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Established by Edward L. Youmans
APPLETONS'
POPULAR SCIENCE
MONTHLY
EDITED BY
WILLIAM JAY YOUMANS
VOL. LV
MAY TO OCTOBER, 1899
NEW YORK
D. APPLETON AND COMPANY
1899
Copyright, 1899,
By D. APPLETON AND COMPANY.
WILLIAM PEPPER.
APPLETONS' POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY.
OCTOBER, 1899.
THE HELP THAT HARMS.
By the Right Reverend HENRY C. POTTER.
The analogies between the life of an individual and that other
organism which we call civilized society are as interesting as
for any other reason because of their inexhaustible and ever-fresh
variety. The wants, the blunders, the growth, the perils of the
individual are matched at every step by those other wants and
dangers and developments which rise in complexity and in variety
as the individual and the social organism rise in intelligence, in
numbers, and in wealth. It ought to interest us, if it never has,
to consider from how much that is mischievous and dangerous
we should be delivered if we could revert from the civilized to
the savage state; and it is undoubtedly true that serious minds
have sometimes been tempted to question whether civilization is
quite worth all that it has cost us in its manifold departures from
a simple and more primitive condition.
Such a question may, at any rate, not unnaturally arise when
we ask ourselves the question, What, on the whole, is the influence
upon manhood—by which I mean, here and for my present purpose,
the qualities that make courage, self-reliance, self-respect,
industry, initiative—in fact, those independent and aggressive characteristics
by which great races, like great men, have climbed up
out of earlier obscurity and inferiority into power, leadership, and
distinction; what is the influence upon these of conditions which
tend, apparently by an inevitable law, to beget or to encourage indolence,
inertia, parasitic dependence?
One can not but be moved to such a question by either of two
papers which have recently appeared in these pages: I mean that
entitled Abuse of Public Charity, by Comptroller Bird S. Coler;
and that by Prof. Franklin H. Giddings, of Columbia University,
on Public Charity and Private Vigilance. The community whose
capable and efficient servant he is has reason to be thankful that,
in the person of a public official intrusted with such large responsibilities,
it has a thoughtful and far-seeing student of problems
whose grave importance he has so opportunely pointed out. It
needs the courage and the knowledge of such a one to affirm that
"it is easier for an industrious and shrewd professional beggar
to live in luxury in New York than to exist in any other city in
the world," which, if any social reformer or minister of religion or
mere critic of the social order had said it, would probably have
been denounced as an atrabilious and unwarranted exaggeration.
Concerning the comptroller's indictments of certain charitable
societies and organizations as expensive mechanisms for the consumption
of appropriations or contributions largely spent upon their
salaried officials, I am quite willing to recognize the force of Professor
Giddings's demurrer to the effect that a so-called charitable
society may now and then rightly exist, and expend its income
largely, if not wholly, upon the persons whom it employs as its
agents, since these agents are the vigilant committees whose office
it is to detect, discourage, and expose unworthy objects, whether
of public or private charity. But that, besides such agencies, there
are constantly called into being wholly spurious organizations,
which profess to exist for the relief of certain classes of sufferers
or of needy people; that these succeed, sooner or later, in fastening
themselves upon the treasury of the city and of the State;
and that they are, in a great many cases, monuments of the most
impudent and unscrupulous fraud, there can be no smallest doubt.
Well, it may be asked, What are you going to do about it?
Will you accept the inevitable evils that march in the rear of all
public or private charity, or will you sweep all the various agencies,
which have relieved such manifold varieties of human want and
alleviated to such an incalculable degree human misery, out of
existence? Will you care to contemplate what a great city like
New York or London would be if to-morrow you closed the doors
of all the hospitals, crèches, homes of the aged, asylums for the
crippled, the blind, the insane, and the like, and turned their inmates
one and all into the street?
That is certainly a very dramatic alternative to present; but
suppose that we look at it a little more closely. And, in order that
we may, I shall ask my reader to go back with me, not to that
primitive or barbaric era to which I began by referring, but only
to a somewhat earlier stage in our own social history, with which
many persons now living are abundantly familiar. One of the interesting
and startling contrasts which might be presented to one
anxious to impress a stranger with our American progress would
be to take only our present century, and group together, out of its
statistics, the growth and development, in its manifold varieties,
during that period in any city, great or small, of institutional charity.
But if such a one were just he would have, first of all, to
put upon his canvas some delineation of that situation which, under
so many varying conditions and amid such widely dissimilar degrees
of privilege or of opportunity, preceded it. I listened the
other day to the story of a charming woman, of marked culture
and refinement, as she depicted, with unconscious grace and art,
the life of a gentlewoman of her own age and class—she was young
and fair and keenly sympathetic—on a Southern plantation before
the civil war. One got such a new impression of those whom,
under other skies and in large ignorance of their personal ministries
or sacrifices, we had been wont to picture as indolent, exclusive,
indifferent to the sorrow and disease and ignorance that, on a
great rice or cotton or sugar plantation in the old days, were all
about them; and one learned, with a new sense of reverence for
all that is best in womanhood, how, in days that are now gone
forever, there were under such conditions the most skillful beneficence
and the most untiring sympathies.
But, in the times of which I speak, the service on the plantation
for the sick slave (which, an ungracious criticism might have
suggested, since a slave was ordinarily a valuable piece of property,
had something of a sordid element in it) was matched in communities
and under conditions where no such suspicion was possible.
No one who knows anything of life in our smaller communities at
the beginning of the century can be ignorant of what I mean.
There was no village or smallest aggregation of families that had
not its Abigail, its "Aunt Hannah," its "Uncle Ben," who, when
there was sickness or want or sorrow in a neighbor's house, was
always on hand to sympathize and to succor. I do not forget that
it is said that, even under our greatly changed conditions, in modern
cities this is still true of the very poor and of their kindness
and mutual help to one another; and I thank God that I have
abundant reason, from personal observation, to know that it is.
But, happily, neither great cities nor small are largely made up
of the very poor, and the considerations that I am aiming to present
to those who will follow me through these pages are not concerned
with these. What I am now aiming to get before my readers
is that there was a time, and that it was not so very long ago,
when that vast institutional charity which exists among us to-day,
and which I believe to be in so many aspects of it so grave a menace
to our highest welfare, did not exist, because it had no need to
exist. The ordinary American community, East or West, had, as
distinguishing it, however small its numbers and narrow its means,
two characteristics which our modern systems of institutional charity
are widely conspiring to extinguish and destroy. One of these
was that resolute endurance of straitness and poverty of which there
is so fine and true a portraiture in Miss Wilkins's remarkable story
Jerome. I venture to say that the charm of that rare book, to a
great many of the most intelligent and appreciative of its readers,
lay in the fact that they could match it, or something like it, in
their own experience; that they had known silent and proud women,
and brave and proud boys, to whom, whatever the hard pinch of
want that they knew, to accept a dole was like accepting a blow,
and who covered their poverty alike from the eye of inquisitive
stranger or kin with a robe of secrecy that was at once impenetrable
and all-concealing. Life to them was a battle, and they
could lose it, as heroes have lost it on the tented field, without a
murmur; but to sue for bread to some other, even if that other
were of the same blood, would have smitten them as with the stain
of personal dishonor.
And over against such, in the days and among the communities
of which I speak, were those whose gift and ministry it was—without
an intrusive curiosity, without a vulgar ostentation, without
a word or look that implied that they guessed the sore need to
which they reached out—yet somehow to discover it, to succor it,
and then to help, finest and rarest of all, to hide it.
Now, then, behind such a condition of things there was a sure
and wise discernment, even if it was only instinctive, of a profound
moral truth, which was this: that you can not help me, nor I you,
without risk. For the most sacred thing in either of us is our manhood
or womanhood—that thing which differentiates us from any
mere mechanism, that thing in us which says, I can, I ought, I will.
Take that out of human nature and what is left is not worth considering,
save as one might consider any other clever mechanism.
But the power to choose, the power to act, and the consciousness
that choice and action are to be dominated by something that answers
to the instinct of loyalty to God, to self-respect, to the ideals
of honor and righteousness—that is what makes life worth living,
and any conceivable thing worth seeking or doing. Now, the moment
that the question of our mutual relations enters we have to
be concerned with the way in which they will act on this power,
quality, characteristic—call it what you will—that makes manhood.
It is not enough, for example, that my impulse to give you a pint
of gin is a benevolent impulse, if certain tendencies in you make it
antecedently probable that a pint of gin will presently convert you
from the condition of a rational being into that of a beast. And
so of any impulse of mine in the direction of beneficence which,
in its gratification, threatens manhood—that is, self-reliance, self-respect,
independence, the right and faithful use of powers in me.
And here we come to the problem which lies at the basis of
the whole question of charitable relief, for whatever class and in
whatever form. The wholesome elements in that earlier situation,
to which I have just referred, were threefold, and in our modern
situation each one of them is sorely attenuated, if not wholly
absent:
1. In the first place, there was a relative uniformity of condition.
In other words, at the beginning of the present century in
almost all communities, whether industrial or agricultural, the disparities
of estate were inconsiderable. There was perhaps the rich
man of the village or town, or two or three or half a dozen of them;
but they were rich only relatively, and they were marked exceptions.
The great majority of the people were of comparatively
similar employments and circumstances. Among these there were
indeed considerable varieties of task work, but work and wage were
not far apart; and, what was of most consequence, a certain large
identity of condition brought into it a certain breadth of sympathy
and mutual help, out of which came the outstretched hand and
the open door for the man who was out of work and was looking
for it.
2. Yes, who was looking for it. For here again was a distinguishing
note of those earlier days of which I am speaking. Idleness
was a distinct discredit, if not dishonor. In communities where
everybody had to work, an idler or a loafer was an intolerable impertinence,
and was usually made to feel it.
3. And yet, again, there was the vast difference in those days
from ours that the industries of the world had not taken on their
immensely organized and mechanized characteristics. A mechanic—e. g.,
out of a job—then could turn his hand to anything that
ordinary tools and muscle and intelligence could do. But an ordinary
mechanic now must be a skilled mechanician in a highly specialized
department, and when he is out of a job there, he is ordinarily
out of it all along the line.
I might, as my reader will have anticipated me in recognizing,
go on almost indefinitely in this direction; but I have said enough,
I trust, to prepare him for the point which I want to make in connection
with our modern charities and their mischief. Our modern
social order, in a word, has become more complex, more segregated,
more specialized. A whole class of people in cities—those,
I mean, of considerable wealth—with a few noble exceptions
(which, however, in our greater cities, thank God, are becoming
daily less rare), live in profound ignorance of the condition of
their fellow-citizens. Now and then, by some sharp reverse in the
financial world or some national recurrence of "bad times," they
are made aware that large numbers of their neighbors are out of
work and starving. And, at all times, they are no less reminded
that there is a considerable class—how appallingly large it is growing
to be in New York Mr. Coler has told us—who need help,
or think they do, and who, at any rate, more or less noisily demand
it in the street, at the door, by begging letter, or in a dozen other
ways that make the rich man understand why the prayer of Agur
was, "Give me neither poverty nor riches."
Well, something must be done, they agree. What shall it be?
Shall the State do it, or the Church, or the individual? If only
they could, as to that, agree! But it has been one of the most
pathetic notes of our heedless and superficial treatment of a great
problem that, here, there has not been from the beginning even
the smallest pretense of a common purpose or any moderately rational
course of action. Undoubtedly it is true that there is no
imaginable mechanism that could relieve any one of these agencies
from responsibility in the matter of relief to the unfortunate, nor
is it desirable that there should be. Sometimes it has been the
Church that has undertaken the relief of the poor and sick, sometimes
it has been largely left to the individual, and sometimes it
has been as largely left to the State. But, in any case, the result
has been almost as often as otherwise mischievous, or corrupt and
corrupting. For, in fact, the ideal mode of dealing with the problems
of sickness, destitution, and disablement should be one in
which the common endeavor of the State, the Church, and the individual
should be somehow unified and co-ordinated. But, incredible
as it ought to be, the history of the best endeavors toward
such co-ordination has been a history of large inadequacy and of
meager results. As an illustration of this it is enough to point
to the history of the Charity Organization Society in New York,
which, I presume, is not greatly different from that of similar societies
elsewhere. Antecedently it would have seemed probable that
such a society, which aims simply to discourage fraud, to relieve
genuine want, and to protect the community from being preyed
upon by the idle and the vicious, would have the sympathy of that
great institution, some of whose teachings are, "If any man will
not work, neither shall he eat"; "Stand upright on thy feet";
"Provide things honest in the sight of all men"; "Not slothful
in business"; and the like. But, as a matter of fact, such societies
have had no more bitter antagonists than the churches, and
no more vehement opponents than ministers of religion. In a
meeting composed of such persons I have heard one of their number
denounce with the most impassioned oratory any agency which
undertook, by any mechanism, to intrude into the question of the
circumstances, resources, or worthiness of those who were the objects
of ecclesiastical almsgiving. Who, he demanded, could know
so well as the clergy all the facts needed to enable them wisely and
judiciously to assist those worthy and needy brethren who were
of their own household of faith? Nothing could sound more plausible
or probable; but in a little while it happened that a woman
who had for years been a beneficiary of this very pastor died, leaving
behind her, among her effects, sundry savings-bank books which
showed her to be possessed of some thousands of dollars, which she
bequeathed to relatives in a distant land. Still more recently a
case of a similar character has occurred in which a still larger
amount having been paid over in small sums through a long series
of years by a church, the whole, with interest, has been found to
have been hoarded, the recipient having been a person entirely
capable of self-support, and, as a matter of fact, during the whole
period self-supporting, and the large accumulations are at present
the subject of a suit in which the church is endeavoring to recover
what it not unnaturally regards as its own misappropriated money.
And yet, as any one knows who knows anything of the delicacy,
vigilancy, and thoroughness with which a well-organized society
conducts its work, any such grotesque and deplorable result
would, with a little wise co-operation between the Church and
such a society, have been rendered impossible. I know how impatient
many good people are of the services of any such association,
and we have all heard ad nauseam of their protests against a "spy
system which invades the sacred privacy of decent poverty," and
the rest; but, in fact, such persons never seem to realize that, in
one aspect of it, the Church stands, or, as a matter of common honesty,
as the administrator of trust funds, ought to stand, on the
same equitable basis, at least, as a life-insurance company. Now,
when I seek the benefits of a life-insurance company I am asked
certain questions which affect not only my physical resources but
my diseases, my ancestry and their diseases, my personal habits, infirmities,
and the like. If the company has the right, in the just
interests of its other clients, to ask these questions, as administering
a large trust, has not the Church, which is also the administrator of
a trust no less in the interest of other clients?
But, indeed, this is the lowest aspect of such a question, and
I freely admit it. The title of this paper points to that gravest
aspect of it, with which I am now concerned. The largest mischief
of indiscriminate almsgiving is not its wanton waste—it is
its inevitable and invariable degradation of its objects. I have
spoken of the grave antagonism of the Church to wisely organized
charity, but it is but the echo of the hostility of the individual, and
often of the best and wisest men and women. Elsewhere (but not,
I think, in print) I have related an incident in this connection of
which one is almost tempted to say ex uno disce omnes. Approaching
one day, when I was a pastor in a great city, the door of one
of my clerical brethren, I observed a woman leaving it who, though
she hastily turned her back upon me, I recognized as a member of
my own congregation. On entering my friend's study I said to
him:
"I beg your pardon, but was not that Mrs. —— whom I saw
leaving your door a moment ago?"
"Yes."
"What was she after, may I ask?"
My friend—now, alas! no longer living—was a man distinguished
by singular delicacy and chivalry of character and bearing,
and he turned upon me with some surprise and hauteur and
said:
"Well, yes, you may ask; but I do not know that, in the matter
of the sad and painful circumstances of one of my own parishioners,
I am called upon to answer."
"Precisely," I replied; "but, as it happens, she isn't your parishioner."
"What do you mean, sir?" he exclaimed, with some heat.
"Do you suppose that I don't know the members of my own flock?"
"On the contrary," I said, "I have no doubt that you know
not only them but the members of a great many other flocks, as
in the instance of the person who has just left your door, who, as
it happens, has been a member of the church of which I am rector
for some fifteen years."
The remark and the abundant evidence with which I was able
to re-enforce it at last persuaded my friend to institute further inquiries,
which resulted in the discovery that the subject of those
inquiries maintained similar relations with some seven parishes,
from every one of which she was receiving, as a poor widow, a
monthly allowance! And yet my reverend brother was one of
the most strenuous opponents of any system or society, any challenge
or interrogation which, as he said, came between him and
his poor. Alas! though in one sense they were his poor, in another
they were as remote from him as if they and he had been living
in different hemispheres. With every sympathy for their distresses,
he had not come to recognize that, under those complex
conditions of our modern life, to which I have already referred,
a real knowledge of the classes upon whom need and misfortune
and the temptations to vice and idleness press most heavily has
become almost a science, in which training, experience, most surely
a large faith, but no less surely a large wisdom, are indispensable.
In this work there is undoubtedly a place for institutional
charity, and also for that other which is individual. The former affords
a sphere for a wise economy, for prompt and immediate treatment
or relief, and for the utilization of that higher scientific knowledge
and those better scientific methods which the home, and especially
the tenement house, can not command. But over against
these advantages we are bound always to recognize those inevitable
dangers which they bring with them. The existence of an institution,
whether hospital, almshouse, or orphanage, to the care of
which one may easily dismiss a sick member of the household, or
to which one may turn for gratuitous care and treatment, must
inevitably act as strong temptations to those who are willing to
evade personal obligations that honestly belong to them. In connection
with an institution for the treatment of the eye and ear,
with which I happen to be officially connected, it was found, not
long ago, that the number of patients who sought it for gratuitous
treatment was considerably increased by persons who came to the
hospital in their own carriages, which they prudently left around
the corner, and whose circumstances abundantly justified the belief
that they were quite able to pay for the treatment, which,
nevertheless, their self-respect did not prevent them from accepting
as a dole. Such incidents are symptomatic of a tendency which
must inevitably degrade those who yield to it, and which is at once
vicious and deteriorating. How widespread it is must be evident
to any one who has had the smallest knowledge of the unblushing
readiness with which institutional beneficence is utilized in every
direction. A young married man in the West, I have been told,
wrote to his kindred in the East: "We have had here a glorious
revival of religion. Mary and I have been hopefully converted.
Father has got very old and helpless, and so we have sent him
to the county house." One finds himself speculating with some
curiosity what religion it was to which this filial scion was converted.
Certainly it could not have been that which is commonly
called Christian!
And at the other end of the social scale the situation is often
little better. In our greater cities homes have been provided for
the aged, and especially for that most deserving class of gentlewomen
who, having been reared in affluence, come to old age,
after having struggled to maintain themselves by teaching, needlework,
and the like, with broken powers and empty purses. But
it has, I am informed, been often impossible to find places for
them in institutions especially created for their care, because its
lady managers have filled their places with their own worn-out
servants, who, having spent their years and strength in their employer's
service, are turned over in their old age, with a shrewd
frugality which one can not but admire, to be maintained at the
cost of other people. It is impossible to confront such instances,
and they might be multiplied indefinitely, without recognizing how
enormous are the possibilities of mischief even in connection with
the most useful institutional charity.
And yet these are not so great as those which no less surely
follow, as it is oftenest administered, in the train of individual
beneficence. In an unwritten address, not long ago, I mentioned
an illustration of this which I have been asked to repeat here.
While a rector in a large city parish, I was called upon by a stranger
who asked for money, and who, as evidence of his claims upon my
consideration, produced a letter from my father, written some
twenty-five years before, when he was Bishop of Pennsylvania.
The writer had, when this letter was placed in my hands, been
dead for some twenty years, but, in a community in which he had
been greatly loved and respected, his words had not, even in that
lapse of time, lost their power. The letter was a general letter,
addressed to no one, and therein lay its mischief. When read, it
had in each instance been returned to its bearer, and he soon discovered
that he had in it a talisman that would open almost any
pocket. He was originally a mechanic who had been temporarily
disabled by a fit of sickness; when I saw him, however, he was obviously,
and doubtless for years had been, in robust health. But
he had discovered that if he were willing to beg he need not work,
and he had long before made his choice on the side of ease and indolence.
After reading the letter which he produced, and looking
at its date and soiled condition, both revealing the long service
that it had performed, I said to him, "No, I will not give you
anything, but I will pay you ten dollars if you will let me have
that letter." It would not be easy to describe the leer of cunning
and contempt with which he promptly took it out of my hand,
folded it, placed it in his pocketbook, and left the room. He was
not so innocent as to surrender his whole capital in trade!
Now, here was a man to whom a well-meaning but inconsiderate
act of kindness had been the cause of permanent degradation.
The highest qualities in such a one—manhood, self-respect, frugal
and industrious independence—had been practically destroyed, and
an act of charity had made of one who was doubtless originally an
honest and hard-working young man, a mendicant, a loafer, and
a fraud.
And yet for a sincere and self-sacrificing purpose to help our
less fortunate fellow-men there were never so many inspiring and
encouraging opportunities. Along with the undeniably increasing
complexity of our modern life there have arisen those attractive
instrumentalities for a genuine beneficence which find their most
impressive illustrations in the improvements of the homes of the
poor in college settlements, in young men's and young girls' clubs in
connection with our mission churches, in the kindergartens and in
the cooking schools founded by these and other beneficent agencies,
in juvenile societies for teaching handicrafts and encouraging savings,
and, best of all, in that resolute purpose to know how the
other half live, of which the noble service of Edward Denison in
England; of college graduates in England and in America, who
have made the college and university settlements their post-graduate
courses; of such women here and in Chicago as Miss Jane
Addams, and the charming group of gentlewomen living in the
House in Henry Street, New York, maintained with such modest
munificence by Mr. Jacob Schiff; of such laborious and discerning
scrutiny and sympathy as have been shown in the studies and
writings of my friend Mr. Jacob Riis—are such noble and enkindling
examples.
These and such as these are indicating to us the lines along
which our best work for the relief of ignorance and suffering and
want may to-day be done, and the more closely they are studied,
and the more intimately the classes with which they are concerned
are known, the more abundantly they will vindicate themselves.
For these latter have in them, far more commonly than we are
wont to recognize, those higher instincts of self-respect and of
manly and womanly independence that, in serving our fellow-men,
we must mainly count upon. There are doubtless instinctive idlers
and mendicants among the poor, as, let us not forget, there are
chronic idlers, borrowers, "sponges," among the classes at the other
end of the social scale. But the same divine image is in our brother
man everywhere, and the better, more truly, more closely we
know him, the more profoundly we shall realize it. During some
six weeks spent, a few years ago, in the most crowded ward in the
world, among thousands of people who lived in the narrowest quarter
and upon the most scanty wage, I gave six hours every day to
receiving anybody and everybody who came to me. During that
time I had visits from dilapidated gentlemen from Albany and
Jersey City and Philadelphia and the like, who supposed that I
was a credulous fool whose money and himself would be soon
parted, and who gave me what they considered many excellent
reasons for presenting them with five dollars apiece. But, during
that whole period, not one of the many thousands who lived in the
crowded tenements all around me, and to hundreds of whom I
preached three times a week, asked me for a penny. Not one!
They came to me by day and by night, men and women, boys and
girls, for counsel, courage, sympathy, admonition, reproof, guidance,
and such light as I could give them—but never, one of them,
for money. They are my friends to-day, and they know that I
am theirs; and, little as that last may mean to the weakest and the
worst of them, I believe that, in the case of any man or woman
who tries to understand and hearten his fellow, it counts for a
thousandfold more than doles, or bread, or institutional relief.
THE HOPI INDIANS OF ARIZONA.
By GEORGE A. DORSEY.
As one approaches the center of Arizona, along the line of the
Santa Fé Railroad, whether he come from the east or from
the west, his attention is sure to be arrested by several tall, spire-like
hills which are silhouetted against the sky to the far north.
These peaks are the Moki Buttes, and to the north of them lies the
province of Tusayan, the land of the Mokis, or the Hopis, as they
prefer to be called. That country to-day contains more of interest
to the student of the history of mankind than any other similar-sized
area on the American continent. But very few of the great
throng that roll by on the Santa Fé trains every year in quest of
pleasure, of recreation, of new scenes and strange, stop off at Holbrook
or Winslow to take the journey to the Hopis, and very few
even know of the existence of these curiously quaint pueblos of
this community, which to-day lives pretty much as it did before
Columbus set out on his long voyage to the unknown West.
The term pueblo, a Spanish word meaning town, is by long
and continued use now almost confined to the clusters of stone and
adobe houses which to-day shelter the sedentary Indians of New
Mexico and Arizona. Not only are these Indian towns called "pueblos,"
but we speak of the Indians themselves as the Pueblo Indians,
and of the culture of the people—for they all have much in common—as
the pueblo culture. This similarity of culture is not due to
unity of race or of language, but is the resultant of a peculiar environment.
In recent times, the limits of the pueblo-culture area
have contracted to meet the demands of the white man; we know
also that before the advent of the Spaniard many once populous
districts had been abandoned, and as a result there came to be
fewer but larger villages. We know also, both from tradition and
from archæological evidence, that in former days the pueblo people
inhabited many of the villages of southern Colorado and Utah, and
that the Hopis and their kin were numerous in many parts of Arizona.
The silent houses of the cliffs, the ruins of central Arizona,
and the great crumbling masses of adobe of the Salt and Gila River
valleys and in northern Chihuahua are all former habitations of
the Pueblo Indian. To-day there are no representatives of these
people in Utah or Colorado, while the seven Hopi towns of Tusayan
alone remain in Arizona. But there are still many pueblos scattered
along the Rio Grande, Jemez, and San Juan Rivers in New
Mexico. Alike in culture, we may divide the existing pueblos into
four linguistic groups—namely, the Hopis of Arizona, the Zuñis of
New Mexico, the Tehuas east of the Rio Grande, and the Queres to
the west of the Rio Grande. Of the earlier home of the last three
stocks we know but little. The ancestors of the Hopis we know
came from different directions—some from the cliff dwellings of the
north, others from central Arizona. To-day, however, they form
a congeries of clans united and welded into a unit by similarity of
purpose and by the more powerful influence of a peculiar environment.
The opinion was held until within a very few years that the
Hopis represented a small branch of the Shoshonean division of the
Uto-Aztecan stock, but Dr. Fewkes, our greatest authority on the
Hopi, has questioned the accuracy of this classification, and it can
be stated that the true affinities of the Hopi have not yet been
discovered.
The province of Tusayan, or the Moqui Reservation, as it is
officially known to-day, contains about four thousand square miles
and about two thousand Indians. It is in the northeastern part
of Arizona, and its towns are about eighty miles by trail from the
railroad. The present inhabitants are grouped in seven pueblos,
located on three parallel mesas, or table-lands, which extend southward
like stony fingers toward the valley of the Little Colorado
River. The first or east mesa contains the pueblos of Walpi, Sitcomovi,
and Hano; on the second or middle mesa are Miconinovi,
Cipaulovi, and Cuñopavi; and on the third or west mesa stands
Oraibi, largest and most ancient of all Hopi pueblos, and in many
respects the best preserved and most interesting community in the
world. A community without a church, separated by a broad, deep
valley from its nearest neighbor, with but a single white man within
twenty miles, removed nearly thirty-five miles from a trading
post, isolated, proud, spurning the advances of the Government,
Oraibi could maintain its independence if every other community
on the earth were blotted out of existence.
