are needed to correct the dangerous\none-sidedness and the excrescences of democratic individualism; at\nleast, never so far that any danger will threaten the democracy. The\npride of the true American is, once and for all, not the American\ncountry, nor yet American achievements, but the American personality.\n\nOne who seeks the profoundest reality that history has to offer, not in\nthe temporal unfolding of events, but in the interplay of human wills,\nwill agree with the American\u2019s judgment of himself. Looking at the\npeople of the New World even from afar, one will find the fascination,\nnovelty, and greatness of the American world mission, not in what the\nAmerican has accomplished, but in what he desires and will desire.\n\nNevertheless, this will not seem strange or foreign to any German. In\nthe depths of his soul, he has himself a similar play of desires. In the\ncourse of history, reverence and faithfulness developed in the German\nsoul more strongly than the individualistic craving for\nself-determination and self-assertion; aristocratic love of beauty and\ntruth developed before the democratic spirit of self-initiative. But\nto-day, in modern Germany, these very instincts are being aroused, just\nas in modern America those forces are growing which have long dominated\nthe German soul.\n\nThe American still puts the higher value on the personal, the German on\nthe over-personal; the American on the intrinsic value of the creating\nwill, the German on the intrinsic value of the absolute ideal. But every\nday sees the difference reduced, and brings the two nations nearer to a\nsimilar attitude of mind. Moreover, both of these fundamental tendencies\nare equally idealistic, and both of these nations are therefore destined\nto understand and to esteem each other, mutually to extend their\nfriendship, to emulate each other, and to work together, so that in the\nconfused play of temporal forces the intrinsically valuable shall be\nvictorious over the temporary and fleeting, the ideal over the\naccidental. For both nations feel together, in the depths of their\nbeing, that in order to give meaning to life man must believe in\ntimeless ideals.\n\n\n                                THE END\n\n\n                      THE McCLURE PRESS, NEW YORK\n\n------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\n\n\n\n                          TRANSCRIBER\u2019S NOTES\n\n\n 1. Corrected \u201cK\u00fbnste bl\u00fbhen\u201d to \u201cK\u00fcnste bl\u00fchen\u201d on p. 237.\n 2. Silently corrected typographical errors.\n 3. Retained anachronistic and non-standard spellings as printed.\n 4. Enclosed italics font in _underscores_.","title":"The Americans","tradition":"philosophy-ethics","translated_text":null,"word_count":238568}