The journey from Winslow to Oraibi is not without great interest.
The beautiful snow-capped peaks of the San Francisco
Mountain are always in sight far away to the west, and when the
eye tires of the rigid and immovable desert their graceful outlines
check the often rising feeling of utter helplessness. Then there
is a sweep and barrenness of the plain which is impressive and often
awe-inspiring, and which at times produces a feeling similar to that
created by the sea. Save for the stunted cottonwoods along the
Little Colorado River, there is scant vegetation to relieve the bright
reds, yellows, and blues of the painted desert over which the sun's
heat quivers and dances, revealing here and there mirages of lakes
and forests of wonderfully deceptive vividness. Arising out of the
plain here and there are brief expanses of table-lands, with the soft
under strata crumbled away and the higher strata having fallen
down the sides, producing often the appearance of a ruined castle.
At the foot of the mesas are clumps of sagebrush and grease wood,
while the plain is dotted here and there with patches of cactus and
bright-colored flowers. Foxes and wolves are common enough,
and we are rarely out of sight or sound of the coyote, bands of
which make night hideous with their shrill, weird cry.
Although the Navajo country proper is to the north and east
of Tusayan, their hogans, or thatched-roofed dugouts, are met with
here and there along the valley of the river. The Navajos are the
Bedouins of America. We often see the women in front of the
hogans weaving, or the men along the trail tending their flocks of
sheep and goats, for they are great herders and produce large quantities
of wool, part of which they exchange to the traders; the remainder
the women weave into blankets, which are in general use
throughout the Southwest and which find their way through the
trade to all parts of the relic-loving world. They raise, in addition,
great quantities of beans, which they also send out to the railroad.
They are better supplied with ponies than the Hopi, and with
them make long journeys, for the Navajos do not live a communal
life as do the pueblo people, but are scattered over an extensive
territory, each family living alone and being independent
of its neighbors.
After a long and tiresome journey of four days we arrive at the
foot of the mesa and begin the long, upward climb, for Oraibi is
eight hundred feet above the surrounding plain and seven thousand
feet above the level of the sea. Just before the crest is reached
the trail for fifty or more feet is simply a path along and up the
base of a rocky precipice, its steps worn deep by the never-ending
line of Indians passing to and fro. Once upon the summit we have
an unobstructed view over the dry, arid, sun-parched valleys for
many miles—a view which, in spite of its desolation, is extremely
fascinating.
Street Scene, Oraibi.
We often speak of this or of that town as the oldest on the
continent. But here we are in the streets of a town which antedates
all other cities of the United States—a pueblo which occupied
this very spot when, in 1540, Coronado halted in Cibola and
sent Don Pedro de Tobar on to the west to explore the then unknown
desert. Imagine seven rather irregularly parallel streets
about two hundred yards long, with here and there a more open
spot or plaza, lined on each side with mud-plastered, rough-laid
stone houses, and you have Oraibi. The houses rise in the form of
terraces to a height of two or three stories. As a rule there is no
opening to the ground-floor dwellings save through a small, square
hatch in the roof. Leading up to this roof are rude ladders, which
in a few rare instances are simply steps cut in a solid log, differing
in nowise from those found leading into the chambers of the old
cliff ruins of southern Colorado. The roof of the first row or terrace
of houses forms a kind of balcony or porch for the second terrace,
and so the roof of the second-story houses serves a similar
useful purpose for the third-story houses.
Terrace Scene, Streets of Oraibi.
Two things impress one on entering a Hopi home for the first
time—the small size of the rooms, with their low ceilings, and the
cleanness of the floors. Both floors and walls are kept fresh and
bright by oft-renewed coats of thin plaster, which is always done
by the woman, for she owns the house and all within it; she builds
it and keeps it in repair. The ceiling is of thatch held up by
poles, which in turn rest on larger rafters. Apart from the mealing
bins and the piki stones, to be described later, there is no furniture—no
table, no chairs, no stools, simply a shelf or two with
trays of meal or bread, and near the wall a long pole for clothing,
suspended by buckskin thongs from the rafters. Their bed is a
sheepskin rug and one or two Navajo blankets spread on the floor
wherever there may be a vacant space. In one corner may be a
pile of corn stacked up like cordwood, and in another corner melons
or squashes and a few sacks of dried peaches or beans. Between
the thatch and rafters you will find bows and arrows, spindles, hairpins,
digging-sticks, and boomerangs, and from the wall may hang
a doll or two, children's playthings. Such is an Oraibi home; but
it always seems a happy home, and the traveler is always welcome.
Street Scene, Oraibi.
A prominent feature of almost every pueblo plaza is a squarish,
boxlike elevation which extends about two feet above the
level of the earth and measures about six feet in length, with a
two-foot hole in the center, from which projects to a considerable
height the posts of a ladder. If you descend this ladder you will
find yourself in a subterranean chamber, rectangular in shape,
and measuring about twenty-five feet in length by about fifteen
feet in breadth, with a height from the floor to the ceiling of about
ten feet. This underground room is the kiva, or the estufa of the
Spaniards. Here are held all the secret rites of religious ceremonies,
and here the men resort to smoke, to gossip, to spin, and
weave. The floor, to an extent of two thirds of the entire length,
except for a foot-wide space extending around this portion, is excavated
still farther to a depth of a foot and a half. The remaining
elevated portion is for the spectators, while the banquette
around the excavation is used by the less active participants in the
ceremonies. Just under the hatchway and in front of the spectators'
floor is a depression which is used as a fire hearth. The walls
are neatly coated with plaster, and the entire floor is paved with
irregularly shaped flat stones fitted together in a rough manner.
There is sometimes inserted in the floor, at the end removed from
the spectators, a plank with a circular hole about an inch and a half
in diameter; this hole is called the sipapu, and symbolizes the opening
in the earth through which the ancestors of the Hopi made
their entrance into this world. The roof of the kiva is supported
by great, heavy beams, which are brought from the San Francisco
Mountain with infinite trouble and labor. In Oraibi there are
thirteen kivas, each probably in the possession of some society, one
of which belongs to women, who there erect their altar in the
mamzrouti ceremony. Oraibi has the largest number of kivas of
any of the Hopi pueblos; in a single plaza there are no less than
four kivas. This plaza is on the west side of the village, and one
of the kivas is of special interest, for in it are held the secret rites
of the weird snake ceremony. A little to the west of this plaza
is a small bit of the mesa, standing apart and separated from the
main mesa by a depression. This is known as "Oraibi rock,"
whence the pueblo takes its name. The etymology of this name
"Oraibi" is lost in a misty past, but the rock is still held in great
veneration. On it stands a rude shrine, where one may always find
sacrificial offerings of prayer-sticks, pipes, sacred meal, cakes, etc.
Oraibi Rock, upon which stands Katcin Kiku, the Principal Oraibi Shrine.
The roof of a Hopi house is always of interest. Here we may
see corn drying in the sun or loads of *** ready for use, women
dressing their hair or fondling their babies, or groups of children
playing or roasting melon seeds in an old broken earthenware vessel
which rests on stones over a fire. From the projecting rafters are
ears of corn hung up to dry, or pieces of meat placed there to be
out of reach of the dogs, or bunches of yarn just out of the dye pot.
When a ceremony is being performed in some one of the plazas the
roofs near by present a scene which is animated in the extreme,
every square foot of space being occupied by a merry, good-natured
throng of young and old. As one looks from one group to another
it is impossible not to notice the stunted and dwarfed appearance
of the women, which is in marked contrast to that of the men, who
are beautifully formed, of medium height, and of well-knit frames.
There is not, however, the same powerful ruggedness or splendid
development among these pueblo dwellers which we find among
the plains Indians, for the days of the Hopi women are spent in
carrying water and grinding corn, while the men in summer till
their fields and in winter spin and weave.
In considering the routine life of the Hopi it is hard to draw
a sharp line between what we may call his regular daily occupations
and his religious life, for they are closely interwoven. He
is by nature a religionist, and he never forgets his allegiance and
obligations to the unseen forces which control and command him.
An Oraibi Mother and Children.
In nothing is the primitiveness or the absence from contamination
of the Hopi better revealed than in the children, for here,
as elsewhere, is it shown that they are the best conservators of the
habits and customs of ancestral life. What utter savages the little
fellows are! Stark naked generally, whether it be summer or winter,
dirty from head to foot, their long black hair disheveled and
tangled and standing out in every direction, their head often resembling
a thick matted bunch of sagebrush. They are never idle;
now back of the village behind tiny stone ramparts eagerly watching
their horsehair bird snares, or engaged in a sham battle with
slings and corncobs, or grouped in threes or fours about a watermelon,
eagerly and with much noise gorging themselves to absolute
fullness, or down on the side of the mesa playing in the clay
pits. A not uncommon sight is that of two or three little fellows
trudging off in pursuit of imaginary game, armed with miniature
bows and arrows or with boomerangs and digging-sticks. In their
disposition toward white visitors they are extremely shy and reticent,
but they are also very inquisitive and curious, and, furthermore,
they have a sweet tooth, and one only need display a stick
of candy to have half the infantile population of the pueblo at his
heels for an hour at a time. If perchance one of the little fellows
should die, he is not buried in the common cemetery at the foot of
the mesa, but he is laid away among the rocks in some one of the
innumerable crevices which are to be found on all sides near the
top of the mesa, for the Hopis, in common with many other native
tribes of America, believe that the souls of departed children do
not journey to the spirit land, but are born again.
Grave of Child in Rock Crevice.
As the girls reach the age of ten or twelve they distinguish
themselves by dressing their hair in a manner which is both striking
and absolutely unique on the face of the earth. The hair is
gathered into two rolls on each side of the head, and then, at a distance
of from one to two inches, is wound over a large U-shaped
piece of wood into two semicircles, both uniting in appearance to
form a single large disk, the diameter of which is sometimes as
much as eight inches. After marriage the hair is parted in the
middle over the entire head, and is gathered into two queues, one
on each side, which are then wound innumerable times by a long
hair string beginning a few inches from the head and extending
about four inches. The ends of the queues are loose. Hopi maidens
are, as a rule, possessed of fine, regular features, slender, lithe,
and graceful bodies, and are often beautiful. But with the early
marriage comes a daily round of drudgery, which prevents full development
and stunts and dwarfs the body. But to old age she is
generally patient, cheerful, nor does she often complain. Lines
produced by toil and labor may show in her face, but rarely those
of worry or discontent. Even long before marriage she has not
only learned to help her mother in the care of her younger brothers
and sisters, but she has already trained her back to meet the requirements
of the low-placed corn mills. From her tenth year to
her last it has been estimated that every Hopi woman spends on an
average three hours out of every twenty-four on her knees stooping
over a metate, or corn-grinder, for corn forms about ninety per
cent of the vegetable food of the Hopis.
In every house you will find, in a corner, a row of two, three,
or four square boxlike compartments or bins of thin slabs of sandstone
set on edge. Each bin contains a metate set at an angle with
its lower edge slightly below the level of the floor. There is a
clear space around each stone to permit of a better disposition of
the corn and meal. The texture of the metates is graduated from
the first to the last, the final
one being capable of grinding
the finest meal. Accompanying
the metate is a
crushing or grinding stone
about a foot in length and
from three to four inches
wide. Its under surface is
flat, while its upper surface
is convex to a slight extent,
so as to permit of its being
grasped firmly by the thumb
and fingers of both hands.
The corn is ground between
these two stones, the upper
one being worked up and
down the metate by a motion
of the operator not unlike
that of a woman washing
clothes on a washboard. The favorite position assumed by the
woman while working is to sit on her knees, her toes resting against
the wall of the house behind her. Of the many colors of corn used
by the Hopis, blue is the most common, and corn of this color is
ordinarily employed in the making of bread; other colors, however,
are used for the piki consumed in ceremonial feasts.
The stone used by the Oraibians for making piki is from a
sandstone quarry near Burro Springs. It is about twenty inches
long by fourteen broad, and is three inches thick. The upper surface
is first dressed by means of stone picks, and is polished by a
hard rubbing-stone, and then finally treated with pitch and other
ingredients until its surface is as smooth as glass. It is mounted
on its two long edges by upright slabs, so that it stands about ten
inches from the level of the floor, the floor itself being usually excavated
to a depth of two or three inches beneath the stone. At a
height of about four feet above this primitive griddle is a large
rectangular hood which is extended above the roof in the form of
a chimney made of bottomless pots, one resting on the other.
Kneeling in front of the stone and supporting her body with her
left arm, the woman coats the stone with the thin batter of corn
and water with the fingers of her right hand. After a few seconds'
time she lifts the waferlike sheet from the stone and transfers it
to a mat which is made for this special purpose. For some time
the piki remains soft and pliable, and while in this condition she
rolls or folds the sheets according to her custom—some folding,
others rolling it. It is a curious sight on the feast days of certain
ceremonies to see women gathering from all quarters of the village
at an appointed house, each carrying a tray heaped high with
rolls of this paper bread.
Woman of Oraibi making Coiled Pottery.
The Hopis are among the foremost potters in North America,
when we take into consideration the fineness of the clays used and
the character of the decoration. But in many respects, especially
in form, their ware is much inferior to that of the ancient Mexicans
and Peruvians. They make pottery to-day as they did hundreds
of years ago, but the quality of the work has greatly deteriorated
and the earthenware now produced is not to be compared
with that found in near-by Hopi ruins. It should be kept in mind,
however, that the specimens found in the ancient graves are to a
certain extent ceremonial, and consequently better made and more
ornate in their decoration than those which were made simply for
household purposes. Still, there are a fineness of texture and a delicacy
of coloring in the ancient ware which can not now be produced.
It is to be noted, also, that the Hopi woman of to-day can not decipher
the designs on the earlier pottery, although she often copies
them. The demand for earthenware vessels, however, is nearly as
great at present as it was in prehistoric days, for you may search
the homes of Oraibi for a long time without finding a tin pan or
an iron pot. Thus it is that every Hopi woman must be a worker
in clay, and one of the occasional sights is that of a woman on her
"front porch" surrounded by vessels of all sizes and in varying degrees
of completeness. The process of pottery-making is somewhat
as follows: After the clay has been worked into a plastic mass she
draws out from it a round strip the size of one's finger and about
five inches in length. This is coiled flat in the bottom of the tray,
and forms the base of the vessel. Other clay strips are kneaded
out of the mass, and these are coiled in a gradually increasing spiral,
the desired shape and proportion being acquired at the same
time, until the vessel has reached its proper height. The sides of
the vessel are then thinned down, and both inside and outside are
made smooth by means of small bits of gourds and polishing-stones.
The vessel is then ready for a coat of wash, after which it is painted
and fired. This method of making pottery is not peculiar to the
pueblos, but is found among some of the tribes of South America.
The art of basketry was never brought to a high state among
the Hopis, for they confine themselves chiefly to the manufacture of
large shallow trays and rough baskets made of the long, pliable
leaves of the yucca or of some other fiber. These answer all ordinary
domestic requirements. From the reddish-brown branches of
a willowlike bush which grows near, the Hopi mother interweaves a
cradle board for her children. This cradle is peculiar in its shape,
and especially so in its construction, and differs greatly from that
in use among the plains Indians. Another singular point to be
noted is the fact that this cradle board is not often strapped to
the back, but is usually in the arms, or, more often still, is placed
on the floor by the side of the mother as she works. The Oraibi
mesa, like other table-lands of Tusayan, is destitute of water. The
nearest spring is in the valley at the foot of the mesa nearly a mile
away. From before sunrise to ten o'clock of every day there is an
almost unbroken line of water carriers going and coming from the
spring, bending under the weight of a large jar which they carry
on their back by means of a blanket, the ends of which are tied in a
knot on their forehead. No wonder these women grow prematurely
old. Winter for them, however, has its advantages, for
they have an ingenious way of utilizing the snow to save them from
the necessity of going down the mesa for water. One of the most
extraordinary sights I saw was that of a Hopi woman and her little
girl trudging along, each bent almost to the ground under the
weight of an immense snowball. These they were carrying home
on their backs, enveloped in a blanket. About half a mile from
the pueblo, back on the mesa, reservoirs have been scooped out in
the soft sandstone, which are often partially filled by the spring
rains, but the water soon becomes brackish and is not potable, but is
used for washing clothes.
The costume of the woman consists ordinarily of four pieces—a
blanket, dress, belt, and moccasins. The blanket is of wool, and
is about four feet square. It is blue in color, with a black border
on two sides. These two edges are usually bound with a heavy
green or yellow woolen thread. To make the dress, this blanket
is once folded and is sewn together with red yarn at the long side,
except for a space sufficiently large to accommodate one arm. The
folded upper border is also sewn for a short space, which rests on
one of the shoulders. The other shoulder and both arms are bare,
except as they may be partially covered by the blanket. The belt
or sash is of black and green stripes, with a red center, ornamented
with geometric designs in black; it is about four inches wide, and
is long enough to permit of being wound around the waist two or
three times. The moccasins are of unpainted buckskin, one side of
the top of which terminates in a long, broad strip, which is wound
round the leg several times and extends up to the knee, thus forming
a thick legging. More than half the time the Hopi woman is
barefooted. The girls wear silver earrings, or suspend from the
lobe of the ear small rectangular bits of wood, one side of which is
covered with a mosaic of turquoise. This custom is of some antiquity,
as ear pendants exactly similar to these have been found in
the Hopi ruins of Homolobi, on the Little Colorado River.
In addition to this regulation costume, worn on all ordinary
occasions, each Hopi woman is supposed to own a bridal costume
and two special blankets, which are worn only in ceremonies, and
hence need not here be described. The bridal costume consists of
a pair of moccasins, two pure white cotton blankets, one large and
the other small, both having large tassels of yellow and the black
yarn at each corner, and a long, broad, white sash, each end of which
terminates in a fringe of balls and long thread. All three garments,
before being used, are covered with a thick coat of kaolin, so that
they are quite stiff. With these garments belongs a reed mat sufficiently
large to envelop the small blanket and the sash.
So far as I am able to learn, the three pieces of this remarkable
costume are never worn except on a single occasion, and at
only one other time does the bride formally appear in any of them.
About a month after the marriage ceremony has been performed,
during which time she has been living with the family of her husband,
she completes the marriage ceremony by returning to the
house of her mother. This is termed "going home," and this will
be her place of abode until she and her husband own a dwelling of
their own. For this ceremony she puts on the larger of the two
blankets, which reaches almost to the ground and comes up high on
the back of the head, covering her ears. The smaller blanket and
the sash are rolled up in the mat, and with this in front of her on
her two arms she begins her journey "home." This white cotton
costume is probably a survival from times which antedate the introduction
of wool into the Southwest.
Who makes all these garments, blankets, etc.? Not the women,
as you might expect, but the men. A Hopi woman doesn't even
make her own moccasins. If you will descend into one of the kivas
on almost any day of the year, except when the secret rites of ceremonies
are being held, you will behold an industrious and an interesting
scene. You will find a group of men, naked except for a
loin cloth, all busy either with the carding combs, the spindle, or
the loom; and to me the most interesting of these three operations
is that of the spinning of wool. The spindle itself is long and
heavy, and the whorl, in the older examples, is a large disk cut
from a mountain goat's horn. There is no attempt at decoration,
nor do the spindles compare with those found in Peru and other
parts of America for neatness and beauty. An unusual feature of
the method employed by the Hopi spinner is the manner in which
the spindle is held under one foot while he straightens out the
thread preparatory to winding it.
For weaving, two kinds of looms are used. One is a frame
holding in place a fifteen-inch row of parallel reeds, each about six
inches long and perforated in the center. This apparatus is used
solely for making belts, sashes, and hair and knee bands. These
are not commonly woven in the kiva, but in the open air on the terrace,
one end of the warp being fastened to some projecting rafter.
The other loom is much larger, and is used for blankets, dresses, and
all large garments. It differs in no essential particular from other
well-known looms in use by the majority of the aborigines of this
continent. The method of suspending the loom is perhaps worth
a moment's notice, as in nearly every house and in all kivas special
provision is made for its ***. From the wall near the ceiling
project two wooden beams, on which, parallel to the floor, is a long
wooden pole, and to this is fastened, by buckskin thongs, the upper
part of the loom. Immediately under this pole is a plank, flush
with the floor, in which at short intervals are partially covered
U-shaped cavities in the wood, through which are passed buckskin
thongs which are fastened to the lower pole of the loom. The sets
of thongs are long enough to permit of the loom being lowered or
raised to a convenient height. While at work the weaver generally
squats on the floor in front of his loom, or he occasionally sits
on a low, boxlike stool. It is no uncommon sight to see, at certain
times of the year, as many as six or eight looms in operation at
one time in a single kiva. The men also do all the sewing and embroidering.
Practically all the yarn consumed by the Hopis is
home-dyed, but the colors now used are almost entirely from aniline
dyes and indigo. Cotton is no longer used except in the manufacture
of certain ceremonial garments, all others being made of
wool. They own their own sheep, which find a scant living in the
valleys; for the better protection of the sheep from wolves they
also keep large numbers of goats.
Although the men do all the weaving, they do but little of it
for themselves. For the greater part of the year their only garment
is the loin cloth—a bit of store calico. In addition, they all
own a shirt of cheap black or colored calico, which is generally
more or less in rags, and a pair of loose, shapeless pantaloons, made
often from some old flour sack or bit of white cotton sheeting. It
is a rather incongruous sight to see some old Hopi, his thin legs incased
in a dirty, ragged pair of flour-sack trousers, on which can
still be traced "*** Flour, Purest and Best."
Neither sex scarifies, tattoos, or paints any part of the body
except in ceremonies, when colored paints are used as each ceremony
requires. The men often wear large silver earrings, and suspend
from their neck as many strands of shell and turquoise beads
as their wealth will allow. Some of the younger men wear, in addition,
a belt of large silver disks and a shirt and pantaloons of
velvet. Most of their silver ornaments, it should be noted, however,
have been secured in trade from the Navajos, who are the
most expert silversmiths of the Southwest.
When the Hopi isn't spinning or weaving, he is in his kiva
praying for rain, or he is in the field keeping the crows from his
corn. I was once asked if the Hopis plow with oxen or horses.
They use neither; they do not plow. When they plant corn they
dig a deep hole in the earth with a long, sharp stick until they
reach the moist soil. When the corn is sprouted and has reached
a height of a few inches there is always the possibility of its
being blown flat by the wind or overwhelmed in a sand storm.
To provide against this the Hopi incloses the exposed parts of his
little field with wind-breakers, made by planting in the earth thick
rows of stout branches of brush. These hedges even are often
overwhelmed by the sand and completely covered up.
And the crows, and the stray horses, and the cattle! Surely
the poor Indian must fight very hard for his corn. For nearly two
months he never leaves it unguarded, and that he may be comfortable
he makes a shelter behind which he can escape the burning
rays of the July and August sun. The shelters are occasionally
rather pretentious affairs, at times consisting of a thick brush roof,
supported by stout rafters which rest on upright posts. More
often, however, they simply consist of a row of cottonwood poles,
five or six feet high, set upright at a slight angle in the earth.
Although corn is by far the most important vegetable food, the
rich though sun-parched soil yields large crops of beans and melons
of all kinds.
Valley Scene; Fields and Peach Trees. Oraibi on Mesa to the Right.
Peach orchards also thrive in the sheltered valleys near the
mesa, and in the fall great patches of peaches may be seen spread
out to dry on the rocks of the mesa to the north of the village. Of
both beans and peaches the Hopis generally have large quantities
for the outside market, which they take over to the railroad on the
backs of burros or ponies.
Before leaving the subject of the daily life of the male portion
of Oraibi I have still to mention a curious weapon of which they
make occasional use. This is the throwing-stick, or so-called boomerang,
which differs only slightly from that used by the aborigines
of Australia; the Hopi stick, however is better made, and is ornamented
by short red and black lines. This is the weapon of the
young men, and with it they work havoc with the rabbits which infest
the valleys. But although they have good control over it, as
can often be seen on their return from a hunt, they are not able to
cause its return as can the Australians. At first thought it seems
rather strange that the boomerang should have been evolved by
two groups of mankind dwelling in parts of the world so remote,
but we must look for the explanation of this phenomenon in the
fact that the natural conditions of the two countries have much in
common—a generally level, sandy country, with here and there
patches of brush, a peculiar condition which would readily yield
itself to the development of an equally peculiar and specialized
weapon.
Oraibi Man transporting Firewood with Burros.
For fire the Hopi depends almost entirely on the rank growth
of brush which is found along the ravines. This suffices to supply
heat to the piki stone and the boiling pot, and enough to keep a
fire on the hearth in the kiva. But now and then he must make
a distant journey to that part of the mesa where the supply of
stunted and scrubby pines and piñons has not already been exhausted;
for by custom four kinds of fuel are prescribed for the
kivas, and to keep the hearth replenished with these often necessitates
long journeys. As the woman bends under her water jar,
so the man staggers along under his load of ***, often carried
from a distance of several miles.
REFORM OF PUBLIC CHARITY.
By BIRD S. COLER,
COMPTROLLER OF THE CITY OF NEW YORK.
Abuse of municipal charity in New York city has reached a
stage where immediate and radical reform is necessary in
order to prevent the application of public funds to the payment of
subsidies to societies and institutions where professional pauperism
is indirectly encouraged and sustained. More than fifty years ago
the city began to pay money to private institutions for the support
of public charges. The system has grown without check until
to-day New York contributes more than three times as much public
money to private or semiprivate charities as all the other large
cities in the United States combined. The amounts so appropriated
in 1898 by some of the chief cities were: Chicago, $2,796;
Philadelphia, $151,020; St. Louis, $22,579; Boston, nothing; Baltimore,
$227,350; Cincinnati, nothing; New Orleans, $30,110;
Pittsburg, nothing; Washington, $194,500; Detroit, $8,081; Milwaukee,
nothing; New York city, $3,131,580.51.
No serious attempt has heretofore been made to reform this
system of using public funds for the subsidizing of private charities.
One reason for this has doubtless been the fact that until
recently the local authorities were powerless to avoid or modify
the effects of mandatory legislation which has disposed of city
moneys without regard to the opinions entertained by the representatives
of the local taxpayers. It has always been easier to
pass a bill at Albany than to persuade the Board of Estimate and
Apportionment of the propriety of bestowing public funds on private
charities, and the managers of private charities seeking public
assistance have therefore generally proceeded along the line of
least resistance. The effect of this system was to make beneficiaries
the judges of their own deserts, for the bills presented by them
to the Legislature were usually passed without amendment or
modification, and gross inequalities in disbursing public funds have
arisen, different institutions receiving different rates of payment
for the same class of work.
In 1890 the city paid for the support of prisoners and paupers
in city institutions the sum of $1,949,100, and for paupers in private
institutions the sum of $1,845,872. In 1898 these figures
had increased to $2,334,456 for prisoners and public paupers, and
$3,131,580 for paupers in private institutions. Private charity,
so called, has prospered at the expense of the city until in some
cases it has become a matter of business for profit rather than relief
of the needy. The returns made by institutions receiving appropriations
in bulk from the city treasury show that many of them
are using the public funds for purposes not authorized by the Constitution.
The Constitution authorizes payments to be made for
"care, support, and maintenance." The reports of a large number
of institutions show the money annually obtained from the
city carried forward wholly or in part as a surplus. Different uses
are made of this surplus, none of them, however, authorized by law
or warranted by a proper regard for the interests of the taxpayers.
In some cases this surplus is used to pay off mortgage indebtedness,
in others for permanent additions to buildings, or for increase of
investments and endowment. In one case the manager of an institution
frankly explained a remarkable falling off in disbursements
(so great that its charitable activities were almost suspended)
by stating that it was proposed, by exercising great economy for
a number of years, to let the city's annual appropriations accumulate
into a respectable building fund. The flagrant nature of this
abuse is so apparent that comment is unnecessary.
Appropriations for dependent children have reached enormous
proportions. Out of a total of $3,249,623.81 appropriated for private
charities in 1899, no less than $2,216,773, or sixty-nine per
cent, is for the care and support of children. In no city in the
United States will the number of children supported at the public
expense compare, in proportion to the population, with the number
so cared for in the city of New York. This may be partly accounted
for by the extremes of poverty to be met with in the
metropolis, especially among the foreign-born population, where
the struggle for existence is so severe as to weaken the family ties;
partly by the rivalry and competition which have existed between
the several institutions devoted to this kind of work; partly by
reason of the fact that the rate paid by the city for the care of
these children is such as to enable the larger institutions, in all
probability, to make a small profit; but, to a considerable extent,
also from an insufficient inspection by public officers for the purpose
of ascertaining whether children are the proper subjects of
commitment and detention. In the city of New York 50,638 children
in private institutions are cared for at the public expense.
This is one to every sixty-eight of the estimated population of
the city.
So much for the abuse and extent of public charity. Now for
the reforming of the system that was fast approaching the condition
of a grave scandal. The last Legislature passed a bill placing
in the hands of the local Board of Estimate absolute power over
all appropriations for charitable purposes, and for the first time
in many years reform is possible. The discretion conferred by
this act upon the Board of Estimate and Apportionment carries
with it a large responsibility. If hereafter the city, in its relation
to private charitable institutions, should either, on the one
hand, be wasteful of public funds, or, on the other hand, should
fail to perform the duties owed by the community to the dependent
classes, the blame can not be shifted to the Legislature, but will
rest squarely upon the shoulders of the local authorities.
In treating a condition which has been allowed to exist for
many years almost without challenge from the local authorities,
and which has grown upon the passive or indifferent attitude of
the public, sweeping and immediate reforms can be instituted only
at the cost of serious temporary injury to certain charitable work
of a necessary character. I believe that the best results will be
obtained if the city authorities first decide clearly the relations
to be established between the city treasury and private charitable
institutions, and then move toward that end by gradually conforming
the appropriations in the budget to that idea, in such a manner
that progress shall be made as rapidly as may be consistent with
the desire to avoid crippling excellent charities which have been
led to depend for many years upon public assistance. By this, of
course, I do not mean to suggest that we should approach the
subject with excessive timidity, for the evils that exist have assumed
such proportions that a more or less severe use of the pruning
knife must be made in dealing with appropriations, else the
effect will be scarcely perceptible. I am convinced that ultimately
the cause of charity will benefit rather than suffer from this course,
for it is a serious objection to the whole subsidy system that it
tends to dry up the sources of private benevolence.
In making up the budget for 1900 I shall urge my associates
in the Board of Estimate to agree with me to limit the appropriations
for charity to actual relief work accomplished. The giving
of public money in lump sums to private societies and institutions
for miscellaneous charitable work, of which there is no public or
official inspection, should be discontinued at once. It has been the
practice for some years past, both in Brooklyn and New York, to
donate annually lump sums of money to such organizations. In
New York these amounts have been for the most part comparatively
small, and principally derived from the Theatrical and Concert-License
Fund. In Brooklyn the amounts have been larger,
and were obtained originally from the Excise Fund, and later
directly from the budget. This practice should be wholly discontinued.
The charter itself contains stringent prohibitions against
the distribution of outdoor relief by the Department of Public
Charities, and the spirit of these provisions would certainly seem
to disfavor accomplishing the same result in an indirect manner.
Many of these recipients of public funds devote themselves exclusively
to outdoor relief, and an examination of the purposes of some
of these organizations shows that, however proper these may be as
the result of private benevolence, they are extremely improper
objects of the public bounty. The immediate and permanent discontinuance
of appropriations to all such societies and institutions
will correct one of the gravest abuses of the present system. If
the persons conducting these miscellaneous charities are really sincere,
and believe that they are doing good, they can readily obtain
from private sources the funds necessary to carry on the work.
I shall urge that all appropriations to institutions of every
kind not controlled by the city be limited to per-capita payment
for the support of public charges, and that a system of thorough
inspection be at once established to ascertain if present and future
inmates are really persons entitled to maintenance at public expense.
In addition to this precaution, the comptroller should have
full power to withhold payments to any institution after an appropriation
has been made if in his judgment, after examination,
the money has not been earned. The payment of city money to
dispensaries should be discontinued, except in special cases where
the work done is clearly a proper charge against the public treasury.
No money should be paid for the treatment of dependent
persons in any private hospital while there is unoccupied room in
the city hospitals.
The city maintains its own hospitals, while at the same time
subsidizing private institutions which compete with them. During
the last few years great improvements have been made in the
city hospitals, but their condition is still capable of considerable
further improvement. While sometimes overcrowded, it frequently
happens that the city hospitals are not filled to the limits of
their capacity, and it would seem as though the city should not
deal with private hospitals except as subsidiary aids or adjuncts
to the public institutions. It stands to reason that so long as
there are vacant beds in the city hospitals and the city is at the
same time subsidizing private hospitals at a cost greater than the
expense of caring for patients in its own institutions, a wrong is
being done to the taxpayers. If private hospitals are to receive
public assistance at all, payments should be made only at some
uniform rate, approximately the same as the cost per capita of
maintenance in the public institutions.
The gravest problem of public charity is the support and training
of dependent children, because that has to do with the making
of future citizens of the republic as well as the relief of immediate
suffering. This work is entirely in the hands of private
societies and institutions. The rearing of large numbers of children
in either private or public institutions is in itself an evil—a
necessary evil—and likely to continue as long as there is extreme
poverty, but still an evil, and not to be fostered by subventions
of public money in unnecessary cases, when parents are really able
to provide for their support.
To build, equip, and maintain public buildings for the care of
dependent children seems to me entirely impracticable. Regardless
of the matter of expense, which would be enormous, all the
disadvantages of the "institutional system" would continue, and
it is not likely that public employees could be obtained who would
rear children as economically, as efficaciously, or with the same
devotion and self-denial as is the case with the religious orders
and associations now performing this work—in many respects so successfully.
The care of these children by direct governmental agencies
being therefore practically impossible, in the city of New York
at least, and it being recognized that the present system is likely
to continue for many years, if not permanently, the most should
be made of it. With the religious training of children the city
has nothing to do. Their moral training may also be left safely
to those now responsible therefor. On the other hand, the State
is vitally concerned with their mental and physical development,
and visitation and control for the purpose of maintaining a proper
standard in these respects is essential. This form of public charity,
like many others, has been abused, and many children are now
supported in institutions who probably should not be there. For
the rearing of a child into a possible useful man or woman a poor
home is better than a good institution, and it is the duty of the city
authorities to extend the work of inspection and investigation of
such cases until they make it impossible for fraud in the commitment
and retention of children to escape detection.
The reduction and regulation of appropriations as outlined can
not be classed as a radical reform, and will work no hardship upon
any dependent person who is a proper charge upon the city. The
saving to the taxpayers, if the plan I have suggested is adopted,
will approximate one million dollars in 1900, and a steady reduction
of expenditures for charitable work should continue for several
years to come.
CHRISTIAN SCIENCE FROM A PHYSICIAN'S POINT OF VIEW.
By JOHN B. HUBER, A. M., M. D.
Christian science is stated to be a religious system which
was "discovered," in 1866, by Mrs. Mary Baker G. Eddy, a
lady now living in the vicinity of Boston, Mass., who has passed
her eightieth year, and who is called by her followers the "Mother
of the Christian Science Church," or "Mother Mary." Mrs.
Eddy has formulated Christian Science in a book entitled Science
and Health, with Key to the Scriptures, in which book are to be
found the principles upon which this system rests. We are told
that to him who studies this book reverently and conscientiously
there will be revealed "the Truth," for which man has been searching
without avail since the beginning of his existence; that the
faithful student will find in Christian Science an infallible guide
for the conduct of life in all its phases; and that the Christian
Scientist has the power to heal without any therapeutic means,
other than that of the influence of mind upon mind, all imaginable
ills, surgical or medical, which afflict mankind and the lower animals.
Mrs. Eddy tells us that she and her followers have had
this power transmitted to them from Jesus Christ, and that they
are able to heal the sick and to perform miracles as He is said to
have done. In Science and Health all religious systems other than
"Christian Science" are held to have been erroneous and pernicious
in their influence upon mankind, and the practice of medicine,
as it is taught in the medical colleges, is considered to be
hurtful rather than helpful to humanity, and to have increased
disease rather than ameliorated human suffering.
It is said that in 1898 there were in the Greater City of New
York three thousand Christian Scientists and seven Christian Science
churches. The whole number of Christian Scientists is declared
to be one million, of whom one hundred thousand, it is said,
are engaged in the business of "healing," and are called "healers."
The movement has been and is spreading day by day.
In religious matters Christian Science has divided many homes,
and has destroyed not a few through the mischief produced by its
propaganda. It is claimed that Christian Science has cured many
who have not been benefited by the efforts of regular practitioners
of medicine. On the other hand, many have died during the
exclusive ministrations of Christian Scientists. Moreover, Christian
Science considers itself entitled to disregard such sanitary
laws, including those concerning infectious diseases, as have been
found effectual to preserve intact the general health of communities
and peoples.
Christian Science, then, is a cult unusually powerful and far
reaching in its influence, and it is therefore entitled to and should
invite correspondingly careful investigation of all its various
aspects.
I have been interested in Christian Science from the view-point
of the medical man, and I have felt quite unaffected, for
the reason which I shall presently give, by Mrs. Eddy's stricture
that "a person's ignorance of Christian Science is a sufficient reason
for his silence on the subject." The system of medicine, as
it is taught in the great medical colleges of to-day, is an epitome
of the accumulated study and experience of mankind from the
time human beings first became ill up to the present day. All
systems of cure, or of alleged cure, have been examined by men
who have made it the work of their lives to treat the sick. Whatever
has been found curative has been retained, and unsubstantiated
claims to cure have been discarded; so that the regular degree
of doctor of medicine states that its recipient has acquired a
knowledge of the system of treating disease which is a crystallization
of the world's best medical thought, study, and experience.
As the possessor of such a degree, I have been engaged during
several months in an investigation of the cures which Christian-Science
healers are said to have accomplished.
Before beginning this work I reflected that mental suggestion,
or the influence of the mind of the physician upon that of the
patient, is a potent factor in the treatment of such diseases as are
not characterized by permanent pathological changes in the tissues,
and I remembered that when judiciously influenced by the physician's
mind, the mind of the patient can affect his body favorably
both in functional disorders and in disorders which may result from
nervous aberration—such as hysteria in all its protean forms, the
purely subjective, as headache and hyperæsthesia, and also those
exhibiting objective manifestations, as hysterical dislocations and
paralyses.
I knew that medical men, in their own unadvertised work,
employ mental suggestion as a therapeutic means, rely upon it as
a part of their armamentarium, and use it in appropriate cases,
either alone or combined with other means of cure, as electricity,
hydrotherapy, and drugs—which last, despite Mrs. Eddy's foolish
denunciation, are quite as much entitled to be considered divinely
appointed therapeutic agents as is mental suggestion.
What I did want especially to discover was whether the Christian
Scientist could cure such diseases as are considered by the medical
man to be incurable—as cancer, locomotor ataxia, or advanced
phthisis—and also what were the results of their treatment of typhoid
fever, pneumonia, diphtheria, malaria, etc. And I wanted
also to investigate the claims of Christian Science concerning the
alleged cure of surgical conditions, such as necrosis or hæmorrhage
from severed arteries, by no other means than the sole exercise of
thought. If the Christian Scientist could have healed in such
cases, I for my part would have declared him a worker of miracles.
Therefore I searched diligently for such cases.
In the beginning I had the honor to meet Mrs. Stetson, the
"pastor," or the "first reader," of the "First Church of Christ,
Scientist," at 143 West Forty-eighth Street, New York city. I
had prepared a number of questions concerning Christian Science
which I wished to ask Mrs. Stetson. She preferred, however, not
to answer them herself, but told me that she would be pleased to
forward them to Mrs. Eddy. I then wrote out these questions
and put them, together with a letter to Mrs. Eddy, very respectfully
requesting her consideration of them, in Mrs. Stetson's hands.
Mrs. Stetson then very kindly forwarded them to Mrs. Eddy.
Among the questions which I asked were the following:
Is the treatment of the sick a part of Christian Science?
Upon what principles is the Christian Scientist's method of
treatment founded?
How do you define health?
How do you define disease?
When a patient presents himself to you, do you inquire concerning
the causes of his illness?
Do you investigate symptoms? (Symptoms, I stated, are the
signs of disease.)
Do you make diagnoses? (A diagnosis, I stated, is a consideration
of symptoms by which one disease is distinguished from
another or others.)
In what does your treatment consist?
In treating a patient, do you administer any material substance,
and require that it be taken into the body as one would
food?
Do you consider cleanliness, good order, and the attainment of
æsthetic effects in a patient's environment a part of treatment?
Do you take any steps to isolate the patient sick of an infectious
disease, or to protect those about the patient from the disease?
Do you treat structural diseases, as cancer or locomotor ataxia?
Do you consider you have cured such diseases? If so, how do
you know you were treating a structural disease, such as cancer or
locomotor ataxia?
Would you treat cases of fracture of bones or violent injury?
If so, what would you do in such cases?
Will you give me the names of patients whom you have treated,
with permission to inquire concerning their illnesses, your treatment
of them, and the effects of your treatment upon them—upon
the distinct understanding that their names are not to be published?
Do you deny the existence of matter? In Science and Health
it is stated that "all is mind, there is no matter." How is it possible,
in treating disease, for you to separate mind from matter?
Animals sometimes become sick; could they be cured by Christian-Science
methods?
From Mrs. Eddy I received no answer nor any communication
whatever. But, some time afterward, Mrs. Stetson informed me
that the matter had been turned over to Judge Septimus J. Hanna,
Mrs. Eddy's "counsel." Just here I reflected how Jesus Christ,
whose representative Mrs. Eddy declares herself to be, would have
acted under those circumstances, and I wondered how he would
have appeared in this odd atmosphere hedged about by "counsel"
and other legal paraphernalia. Presently thereafter I had the
honor to receive a note from Mrs. Stetson, appointing a time for
me to call. When I did this, Mrs. Stetson gave me a letter which
had been sent her by Judge Hanna, and which she permitted me
to use as I should see fit. This is the letter:
"Boston, Mass., November 18, 1898.
"Editorial Office of The Christian Science Journal, Mrs. A. E.
Stetson, New York City:
"Dear Sister: Mr. Metcalf handed me the questions submitted
by Dr. Huber. I have also received and carefully read
your letters. As I think Mr. Metcalf has informed you, this matter
was referred to me from Concord. I have been so very busy
that I have not had time to give this matter the thorough attention
it needs until now.
"I have carefully read and considered the entire paper. My
conclusion is that it will be wholly impractical—indeed, I may say
impossible—to answer these questions in such a manner as to make
an entire paper fit for publication in a medical journal, or in any
other magazine or periodical. The questions submitted touch the
entire subject of Christian Science, both in its theology and therapeutics.
These questions can be answered only in one way so that
they can be understood, and that is by just such study of the Bible
and Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures as the earnest,
sincere Christian Scientists are giving them every day of their
lives, and have been for years. When we think of the helps provided
by our leader, the Rev. Mary Baker Eddy, for her own students
in arriving at a correct interpretation and putting in practice
the teachings of these text-books, such as the publications established
by her, the Bible Lessons made up of selections from the
Bible and our text-book, constituting the sermons for our service
in all the Christian-Science churches; the many auxiliaries she has
published and is publishing in further illucidation of the text-books—when
we stop to consider that even those of her students who
may be considered the most advanced are as yet infants in the
understanding and ability to demonstrate the truth contained in
these text-books, can we not easily see, and will not your friend the
doctor at a glance see, the utter futility of attempting to answer
his questions so as to make the answers intelligible to the medical
profession and their readers? I admire greatly the kindly spirit
manifested by the doctor and those for whom he is acting, and the
entire fairness, from their standpoint, of the questions submitted,
but this does not relieve the difficulty of the situation. I therefore
return the doctor's questions, with many thanks in behalf of
our leader and the cause for the impartial spirit manifested.
"Yours in Truth,
"S. J. Hanna."
I wrote Judge Hanna a note of thanks, and in reply received
a letter in which he stated: "I should have been very glad if I
could have seen my way clear to answer your questions in such a
way as could have been intelligible and satisfactory. But it was
impossible for me to do so."
Now, all this seems to me much worse than preposterous. I
fail utterly to see why he who asks the question, "Do you isolate
a patient suffering from an infectious disease?" would have to
spend months or years in Nirvana-like abstraction before he would
be able to appreciate an answer to it. No doubt Judge Hanna,
who is evidently a lawyer, could, if he chose, tell the reason why.
To all who had been "healed in Christian Science" whom I
met I stated plainly my object—to investigate how they had been
"healed." I stated that my findings would be published, but that
no names would be printed. The cases were to be numbered. I
stated that I did not wish to examine nervous manifestations of a
hysterical sort or purely functional disorders. I wished to see
cases of disease in which the structure of the organs was likely to
be or to have been involved, such as Bright's disease or cancer.
Having, to begin with, explained this fully, I took the subject's
history and ascertained whenever possible the name of any physician
who may have treated the patient before he or she went
"into Christian Science." Almost all these physicians who live in
New York I visited; to the others residing in New York and to
those living out of town I wrote, the form of the letter being generally
as follows:
"Dear Doctor: I am investigating Christian Science from the
physician's view-point, and am examining a number of people, in
the hope of presenting some twenty histories. These histories
would, I think, be valuable only in so far as they are scientifically
accurate. Therefore, whenever possible, I request a medical
account from any physician who may formerly have been in
attendance. I have now under observation the case of Mr. X——,
who believes himself to have been cured 'in Christian Science.'
I would thank you very kindly if you would send me whatever
medical information you can concerning this case, with records of
examinations if possible. The cases will be numbered, not named."
In each case, having set down the subject's statements and the
physician's statement, I recorded my own observations of the subject's
condition.
I examined in succession and without exception the case of every
willing Christian Scientist up to the number of twenty. All these
cases were of their own choosing; no doubt, then, they would be
considered to be among their "good" cases. Their "failures" I
had no opportunity to examine. There were many others who
refused to testify, no doubt justifiably. Others refused for reasons
not easily comprehended, considering the fact that these
people hold weekly "experience meetings," in which they "rejoice
to testify to the power of Christian Science." It is difficult
to see, therefore, why such cases should not invite scientific investigation.
I could find in all these twenty cases no "cure" that would
have occasioned the medical man the slightest surprise. What did
surprise me was the vast disproportion between the results they
exhibited and the claims made by Christian-Science healers. One
of these cases may be cited as an example of the loose generalization
upon which many of the claims of these healers rest. A lady
stated that she had had pneumonia. I asked how she knew she had
had pneumonia. She declared she knew, because her nurse "could
tell at a glance she had pneumonia." No medical examination had
been made. I asked what symptoms she had had—how she had
suffered. She told me she had purposely forgotten—she had tried
to dismiss from her mind all recollection of this distressing illness.
Well, this is no doubt commendable enough; but how do we know,
then, if she really had pneumonia, or anything more than an ordinary
cold?
I heard during my investigation of cases of yellow fever,
phthisis, cancer, and locomotor ataxia which had been "healed in
Christian Science." But truth compels the statement that my
efforts to examine these cases were defeated by the cheapest sort
of subterfuge and elusion. To be explicit: On November 2, 1898,
a man arose in an "experience meeting" which I attended and
stated that he had been one of a party of twelve who, while in Central
America, contracted yellow fever, he having suffered with the
rest. All took medicine but himself; instead, he read Science and
Health. Among his companions seven died; he recovered completely.
Several days later I called at the church and asked for
the name and address of this gentleman, and twice, on this and a
subsequent visit, the clerk promised to send me his address. Not
having received it, I called a third time, on November 21st. The
clerk told me he could not find this eel-like specimen, and could
not get his address. This man was, however, a member of that
church, and had, on the evening I was present, a number of acquaintances
in the congregation.
Again, I had been told that a young lady living out of town had
been "healed" of consumption. I wrote her mother, who sent
me a kind note, inviting me to call several evenings later, and
inclosing a time-table. She stated, "I shall be happy to give you
any information in my power, as Christian Science has been a great
blessing in my family." Before the appointed evening I received
a note, breaking the engagement. Again, at an "experience meeting"
a man arose and declared he had cured a case of locomotor
ataxia, "so that the patient's two former physicians had been lost
in amazement at the change." I learned also that his wife, another
"healer," had cured a case of cancer of the tongue. I wrote
this gentleman, and he sent me an answer, kindly inviting me to
call at his house. He lived out of town. I went to his house,
and spent the greater part of an evening trying to prevail upon
these two people to show me or to introduce me to these subjects
of locomotor ataxia and cancer of the tongue. They utterly refused
to do so. Their line of argument was quite of the same sort
as that contained in the letter of their better-known "brother in
the church," which appears earlier in this paper. I was not investigating
in the right way. What I ought to do was to study
Science and Health and the other elucidatory works—above all
with an obedient spirit, and "the truth" would come to me in
time. Or it may be this pair of "healers" had in mind this reasoning,
not new in my observation of this odd cult: In the mind
of the Christian Scientist the locomotor-ataxia patient was healed,
but he was withheld from inspection by the deceptive senses of
those outside the Christian-Science pale, to which senses the patient
might appear to stagger about and be as ill or more ill than
ever before. Following is this "healer's" letter to me:
"My dear Dr. Huber: I received your letter with Joy, and
name next Monday eveng as a time to give you for your enquiry into
the workings of Truth as it has come under my notice. Our field
is a broad one coverig several towns, and we have not lately had
an eveng free for discussin the subject coverig this sublime and
stately Science That leads into all Truth even to the solving of the
problem of Being. The healing of the sick is only the primary
steps this step however is an important one as its demonstration
with proof attests its divine origen even God—Good, its principle
source and ultimates in Eternal Life. For the Life is in his Son
and Divine Science reveals this son Even our own Christ our spiritual
Individuality God being our Father and mother,
"Yrs. in Truth
"——."
The writer of this letter is the leader of that Christian-Science
church in New Jersey a member of which was a woman who died,
in June of this year, of consumption, and this woman's "healer"
was the writer's wife. The woman who died left the Episcopalian
Church and became a Christian Scientist in January, 1899. In
April she contracted a heavy cold, to which she gave no attention.
Her husband remonstrated with her, and wished her to consult a
physician, but she would not do so. She declared she could not
be ill, but that she was well and happy. The services of her
"healer" were the only ministrations she received. In the
beginning of June her condition was so bad that her husband prevailed
upon her to see a physician, who examined her and found
her hopelessly ill with consumption. Another physician examined
her and reached the same conclusion. She then turned "longingly
and earnestly to the religion in which she had been brought up."
Two weeks after, she died, "asking the prayers of her co-religionists
in behalf of herself, her husband, and her children."
Mrs. Eddy declares that she "healed consumption in its last
stages, the lungs being mostly consumed"; that she "healed carious
bones which could be dented with the finger"; and that she
"healed in one visit a cancer that had so eaten the flesh of the
neck as to expose the jugular vein so that it stood out like a cord."
Judge Hanna has published statements to the effect that "cancer,
malignant tumors, consumption, broken bones, and broken
tissues have been healed in Christian Science, without the assistance
of any material means whatever." Mr. Carol Norton, a Christian-Science
lecturer, has publicly announced that Christian Science
has healed "locomotor ataxia, softening of the brain, paresis,
tumor, Bright's disease, cancer," etc. And many other Christian
Scientists have made like claims. Very well, then. Who are
these people that have thus been cured? What are their names?
Where do they live? How can they be found? Will Mrs. Eddy
and her followers submit these cases for scientific examination?
I and other investigators are asking, and have for years been asking,
these questions, and we are all of us still waiting for answers.
The importance of all this is no doubt manifest. The healing
of disease is, we are told, the outward and visible evidence upon
which Christian Science expects to be judged and accepted. Therefore
the cult must stand or fall upon the results of an investigation
of the healer's claims. "By their fruits ye shall know them."
There are Christian Scientists who will say that these statements
of Mrs. Eddy and her associates must be taken upon faith
and as ipse dixit utterances. This is in the last degree silly. With
such statements faith has absolutely nothing to do. They are
solely matters for scientific inquiry.
Every Christian Scientist may be a healer. A little child may
be a healer in Christian Science. The treatment is said to consist
in thinking, speaking, and writing. It is declared that no material
substances are used. The following oddity in mental processes is
here to be noted: A healer told her patient to take a certain drug
during her illness, and that she would then demonstrate the power
of Christian Science over this drug.
The healer does not need to see his patient. He may, if he
will, treat "absently," by a species of thought transference. He
would consider his treatment effectual if he were in New York and
his patient were in Hong Kong.
I have rheumatism, let us say, and at midnight my swollen
and inflamed joint gives me pain. I send for a Christian-Science
healer. In all probability my messenger will call upon a person
who has had no preliminary medical education whatever. He is
likely to find some one who is quite illiterate, as witness the letter
last presented. He may, as I have, come upon some one who has
been engaged in the occupation of amusing the habitués of beer
saloons by playing upon the zither before he took up the more
remunerative business of Christian-Science healing. Or he may,
as I have, come upon some one who is engaged simultaneously both
in the business of selling drugs and in the practice of healing by
mental therapeutics alone.
Having been found, the healer, first requiring a fee from my
messenger, treats me "absently," while lying abed in his own home.
His treatment consists in sending me word that I only imagine I
am ill, that my joint is really not swollen, that it is really not inflamed,
and that it really does not pain me, but that, on the contrary,
I am really very well and very happy indeed.
Some diseases are in Christian Science considered to take longer
to heal than others; I have not understood why. If "all is mind,
and there is no matter," as the Christian Scientist holds, and if,
therefore, the varying densities of tissues need not be considered,
why should not cancer or locomotor ataxia be healed as easily and
as rapidly as a headache or a hysterical manifestation? Christian
Science despises bodily cleanliness, the use of baths, and the most
ordinary sanitary regulations. "To bow down to a flesh-brush,
bath, diet, exercise, and air is a form of idolatry." We learn,
finally, that "the heart, the lungs, the brain, have nothing to do
with life."
Christian Science has stood by the bedside of an infant sick
with diphtheria, has prevented interference with its incantations,
and has seen this infant choke, grow livid, gasp, and expire, without
so much as putting a drop of water to its lips.
Most Christian Scientists are well to do. Their tenet is that
"no one has any business to be poor." In New York their
churches are in the neighborhood of the wealthy, and there are
no missions by means of which the professed blessings of Christian
Science may be disseminated among the poor. Christian Science
is demonstrably a powerful organization for the accumulation of
wealth, and by easy calculation one may see that her propaganda
has made Mrs. Eddy, who is said to have been at one time very
poor, conspicuously rich even in these days of enormous fortunes.
When we consider that this woman claims to be actuated by the
spirit of the poor Nazarene, has hypocrisy ever gone to greater
length?
Mrs. Eddy despises all metaphysical systems, yet her writings
display her inability to think logically through half a dozen consecutive
lines.
Mrs. Eddy declares that "no human being or agency taught
me the truths of Christian Science, and no human agency can overthrow
it." But there are published statements, of the truth
of which the writer offers to give legal proof, in which it is shown,
by means of the "deadly parallel," that the essential ideas underlying
her system are all plagiarized from the writings of an irregular
practitioner to whom, many years ago, she went for treatment.
Published accounts of her illness at that time present a picture of
hysteria pure and simple.
Mrs. Eddy claims to possess healing powers nothing short of
miraculous, yet the writer just mentioned declares that she has
probably not been a well woman these forty years past. Certain
it is she almost never appears in public, and only a few of her followers
have ever seen her face except in copyrighted photographs.
The medical profession is most stupidly reprobated by Mrs.
Eddy and her associates, especially for its "mercenary motives."
A specific statement may here be not malapropos. In the
year 1895 there were 1,800,000 inhabitants in the lesser city of
New York, and on the rolls of its hospitals and dispensaries were
more than 793,000 names of people for the treatment of whom
New York's medical men received practically no pecuniary reward
whatever.
It is declared that Christian Science is a religious system, that
the treatment of the sick is a part of this system, and that, as the
Constitution forbids interference by the States with religion, no
laws can be enacted which could compel the healer to desist from
his work. But there is a sharp distinction between religious liberty
and license to commit, in the name of religion, unlawful acts. A
man would not be justified in killing his child in obedience to a
fanatical belief, as Abraham was about to do; but Christian Science
has sacrificed the lives of little children upon the altar of its pseudo-religion.
Had not these children rights which ought to have been
safeguarded? If the Christian Scientist's position be admitted,
a thug might, upon the same principles, be justified in committing
***, on the ground that *** is a practice required by his
religion; and a Mormon might, on the same basis, practice
polygamy. When a healer treats for hire a sufferer from typhoid fever,
is he acting in a religious capacity?
The observer will find in Christian Science much charlatanry
(by which many honest fanatics are deceived), much to surprise
reason and common sense, to offend good taste and the proprieties,
to outrage justice and the law, and to mortify the pious.
And in the last degree reprehensible will appear this cult's
ghastly masquerade in the garb of Him that prayed in the Garden
of Gethsemane, "the pale, staggering Jew, with the crown of
thorns upon his bleeding head," the tenderest, the divinest, the
most mankind-loving personality the world has ever known.
THE WHEAT LANDS OF CANADA.
By SYDNEY C. D. ROPER.
When Sir W. Crookes, in his inaugural address as President
of the British Association, startled a large number of people
by stating that, unless some radical change was made in the
present system of wheat cultivation, there would be a bread famine
in 1931, because the world's supply of land capable of producing
wheat would have been exhausted, there was undoubtedly a considerable
feeling of uneasiness engendered, and more attention was
paid to the address than is usual even to so valuable a contribution
as the inaugural address of the President of that Association must
always be. It was, therefore, with a feeling of relief that we found
one person after another, well qualified to speak, coming, as it were,
to the rescue, and pointing out that Sir W. Crookes's conclusions
were not warranted; and in the minds of the majority, no doubt,
the last feeling of uneasiness was dispelled by the able letter in
The Times, in December last, in which Sir John Lawes and Sir
Henry Gilbert, who are facile principes as scientific agriculturists,
and whose opinions carry greater weight than even those of the
President of the British Association, gave most satisfactory reasons
for being unable to believe in Sir W. Crookes's predictions.
It is true that, in a subsequent letter, Sir W. Crookes stated
that his remarks were intended more as a serious warning than as
a prophecy; but, seeing that his conclusions were based on definite
statements of definite facts and figures, it is difficult to treat them
as other than prophetic.
In order, however, to establish the probability of a wheat famine
in the near future it became necessary for Sir W. Crookes to
seriously misrepresent and underestimate the wheat resources of
some of the principal countries most interested in producing that
cereal, and it is to a large extent by exposing the magnitude of
these misrepresentations that the validity of his conclusions is called
in question and disproved. The two countries which, with perhaps
the exception of Russia, are most concerned in the wheat production
of the future, and therefore in the correction of these misstatements,
are Canada and the United States.
Mr. Atkinson, the well-known writer on economic subjects, took
up the cudgels for the United States, and their case could hardly
have been in better hands; but so far no champion has appeared
on behalf of Canada; and while Sir W. Crookes may not have been
alone in his views about the possible exhaustion of the wheat area
in the United States, he certainly stood quite alone when he committed
himself to the remarkable statements that are to be found
in the address, in order to decry the capabilities of the Canadian
wheat fields. I did not immediately reply to them myself, thinking
that some one better qualified would do so, but this has not
been done, and as I feel that they can not be allowed any longer
to remain unanswered, I propose to deal with them in the present
article.
Mr. Atkinson's defense has been criticised, in the March number
of The Forum, by Mr. C. Wood Davis, who naturally upholds Sir
W. Crookes's views, seeing that they appear to have been largely
induced by his own figures and agree with his own ideas, but his
argument in that article is more one of fault finding with the
statements of others than an attempt to justify his own position.
As a specimen of his style of criticism, Mr. Davis takes Mr. Atkinson
to task for saying that "the present necessities of the world are
computed by Sir W. Crookes at 2,324,000,000 bushels," and says
that in no part of his address was an estimate of the whole world's
requirements so much as mentioned; and yet, on turning to the address,
we find that Sir W. Crookes said: "The bread eaters of the
whole world share the perilous prospect.... The bread eaters of
the world at the present time number 516,500,000.... To supply
516,500,000 bread eaters will require a total of 2,324,000,000
bushels for seed and food." The requirements of the whole world
are distinctly stated here, for bread is required only for the bread-eating
population, and therefore the requirements of that population
are, as far as bread is concerned, the requirements of the whole
world. Mr. Atkinson, however, is well able to take care of himself,
and he and Mr. Davis can fight out for themselves the question
as to when, or if ever, the United States will cease to export
wheat; but it is amusing to find Mr. Atkinson charged by Mr.
Davis, of all men, with dealing in "purely speculative computations,"
for if there is any one who has freely indulged in these same
purely speculative computations it is Mr. Davis himself, as we shall
presently see.
The value of the various calculations that statisticians indulge
in is largely discounted by the fact that allowance is rarely made
for changing conditions. Such has been the ratio, such is the ratio,
and therefore in so many years' time such will be the ratio, is the
burden of their calculations, so that while their figures for the past
and present may be both correct and instructive, their calculations
for the future are frequently of little practical utility; and it is
this failure to allow for any variation in conditions that renders Mr.
Davis's figures of so little value, and Sir W. Crookes's conclusions,
which are based on them, of no greater importance.
It is surprising to find how much value Sir W. Crookes attaches
to Mr. Davis's figures, and it leads one to the conclusion that he
has either not examined them very closely, or shares with Mr. Davis
a fondness for "purely speculative computations"; and while it is
not seemly to accuse, as has been done, a man of Sir W. Crookes's
standing and reputation of resorting to "bucket-shop" methods
to support his conclusions, it is difficult to avoid thinking that the
anxiety to establish those conclusions has not only led him to accept
Mr. Davis's calculations without proper examination, but has
also influenced the preparation of some of his antecedent data and
led him to subordinate facts as a means to a required end. Since
Sir W. Crookes thinks so highly of Mr. Davis's figures and upon
them has based some of the most important conclusions of his address,
and as Mr. Davis himself is so ready to find fault with the
calculations of others, it might be well just here to see how some
of Mr. Davis's own calculations have been verified and what amount
of dependence should be placed upon his figures or on deductions
from them.
In An Epitome of the Agricultural Situation, published by
Mr. Davis in 1890, he predicted an annually increasing deficit in
the world's wheat supply and the almost immediate inability of the
United States to do more than grow enough wheat for home consumption,
and, as a consequence, that "After 1895 we (United
States) must either import breadstuffs, cease to export cotton, or
lower the standard of living," this latter prophecy being emphasized
by being printed in capital letters. These predictions were
made ten years ago—ample time, surely, for at least some evidence
of their fulfillment to be apparent. But what are the facts? The
Chief of the Bureau of Statistics, in his report on the foreign commerce
of the United States for 1898, says: "The total exportation
of meats and dairy products amounted in the last fiscal year (1898)
to $167,340,960, against $145,270,643 in the highest year prior
to that date (1894), while the value of animals exported in 1898
was greater than that of any preceding year; of wheat the exports
of the year were the largest in value, save the exceptional years of
1880, 1881, and 1892. Of cotton the exports of the year were the
largest in quantity in the history of the country.... Thus, in the
great agricultural products—breadstuffs, provisions, and cotton—the
exports have been phenomenally large, while the total of products
of agriculture exceed by $54,000,000 the exports of agricultural
produce in any preceding year of our history." So much for
exports; now for the imports of breadstuffs. The total value of
breadstuffs, both dutiable and free, entered for consumption in
1898 was $957,455, of which $628,775 were for imports of macaroni,
vermicelli, etc., articles not in any case manufactured in the
country. I have not seen any explanation by Mr. Davis of the
failure of his predictions, but it is probable that he had them in
mind when he wrote in The Forum (March, 1899), "Had not the
herds of hay- and maize-eating animals shrunk greatly since 1892,
thus rendering vast areas of hay and maize lands available for
wheat production, we should probably have reduced the wheat area,
instead of adding ten million acres to it since 1895." This, however,
is a purely arbitrary assumption, unsupported by anything
more substantial than Mr. Davis's personal opinion. In the same
article he says: "But herds being insufficient for present needs
must be added to in the measure of the existing deficit, as well as
in that of the animal products and services required by all future
additions to the population. This will necessitate and force a restoration
to other staples of acres recently diverted to wheat." But,
in the face of the figures quoted above, the evidence is clear that
herds are not only ample for present needs, but afford a larger
margin than ever of exportable surplus. If herds were insufficient,
there would have been a curtailment of exports and an increase in
the consumption of breadstuffs, but neither have happened; neither
has there been any reduction in the standard of living. Is not the
inference irresistible that the country was carrying a larger number
of animals than conditions absolutely required, since farm animals
have declined from 169,000,000 in 1892 to 138,000,000 in 1898,
without in any way disturbing the conditions of food supply or reducing
the exports of provisions? In 1890, Mr. Davis assumed that
44,800,000 acres of hay would be required in 1895 and 49,200,000
acres in 1900, yet in 1898, 42,800,000 acres were found to be ample
for the needs of the country.
Do not the foregoing figures clearly indicate that it is not safe
to assume that the area employed in the cultivation of certain staples
at any given time, or the average of that area for any given
period, must necessarily be the proportion always to be required for
the cultivation of those articles, and that any calculations or predictions
made on that assumption are liable to be completely upset
by events unforeseen and unprovided for? Does it not seem probable
that if Sir W. Crookes had examined Mr. Davis's figures more
closely than apparently he did, he would have found that "average
acre yields for long periods" are not "essential factors"; that "unit
requirements for each of the primary food staples of the temperate
zones" can not be so easily determined; that "the ratio existing
during recent periods between the consuming element and acres
employed in the production of each of such primary food staples"
are not necessarily indicative of the ratio that will require to exist
in the years to come; and that Mr. Davis's "scientific method" does
not "enable him to ascertain the acreage requirements of the
separate national populations and of the bread-eating world as a
whole"?
In order to insure a famine in 1931 it was necessary for Sir W.
Crookes to assume a given increase of population during the intervening
period and no change in the existing conditions of wheat
cultivation and consumption, and also to limit by hard-and-fast
lines the sources of supply. It is to the manner in which Sir W.
Crookes has limited and underestimated the wheat resources of
Canada that we now propose to take exception; and it is difficult
to understand how, with ample means of information available, he
could have committed himself to the statements he has made.
What does he say about Manitoba? "In the year 1897 there were
2,371,441 acres under cultivation in Manitoba, out of a total of
13,051,375 acres. The total area includes water courses, lakes,
forests, towns and farms, land unsuitable for wheat growing, and
land required for other crops." Now, the facts are that the total
area of Manitoba is 73,956 square miles, and if from that area
9,890 square miles of water surface are deducted there remain
64,066 square miles, or 41,002,240 acres of land, so that even after
making due allowance for forests, towns, etc., there are nearly
three times the number of acres available than are given by Sir
W. Crookes. Attempts have been made in vain to find out whence
these figures were obtained, but there is apparently no clew; and
while it is not to be supposed for a moment that the figures were purposely
misstated, surely the important conclusions drawn from them
deserved that some attempt at least should have been made to ascertain
their accuracy. Sir W. Crookes claims to be indebted to the
official publications of the Government of Canada, but it is certain
that none of them ever contained the figures used by him.
"The most trustworthy estimates," says Sir W. Crookes, "give
Canada a wheat area of not more than six millions of acres in the
next twelve years, increasing to a maximum of twelve millions of
acres in twenty-five years." Who prepared these estimates, and
upon what are they based? Were they prepared by the same authority
that supplied Sir W. Crookes with the figures of the area of
Manitoba? If so, we may well dismiss them at once; but supposing
that these estimates are, as far as the rate of increase is concerned,
perfectly correct, and that the wheat area of Canada will
be only twelve million acres in twenty-five years, there would still
remain at least twelve million acres in Manitoba alone available
for wheat. It is no exaggerated estimate to say that from sixty
to seventy per cent of the land available for cultivation in Manitoba
is well adapted for the production of wheat. Sir W. Crookes
says that his area of Manitoba of 13,051,375 acres includes water
courses, lakes, forests, towns, etc. Now, the water area alone of
Manitoba is 6,329,600 acres, so that after deducting this area and
the 1,630,000 acres already under wheat and making due allowance
for the other conditions mentioned, he would have us believe that
wheat-growing in Manitoba has already nearly reached its limit,
which all who know anything about the province will unite in saying
is absurd.
Now let us turn to the Northwest Territories, where, according
to Sir W. Crookes, there is practically no amount of land of
any consequence available for wheat, and let us remember that
the same authority limits the wheat area of Canada to a maximum
of twelve million acres. The area of the three provisional districts,
with which alone we will deal, is as follows, viz.: Assiniboia,
57,177,600 acres; Saskatchewan, 69,120,000 acres; and Alberta,
63,523,200 acres (these figures being exclusive of water surface),
making a total of 189,820,000 acres. Some of this large area is
possibly not particularly well adapted for agricultural purposes,
but a careful examination of all available data on the subject justifies
one in saying that fully one half is suitable for successful wheat
cultivation, while in eastern and southern Assiniboia there are
some 20,000,000 acres, in the valley of the Saskatchewan 14,000,000
acres, and in northern Alberta 15,000,000 acres that are especially
adapted for the production of wheat as a staple crop. The area
is so large and settlement at present so sparse, that it is impossible
to do more than give its capabilities in general terms, founded on
the opinions of experienced men who have traveled over it. Professor
Saunders, Director of the Experimental Farm at Ottawa,
than whom there is no better authority on the subject in the Dominion,
told me that, from what he saw of the country in driving
over it, he became more and more impressed every year with the
vast area of good land in the Northwest, and no practical man has
ever traveled through those regions but has been amazed at the
prospect of their capabilities.
But we have not yet reckoned with the rich and fertile province
of Ontario. This province has a land area of 140,576,000
acres, of which 11,888,853 acres were under cultivation in 1898,
and of this latter quantity 1,437,387 acres, or twelve per cent, were
in wheat, being an increase of 163,860 acres over the wheat area
of 1897, and of 62,573 acres over the average of 1882-'98. According
to the census of 1881 there were nearly 2,000,000 acres
in wheat in 1880, but, under the influence of an unremunerative
market, the area declined year by year until in 1895 there were
but 967,156 acres so employed; since then, however, stimulated
by a more profitable price, the area has increased by 470,471 acres,
and an increase of twenty per cent upward is reported in the area
for 1899. Fall wheat in this province is a very successful crop,
having averaged in the last two years twenty-five bushels and
twenty-four bushels per acre respectively, while the average for
the period 1882-'98 has been 20.5 bushels per acre, so that nothing
but a continuance of good prices is needed to largely increase
the production of wheat in Ontario. In no part of the province,
where agriculture is possible, has wheat failed to grow, but the area
is so large that it would be unwise to put into figures the extent
available for wheat cultivation, it being sufficient to show that a
very large portion, if not indeed the whole, of the twelve million
acres to which Sir W. Crookes has limited Canada could, other
conditions being favorable, be supplied by Ontario alone.
The "trustworthy estimates" quoted by Sir W. Crookes limit,
as has been stated, the wheat area of Canada to a maximum of
twelve million acres under cultivation in twenty-five years; whence
the estimates were derived or on what grounds they are entitled to
be considered trustworthy there is no information; but is it of any
consequence? Let them come from whatever source they may,
are they not perfectly useless? The progress of wheat cultivation
during the next twenty-five years does not depend upon any mathematical
ratio of progression, but on the course of certain events
absolutely unknown at the present time. The point is that Sir W.
Crookes adopts these estimates and gives out to the world a statement,
on the strength of them, that, in addition to the 3,500,000
acres at present in use, there are not more than 8,500,000 acres in
Canada available for wheat cultivation—a statement calculated, if
believed, to seriously damage Canada's prospects of settlement, and
a statement that is as much at variance with the actual facts as it
is possible for such things to be. Is it fair to the country for a man
of such high standing and reputation to make such unfounded assertions?
Five minutes' real consideration of the question would have
convinced him that there are more than that number of acres in
the province of Manitoba alone. The figures already given, which
have been prepared from the most reliable available information,
go to show that there are upward of seventy-five million acres of
land in Canada especially adapted for the production of wheat, and
this estimate is confined to those portions of the country which may
be considered as essentially wheat-producing areas; and no account
has been taken of the vast extent of land, not only in the provinces
of Ontario and Manitoba and in the Northwest Territories, but
also in the otherwise unnoticed provinces of Quebec, Nova Scotia,
New Brunswick, Prince Edward Island, and British Columbia, that
is not only suitable for the production of wheat, but on which a large
quantity of wheat will undoubtedly be grown, which, entering into
home consumption, will increase the exportable surplus.
I am well aware that there are a number of people who will
say that my figures underestimate the resources of the country, but
I would rather that it were so than indulge in figures that seem too
extravagant to be realized; and if, in the future, it appears that the
wheat area is larger than I have stated, then so much the better for
Canada. I do not mind how much evidence can be brought to increase
my figures, as long as I am satisfied that they can not be
truthfully reduced.
It is not intended to accuse Sir W. Crookes of deliberately misrepresenting
Canada, but rather of almost criminal carelessness in
the preparation of his case; but it is intended to accuse Mr. C. Wood
Davis of the former offense and of intentionally garbling extracts
from an official handbook issued by the Canadian Minister of the
Interior in order to decry that country's wheat-bearing capabilities.
By taking a line here and there which seems to serve his ends, and
by leaving out everything that would have a contrary tendency,
Mr. Davis, in his article in The Forum, makes it to appear that,
according to the Minister of the Interior, the greater part of the
Canadian Northwest is not only incapable of producing wheat, but
is actually unfit for settlement, and summarizes his extracts by
saying, "Available data do not show that any part of the Canadian
districts named, except southern Manitoba and the eastern half of
Assiniboia, is adapted to wheat culture, while they do show that over
the greater part of these vast regions neither summer heats nor rainfalls
are sufficient." This statement is false in every particular.
The official handbook from which Mr. Davis professes to quote says
of Manitoba that there are thirty-seven million acres available for
active farm cultivation, giving therefore no warrant for the limiting
of the wheat area to the southern part of the province. Mr.
Davis quotes a line here and there about southern Alberta in order
to convey the impression that that part of the country is good for
nothing, whereas, while it is essentially a ranching and dairying
country, producing a most luxurious and nutritious growth of native
grasses, with a bountiful supply of water for irrigation purposes,
by which means most satisfactory crops of grain and fodder
are produced, it has never been contended that it is particularly
well adapted for wheat-growing; but, on the other hand, Mr. Davis
carefully omits all mention of northern Alberta, and has no room
for the following remarks about it which appear on the same page
of the handbook: "Northern Alberta is essentially an agricultural
district; ... the principal advantages of the district will insure
settlement by immigrants who desire to engage in grain farming....
The rainfall in northern Alberta during the summer months
is sufficient to insure good crops." Concerning the district of Saskatchewan,
Mr. Davis quotes a remark about some of the wooded
portion being unsuited to the immediate requirements of settlement,
as if it applied to the whole district, and deliberately omits
the following: "The southern half of the district" (Saskatchewan)
"is traversed from east to west by the Saskatchewan River, and the
valley of this important stream, with the country immediately adjacent
thereto, has long been famed as a desirable field for immigration."
With reference to precipitation, Mr. Davis has so garbled
his extracts as to convey the impression that the handbook states
that over the greater part of the Northwest the rainfall is not sufficient
for the pursuit of agriculture, whereas what the book really
says is, "So far as the Canadian Northwest is concerned, out of
about two hundred million acres of land between the Red River of
the North to the Rocky Mountains, available for agricultural and
pastoral purposes, not more than about one fourth, or fifty million
acres in all, require the artificial application of water."
Mr. Davis's attempts to prejudice the interests of the Northwest
by remarks on the severity of the climate do not need serious
attention; the experience of the inhabitants and the annual production
of the country speak for themselves, and it is well understood
that mere thermometer readings afford little indication in
themselves of the nature of a climate, and that temperatures unendurable
in some countries are enjoyable, salubrious, and advantageous
in others. It seems difficult to believe that Mr. Davis ever
wrote the following sentence, but having written it, it would be
well if he would take it to heart: "Truly 'honesty is the best policy'
in the employment of statistics, whether by scientists, by plain
people, or by professional statisticians; while the ability to eschew
bucket-shop methods, to read correctly, to state facts and to state
them clearly, and to criticise with intelligence and entire fairness,
is especially desirable."
Sir W. Crookes is not content with reducing Canada's wheat
resources to an insignificant minimum, but he must also retard as
much as possible the development even of the small area that he
admits to exist, for he says: "The development of this promising
area necessarily must be slow, since prairie land can not be laid
under wheat in advance of a population sufficient to supply the
needful labor at seed time and harvest. As population increases
so do home demands for wheat." To say that prairie land can not
be laid under wheat in advance of population, and that as population
increases so do home demands for wheat, are mere truisms, but
it is incorrect to say that therefore the development must be slow.
The rate of development depends entirely upon the rate of increase
of population, and that increase depends upon the price of wheat,
and the area of production will increase concurrently with the demand.
According to Mr. Davis—and we will assume that his figures
are in this case correct—the population in the United States in fourteen
years from 1871 increased forty-four per cent and the cultivated
area one hundred and twelve per cent, and, if that was the
case, no estimates, however trustworthy, could have provided for
such results.
It has been perfectly true, as Sir W. Crookes says, that as the
wheat area of Manitoba and the Northwest increased, the wheat
area of Ontario and the eastern provinces decreased, but this was
in consequence of the continued low price of wheat, which led the
farmers of Ontario to turn their attention more and more to dairy
and mixed farming, substituting hay and root crops for wheat and
barley, until the province became a dairying rather than a cereal-producing
country; but that this was a movement to suit the times,
and that the area available for wheat is no less in consequence, is
evidenced by the rapid increase in the wheat acreage in the last
two years. The farmer produces what pays him best, and it is
certain that before Sir W. Crookes's failure of the wheat supply
comes to pass prices will have been such that every acre of land
suitable for wheat and that can be spared from other uses will
have been taken advantage of; and if this is not the case, then
some other staple for food will have been substituted, which will
necessarily change the whole economic situation as viewed at
present.
It is also true that "thus far performance has lagged behind
promise," but the reasons for this are the same, and in the low
values we find a ready explanation of the apparent lack of progress.
What inducement has the immigrant had of late years to take up
land for, or the farmer to grow, wheat that he could hardly sell for
the actual cost of production? And yet Sir W. Crookes would argue
that because the land has not been utilized for this particular purpose
the land can not be there, and that land upon which wheat
once was grown, but which is now employed for other purposes, can
never again be included in the wheat-bearing area.
Progress may appear to have been slow, but it has kept pace
with the demand, and in any case has been considerably more
rapid than Sir W. Crookes allows. He says, "The wheat-bearing
area of all Canada has increased less than 500,000 acres since
1884," whereas the actual increase since 1880 has been over
1,100,000 acres, and since 1890 upward of 760,000 acres. The
area under wheat in Canada in 1898 was 3,508,540 acres, so that
Sir W. Crookes only allows for an increase of 2,500,000 acres in
the next twelve years. Perhaps it will not be as much, but if it
is not, it will only be putting the predicted day of famine still farther
away, and will prove nothing more than the fact that the
state of the market has not warranted any more extended cultivation.
The statements made by Sir W. Crookes about the wheat acreage
in the States are as incorrect as those about Canada, for he
says, in his letter to The Times of December 8, 1898, that "the
whole wheat acreage in the United States is less than it was fifteen
years ago," whereas the official figures for 1897 and 1898, which
were before him at the time, told him that the wheat acreage in
1897 was 3,000,000 acres in excess of the average of the preceding
fifteen years, and in 1898 was in the neighborhood of 5,000,000
acres in excess of any year in the history of that country. Do not
the fluctuations in the wheat acreage of the United States in recent
years prove conclusively that they were solely the result of the
movement of prices, and had no bearing whatever on the question
of exhaustion of land? Under the depressing influence of an unprofitable
market, the wheat area fell from 39,900,000 acres in 1891
to 34,000,000 acres in 1895, but, under the stimulus of a substantial
appreciation, increased again, in three years, to 44,000,000
acres. If, in spite of a rising and remunerative market, the area
had remained stationary or shown signs of decrease, it would have
been in order to call attention to the fact as indicating exhaustion;
but when, in immediate response to a rising market, the area
increases by leaps and bounds, the question of exhaustion becomes
less and less one of actual probability, and more and more
one of theoretical possibility. A precisely similar line of reasoning
is applicable to the fluctuations in the province of Ontario, and
goes to show just as clearly that the decrease in area has had absolutely
no bearing on the wheat-producing capabilities of the
province.
"A permanently high price for wheat is, I fear, a calamity that
ere long must be faced," says Sir W. Crookes; but, with due deference
to so great an authority, I believe that the day of a permanent
high price for wheat is yet far distant. There will be appreciations
undoubtedly, but the sources of supply as yet undrawn
upon are so great that it will be long before those appreciations are
of any prolonged duration; but in the meantime they mean periods
of great prosperity to the farmer and therefore to the world. Is
a higher price for wheat such an unmixed calamity, after all? Has
the average consumer of wheat benefited by the low price of wheat
of late years in proportion to the hardships endured by the producer?
I think not. Let those who are qualified by literary and
scientific knowledge point out if they will the possibility, or even
perhaps the probability, of at some period in the future the time
coming when there may be, if present conditions continue to exist,
a scarcity in the wheat supply, and urge as strongly as they like the
advisability of taking steps in good time to prevent such a calamity;
but nothing is to be gained by frightening the world with predictions
of evil based only on a series of unfounded assertions, mathematical
calculations, and "purely speculative computations."
When, if ever, the day of scarcity will come is unknown. That it
is yet far off appears to be tolerably certain; but it is sufficient for
the purposes of this article that it should be understood that Sir W.
Crookes's statements concerning the wheat area of Canada are absolutely
unreliable and incorrect, and that there are millions of
acres of good wheat land waiting for occupation by the surplus
population of the world, which, when under cultivation, will assist
in deferring for many years the threatened day of famine.
Dr. Sven Hedin, in his account of travel through Asia, mentions as the
most remarkable feature in the central region of internal drainage (in
which the rivers drain into inland lakes) "the process of leveling which
goes on unceasingly. The detritus which results from the disintegrating
action of the weather, and the more or less mechanical agency of the
wind and water and gravity, is constantly being carried down from the
mountains all round its borders toward the lower parts of its depressions,
and being deposited there. In this way the natural inequalities in the
configuration of the ground are being gradually smoothed away." Mr.
Curzon refers to the same phenomenon in the central districts of the
Pamirs—the process being the exact reverse to that where the streams hew
out deep ravines in their course to the sea-going river.
BEST METHODS OF TAXATION.
By the Late Hon. DAVID A. WELLS.
PART III (concluded).
The universal and admitted failure of the general property tax
to attain good results and the great difficulty, indeed the impossibility,
of reducing it to a form in which it can operate with efficiency
and an approach to justice, must lead to its abolition and the
gradual substitution of other and more simple taxes. However well
adapted to a community in which the taxable property was in evidence
and easily assessed for purposes of taxation, it becomes antiquated,
unequal, and inquisitorial in a people where credit and credit
investments have been highly developed, and where the greater social
activities, whether in commerce or industry, transportation or
production, are conducted by corporations issuing various kinds of
securities, none of which can easily be reached by a taxing authority
away from the center of incorporation. To undertake to include
these securities, evidences of debt, or obligations in a general property
tax is to invite evasion, put a heavy inducement on concealment,
and, whenever effective, to give rise to shocking inequalities of burden.
The widow and orphan, whose property is in the hands of a
trustee, pay the full tax; in any other direction the holder of stocks
or bonds, money or notes, escapes according to the elasticity of his
conscience. The very exemptions recognized by law give an opportunity
for new evasions, based upon analogy or upon some technicality
under which the business is conducted. Bonds of the United
States, the legal-tender notes, or money are beyond the reach of
State authorities for the purpose of taxation. In the same category
come also all imported goods in original packages, in the possession
of the importers, and all property in transit. These exemptions
alone amount to thousands of millions of dollars, and the tendency
has been to increase the number of items exempted. But every
such exception under the law adds to the burdens of the honest taxpayer,
and every evasion of taxation also renders his charge the
greater. Here is not distributive justice, but concentrated injustice.
Another large proportion of the personal property owned by the
citizens of the State is of the most intangible character, and in great
part invisible and incorporeal, such, for instance, as negotiable instruments
in the form of bills of exchange, State, municipal, and
corporate bonds, and, if actually situated in other States, exempt
from taxation where they are held; acknowledgments of individual
indebtedness, and a number of similar matters. All property of this
character is, through a great variety of circumstances, constantly
fluctuating in value; is offset by indebtedness which may never be
the same one hour with another; is easy to transfer, and by simple
delivery is, in fact, transferred continually from one locality to another,
and from the protection and laws of one State to the sovereignty
and jurisdiction of some other. It is not to be wondered,
therefore, that all attempts to value and assess this description of
property have proved exceedingly unsatisfactory, and that nearly
every civilized community, with the exception of the States of the
Federal Union, have long ago abandoned the project as something
wholly inexpedient and impracticable.
The differences among the States in the interpretation of residence,
of the situs of the property taxed, are also an objection to
this system and an obstacle to its application. The want of uniformity
can not be abolished by enactments of law, because absolute
uniformity of laws would not insure as uniform interpretation of
their provisions. The rules for assessment are uniform for the
officers of a State, but the returns made involve such differences in
the application of the rules that one is forced to the conclusion that
a misunderstanding of the spirit of the law exists, coloring differently
the view of each returning officer. Discrimination against
the county or municipality and discrimination against the individual
are to be met at every turn. No wording of the law can eliminate
this personal judgment of each assessing authority, and the supervision
of the returns by State boards of equalization has introduced
an even greater departure from justice, as a majority, based upon
selfish interests, may be had, and its decision may readily be defended
as based upon good and sufficient reasons. An appeal to the
last resort, the higher courts, may produce redress against unjust
assessments, but each case must be decided upon its merits, and only
under very exceptional circumstances—as in the recent case at
Tarrytown, New York, where striking and general, even personal,
spite had been shown in the tax levy—can a number of taxpayers
find it their interest to combine and carry the question into the
courts for adjudication.
Imperfect in theory, the machinery of the general property tax
is imperfect. With at present fully two thirds of the personal property
of the State exempted from taxation by law or by circumstances
growing out of its condition, or the natural depravity and selfishness
of the average taxpayer, and with a large part of the other
third exempted by competing nations or neighboring States, what
becomes of the theory so generally accepted in the United States
that in order to tax equitably it is necessary to tax everything? A
very slight examination leads to the conclusion that it is the most
imperfect system of taxation that ever existed; that, with the exception
of moneyed corporations, it is a mere voluntary assessment,
which may be diminished at any time by an offset of indebtedness
which the law invites the taxpayers to increase ad infinitum, borrowing
on pledge of corporate stocks, United States bonds, legal-tender
notes, etc., all exempt from taxation; that its administration
in respect to justice and equity is a farce and more uncertain and
hazardous than the chances of the gaming table; and that its continuance
is more provocative of immorality and more obstructive
of material development than any one agency that can possibly be
mentioned. A stringent enforcement only leads to greater perversions
and a wider evasion. A lax enforcement does not reduce
its inequalities and general want of application to actual
conditions.
The problem, then, is what taxes to introduce in place of this
confessed failure of the general property tax.
There can be little doubt that the desire for greater simplicity
in taxation is generally felt, and in part put into practice. The
mass of various kinds of imposts, added without any system or real
connection or relation one to another, has often resulted in so large a
number of charges on Government account as to defeat itself. The
French taxes at the end of the last century, with their added fault
of inequality and injustice in distribution, led naturally to the theory
of a single tax—the impôt unique of the physiocrats—which
did not become a fact, yet registered the protest against the multiplicity
and crying oppressiveness of the remains of feudal dues and
fiscal experiments undertaken under the stress of an empty treasury.
So it has been noted at the present time that where an opportunity
has offered there is a tendency in European countries to simplify
their taxes, and, as in the case of Switzerland, prepare the way for
income and property taxes. It is a greater dependence on such
direct taxes in place of indirect taxes that has distinguished the
great fiscal changes in recent years. Germany may have wished to
establish a brandy monopoly, and Russia may resort to a monopoly
of the manufacture and sale of distilled spirits. But England increases
her death duties, France and the United States seek to frame
acceptable taxes on income, and Switzerland succeeds in modifying
her system in the line of direct taxes.
There is an earnest movement in favor of a single tax on the
value of land, exclusive of other real property connected with it.
As involving a question of abstract justice the proposition has much
in its favor, but it can not be denied that practical obstacles oppose
its adoption. The recent commission on taxation in Massachusetts
thus treats of it: "It proposes virtually a radical change in the
ownership of land, and therefore a revolution in the entire social
body. In this form of taxation all revenue from land alone is to
be appropriated—that is, the beneficial ownership of land is to cease.
Whether or not this system, if it had been adopted at the outset
and had since been maintained, would have been to the public advantage
may be an open question, but it would certainly seem to
be too late now to turn to it in the manner proposed. In any event,
it involves properly not questions of taxation, but questions as to
the advantage or disadvantage of private property in land."
If securities are to be taxed, the methods adopted should avoid a
double taxation, and an attempt to reach capital outside of the
State. It is evident that a State, like Massachusetts, which taxes
the foreign holder of shares in its corporations as well as the shares
of foreign corporations held by its own citizens, is inviting a dangerous
reprisal from other States. "Wherever the owner may be,
if the corporation is chartered within the State the Commonwealth
collects the tax on the shares. Wherever the corporation may be, if
the owner is within the State the Commonwealth also collects the tax
(in theory of law at least)." If this be the best possible system, and
it is supposed Massachusetts assumes it to be, general double taxation
would follow its adoption by the other States. The effort to carry
this rule into practice proves its injustice as well as futility. The
most searching and inquisitorial methods of seeking such property
will not avail to reach a good part of it, and this results in adding
inequality of burden to its other difficulties. Evasion is too simple
a process to be unused, and the heavier the rate of tax the greater
will be the resort to evasion and even to perjury, express or implied.
The fundamental cause of the failure lies in this, "the endeavor to
tax securities, which are no more than evidences of ownership or
interest in property, and which offer the easiest means of concealment
and evasion, by the same methods and at the same rate as
tangible property situated on the spot."
This inherent difficulty can be cured only by abandoning the
attempt to tax directly securities or evidences of debt, representing
ownership or interest in property beyond the limits of the taxing
authority. In the case of the securities of home companies they
may be readily taxed at the source, but in the case of foreign corporations
it is only by methods almost revolting in their injustice
and treatment of the taxpayer that even a partial success can be
secured. The dependence upon the sworn statement or declaration
of the taxpayer is known to be extremely faulty and to offer a
premium on untruthfulness. So long as this dependence is retained
in whole or in part in a system for taxing personal property, the
results must be unsatisfactory. The most judicious, even if it seems
the most radical, remedy is to abandon the taxation of securities.
Certainly it would be well to put an end to the Massachusetts plan
of taxing securities representing property outside of the State, for
that involves double taxation wherever it has been possible to impose
the tax. What can be reached only by methods at all times
trying and difficult, and sometimes very demoralizing, should not
be permitted to remain a permanent feature of the revenue system
of a State.
The New York commission of 1870 proposed to limit the State
taxes to a very few number of objects. That they be "levied on
a comparatively broad basis—like real estate—with certainty, proportionality,
and uniformity on a few items of property, like the
franchises of all moneyed corporations enjoying the same privileges
within the State, and on fixed and unvarying signs of property, like
rental values of buildings"—such was the scheme proposed. The
leading object to be attained was equality of burdens, and a second
object of quite as great importance, was simplicity in assessment and
collection. Granting that real estate, lands, and buildings were
taxed on a full and fair market valuation, and that corporations contributed
their share toward the expenses of the State, it remained to
devise a tax that should reach all other forms of property that could
be properly and easily assessed. This tax was to be known as the
"building-occupancy" tax, and was to be levied on an additional
assessment of a sum equal to three times the annual rent or rental
value of all the buildings on the land. Nearly thirty years later
the Massachusetts commission proposed a modified form of this tax.
An annual rental value of four hundred dollars was to be exempt
from taxation, but ten per cent was to be levied on all rental values
in excess of that amount.
"The advantages of a tax on house rentals," said the commission,
"can be easily stated. It is clear, almost impossible of evasion,
easy of administration, well fitted to yield a revenue for local uses,
and certain to yield such a revenue. It is clear, because the rental
value of a house is comparatively easy to ascertain. The tax is
based on a part of a man's affairs which he publishes to all the world.
It requires no inquisition and no inquiry into private matters; it uses
simply the evidence of a man's means which he already offers."
If this tax were to be given it would be possible to wipe out all the
tax on incomes from "profession, trade, or employment," to abolish
the existing assessments on personal property. The effects would
be far-reaching. If loans of money are free from taxation, the
purchasing power of money in the same degree must diminish, which
simply means that the purchasing power of farms and products of
farms for money must to the same extent increase; hence, the borrower
on bond and mortgage will not be subject to double taxation—first,
in the form of increased rate of interest, and then in taxation
of his real estate—and hence the farmer or landowner who is
not in the habit of either lending or borrowing money will find his
ability to meet additional taxation on his land increased in additional
value of land and products of land in proportion as the tax
is removed from money at interest. Also, the exemption of the
products of farms and things consumed on farms from taxation will
give a corresponding increased value to compensate for the "building-occupancy"
tax. Tenants controlled by all-pervading natural
laws can and will give increased rents, if their personal property is
exempt primarily from taxation. The average profits of money at
interest or of dealings in visible personal property free from taxation
can not exceed, for any considerable length of time, the average
profits of real estate, risk of investment and skill in management
taken into consideration; and therefore the real pressure of taxation
under the proposed system will finally be, like atmospheric pressure
or pressure of water, on all sides, and by a natural uniform
law executed upon all property in every form used and consumed in
the State. Persons must occupy buildings and business must be
done in buildings, and through these visible instrumentalities capital
can be reached by a rule of fractional uniformity, and by a simple,
plain, and economical method of assessment and collection.
This building-occupancy tax, or tax on rental value, does not
preclude a supplementary tax on corporations.
Much has been said of the onerous burdens of taxation endured
by individuals compared with those of corporations, and especially
corporations enjoying certain rights or franchises in public
streets and highways or corporations of a more or less public
character. The phenomenal growth of municipalities has been one
of the notable social movements of the last twenty-five years. The
drift of population from the country districts to cities has increased
with each year, and finds an explanation in many causes. The opportunities
offered in a city for advancement are greater and more
numerous; the monotony of the farm life does not keep the young
at home, but drives them for excitement and profit to the great centers
of population. The economic changes of a half century also
have their influence. The competition of new regions, better
adapted for certain cultures on a commercial scale, has reduced the
profitableness of older and more settled localities, where comparatively
costly methods must be resorted to if the fertility of the land
is to be maintained. The wheat fields of the West narrowed the
margin of profit in New England farming, while the sheep and cattle
ranges of the West made it impossible for the same quality of live
stock to be raised for profit in the East. Farms were abandoned,
and the younger blood went West to grow up with the country, or
into the cities to struggle for a living. Further, the advances in
agriculture, the application of more productive methods, and the
introduction of machinery have reduced the demand for labor in
the rural districts, and this has led to a migration to the cities.
The result of this has been an immense development of city life,
and with it an ever-increasing field for investment in corporate
activities. The supply of water is usually in the city's control, but
the manufacture and sale of gas, the production and distribution of
electricity, the street railways, telegraph, and telephone interests
are private corporations formed for profit and using more or less the
public highways in the conduct of their various enterprises. A
grant of a street or highway for a railway or electric-wire subway
generally involves a monopoly of that use, and the privilege or franchise
may become more valuable with the mere growth in the population
of the cities. Assured against an immediate competition,
there is a steady increment in the value of the franchise, and in
the case of a true monopoly there seems to be no limits to its possible
growth.
An instance of this nature is so striking in its relations and so
pertinent to the present discussion that attention is asked to it. In
the reign of James I water was supplied by two or three conduits in
the principal streets of London, and the river and suburban springs
were the sources of supply. Large buildings were furnished with
water by tapping these conduits with leaden pipes, but other buildings
and houses were supplied by "tankard bearers," who brought
water daily. A jeweler of the city, Hugh Myddleton by name,
believed something better could be done, and he proposed to bring
water from Hertfordshire by a "new river." He embarked in the
undertaking, sank his fortune in its conduct, and appealed to the
king for assistance. James granted this aid, taking one half of the
shares of the company—thirty-six out of the seventy-two shares
into which it was divided. The shares that remained received the
name of "adventurer's moiety." The work was completed in 1613,
and water was then let into the city.
So little was the measure appreciated that its first years were
troublous ones for the shareholders. The squires objected to the
river, believing it would overflow their lands or reduce them to
swamps and destroy the roads. The city residents adopted the use
of the water slowly. The shares were nominally worth £100 apiece,
but for nearly twenty years the income was only 12s., or $3, per
share. In 1736 a share was valued at £115 10s., and by 1800 it had
risen to £431 8s. With the first years of this century the company
prospered, and its benefits were widely applied, reflecting this change
in the value of its capital. In 1820 a share was worth £11,500
and in 1878 the fraction of a share was sold at a rate which made
a full share worth £91,000. In 1888 the dividend distributed to
each share was £2,610. Eleven years later, in July, 1889, a single
share was sold for £122,800, or nearly $600,000. The nominal
capital of the company in 1884 was £3,369,000, and besides its water
franchise it holds large estates and valuable properties. While the
actual real estate controlled by the corporation accounts for some
of this remarkable rise in the value of the shares, a greater and more
lasting cause was the possession of an almost exclusive privilege or
franchise which assured a handsome and ever-increasing return on
the investment. Had all the other property been deducted from
the statement of the company's assets, there would have remained
this intangible and immeasurable right created and conceded by its
charter and long usance.
A definition of a franchise has been given by the Supreme Court
in terms of sufficient general accuracy to be adopted: "A franchise
is a right, privilege, or power of public concern which ought not to
be exercised by private individuals at their mere will and pleasure,
but which should be reserved for public control and administration,
either by the Government directly or by public agents acting under
such conditions and regulations as the Government may impose in
the public interest and for the public security." A necessary condition,
then, is a public interest in the occupation or privileges to
be followed. The good will of a person or individual trader is not
a franchise in this sense, though a franchise may be enjoyed by an
individual as well as by a corporation, and good will may rest upon
the privilege implied in the franchise.
The recognition of franchises, a species of property "as invisible
and intangible as the soul in a man's body," as a proper object for
taxation is now beyond any dispute. It is peculiarly appropriate as
a source of revenue for the exclusive use of the State, inasmuch as
the grant of franchises emanates from the State in its sovereign
capacity. In the case of Morgan vs. the State of Louisiana, Justice
Field, of the Supreme Court of the United States, said: "The franchises
of a railroad corporation are rights or privileges which are
essential to the operation of the corporation and without which its
roads and works would be of little value, such as the franchise to
run cars, to take tolls, to appropriate earth and gravel for the bed
of its road, or water for its engines, and the like. They are positive
rights or privileges, without the possession of which the road
or company could not be successfully worked. Immunity from
taxation is not one of them." Further, the extent to which this
taxation of franchises may be carried rests entirely in the discretion
of the taxing power, subject only to constitutional restrictions.
The great difficulty in applying such a tax lies in the methods
of reaching an understanding on the value of the franchise. How
can this indefinite something be made visible on the tax books? In
many instances the franchise may be regarded as inseparable from
the real property of the corporation. The rails of a tramway, the
poles and wires of a telegraph company, the pipes and conduits of a
gas company, are real and tangible things, necessary to a proper
conduct to the respective functions of the corporations. But the
right to lay tracks in the public streets, to sink pipes under the
streets, or to string wires overhead is as necessary a possession and
as essential to the performance of what the corporation was created
to accomplish. Whether this permits the franchise to be regarded
as "real estate" and so offers it for taxation is a question of some
theoretical interest, but of little practical importance. Unless the
franchise is regarded in this way, as belonging to real estate, or as
forming a taxable entity apart from other property, it would be
simpler to reach it through a corporation tax in one of the many
ways open for applying that tax.
Enough has been said to demonstrate the extremely faulty condition
of tax methods in the United States. Uniformity is highly
desirable, but equality of burden is even more to be desired. The
advances in this direction have been few, and accomplished only
partially in a few States. The machinery for making assessments
is only a part of the problem, as the intention of the law, the spirit
of the act, is of even higher importance in securing justice and moderation.
If these essays, incomplete as they must of necessity be,
have led to a better comprehension of the chaotic condition existing
now and of the difficulties to be overcome, their object will have
been attained. The remedy may be left for time to effect.
In connection with the celebration of the centenary of the death of the
naturalist Lazaro Spallanzani, at Reggio, Italy, in February last, a booklet
has been published containing articles on various aspects of the life and
work of Spallanzani and matters associated with him. Among the authors
represented are Mantegazza, Ferrari, and others well known in
Italian science.
BACON'S IDOLS: A COMMENTARY.
By WILLIAM HENRY HUDSON,
PROFESSOR OF ENGLISH LITERATURE IN THE LELAND STANFORD JUNIOR UNIVERSITY.
In the first book of the Novum Organon the great leader of the
new philosophy undertook to set forth the dangers and difficulties
which stand always in the way of clear and fruitful thought.
Conscious that he was breaking entirely with the schools of the past,
and ambitious of laying the firm foundations on which all future
inquirers would have to build, it was natural that Bacon should
pause on the threshold of his vast enterprise to take stock of the
mental weaknesses which had rendered futile the labors of earlier
thinkers, and which, if not carefully guarded against, would jeopardize
the efforts of times to come. That the understanding may
direct itself effectively to the search for truth it is necessary, he
insisted, that it should have a full apprehension of the lapses to
which it is ever liable, the obstacles with which it will constantly
have to contend. A vague sense of peril is not enough. As a first
condition of healthy intellectual activity we must learn to know
our frailties for what they really are, estimate their consequences,
and probe the secrets of their power.
Bacon's statement of the sources of error and vain philosophizing
is regarded by him as merely the pars destruens or negative portion
of his work—as it were, "the clearing of the threshing floor."
But his aphorisms are packed close with solid and substantial
thought, and well deserve the attention of all who would seriously
devote themselves to the intellectual life. "True philosophy," as
he conceived it, "is that which is the faithful echo of the voice of
the world, which is written in some sort under the direction of
things, which adds nothing of itself, which is only the rebound, the
reflection of reality." To reach for ourselves, as nearly as we may,
a philosophy which shall meet the terms of this exigent definition
is, or should be, one chief purpose of our study and our thought.
We may very well ask, then, what help so great and suggestive a
thinker may give us on our way.
With his characteristic fondness for fanciful phraseology, Bacon
describes the causes which distort our mental vision as Idola—idols
or phantoms of the mind. Of such he distinguishes four classes,
which he calls, respectively: Idols of the Tribe (Idola Tribus);
Idols of the Cave (Idola Specus); Idols of the Market Place (Idola
Fori); and Idols of the Theater (Idola Theatri). It is not to be
claimed for Bacon's analysis that it is exhaustive or always scientifically
exact. In many places, too, it opens up difficult philosophic
questions, which for the present must be disregarded. But, as Professor
Fowler has said, there is something about his diction, "his
quaintness of expression, and his power of illustration which lays
hold of the mind and lodges itself in the memory in a way which we
can hardly find paralleled in any other writer, except it be Shakespeare."
Moreover, though he often deals with matters of merely
technical and temporary interest, his leading thoughts are of permanent
and universal applicability. Let us see, then, what suggestions
we can gather from a brief consideration of his Idols, one by one.
Idols of the Tribe are so called because they "have their foundation
in human nature itself"; in other words, they are the prepossessions
and proclivities which belong to men as men, and as such
are common to the whole race or tribe. "Let men please themselves
as they will," says Bacon, "in admiring and almost adoring
the human mind, this is certain: that as an uneven mirror distorts
the rays of objects according to its own figure and section, so the
mind, when it receives impressions of objects through the sense,
can not be trusted to report them truly, but in forming its notions
mixes up its own nature with the nature of things." In many lines
of thought there is no more pregnant source of fallacy and confusion
than the tendency, innate in all and seldom properly checked,
to accept man as the measure of all things, and to translate the
entire universe into terms of our own lives. Theology, though it
is slowly outgrowing its cruder anthropomorphism, still talks about
the "will" of God, an "intelligent" First Cause, the "moral governor,"
and "lawgiver"; and outside theology we have ample evidence
of the persistency with which we humanize and personify
Nature by endowing it with attributes belonging to ourselves. Darwin
confessed that he found it difficult to avoid this tendency. It
is a pitfall into which men constantly stumble in their attempts to
interpret the processes at work about them.
One important result of our habit of thus forcing the universe
to become "the bond-slave of human thought" is to be found, as
Bacon notes, in our proneness to "suppose the existence of more
order and regularity in the world" than is actually to be discovered
there. While we read design and purpose into the phenomena of
Nature because we are conscious of design and purpose in our own
activities, thus allowing ourselves to drift into the metaphysical
doctrine of Final Causes, we also do our best to bring Nature's
multitudinous operations into such definite formulas as will satisfy our
love of plan and symmetry. We are not content till we can systematize
and digest, whence our continual recourse to loose analogies
and fanciful resemblances. We start from an imagined necessity
of order, or from some conception of things attractive because
of its apparent simplicity, and then reason out from this into the
facts of Nature. Mill furnishes some telling examples. "As late
as the Copernican controversy it was urged, as an argument in favor
of the true theory of the solar system, that it placed the fire, the
noblest element, in the center of the universe. This was a remnant
of the notion that the order of the universe must be perfect,
and that perfection consisted in conformity to rules of procedure,
either real or conventional. Again, reverting to numbers, certain
numbers were perfect, therefore these numbers must obtain in the
great phenomena of Nature. Six was a perfect number—that is,
equal to the sum of all its factors—an additional reason why there
must be exactly six planets. The Pythagoreans, on the other hand,
attributed perfection to the number ten, but agreed in thinking that
the perfect numbers must be somehow realized in the heavens; and
knowing only of nine heavenly bodies to make up the enumeration,
they asserted 'that there was an antichthon, or counter-earth, on
the other side of the sun, invisible to us.' Even Huygens was persuaded
that when the number of heavenly bodies had reached twelve
it could not admit of any further increase. Creative power could
not go beyond that sacred number." Do these concrete illustrations
of perverse reasoning strike us as ludicrous? It is because
they are taken from an order of ideas long since outgrown. The
tendencies they exemplify have not been outgrown. We have only
to keep a vigilant eye on our own mental conduct to be convinced
that we are very apt to begin with some general notion of "the fitness
of things," or what "ought to be," and to argue thence to conclusions
not a whit less absurd essentially than those just referred to.
While these universal mental habits are conspicuous enough in
the higher regions of thought and begin to play tricks with us the
moment we undertake on our own accounts any serious speculation,
there are other Idols of the Tribe whose influence is perhaps more
commonly fatal. We all jump at conclusions, the mind feigning and
supposing "all other things to be somehow, though it can not see
how, similar to those few things by which it is surrounded"; we all
allow ourselves to be unduly "moved by those things most which
strike and enter the mind simultaneously and suddenly, and so fill
the imagination." Hasty judgments are thus daily and hourly
passed on men and things, and rash generalizations permitted to
circulate untested. Even more disastrous, perhaps, in the long run,
is the power of prepossessions. When once, says Bacon, the human
understanding has "adopted an opinion (either as being the received
opinion, or as being agreeable to itself)" it straightway "draws all
things else to support and agree with it." Illustrations may be
found in every direction. Note, for instance, the vitality, even
in the teeth of positive disproof, of many long-accepted and often-challenged
ideas—belief in dreams, omens, prophecies, in providential
visitations and interpositions, in the significance of coincidences,
in popular saws about natural phenomena, in quacks and
quackery, in old wives' tales, vulgar and pseudo-scientific. The
story of witchcraft is only another example of the same kind, though
written large in the chronicles of the world in letters of fire and
blood; the human understanding had "adopted" a belief in witches,
and drew "all things else to support and agree with it." In all
such cases of prepossession the mind obstinately dwells on every
detail that favors its accepted conclusions, while disregarding or depreciating
everything that tells against them; it is always, in Bacon's
phrase, "more moved and excited by affirmatives than by negatives."
Thus, we hear much of the one dream that is fulfilled, and
of the ninety and nine that are unfulfilled—nothing. Bacon illustrates
this perversity by the well-known anecdote of the ancient
cynic, which may be left to convey its own moral: "And therefore
it was a good answer that was made by one who, when they showed
him hanging in a temple a picture of those who had paid their vows
as having escaped shipwreck, and would have him say whether he
did not now acknowledge the power of the gods—'Ay,' asked he
again, 'but where are they painted that were drowned after their
vows?'"
Finally, among these Idols of the Tribe we must include the
disturbance caused by the play of feeling upon the mind. "The
human understanding is no dry light, but receives an infusion from
the will and affections, whence proceed sciences which may be called
'sciences as one would.'" We all know, to our cost, how passion
will warp judgment; how difficult it is to see clearly when the emotions
are thoroughly aroused; how tenaciously men cling to opinions
they are familiar with, or would fain have to be true; how
fiercely they contest ideas that are unfamiliar or repugnant. Had
it been contrary to the interest of authority, observed shrewd old
Hobbes, that the three angles of a triangle should be equal to two
angles of a square, the fact would have been, if not disputed, yet
suppressed. Similarly, if the passions of men had been called into
play over the most clearly demonstrable of abstract mathematical
truths, we may be sure that furious controversy would have attended
the issue, and some way found to overthrow the demonstration.
That two and two make four would have been denied had any strong
emotion been excited against the proposition. "Men," said Whateley,
"are much more anxious to have truth on their side than to be
on the side of truth." And the danger is greater because we are
frequently not aware of the bias given by feeling. There are cases
in plenty where men more or less consciously and deliberately espouse
"sciences as one would," but there are many others in which
the emotional interference is insidious and obscure. "Numberless,
in short, are the ways, and sometimes imperceptible, in which the
feelings color and infect the understanding."
These Idols of the Tribe are of course inherent in our intellectual
constitution, and are ineradicable. The simple consideration
that all knowledge is relative—that by no effort and under no
circumstances can we escape beyond the conditions and limitations
of our own minds—suffices to show that intelligence must ever mix
up its own nature with the nature of things, though this fact need
not make us doubt the validity of knowledge as is sometimes hastily
inferred. For the rest, clear recognition of these common obstacles
to thought should put us in the way of anticipating and withstanding
their more serious effects. In practice it must be our object
to maintain watchfulness and a careful skepticism; to test evidence
and check passion; to cultivate candor, flexibility, and alertness of
mind; to avoid loose generalizations; and to be ever ready to accept,
revise, reject. Above all must we steadily resist the seductions
of what is called common sense, and overcome that mental
inertness which too often leads us to drift unthinking along the current
of popular opinion.
But, in addition to errors arising from the common intellectual
nature of men, there are others, the sources of which are to be found
in the idiosyncrasies of the individual mind. These Bacon calls
Idols of the Cave; for every one, he says, "has a cave or den of his
own, which refracts and discolors the light of Nature, owing either
to his own proper and peculiar nature; or to his education and conversation
with others; or to his reading of books, and the authority
of those whom he esteems and admires; or to the differences of impressions,
accordingly as they take place in a mind preoccupied and
predisposed, or in a mind indifferent and settled; and the like."
This summary is comprehensive enough to indicate the character
and point to some of the causes of individual aberrations of judgment;
that it does no more than this is due to the simple fact that
the personal bias is as varied as humanity itself, and that the deflecting
impulses in any given case are to be referred to a complex
of factors almost eluding analysis. To follow this part of the subject
into detail would, therefore, manifestly be impossible. But
certain of the larger and more widely influential of these disturbing
forces may be roughly marked out by way of illustration.
In the first place, there is what we may call the professional bias.
Exclusive devotion to separate lines of activity, study, or thought
inevitably gives the mind a particular set or twist. Bacon complains
that Aristotle, primarily a logician, made his natural philosophy
the slave of his logic. Few specialists can escape the insulation
consequent upon living too continuously in a confined area of
problems and ideas. Their intellectual outlook is necessarily circumscribed,
facts are seen by them out of proper perspective, and
one-sidedness of training and discipline renders their judgment of
things partial and incomplete. The lawyer carries his legal, the
theologian his theological, the scientist his scientific bent of mind
into every inquiry; with what grotesque results is only too frequently
apparent. Accustomed to move in a single narrow groove,
and wholly absorbed in the contemplation of certain isolated classes
of phenomena, they unconsciously allow their particular interests
to dominate their thought, and impose disastrous restrictions upon
their view of whatever lies outside their own chosen field.
Secondly, we have the bias of nation, rank, party, sect. Here
the mental disturbances are too numerous to permit and too obvious
to require special exemplification. Intellectual provincialism of
any kind is fatal to large and fertile thought, alike by limiting the
range of our knowledge and sympathies and by inducing mental
habits and implanting prejudices which prevent us from seeing
things in wide relations and under a clear light. So long as our
point of view is simply that of our country, our class, our party, or
our church, so long, it is evident, our minds will lack the breadth
and flexibility necessary for free inquiry, fruitful comparisons, sane
and balanced judgments.
Finally, among the Idols of the Cave "which have most effect
in disturbing the clearness of the understanding," mention must
be made of the temperamental bias. Every man, it has been said,
is born Platonist or Aristotelian; it is certain that the great divisions
in thought—religious, philosophical, political—answer roughly
to fundamental differences in human nature, and that every one
not checked or turned aside by extraneous influences will spontaneously
gravitate in one or another direction. Bacon is only
recording a fact of the commonest experience when he says that
"there are found some minds given to an extreme admiration of
antiquity, others to an extreme love and appetite for novelty, but
few so duly tempered that they can hold the mean, neither carping
at what has been well laid down by the ancients nor despising what
is well introduced by the moderns." Many instinctively brace
themselves against authority and tradition; by others again, whatever
is handed down to us by authority and tradition is for this reason
alone treated with contempt. That the crowd believes a thing
is enough to convince this man of its truth, and that of its falsehood.
"The vulgar thus through imitation err;
As oft the learned by being singular."
These and similar congenital differences in men's intellectual
constitutions might be illustrated indefinitely if it were necessary.
A further remark of Bacon's must, however, be quoted, for it goes
deeper in mental analysis and touches a less obvious point. "There
is one principal and, as it were, radical distinction between different
minds in respect of philosophy and the sciences, which is this:
that some minds are stronger and apter to mark the differences of
things, others to mark their resemblances. The steady and acute
mind can fix its contemplations and dwell and fasten on the subtlest
distinctions; the lofty and discursive mind recognizes and
puts together the finest and most general resemblances." Men
belonging to the former class we should call logical and critical;
those belonging to the latter, imaginative and constructive.
Each class tends to the excesses of its own predominant powers,
and in each case excess interferes with calm reasoning and sound
judgment.
To correct the personal equation it is imperative that we should
study ourselves conscientiously, consider dispassionately the natural
tendencies of our birth, early surroundings, education, associations,
and interests, and do our utmost to conquer, or at least to make
allowance for, every individual peculiarity, temperamental or acquired,
likely to turn the mind aside from the straight line of
thought. Such self-discipline every one must strenuously undertake
on his own account if he would wish to see things as they really
are. Stated in more general terms, our aim must be to rise above
all kinds of provincialism and personal prejudice, and to overcome
our natural proneness to rest content in our own particular point
of view. Bacon quotes with approval the words of Heraclitus:
"Men look for sciences in their own lesser worlds, and not in the
greater or common world." We must strive to escape from our
own lesser world, and to make ourselves citizens of the greater, common
world. For this we need the widest and most generous culture—the
culture that is to be found in books, in travel, in intercourse
with men of all classes and every shade of opinion. Left
to ourselves we only too sedulously cultivate our own insularity;
we mingle simply with the people who agree with us, belong to our
own caste, and share our own prejudices; we read only the papers
of our own party, the literature of our own sect; we allow our own
special interests in life to absorb our energies, color all our thoughts,
and narrow our horizon. In this way the Phantoms of the Cave
secure daily and yearly more despotic sway over our minds. Self-detachment,
disinterestedness, the power of provisional sympathy
with alien modes of thought and feeling, must be our ideal. "Let
every student of Nature," says Bacon, "take this as a rule, that
whatever his mind seizes and dwells on with particular satisfaction
is to be held in suspicion, and that so much the more care is to be
taken in dealing with such questions to keep the understanding
even and clear." A hard saying, truly, yet one that must be laid
well to heart.
While the Idols of the Tribe, then, are common human frailties
in thought, and the Idols of the Cave the perturbations resulting
from individual idiosyncrasies, there are other Idols "formed by
the intercourse and association of men with each other," which
Bacon calls "Idols of the Market Place, on account of the commerce
and consort of men there." By reason of its manifold and necessary
imperfections—its looseness, variability, ambiguity, and inadequacy—the
language we are forced to employ for the embodiment
and interchange of ideas plays ceaseless havoc with our thought, not
only introducing confusion and misconception into discussion, but
often, "like the arrows from a Tartar bow," reacting seriously upon
our minds. A large part of the vocabulary to which we must perforce
have recourse, even when dealing with the most abstruse and
delicate subjects, is made up of words taken over from vulgar usage
and pressed into higher service; they carry with them long trains
of vague connotations and suggestions; the superstitions of the past
are often imbedded in them; no one can ever be absolutely certain
of their intellectual values. While, therefore, they may do well
enough for the rough needs of daily life, they prove sadly defective
when required for careful and exact reasoning. And even with
that small and comparatively insignificant portion of our language
which is not inherited from popular use, but fabricated by philosophers
themselves, the case is not much better. Every word, no
matter how cautiously employed, inevitably takes something of the
tone and color of the particular mind through which it passes, and
when put into circulation fluctuates in significance, meaning now a
little more and now a little less. What wonder, then, that "the
high and formal discussions of learned men" have so often begun
and ended in pure logomachy, and that in discussions which are
neither high nor formal and in which the disputants talk hotly and
carelessly the random bandying of words is so apt to terminate in
nothing beyond the darkening of counsel and the confusion of
thought?
Bacon notes two ways particularly in which words impose on the
understanding—they are employed sometimes "for fantastic suppositions
... to which nothing in reality corresponds," and sometimes
for actual entities, which, however, they do not sharply, correctly,
and completely describe. The eighteenth century speculated
at length on a state of Nature and the social contract, unaware
that it was deluding itself with unrealities, and we have not yet done
with such abstractions as the Rights of Man, Nature (personified),
Laws of Nature (conceived as analogous to human laws), and the
Vital Principle. The more common and serious danger of language,
however, lies in the employment of words not clearly or
firmly grasped by the speaker or writer—words which, in all probability,
he has often heard and used, and which he therefore imagines
to represent ideas to him, but which, closely analyzed, will be found
to cover paucity of knowledge or ambiguity of thought. Cause,
effect, matter, mind, force, essence, creation, occur at once as examples.
Few among those who so glibly rattle them off the tongue
have ever taken the trouble to inquire what they actually mean to
them, or whether, indeed, they can translate them into thought
at all.
Among the Idols of the Market Place we must also class the evils
arising from the tendency of words to acquire, through usage and
association, a reach and emotional value not inherent in their original
meanings. This is what Oliver Wendell Holmes happily described
as the process of polarization. "When a given symbol
which represents a thought," said the Professor at the Breakfast
Table, "has lain for a certain length of time in the mind it undergoes
a change like that which rest in a certain position gives
to iron. It becomes magnetic in its relations—it is traversed by
strange forces which did not belong to it. The word, and consequently
the idea it represents, is polarized." The larger part of
our religious and no small portion of our political vocabulary consist
of such polarized words—words which, on account of their acquired
magnetism, unduly attract and influence the mind. We can
never hope to think calmly and clearly while the very symbols of
our thoughts thus possess a kind of thaumaturgic power over us,
which in turn readily transfers itself to our ideas.
If, then, "words plainly force and overrule the understanding
and throw all into confusion and lead men away into numberless
empty controversies and idle fancies," it behooves us to watch
closely the interrelations of language and thought. To put it in
the vernacular, we must at all times make sure that we know what
we are talking about and say what we mean. To this end the study
of language itself is useful, but the habits of precise thought and
expression will never be acquired by linguistic exercise alone. To
use no word without a distinct idea of what it means to us as we
speak or write it; to check, when necessary, the process of thought
by constant redefinition of terms; to depolarize all language that
has become, or threatens to become, magnetic, thus translating familiar
ideas into "new, clean, unmagnetic" phraseology, these may
be set down as first among the rules to which we should tolerate no
exception.
We now come to the last group of Idols—those "which have
immigrated into men's minds from the various dogmas of philosophies,
and also from wrong laws of demonstration." These Bacon
calls Idols of the Theater, "because in my judgment all the received
systems are but so many stage-plays, representing worlds of their
own creation after an unreal and scenic fashion." And perhaps
this conceit carries further than Bacon himself intended, for it not
only suggests the unsubstantial character of philosophic speculations,
but also reminds us how, in the world's history, these airy
fabrics have succeeded each other as on a stage, some to be hissed
and some applauded, but all sooner or later to drop out of popular
favor and be forgotten.
Dealing with these Idols of the Theater, or of Systems (of which
there are many, "and perhaps will be yet many more"), Bacon takes
the opportunity of criticising, briefly but incisively, the methods and
results of ancient and mediæval philosophers. His classification of
false systems is threefold: The sophistical, in which words and the
finespun subtilties of logic are substituted for "the inner truth of
things"; the empirical, in which elaborate dogmas are built up out
of a few hasty observations and ill-conducted experiments; and the
superstitious, in which philosophy is corrupted by myth and
tradition. Under the first head, Bacon again instances Aristotle, whom
he accuses of "fashioning the world out of categories"; under the
second he glances especially at the alchemists; and under the third
he refers to Pythagoras and Plato. To follow Bacon into these historic
issues does not belong to our present purpose. Suffice it to
notice the continued vitality of these three classes of speculative
error. Bacon's judgment of Aristotle—that "he did not consult
experience as he should have done, in order to the framing of his
decisions and axioms; but, having first determined the question according
to his will, he then resorts to experience, and, bending her
into conformity with his placets, leads her about like a captive in a
procession"—is at least equally applicable to thinkers like Hegel
and his followers. Empiricism has by no means been eliminated
from the scientific or would-be scientific world. And as for the
philosophy which is corrupted by myth and tradition, the countless
attempts that are still made to "reconcile" the facts of science
with the data and prepossessions of theology are enough to prove
that, mutato nomine, the methods of Pythagoras and Plato and of
those who in Bacon's day sought "to found a system of natural philosophy
on the first chapter of Genesis, on the book of Job, and other
parts of the sacred writings," are as yet far from obsolete.
It is hardly necessary to call attention to the fact that there is
a close similarity between systematic empiricism and some of the
dangers brought out in connection with the Idols of the Tribe, for
in each case stress must be laid on the tendency to generalize hastily,
depend on scattered and inadequate data, and seek for light
in the "narrowness and darkness" of insufficient knowledge. This
matter is important only as showing how a common weakness may
be caught up and dignified in a philosophic system and rendered
more dangerous by the adventitious weight and influence which it
gains thereby. Another point, not distinctly dealt with by Bacon,
calls, however, for special remark. While the various Idols of the
Theater, or of Systems, exercise their own peculiar and characteristic
influences for evil, they all tend to the debasement of thought
by reason of the authority which they gradually acquire. Associated
with great names, promulgated by schools, officially expounded
by disciples and commentators, they finally settle into a
creed which is regarded as having oracular and dogmatic supremacy.
The formula "Thus saith the Master" closes discussion. Not the
fact itself, but what this or that teacher has said about the fact, comes
at last to be the all-important question. In the condition of mind
thus engendered there is no chance for intellectual freedom, self-reliance,
growth. Lewes related an anecdote of a mediæval student
"who, having detected spots in the sun, communicated his discovery
to a worthy priest. 'My son,' replied the priest, 'I have read
Aristotle many times, and I assure you that there is nothing of the
kind mentioned by him. Go rest in peace, and be certain that the
spots which you have seen are in your eyes, and not in the sun.'"
Such an incident forms an admirable commentary on the saying
of the witty Fontenelle that Aristotle had never made a true philosopher,
but he had spoiled a great many. The position assumed is
simple enough: Aristotle must be right, therefore whatever does not
agree with the doctrines of the Stagirite must be wrong. Are your
facts against him, then revise your facts. Come what may of it,
you must quadrate knowledge with accepted system. Here is the
theological method in a nutshell. And the theological method has
only too often been the method also of the established philosophic
schools.
In our own relations with these Idols of the Theater the first
and last thing to remember is that all systems are necessarily partial
and provisional. "They have their day and cease to be," and at
the best they only mark a gradual progress toward the truth. There
can be no finality, no closing word authoritatively uttered. Our
attitude toward the systems of the past and the present, toward
long-accepted traditions, and dogmatically enunciated conclusions,
must be an attitude of firm and steady—of respectful, it may be,
but still firm and steady—independence. We must resist the tendency
to passive acquiescence, and endeavor to combine with generous
hospitality to all ideas the habit of not accepting anything
merely because it is stated ex cathedra, or is backed by an influential
name, or can "plead a course of long observance for its use."
Perhaps to wean ourselves from this particular form of idolatry
there is nothing so helpful as a wide and constant study of the history
of thought. The pathway of intellectual development is
strewn with outgrown dogmas and exploded systems. How fatuous,
then, to accept, whole and untested, the doctrine of any master,
new or old, believing that his word will give us complete and undiluted
truth!
So much, then, we may say with Bacon "concerning the several
classes of Idols and their equipage, all of which must be renounced
and put away with a fixed and solemn determination, and
the understanding thoroughly freed and cleansed; the entrance
into the kingdom of man, founded on the sciences, being not much
other than the kingdom of heaven, whereinto none may enter except
as a little child." It may perhaps be urged that the result of
such a survey as we have taken of the obstacles to clear thought is
to leave the mind dazed and discouraged, partly because the suggestions
made for the conquest of these obstacles, though easily formulated
in theory are difficult and sometimes impossible in practice,
and partly because the general if not expressed tendency of
our analysis is (it may be said) in the direction of that Pyrrhonic
skepticism which "doomed men to perpetual darkness." To the
former objection I have only to reply that it is one to which all discussions
of the principles and problems of conduct are necessarily
open. "If to do were as easy as to know what were good to do,
chapels had been churches, and poor men's cottages princes' palaces."
None the less, to state as lucidly as we can what were
good to do under certain circumstances is properly regarded as part
of the business of ethics. The other point is touched upon by
Bacon himself in words which it would be impertinent to seek to
better: "It will also be thought that by forbidding men to pronounce
and set down principles as established until they have duly
arrived through the intermediate steps at the highest generalities,
I maintain a sort of suspension of the judgment, and bring it to
what the Greeks call acatalepsia—a denial of the capacity of the
mind to comprehend truth. But in reality that which I meditate
and propound is not acatalepsia, but eucatalepsia; not denial of
the capacity to understand, but provision for understanding truly;
for I do not take away authority from the senses, but supply them
with helps; I do not slight the understanding, but govern it. And
better surely it is that we should know all that we need to know, and
yet think our knowledge imperfect, than that we should think our
knowledge perfect, and yet not know anything we need to know."
MATHEMATICS FOR CHILDREN.
By M. LAISANT.
Except with persons having specially favorable surroundings,
I believe that the vast majority of parents have a feeling of
dread at the thought of putting their children to the study of mathematics.
They know that the child must learn something about
it in order to pass his examinations; but with this knowledge
goes an apprehension of loading his mind with those ideas which
are so complicated and hard to acquire, and we put off the dreaded
moment of setting him to work as late as possible.
While I believe it is wise to spare the child all useless overwork,
I am persuaded also that the best way of sparing him is not to
shrink from initiating him into hard work, if that can be done in
a rational way.
I regard all the sciences as, at least to a certain extent, experimental,
and, notwithstanding the views of those who would regard
the mathematical sciences as a series of operations in pure logic,
resting upon strictly ideal conceptions, I believe that we may affirm
that there does not exist a mathematical idea that can enter our
brain without the previous contemplation of the outer world and
the facts it offers to our observation. This affirmation, the discussion
of which now would carry us too far, may help to a clear idea
of the way we should try to convey the first mathematical ideas
to the mind of the child.
The outer world is the first thing the child should be taught to
regard and concerning which he should be given as much information
as possible—information which he will have no trouble in storing,
we may well believe, and from this outer world the first mathematical
notions should be borrowed; to these should succeed later
an abstraction, which is less complicated than it seems.
Our primary teaching of arithmetic now follows in the tracks
of that of grammar, as we might as well say that the teaching of
grammar follows in the tracks of that of arithmetic. That is, in
either case we teach the child a number of abstract and confusing
definitions which he can not comprehend, imposing on him a series
of rules to follow under the pretext of giving him a good practical
direction, and we force him to learn and memorize these rules
whether they are good for anything or not.
When the child has grown older he is given two or three short
lessons a week in science, nine tenths of which, with his fleeting
memory, he forgets before the next week's lessons come on. He
can not relish anything that is taught him in that way, and it would
be vastly better to give him no scientific ideas at all than to scatter
them around in such a way, for all teachers agree that a fresh pupil
is more easily dealt with and can be taught more satisfactorily and
thoroughly than one who has been mistaught.
When the student has passed through it all and has established
himself in life he is apt to look back upon his experiences under
such teachings in no very amiable mood, and to regard such matters
in the light of barriers that were set up to prevent his getting his
diploma with too little work; and even if his profession is one that
calls for applications of mathematics he prepares himself with sets
of formulas that enable him to dispense with the imperfect instruction
he has received.
When we think of giving a child a mathematical education we
are apt to ask whether he has special aptitudes fitting him to receive
it. Do we ask any such questions when we talk of teaching him to
read and write? Oh, no! we all acknowledge that reading and
writing are useful, practical, and indispensable arts, which every
human being not infirm or defective should learn. Now, elementary
mathematics, which represents a tolerably extended equipment,
is no less useful and indispensable than the knowledge of
reading and writing, and I assert further, what may seem paradoxical
to many, that it can be assimilated with much less fatigue
than the earliest knowledge of reading and writing, provided always
that instead of proceeding in the usual way and giving lessons
bristling with formulas and rules, appealing to the memory, imposing
fatigue, and producing nothing but disgust, we adopt the
philosophical method of conveying ideas to the child by means of
objects within reach of his senses. The teaching should be wholly
concrete and applied only to the contemplation of external objects
and their interpretation, and the instruction should be given continually,
especially during the primary period, under the form of
play. Nothing is easier than this, then, in arithmetic; for instance,
to use dice, beans, balls, sticks, etc., and by their aid give the child
ideas of numbers.
Do we do anything of this kind? When I was taught to read
and write I knew how to write the figure 2 before I had any idea
of the number two. Nothing is more radically contrary to the
normal working of the brain than this. The notion of numbers—up
to 10, for example—should be given to the child before accustoming
him to trace a single character. That is the only way
of impressing the idea of number independently of the symbol or
the formula which is only too ready to take the place in the mind
of the object represented by it.
When a child has learned to count through the use of such
objects as I have mentioned he may be taught what is called the
addition table. This table can be learned by heart easily enough,
but when we reach the multiplication table we come upon one of
the tortures of childhood. Would it not be simpler and easier to
make the children construct these tables, instead of making them
learn them?
Fig. 1.
Let us first take the addition table, and suppose that we trace
ten columns on suitably ruled paper, at the top of which we write
the first ten numbers, for example, and then write them again at the
beginning of a certain number of horizontal lines (Fig. 1). Let us
suppose, too, that we have a box divided into compartments arranged
like the squares in our table, into which we put heaps of balls, beans,
or dice corresponding to the numbers indicated in the table. The
child will take, for example, two balls from one compartment and
three from another, will put them together and place his five balls
in the case corresponding with the point where the lines of two and
three will meet, and will thus gradually accustom himself to the idea
that two added to three are equal to five, four and two to six, etc.,
before he knows how to write the corresponding figures. As soon
as he has learned how to write them he can himself make the table
with figures (Fig. 2), showing that one and one make two, one and
three four, etc.
Fig. 2.
This will be all the easier for him because he will only have
to write the figures in their order in the lines and the columns. This
furnishes an excellent writing exercise after the children have
begun to write figures, and affords besides a certain method of
teaching them the addition table up to nineteen at least. I insist
that all this can be done even before the child knows how to write
the figures by means of an arrangement like a printer's case, and
that it will be as a play, rather than a study, to the child. Hardly
anything more will be required than to bring the toy to the child's
notice and leave him to himself after he has been started with it,
and he will get along the faster the less he is bothered.
A similar process may be adopted with the multiplication table.
With a case like the other, it is only necessary to tell the child that
if he wants to know how much are three times four he has only
to make heaps of four things each, take three of them and put
them in the box at the intersection of the line three and the column
four. If he can write the figures he will write 12, instead of
gathering up the twelve objects that represent the product. When
he has played at this for some time he may become acquainted with
all the products up to ten times ten or beyond without having to
make any abnormal effort of memory.
The idea of numeration, which is usually put off till a later
period, should also be given at the beginning. Children soon understand
the decimal numeration and learn to write 10 for ten, and
other numbers composed of one of the nine ciphers and zero. But
the fact which, however, though quite essential to know, receives
very little attention is that there is nothing particular about this
number ten, and that systems of numeration can be devised resting
on any basis that may be taken; that the principle of every system of
numeration consists in taking a certain number of units and grouping
them. Take, for example, a system having five as its basis. All
the numbers of such a system can be represented with the figures
1, 2, 3, and 4, the symbol 10 standing in this case for five. To construct
a number we have only to group the units by fives and observe
the result.
To learn decimal numeration by this process we put tens of objects
into little boxes, tens of little boxes into larger ones, and so on.
The child can in this way acquire an exact idea of the units of successive
order in any system that may be desired.
This method of teaching was developed in a remarkable way
about thirty years ago by Jean Macé in a little book entitled
L'Arithmétique du Grand-Papa—Grandpa's Arithmetic—which
made some impression when it appeared, but has been substantially
forgotten.
In this method I attach much importance to giving these exercises
a form of play. I believe that nothing in primary instruction
should savor of obligation and fatigue. It would, on the other
hand, be better to try to induce the child to desire himself to go
on, and it would always be well to try to give him the illusion, in
all stages of instruction, that he is the discoverer of the facts we
wish to impress upon his mind.
We need not stop with arithmetic, but may go on and give the
child a little geometry. To accomplish this we should give him
the idea of geometrical objects, and
to some extent their nomenclature,
and this can be done without causing
fatigue. To accomplish this he should
be taught to draw, however rudely.
He can begin with straight lines, of
which he soon learns the properties;
then, when he has drawn several lines
side by side, he will learn that they
are parallels and will never meet. He
will learn, too, after he has drawn
three intersecting lines,
that the figure within
them is called a triangle,
that the figure
formed by two parallel
lines meeting two other
parallels is a parallelogram,
and he can go
on to make and learn
about polygons, etc (Fig. 3). All this nomenclature will get into
his head without giving abstract definitions, but in such a way that
when he sees a geometrical object of definite form he will recognize
it at once and give it the name that belongs to it.
Fig. 3.
In the practical matter of the measurement of areas we convey
immediate comprehension as to many figures without special effort,
provided we do not present the demonstration in professional style,
limiting ourselves to making the pupil comprehend or feel things
so clearly and definitely that it shall be equivalent, as to the satisfaction
of his mind, to an absolutely rigorous demonstration. At
any rate, he will be better provided for the future than by rigorous
demonstrations that he does not understand. Taking the parallelogram,
for example, let us suppose a figure made like Fig. 4, and we
saw through it along the lines A A' and B C. It does not need a
very great effort of attention to recognize, experimentally if need
be, that the two triangles A A' D and B B' C may be placed one
upon the other and are identical. If, from the figure thus formed,
we take away the right-hand triangle the parallelogram will remain;
if we take away the other triangle a rectangle will be left, or a
peculiar parallelogram, of which also we give the idea to the child
as a figure in which the angles are formed by straight lines perpendicular
to one another. Here, then, the child gains the notion
of the equivalence of a parallelogram and a rectangle of the same
base and height; and this notion, obtained by cutting up a piece of
board or pasteboard, he will carry so seriously and firmly in his head
that he will never lose it. By cutting the same parallelogram in
two, along a diagonal A C, it may be easily shown that the two triangles
can be placed exactly one upon the other, and that, consequently,
they have equal areas. These lessons constitute a series of
classical theorems in geometry which the child can try with his fingers
and learn without even giving them the form of theorems. I
might show the same as to the area of the trapeze and with many
other theorems, but my purpose is only to present as many examples
as will make my idea understood, without going into details.
Fig. 4
Yet I can not leave this subject without showing how we can
make a very child understand some of the geometrical theorems
that have acquired a bad reputation
in the world of candidates
for degrees, including
even such as the pons asinorum
of Pythagoras; the demonstration,
that is, that if we
construct the triangles B and
C on the sides of a right-angled
triangle, their sum will be equal to the square A constructed
on the hypotenuse. The usual demonstration of this theorem is
not very complicated, but there is something tiresome, artificial,
and hard in it. The demonstration I propose is almost intuitive,
and the reasoning of it is both simple and rigorous.
Suppose we take two equal squares, and, making equal lengths
on the four sides of one of them, join the points so obtained as indicated
in the first of the two figures (Figs. 5 and 6) so as to form
four right-angled triangles, and then place four other squares in the
corners of the original square. These right-angled triangles are of
such sort that the sum of their sides is equal to the side of the square.
This can be demonstrated, but it strikes the eyes without that. We
see, too, that the interior figure is a square, and that it is constructed
on the hypotenuse of the triangles in question.
Fig. 5.
Fig. 6.
It is easy to see in the other figure, which is formed after the
same measures as its alternate, that the triangles 1, 2, 3, 4 can be
arranged so as to occupy the positions 1', 2', 3', 4' in such way as to
leave in the main square two smaller squares constructed on the
sides of one of the right-angled triangles. It follows that the square
A is equivalent to the sum of the squares B and C. The theorem
thus becomes a kind of intuition, a thing evidently indisputable.
It is a curious fact that the origin of this demonstration is lost
in the obscurity of the past; it probably goes back to thirty or
forty centuries, at least, before the Christian era, and apparently to
India. Bhascara, in his Bija Ganita, after tracing a figure, a simple
combination of these two, says, "There you see it." I remark
that such a demonstration, even if dressed with geometrical terms,
assuming a character that conforms to existing ways of teaching,
would be vastly superior, even in secondary schools, to the demonstrations
of Legendre and others, which are much harder. The
return to what was done very long ago in this case constitutes a
great advance upon what we are doing now.
Fig. 7.
Having given our little one an initiation into the mysteries of
arithmetic and geometry, we introduce him to algebra, a branch
which passes in the majority of families as the hardest, most complicated,
and most abstruse that can be imagined. I do not pretend
that algebraic theories enter easily into the child's delicate
brain; rather the contrary; but I declare that some ideas in algebra
can be made comprehensible to children without fatigue. We can,
for instance, make them understand, in the way of amusement
and without great difficulty, the formula that gives the sum of the
first numbers. We take a sheet of paper ruled in squares and shade
the first square of the first line, then the first two squares of the second
line, the first three of the third, etc. (Fig. 7). The whole number
of squares shaded in this manner represents visibly the sum of the
first whole numbers up to any one we may choose—to 7 in the figure.
If we give this paper to the child and ask him to return it, he will
very easily perceive that the figures formed by the white and the
black squares are alike. The number sought for will therefore be
equal to half the sum of the squares—that is, in the present example
1 + 2 + 3 + 4 + 5 + 6 + 7 = (7 X 8) : 2 = 28,
we can prove by reasoning that if n be taken to represent the last
number we shall have for the sum
S =
n (n + 1)
2
I introduce this formula to define my thought better, but one can
make the child perceive the numbers that are wanted without writing
down a single character.
Somewhat similar is the method of finding the sum of the odd
numbers. For this it will be enough to take our square-ruled sheet
of paper and shade the first square on the left, then the three squares
around it, which will form with it a square (1 + 3 = 4); continuing
thus we obtain, as the figure readily shows (Fig. 8), a square
formed of a series of shaded zones, representing the series of odd
numbers, the examination of which will illustrate the property to
the child.
Fig. 8.
In another direction it is possible to give the child algebraic ideas
much beyond anything we would imagine. Suppose, for example,
we want to give him a conception of addition. He easily realizes
that objects—material bars, for example—can be selected so as to
represent numbers by their length. He can be readily made to understand
that if he has one bar three and another five inches long
he can obtain the sum of these lengths, in what we might call a material
way, by placing them lengthwise, one at the end of the other—an
essentially practical notion and easily carried into effect. If we
take a line and mark a starting point on it, calling it zero, then measure
off segments on it representing the bars we have been talking
about one after another, we can get the sum represented by the
length of the two segments. If, instead of measuring three plus
five inches I measure three plus two I reach another point. If,
instead of adding two and three, I wish to take one of the bars or
numbers away (3-2), or subtract, the operation will be easily performed
by measuring the two in the opposite direction. The difference
will be represented by the length that is left. If we try to
form the quantity 3-5 in arithmetic we can not do it; but in proceeding
in this method and measuring back on the bar we get to a
point back of the original starting point which represents this difference—say
two inches behind where we began. Here we have in
the germ the whole theory of negative quantities, concerning which
thousands and thousands of pages have been written. Yet we find
that by carefully graduating our lines we can make it intuitive and
accessible to a child who has learned that the common operations of
addition and subtraction can be represented with material objects.
The generation of negative and positive quantities follows quite
naturally.
These examples, I think, are sufficient to show that we might
considerably enlarge the field of the investigations within reach of
the child. For this purpose a small amount of very simple material,
which we can vary as we please, is needful. The first element
of this material is paper ruled in squares, a wonderful instrument,
which everybody dealing with mathematics or with science generally
should have. It is of special pedagogic use in giving children
their first ideas of form, size, and position, without which their early
instruction is only a delusion. Add to this paper dice, buttons,
beans, and match-sticks—things always easy to get—and we have
all the material we need.
There is no amusement, however puerile it may appear, not even
a play of words, that can not be utilized in teaching of this sort.
For instance, when your child has learned his addition table, if you
put him to a demonstration, assuming to prove to his comrades that
six and three make eight, his curiosity will be excited, and you may
be very sure that, once his attention has been given to this amusement,
he will never forget that six and three make nine and not
eight. To make the demonstration, we have only to group the
nine match-sticks as in the figure (Fig. 9) below. We might demonstrate
in a like way that half of twelve is seven by cutting the Roman
numeral XII in two, leaving the upper part visible. Such pleasantries
have a pedagogical value, because the paradox is precisely
of a kind to attract
the attention of the
child, and he will always
afterward be
sure not to fall into
the trap.
Fig. 9.
The side of this
kind of instruction
on which I insist
most is that, given
under the form of play, it is free from every sort of dogmatic character.
No truth should be imposed on the child; on the contrary,
he should be allowed to discover it as a fruit of his own activity.
He will be thoroughly impressed with the truths which he has thus
found out himself. They had better be few at first; the important
thing is for him to know them completely.
The instruction should also be essentially objective and free from
all abstraction. The absence of abstraction should, however, be
rather apparent than real. Abstraction is indeed one of the elements
that contribute most to give mathematical science a fearful
air to outsiders, and yet it is most usually a simplification of matters—quite
the contrary of what is generally supposed. It is, in
fact, such a simplification and so necessary that we all make it as
if by instinct, and the child makes it, not in mathematics only, but in
all the considerations of life.
Thus, when I want to give the child his first idea of the number
two I put two beans in his hand and let him contemplate them. He
gets a perfect notion of the collection two. Yet, if you look at
them a little closer and he himself looks at them closer he will find
that the two beans, whatever else they may be, are not identical,
for there exist no two objects in Nature that are not different. So
when the child introduces this idea of collection into his mind in
a wholly instinctive way, by identifying the things he sees, he begins
to perform abstraction. This abstraction delivers him from all the
complications and all the annoyances that come to him from the
contemplation of real objects. By the philosophic process of abstraction
it has been possible to construct all the sciences, and especially
the science of magnitudes.
The ideas I have been setting forth in outline are not mine, and
are, unfortunately, not recent. They may be found in somewhat
different form, but substantially the same in principle, in l'Essai
d'education nationale, published by Le Chalotais in 1763. The
paper furnishes a programme of studies and education which, if put
into execution, would, I believe, constitute a long advance over the
present conditions. At a later period Condorcet was occupied with
the subject. At the close of the nineteenth century the name of
Jean Macé, which I have already cited, should be held among those
of men who have tried to infuse sound and just views concerning
the pedagogy of mathematics. Another man, from whom I have
borrowed a considerable part of the examples I have cited, is
Edouard Lucas, who, in his Récréations mathématiques, of which one
volume was published during his lifetime and two others after his
death, and in his lectures before the Conservatoire des Arts et
Métiers, strove to develop views concerning the primary mathematical
education of childhood—views which did not differ, except
in form, from those which I have presented.—Translated for the
Popular Science Monthly from the Revue Scientifique.
PRESENT POSITION OF SOCIOLOGY.
By F. SPENCER BALDWIN.
The present condition of sociological thought is confused, if not
chaotic. It needs only a brief examination of the writings of professed
sociologists to discover the want of agreement among them.
There is no consensus of opinion regarding either the scope and
method of the new science, so called, or its fundamental laws and
principles. The name sociology stands for no definite body of systematic
knowledge. It is applied to an inchoate mass of speculation,
often vague and conflicting, which represents the thought of various
thinkers about social phenomena.
A few years ago a student of sociology in Chicago wrote to "all
the teachers of sociology in the United States, and to others known
to be deeply interested in the subject and entitled to express an
opinion," asking them to answer a number of pertinent questions regarding
the nature and function of the "science." About forty
replied; of these, three discreetly pleaded knowledge insufficient to
entitle them to an opinion. Comparison of the views expressed in
the remaining twenty-seven replies led the investigator to conclude
that the science is in a more or less undefined and tentative position. So
little progress toward unanimity of opinion has been made by
sociologists since the date of this census that its results may be
taken as typical of present conditions. Among the questions asked
were these: "Do you think the study is entitled to be called a science?"
"In what department does it belong?" "What is its relation
to political economy, history, political science, ethics?"
The question whether sociology is entitled to be called a science
is answered by "fully three fourths" of the correspondents in the
affirmative. Some hedge, by affirming that it is "becoming a science."
Prof. John Bascom, of Williams College, appears to have entered
into the humor of the situation; he writes, "It will do no harm to
call it a science if we do not abate our effort to make it one."
The opinions regarding the department in which sociology belongs
are entertainingly diverse. Prof. John Dewey, of the University
of Chicago, is frank enough to admit that he doesn't "feel at all
sure" where it belongs. "It would seem well," he adds, "to have it a
separate branch, in order to make sure that it received proper attention."
This feeling of uneasiness lest the claims of sociology be slightingly
treated appears to be general among the representatives of
the new study. Most of the teachers of sociology are of the opinion
that it ought to form a department by itself. Some would place
it in the department of the social sciences, along with politics, economics,
jurisprudence, and the like. Others would change the
order, making all the social sciences divisions of sociology. On the
other hand, Professor Giddings, of Columbia University, says:
"General sociology can not be divided into special social sciences,
such as economics, law, and politics, without losing its distinctive
character. It should be looked on as the foundation or groundwork
of these sciences, rather than as their sum or as their collective name."
Scattering replies place it under psychology, moral and political
science, political economy, and anthropology. One teacher thinks it
belongs under the "humanities"; while two say it has no natural
boundaries, and is therefore not included in any one department.
Altogether the impression left by the replies to this question is that
the teachers of sociology are quite at a loss to know where to put
the study in the university curriculum. They appear to realize
confusedly that they have on their hands a pedagogical white elephant,
which defies classification.
The opinions concerning the relation of sociology to political
economy, history, political science, and ethics are almost delphic in
their vagueness. Says one, "History is its material, ethics its guide,
political economy its interpreter, and a rational system of political
science its proposed end." Says another, "Sociology is political
economy in practice, history in the making, political science as an
art, and ethics applied." After worrying over these oracular epigrams
it is refreshing to be told by another teacher that "the relation
of sociology to political economy, history, etc., is close."
It would be superfluous to cite further illustrations of the unsettled
state of sociological thought. The quotations that have been
made show conclusively that the accredited representatives of the
new "science" are at loggerheads upon fundamental questions. This
fact the sociologists themselves readily admit. The author of a recent
treatise on sociology speaks of the "confusion and perplexity
among its teachers, and declares that its forms are as yet varied, and
perhaps would suggest a series of pseudo-sciences instead if one genuine
science." Even Professor Giddings confesses in the preface of
his Principles of Sociology that "much sociology is as yet nothing
more than careful and suggestive guesswork." Professor Small, of
the University of Chicago, in his Introduction to the Study of Society,
speaks of sociology as an "inchoate science," and remarks that
"only ignoramuses, incompetent to employ the method of any science,
could claim for sociology the merit of a completed system."
Sociologists themselves, then, confess that differences of opinion
exist among them. Let us look more carefully at the nature of these
differences. They relate to the scope, the method, the object, and
the ground-principles of the "science."
The province of sociology is defined by some very broadly, to
include the whole range of the phenomena of human association. By
others the scope of the study is limited to a narrower range of social
phenomena. Among the latter, again, there are some who would
identify sociology with the study of social origins, or the genesis of
social institutions. Others would restrict sociology to a study of the
history and function of the family. Still others understand by sociology
merely the pathology of society, devoting themselves to the
diagnosis of social diseases, as crime and pauperism.
Professor Giddings has called attention to the natural tendency
on the part of each social philosopher to create a sociology in the
image of his professional specialty. "To the economist," he says,
"sociology is a penumbral political economy—a scientific outer darkness—for
inconvenient problems and obstinate facts that will not live
peaceably with well-bred formulas. To the alienist and the criminal
anthropologist it is a social pathology. To the ethnologist it is that
subdivision of his own science which supplements the account of
racial traits by a description of social organization. To the comparative
mythologist and the student of folklore it is an account of the
evolution of culture."
The narrower conceptions of sociology, however, have been
discarded by the best-known sociologists of the present time. There is
a general tendency to adopt a broad definition of the province of sociology,
to include in the field of investigation all the phenomena of
social structure and growth.
But what is the relation of this general social science to the special
social sciences—that is, the sciences dealing with special groups of
social phenomena, as economics, politics, and jurisprudence? Is sociology
anything more than a convenient collective name for the sum
of all these? Touching this point opinions differ.
At least three different conceptions of the relation of sociology
to the various special social sciences may be distinguished. Sociology
has been defined as (1) the "inclusive," as (2) the "co-ordinating,"
and as (3) the "fundamental" science of society. 1. The first conception
is that of Spencer and De Greef. Spencer defines sociology
as "the science of society," and defends his adoption of the term
on the ground that "no other name sufficiently comprehensive existed."
This implies that he conceives of sociology as an inclusive
science. De Greef, the Belgian sociologist, makes the science all
comprehensive; his scheme of classification "includes everything,
from the husbanding of corn and wine to electioneering contests in
the Institute of France." 2. The second conception is that of
Professor Small, of Chicago. He defines sociology as "the synthesis
of all the particular social sciences." It does not include, it coordinates
these sciences. It concerns itself with the relations which
the various special groups of social phenomena hold to each other
and to society as a whole, leaving to special social sciences the study
of each group in minute detail. The conclusions won by these
special sciences are taken by sociology and worked over into a body
of correlated social principles. Sociology is, therefore, subsequent
to the particular social sciences and dependent upon them. 3. The
third conception is that of Professor Giddings, of Columbia University.
He defines sociology as "the science of social elements and
first principles." It is "not merely the sum of the social sciences;
it is rather their common basis." It undertakes to analyze the general
characteristics of social phenomena and to formulate the laws
of social organization and evolution. Sociology furnishes a body
of fundamental principles which make a common basis for the special
social sciences. The latter rest on sociology, which is the antecedent
and fundamental social science.
Now a little reflection will show that these three conceptions of
sociology do not conflict, but harmonize. There is no real opposition
between them, rightly understood. Each emphasizes correctly one
phase of the relation between sociology and the special social sciences.
Sociology is both an inclusive, a co-ordinating, and a fundamental
science. In the first place, sociology is a general science,
having as its subject-matter social phenomena of all kinds. Therefore
it comprehends all the sciences dealing with special kinds of
social phenomena. These particular sciences are, in the nature of
things, closely related to each other. They must possess in common
certain laws and principles. These it is the task of sociology to formulate;
for as the inclusive social science it should exhibit the
mutual relations of the included social sciences. Thus sociology becomes
a co-ordinating as well as an inclusive science. Furthermore,
the laws and principles of the special social sciences, which sociology,
as the co-ordinating science, undertakes to formulate, are necessarily
fundamental. And in this respect sociology may be regarded as the
fundamental social science. The three rival conceptions of sociology
must be combined in the correct view. As Mr. Arthur Fairbanks
remarks in his admirable Introduction to Sociology: "Sociology may
embrace all the sciences dealing with society, but it does not destroy
the partial independence of any of these branches. It includes
economics, politics, and the like, but, instead of supplanting them,
its sphere is to lay the foundation of these particular social sciences."
It appears, then, that the disagreement among the leaders of
sociological thought regarding the scope of their "science" is more
apparent than real. The same may be said regarding the contention
about method. The debate here is over the question whether deduction
or induction is the proper method of investigation in the
social sciences. One party holds that the only legitimate method
is the abstract-deductive, the investigator arriving at his conclusions
by reasoning a priori from certain fundamental assumptions regarding
the nature of man in general. What these thinkers aim at is a
subjective interpretation of social phenomena in terms of human
motives, principles, and ideals. Another party maintains that the
only fruitful method is the concrete-inductive, the investigator reaching
his conclusions by observing the facts of social life and reasoning
from them to general laws and principles. The aim here is to give
an objective interpretation of society in terms of race, environment,
and historical conditions. The controversy has been especially violent
among the economists. The English classical school of political
economy made exclusive use of the deductive method; economic
laws were deduced from the fundamental postulate of human selfishness.
The German historical school employed the inductive method;
economic laws were inferred from a study of the concrete facts
of industrial life.
This academic discussion over method is tiresome and futile.
Neither method will ever drive the other from the field. The exclusive
employment of either deduction or induction will yield only
half results in the social sciences. The two methods effectually supplement
each other and should be used together. They are not rivals,
but allies. Induction without deduction is blind; deduction without
induction untrustworthy. This fact is recognized by recent
writers on sociology. So Professor Giddings remarks that "history
without deductive illumination is chaos. Deduction without verification
is undoubtedly the very light that never was on sea or land!"
The principal method in the social sciences must undoubtedly be
the inductive. The nature of the subject-matter determines this.
The social sciences deal with the facts of social structure and growth.
The task of the investigator is the explanation of these facts. He
has first, then, to observe and compare the facts. But his observation
must be guided and his conclusions verified by deduction.
Concerning the purpose of sociology, as touching its method, there
are two conflicting opinions. But here again the seeming disagreement
is not absolutely irreconcilable. It is held by some that the
purpose of the sociologist should be merely the acquisition of knowledge,
without further thought of the practical use to which the results
of his researches might be put. He should aim to discover and
formulate the laws of social forces, not to propose ideals of social
reform. Sociology is a pure science and has no utilitarian end. By
others it is held that the purpose of the sociologist should be the
regulation of social forces in the interest of human progress. The
object of sociology is the betterment of society, the acceleration of social
evolution. It is an applied science and has a practical end.
Both these views are tenable. In fact, sociology, like all sciences,
has a double purpose. The primary purpose is to acquire knowledge;
the secondary purpose is to apply that knowledge to the attainment of
practical ends. This duality of purpose is clearly set forth by Mr.
Lester F. Ward in a recent essay. "Sociology," he says, "has both
a pure and an applied stage." It "should be studied first for the sake
of information relating to the laws of human association and co-operative
action, and finally for the purpose of determining in what
ways and to what extent social phenomena may, with a knowledge of
their laws, be modified and directed toward social ideals."
Modern society is a complex of difficult problems. And this fact
furnishes a background of motive for the studies of the sociologist.
Not even the veriest stickler for pure science can deny the imperative
need of established knowledge of the laws of social activity. The
people perish for lack of wisdom. To enlighten the public mind on
vital social questions and thus to promote an intelligent direction of
social conduct toward rational ends is the high function of sociology.
This practical purpose, however, should be kept always secondary
to the pursuit of knowledge. "The knowledge is the important thing.
The action will then take care of itself." The discussion of the
what-ought-to-be must wait on the investigation of the what-is. The
neglect of this caution has been responsible for much false doctrine
and foolish counsel. Sociologists have allowed their enthusiasm for
ideals to blind the eye and bias the judgment. Panacea hawkers
of all sorts have attempted to prescribe for social diseases, without
making any study of social structure and function. Communistic
quackery has masqueraded as sociological wisdom. The wild-cat
sociology of the present day is a result of the over-addiction to social
reform which besets students of society. It can not be too strongly
emphasized that the primary object of the sociologist is the impartial
investigation of facts. The man who forgets this becomes dangerous.
He is liable to run amuck.
The differences of opinion as to the scope, method, and purpose
of sociology have been found upon examination to be less serious
than they at first sight appeared. But in regard to the fundamental
principles of sociology, the confusion is hopeless. The student will
search in vain in the systematic treatises on sociology for any definite
body of established doctrine which he can accept as the ground-principles
of the science. He finds only an unmanageable mass of conflicting
theories and opinions. Each treatise contains an exposition
of what the author is pleased to label the Principles of Sociology.
But the "principles" are not the same in any two treatises; and
by no process of analysis and synthesis can they be brought into
harmony. They are fundamentally contradictory. It is impossible,
I believe, to discover a single alleged ground-principle of sociology
that has commanded general assent.
Some of the recent writers on sociology have devoted themselves
particularly to the task of establishing one basal principle which may
be applied to the interpretation of all social phenomena. At least
half a dozen claims to the discovery of such a principle have been put
forward. Prof. Ludwig Gumplowicz finds the elementary social fact
to be conflict; Prof. Guillaume De Greef finds it to be contract;
M. Gabriel Tarde contends that the fundamental principle of
society is imitation; Prof. Emile Durkheim argues that it is "the
coercion of the individual mind by modes of action, thought, and
feeling external to itself." Professor Giddings criticises all these
explanations of society, as either too special or too general, and undertakes
to prove that "the original and elementary fact in society is the
consciousness of kind." This is the determining principle to which
all social phenomena are to be referred. But Professor Giddings's
sociological postulate has been promptly rejected by his American
colleagues, Prof. Albion W. Small and Mr. Lester F. Ward. The
former speaks contemptuously of the consciousness of kind as a remote
metaphysical category, and declares that the whole system of
sociology based on the principle is "an impossible combination of contradictions."
This opinion is approved by Ward, who riddles Giddings's
book with criticism, and complains of the author's inability to
handle principles correctly.
It is hardly necessary to penetrate further into this debate over
first principles. The most exhaustive examination of the writings
of the leaders in sociological thought would fail to discover any fundamental
unity of opinion. The so-called principles of the science
are multiform. They represent merely the unsupported conclusions
of individual thinkers. If we except the barest commonplaces, no
truths have been established; no scientific laws have been agreed upon.
The content of the science of sociology, as expounded in treatises bearing
this name, varies with the particular bias of the writer. In fine,
there are systems of sociology galore, but there is hardly a sociology.
Of the various systems of sociology that have been developed since
the new "science" was first outlined by Auguste Comte, that of Herbert
Spencer is undoubtedly the most coherent and self-consistent.
But even the genius of Mr. Spencer has been unequal to the task
of working out a body of firmly grounded principles which should
furnish a basis for the convergence of opinion on social questions.
He has not succeeded in giving permanent form and content to
sociology. His work is disparagingly criticised by other living
sociologists. Small declares that "Spencer's sociology ends precisely
where sociology proper should begin," and quotes approvingly De
Greef's assertion that "Mr. Spencer not only fails to show that there
is a place for sociology, but his own reasoning proves more than
anything else that there is no social science superior to biology."
Ward, while commending the logical consistency of Mr. Spencer's
work, pronounces him "unsystematic, nonconstructive, and nonprogressive."
There is much justice in these criticisms of Mr. Spencer's system.
His sociology is almost entirely descriptive; and his description of
social phenomena has taken the form of an elaborate analogy between
society and the animal organism. The utility of this biological
analogy has rightly been called in question. The particular resemblances
traced by Mr. Spencer between a society and a living body
are these: both grow and increase in size; while they increase in
size they increase in structure; increase in structure is accompanied
by progressive differentiation of functions; and differentiation of
functions leads to mutual interdependence of the parts. Furthermore,
in the case both of a society and of a living body the lives of
the units continue for some time if the life of the aggregate is suddenly
arrested; while if the aggregate is not suddenly destroyed by
violence its life greatly exceeds in duration the lives of its units.
Since, therefore, the permanent relations among the parts of a society
are analogous to the permanent relations among the parts of an
organism, society is to be regarded as an organism.
Now the trouble with this clever analogy is that it breaks down
completely when the comparison is carried beyond a certain point.
Mr. Spencer himself notices some differences between the social body
and the animal body, but declares that they are not of such fundamental
character as to weaken the force of his analogy. One of these
differences, however, can not be so lightly dismissed. If we compare
a high type of animal organism with a high type of society, this
striking unlikeness is discovered. In the former there is but one
center of consciousness; in the latter there are many. "In the one,"
to quote Mr. Spencer's own words, "consciousness is concentrated in
a small part of the aggregate. In the other it is diffused throughout
the aggregate." The animal body has one brain, one center of
thought, feeling, and life; the social body has numberless such
centers.
When we go back and compare the course of development in
the two cases the difference noted comes into even greater prominence.
The evolution of animal life is characterized by progressive centralization,
the evolution of social life by progressive decentralization. In
the lowest form of animal, the amœba, there is no single center of
life. The life is in all the parts; reproduction takes place simply by
division. But with each successive advance above this lowest form
there is developed more and more definitely a single center of consciousness.
One part becomes distinctly differentiated as the sole
seat of life. If that part is destroyed, the organism dies. Thus,
"animal development has meant a concentration of the more important
nervous elements and a merging of their separate activity in the
common activity of a single consciousness."
The law of progress is quite the reverse in social development.
At a primitive stage there is a marked subjection of the individual
elements of society to a central authority, whether that of the patriarch,
the tribal head, or the tribal assembly. The individual has no
economic, legal, or moral independence. But as society develops,
the control which the whole exerts over the parts through authority
and custom is gradually diminished. The individuality of the members
of the social body becomes more and more marked. Individual
freedom and responsibility are definitely recognized. Thus, the development
of society has meant "the development of individuality in
each of its members." It is a development of persons; the "social
consciousness exists only in the discrete social elements which have
become individual."
In a word, social evolution is accompanied by a growing individualization
of the component elements of society, whereas animal
development leads to ever-stronger concentration of the life of the
organism in a single part.
This difference between the physical organism and society is
fundamental and essential. It is far more striking than the superficial
likenesses ingeniously adduced by Mr. Spencer. His analogy
tends to obscure the real nature of social relations. Unless used with
cautious qualifications it "suggests false and one-sided views" and
thus hinders the progress of sociology. The biological analogy has,
it may be conceded, a certain value as a convenient way of describing
some of the aspects of social structure and growth. It may aid the
student to comprehend certain facts, but, if followed blindly, it will
lead him to overlook other facts of even greater importance.
The biological analogy has been carried to absurd lengths by some
writers. There is wearisome enumeration of social aggregates and
organs, and exhaustive description of the social nervous system. We
learn that the individual may be either a communicating cell or a
terminal cell, otherwise known as an end organ. The girl in the
central telephone office acts as a communicating cell when she telephones
to Mr. Smith a message from Mr. Brown. "But when, Mr.
Smith having asked her the exact time by the chronometer in the
exchange, she looks at the dial and reports her observation to him,
she is primarily a terminal cell or end organ." The lookout man
at sea, on the other hand, is invariably an end organ. This is
far-fetched and fanciful. To clothe mere commonplaces in the borrowed
rags and tags of biological terminology is not social science,
nor does it aid one to get a correct conception of social reality.
The unsettled state of sociological thought which has been here
set forth is a natural result of the peculiar difficulties that stand in
the way of the social sciences. These have been described by Mr.
Spencer with great fullness of illustration. They arise from three
sources—namely, (1) from the intrinsic nature of the facts dealt with;
(2) from the natures of the observers of these facts; and (3) from the
peculiar relation in which the observers stand toward the facts observed.
1. In the first place the peculiar nature of social phenomena is
such as to render scientific observation difficult. They are not of a
directly perceptible kind like the phenomena which form the subject-matter
of the natural sciences. Quantitative measurement and
experiment are not possible. Social facts "have to be established by
putting together many details, no one of which is simple, and which
are dispersed, both in space and time, in ways that make them difficult
of access."
2. Again, to these objective difficulties are added the subjective
difficulties resulting from the intellectual and the emotional limitations
of the investigators. There is, very generally, a lack of intellectual
faculty sufficiently complex and plastic to comprehend the
involved and changing phenomena of society. The scientific judgment
is disturbed by a variety of emotional prejudices, which Mr.
Spencer classifies as the educational bias, the bias of patriotism, the
class bias, the political bias, and the theological bias.
3. And, finally, the peculiar position which the sociological observer
occupies with reference to the phenomena puts further obstacles
in the way of trustworthy observation. The sociologist has to
study an aggregate in which he is himself included. He is a member
of society and can not wholly free himself from the beliefs and sentiments
generated by this connection.
These peculiar difficulties which beset sociology have naturally
impeded the development of the department compared with other
branches of knowledge. They furnish adequate explanation of the
unsettled condition of sociological thought which has been described
in this paper.
In conclusion, it is hardly necessary to state that in the writer's
opinion sociology is not, at present, entitled to be called a science.
In order to establish the right of a body of knowledge to the title of
science, the claimants must be able to show that they have a definitely
bounded field of investigation, that they employ recognized scientific
methods, and that they have established certain truths of unquestioned
value. Sociology in its present state fails to meet these conditions.
Its province is not yet agreed upon, its methods have been often
unscientific, and its first principles are yet to be formulated. It is
not, therefore, a science.
"Sociology," says one of its critics, "no more demonstrates its
claim to existence as a science than astronomy would if we found some
astronomers insisting that the sun went around the earth and others
contending that the earth went around the sun."
After all, the question whether sociology deserves to be called
a science or not is one of merely academic interest. It has received
far more attention than it really deserves. Nor will any amount of
discussion upon this point help to make sociology a science. "It is
safe to say," remarks the critic from whom we have just quoted,
"that no great scientific work was ever done by a man who was fretting
over the question whether he was a scientist or not. The work is
the thing and not what it is called. On the other hand, no name can
dignify a work which is petty and futile."
It is not by talking about it, but by working over it, that a body
of knowledge is developed into a science. And sociologists would do
well to heed the advice of Tarde, the French writer: "Instead of
discoursing upon the merits of this infant—sociology—which men
have had the art to baptize before its birth, let us succeed, if possible,
in bringing it forth."
A FEATHERED PARASITE.
By LEANDER S. KEYSER.
Nothing could more clearly prove that a common law runs
through the whole domain of Nature than the fact that in
every division of her realm there seems to be a class of parasites.
In the vegetable world, as is well known, there are various plants
that depend wholly upon other plants for the supply of their vital
forces. And in the human sphere there are parasites in a very real
and literal sense—men and women who rely upon the toil and thrift
of others to sustain them in worthless idleness.
In view of the almost universal character of this law it would
be strange if these peculiar forms of dependence did not appear in
the avian community. We do find such developments in that department
of creation. Across the waters there is one bird which
has won an unenviable reputation as a parasite, and that is the European
cuckoo, which relies almost wholly on the efforts of its more
thrifty neighbors to hatch and rear its young, and thereby perpetuate
the species. Strangely enough, our American cuckoos are not
given to such slovenly habits, but build their own nests and faithfully
perform the duties of nidification, as all respectable feathered
folk should. However, this parasitical habit breaks out, quite unexpectedly
it must be conceded, in another American family of birds
which is entirely distinct from the cuckoo group.
In America the cowbird, often called the cow bunting, is the
only member of the avian household that spirits its eggs into the
nests of other birds. The theory of evolution can do little toward
accounting for the anomaly, and even if it should venture upon
some suggestions it would still be just as difficult to explain the cause
of the evolution in this special group, while all other avian groups
follow the law of thrift and self-reliance.
The cowbird belongs to the family of birds scientifically known
as Icteridæ, which includes such familiar species as the bobolinks,
orioles, meadow larks, and the various kinds of blackbirds, none of
which, I am glad to say, are parasites. The name Molothrus has
been given to the genus that includes the cowbirds. They are confined
to the American continent, having no analogues in the lands
across the seas. The same may be said, indeed, of the whole Icteridæ
family. It may be a matter of surprise to many persons that there
are twelve species and subspecies of cowbirds in North and South
America, for most of us are familiar only with the common cowbird
(Molothrus ater) of our temperate regions. Of these twelve
species only three are to be found within the limits of the United
States, one is a resident of western Mexico and certain parts of Central
America, while the rest find habitat exclusively in South America.
A fresh field of investigation is open to some enterprising and
ambitious naturalist who wishes to study several of these species, as
comparatively little is known of their habits, and indeed much still
remains to be learned of the whole genus, familiar as one or two of
the species are. Their sly, surreptitious manners render them exceedingly
difficult to study at close range and with anything like
detail.
Are all of them parasites? It is probable they are—at least
to a greater or less degree—except one, the bay-winged cowbird of
South America, which I shall reserve for notice later on in this article.
We might assert that our common cowbird is the parasite
par excellence of the family, for, so far as I can learn from reading
and observation, they never build their own nests or rear their own
young, but shift all the duties of maternity, save the laying of the
eggs, upon the shoulders of other innocent birds.
These avian "spongers" have a wide geographical range, inhabiting
the greater part of the United States and southern Canada,
except the extensive forest regions and some portions of the Southern
States. The center of their abundance is the States bordering
on the upper Mississippi River and its numerous tributaries. They
occur only as stragglers on the Pacific coast west of the Cascade and
Sierra Nevada Mountains. The most northern point at which they
have been known to breed is the neighborhood of Little Slave Lake
in southern Athabasca. In the autumn the majority of these birds
migrate to southern Mexico, although a considerable number remain
in our Southern States, and a few occasionally tarry for the
winter even as far north as New England and southern Michigan.
The male cowbird looks like a well-dressed gentleman—and may
have even a slightly clerical air—in his closely fitting suit of glossy
black, with its greenish and purplish iridescence, and his cloak of
rich metallic brown covering his head, neck, and chest. He makes
a poor shift as a musician, but his failure is not due to lack of effort,
for during courtship days he does his level best to sing a variety of
tunes, expanding and distorting his throat, fluffing up his feathers,
spreading out his wings and tail, his purpose evidently being to make
himself as fascinating as possible in the eyes of his lady love. One
of his calls sounds like the word "spreele," piped in so piercing a
key that it seems almost to perforate your brain.
One observer maintains that the cowbirds are not only parasitical
in their habits, but are also absolutely devoid of conjugal
affection, practicing polyandry, and seldom even mating. This is
a serious charge, but it is doubtless true, for even during the season
of courtship and breeding these birds live in flocks of six to twelve,
the males almost always outnumbering the females. However, if
their *** relations are somewhat irregular, no one can accuse
them of engaging in family brawls, as so many other birds do, for
both males and females seem to be on the most cordial terms with
one another, and are, to all appearances, entirely free from jealousy.
Who has ever seen two cowbirds fighting a duel like the orioles,
meadow larks, and robins? Their domestic relations seem to be
readily adjusted, perhaps all the more so on account of their lax
standards of *** virtue.
In obtruding her eggs into the nests of other birds Madame Cowbird
is sly and stealthy. She does not drive the rightful owners
from their nests, but simply watches her opportunity to drop her
eggs into them when they are unguarded. No doubt she has been
on the alert while her industrious neighbors have been constructing
their domiciles, and knows where every nest in the vicinity is
hidden. Says Major Charles Bendire: "In rare instances only
will a fresh cowbird's egg be found among incubated ones of the
rightful owners. I have observed this only on a single occasion."
From one to seven eggs of the parasite are found in the nests of
the dupes. In most cases the number is two, but in the case of
ground builders the cowbird seems to have little fear of overdoing
her imposition. Major Bendire says that he once found the nest
of an ovenbird which contained seven cowbird's eggs and only one
of the little owner's.
If parasitism were the only crime of the cowbird one would not
feel so much disposed to put her into the avian Newgate Calendar;
but she not only inflicts her own eggs upon her innocent victims,
but often actually tosses their eggs out of the nests in order to make
room for her own. Nor is that all; she will sometimes puncture
the eggs of the owners to prevent their hatching, and thus increase
the chances of her own offspring. Whether this is done with her
beak or her claws is still an open question, Major Bendire inclining
to the belief that it is done with the claws.
Her finesse is still further to be seen in the fact that she usually
selects some bird for a victim that is smaller than herself, so that
when her young hopefuls begin to grow they will be able to crowd
or starve out the true heirs of the family. In this way it is thought
that many a brood comes to an untimely end, the foster parents having
no means of replacing their own little ones when they have been
ejected from the nest. However, I am disposed to think that the
cowbird's impositions are not usually so destructive as some observers
are inclined to believe. I once found a bush sparrow's nest
containing one cowbird and four little sparrows, all of which were
in a thriving condition. The sparrows were so well fed and active
that as soon as I touched the nest they sprang, with loud chirping,
over the rim of their cottage and scuttled away through the grass.
They were certainly strong and healthy, in spite of the presence
of their big foster brother. Before they flitted away I had time
to notice how the little family were disposed. The cowbird was
squatted in the center of the nest, while his little brothers and
sisters were ranged around him, partly covering him and no doubt
keeping him snug and warm. They were further advanced than
he, for while they scrambled from the nest, he could do nothing but
snuggle close to the bottom of the cup, where he was at my mercy.
A wood thrush's nest that I found contained two young thrushes
and two buntings. All of them were about half fledged. Being
of nearly the same size, the queerly assorted bantlings lived in apparent
peace in their narrow quarters. I watched them at frequent
intervals, but saw no attempts on the part of the foundlings to crowd
out their fellow-nestlings. The cowbirds were the first to leave the
roof-tree. Thus it appears that the intrusion of the cowbird's eggs
does not always mean disaster to the real offspring of the brooding
family, but of course it always prevents the laying of the full complement
of eggs by the builders themselves.
Even after the youngsters have left the nest the mother cowbird
does not assume the care of them, but still leaves them in charge of
the foster parents. It is laughable, almost pathetic, to see a tiny
ovenbird or redstart feeding a strapping young cowbird which is
several times as large as herself. She looks like a pygmy feeding a
giant. In order to thrust a tidbit into his mouth she must often
stand on her tiptoes. Why the diminutive caterer does not see
through the fraud I can not say. She really seems to be attached
to the hulking youngster. By and by, however, when he grows
large enough to shift for himself, he deserts his little parents and
nurses and seeks companionship among his own blood kindred, who
will doubtless bring him up in the way all cowbirds should walk.
It is surprising how many species are imposed on successfully by
the cowbird. The number, so far as has been observed, is ninety,
with probably more to be added. Among the birds most frequently
victimized are the phœbes, the song sparrows, the indigo birds, the
bush sparrows, and the yellow-breasted chats. Even the nests of
the red-headed woodpecker and the rock wrens are not exempt.
Some species, notably the summer warblers, detect the imposture
and set about defeating the purposes of the interloper. This they
do by building another story to their little cottage, leaving the obtruded
eggs in the cellar, where they do not receive enough warmth
to develop the embryo.
While it is surprising that acute birds should allow themselves
to be imposed on in this way, perhaps, after all, they look upon the
cowbird as a kind of blessing in disguise; at least, he may not be
an unmixed evil. They may act on the principle of reciprocity—that
"one good turn deserves another." What I mean is this: In
my rambles I have often found the cowbirds the first to give warning
of the approach of a supposed danger. Having no domestic
duties of their own, they can well secrete themselves in a tall tree
overlooking the entire premises, and thus play the useful rôle of
sentinel. This, I am disposed to believe, is one of the compensating
uses of this parasite, and may furnish the reason for his being tolerated
in birdland. And he is tolerated. Has any one ever seen
other birds driving the cowbird away from their breeding precincts,
or charging him with desperate courage as they do the blue jays,
the hawks, the owls, and other predatory species? He evidently
subserves some useful purpose in the avian community, or he would
not be treated with so much consideration.
A young cowbird that I purloined from the nest and reared by
hand did not prove a very pleasant pet. He was placed in a large
cage with several other kinds of young birds. At first he was quite
docile, taking his food from my hand and even allowing some of
his feathered companions to feed him; but in a few weeks he grew
so wild and manifested such a fierce desire for the outdoor world
that I was glad to carry him out to the woods and give him his freedom.
A young red-winged blackbird and a pair of meadow larks
developed a different disposition.
The dwarf cowbird (Molothrus ater obscurus) is similar to his
relative just described, except that he is smaller and his geographical
range is more restricted. He is a resident of Mexico, southern
Texas, southwestern Arizona, and southern California. His habits
resemble those of the common cowbird. Another bunting, having
almost the same range, although a little more southerly, is the red-eyed
cowbird, which is larger and darker than our common cowbird
and has the same parasitical habits.
In South America three species have been studied by Mr. W. H.
Hudson, who, in collaboration with Mr. P. L. Sclater, has published
a most valuable work on Argentine ornithology. One of these is
called the Argentine cowbird (Molothrus bonariensis). It is a bona
fide, blue-blooded parasite, and has been seen striking its beak into
the eggs of other birds and flying away with them. The males, it
is said, show little discrimination in pecking the eggs, for they are
just as likely to puncture the cowbird eggs as those of other birds.
Every egg in a nest is frequently perforated in this way. These
buntings lay a large number of eggs, often dropping them on the
ground, laying them in abandoned nests, or depositing them in nests
in which incubation has already begun, in which cases all of them are
lost. However, in spite of this wastefulness the birds thrive, thousands
of them being seen in flocks during the season of migration.
And, by the way, a description of their habits by Mr. Hudson
has thrown an interesting light on the subject of migration in the
southern hemisphere. South of the equator the recurrence of the
seasons is the exact reverse of their recurrence north of the equator,
and therefore the breeding season of the birds is in the autumn instead
of the spring; the flight from winter cold occurs in the spring
instead of in the autumn, and is toward the north instead of toward
the south. Thus, in February and March the Argentine cowbirds
are seen flying in vast battalions in the direction of the equatorial
regions—that is, northward—in whose salubrious clime they spend
the winter. As our northern autumn draws near and the southern
summer approaches these winged migrants take the air line for their
breeding haunts in the Argentine Republic and Patagonia. At the
same time the migrants of the northern hemisphere are pressing
southward before the blustering mien of old Boreas. It all seems
wonderful and solemn, this world-wide processional of the seasons
and the birds.
Naturally, one would expect to find some other eccentricities in
this aberrant family besides that of parasitism, and in this expectation
one is not disappointed. There are two other species of cowbirds
in the Argentine country—the screaming cowbird (Molothrus
rufoaxillaris) and the bay-winged cowbird (Molothrus badius). The
latter is only partly a trencher on the rights of other birds—that
is, it is only half a parasite. Indeed, it sometimes builds its own
nest, which is quite a respectable affair; but, as if to prove that it
still has some remnants of cowbird depravity in its nature, it frequently
drives other birds from their rightful possessions, appropriates
the quarters thus acquired, lays its eggs into them, and proceeds
to the performance of its domestic duties like its respectable
neighbors. Its virtue is that it never imposes the work of incubation
and brood rearing on any of its feathered associates, even
though it does sometimes eject them from their premises.
But what is to be said of the screaming cowbird? Instead of
inflicting its eggs on its more distant avian relatives it watches its
chance and slyly drops them into the domicile of its bay-winged
cousins, and actually makes them hatch and rear its offspring! This
seems to be carrying imposture to the extreme of refinement, or
possibly developing it into a fine art, and reminds one of those human
good-for-naughts who "sponge" off their relatives rather than
go among strangers. One can scarcely refrain from wondering
whether grave questions of pauperism and shiftlessness ever enter
into the discussion of "the social problem" in the bird community.
THE COLUMBUS MEETING OF THE AMERICAN ASSOCIATION.
By Prof. D. S. MARTIN.
The Columbus meeting of the American Association for the
Advancement of Science was looked forward to with considerable
interest as the first in the new half century of that body.
Would the impression and stimulus of the great semicentennial
gathering at Boston last year be found to continue, or be followed
by a reaction? The meetings west of the Alleghanies are
always smaller than the eastern ones, and the brilliancy of the
Boston meeting could not be looked for in any interior city. The
general expectation was for an "off-year" gathering.
But only in point of attendance was this impression verified.
The register of those present showed three hundred and fifty-three
names—a good number for an interior meeting, very few
of the Western gatherings having exceeded it. In all other respects
the general feeling of the members indicates that the meeting
was notably successful and enjoyable, and the remarks made
by the writer a year ago as to the real value of the smaller
and less conspicuous meetings he feels to have been well exemplified.
It was a scientific working meeting, with enough of social
intercourse and attentions to be delightful, but not distracting.
In these aspects the "golden mean" was markedly preserved.
The arrangements of the local committee for the convenience
of the members and the success of the meeting in general were
remarkable in their completeness. Nothing seems to have been
overlooked, and some advances were made upon any previous year.
The daily programmes were well printed and on hand early every
morning—a most important point, not always heretofore attained.
A complete telephone service between the section rooms and the
central hall was a feature of special advantage, each section reporting
to headquarters every paper as it was taken up. This was
then posted on a bulletin, so that any one could know at any time
what was going on in each section. A great amount of delay and
disappointment, that has often been felt by members anxious to
hear certain papers in different sections, was thus entirely obviated.
Columbus has set an example in this feature that must be
followed in the arrangements for all future meetings. The entire
service on these telephones was rendered not by professional operators,
but by young lady students of the university, and it was
well and gracefully done.
It is fitting also that recognition should be given to some who
have been less prominent in the local arrangements, but have had
a large share in their preparation. While the public resolutions
of thanks have made well-deserved mention of the local committee
and its officers, especially Prof. B. F. Thomas, the indefatigable
secretary, it is known in Columbus that much of the planning and
arranging was the work of Prof. Edward Orton, Jr., the son of
the president of the meeting, and that very much is owing to his
laborious activity in the perfection of the local adjustments.
The place of meeting was eminently pleasant and suitable—the
wide campus and fine buildings of the Ohio State University.
To members from the East it was a matter of great interest to see
this noble institution, one of the best examples of the great educational
enterprises of the central States. In his address of welcome
at the opening of the association the president of the university,
Dr. William O. Thompson, outlined the history of public
education in the West as dating back to provisions in the "Ordinance
of 1787," looking to educational advantages for the great
"Northwest Territory." The State University of Ohio is one of
the youngest of its kind, but now one of the most important, among
the States formed from that great region, although Ohio was the
first to be organized into Statehood.
Among the numerous fine structures scattered over the broad
area of the campus, one of the most interesting is Orton Hall, containing
the collections in geology and archæology, which are very
extensive, as well as the laboratories, workrooms, and classrooms
of the geological department, and at present the University Library.
Here the meetings of Section E (Geology and Geography)
were held. In the adjacent Botanical Hall, with its greenhouses,
etc., Section G held its meetings. But most of the sections met
in Townshend Hall, where the telephone service above described
connected all the rooms.
The Ohio State University not only welcomed and accommodated
the association, but had a strong representation among the
officers of the meeting. The venerable president, Dr. Orton, has
long been professor of geology in the university, and his collections
are displayed in the hall that so appropriately bears his name.
Section C (Chemistry) and Section G (Botany) both had secretaries
from the university faculty—Professors Weber and Kellerman,
respectively—while the arrangements for the meeting have been
already spoken of as largely due to Professor Thomas and Professor
Orton, Jr.
The ladies' reception committee did everything for the comfort
and convenience of the visiting ladies. Their musicale and
garden party in the grounds were described as extremely enjoyable,
and the provision of private carriages to convey ladies and
aged members across the broad spaces of the campus to and from
the entrances was a very delicate and highly esteemed convenience,
especially on warm days. The association was favored in
the weather, which, though somewhat hot out of doors, was not
severe, and the rooms were pleasant and airy.
The excursions given to the members were all of them scientific;
they were not merely pleasure trips. This point was a
marked feature of the Columbus meeting, and one well worthy
of future imitation as far as may be. Not every place, however,
has such marked facilities in this respect. On Saturday, August
26th, three free excursions were provided to points of geological
or archæological interest. They were about equally shared by
the members, together with representatives of the local committee.
One party left on Friday evening, passing the night at Sandusky,
and going by boat thence to the celebrated islands of Lake
Erie, there to see the wonderful glacial furrows in the corniferous
limestone on Kelley's Island and the recently opened strontia
cave on Put-in-Bay Island. These islands are also favorite pleasure
resorts for the whole neighborhood, and the trip was one of
great interest and enjoyment. Another party, on Saturday morning,
went to points of special importance in the coal region of the
Hocking Valley, under the direction of Mr. R. M. Haseltine, chief
mine inspector of Ohio. At Corning the party went down into
Mine No. 8, owned by the Sunday Creek Coal Company, which
has recently been equipped with electric power generated by utilizing
the waste gas from neighboring gas-wells. This is said to
be the first mine in Ohio to improve this natural source of power.
At a depth of sixty-five feet the visiting party were taken by mine
cars to a point where a remarkably fine exposure has been made
of a carboniferous "forest," with upright trunks of Sigillaria and
associated forms of coal vegetation finely displayed. At a point
somewhat nearer the entrance, but at a lower level, lunch was
served by the company, in a chamber lighted by electricity, two
hundred feet underground and a mile from daylight! Another
mine was visited later, and the machinery and appliances examined;
this was No. 16, at Hollister, owned by the Courtright Coal
Company.
The third party went to Fort Ancient to examine the great
aboriginal earthworks at that place, owned by the State, and in
charge of the Ohio Archæological Society. Here, on a hill widely
overlooking the Little Miami Valley, are some of the most extensive
prehistoric works in the country. The State has purchased
two hundred and eighty-seven acres, and of these about one hundred
acres are included within the walls. These ramparts, overgrown
with large trees, follow closely the contour of the hills,
and show that, whatever their age, there has been no change and
little erosion since they were built. Their form is very irregular,
consisting of two main areas—a northern one, called the "new
fort," rudely square, and a southern one, called the "old fort,"
rudely triangular—connected by a narrow portion, called the
"isthmus," with crescent-shaped transverse walls crossing it, and
high conical mounds at the entrance to the "old fort." From
the main gateway of the "new fort," starting from two mounds,
two parallel walls can be traced, exactly eastward, for half a mile
or more. Irregular as these works are, from the contour of the
hills and the course of the ravines that bound them, yet there is
also seen at times in their shaping a singular exactness of orientation
that is striking and suggestive. Their use is problematical,
but they must have been defensive, although an enormous force
would be required to hold them, as their entire circumference is
three miles and a half. At one point within the "old fort," in
front of the gateway to the "isthmus," was found a burial place
where a number of skeletons lay as though thrown together, not
carefully and separately buried. The suggestion is strongly made
that this spot marks an unsuccessful attack by enemies, who were
roughly buried where they fell. At other points graves have
been found, some containing copper implements and overlaid with
plates of mica. Great regret was felt that Mr. W. K. Moorehead,
who has explored so extensively here and in the vicinity and has
published such interesting accounts of Fort Ancient and similar
remains, was unable to be at the meeting on account of severe
illness.
The public spirit that has secured this spot for the State, and
the work of the Ohio Archæological Society in caring for it properly,
are matters for pride and congratulation, and evidences of
the highest type of civilization. The society is clearing away the
dense undergrowth so as to display the works and the trees upon
them; is guarding and repairing the walls at points where injury
has occurred by "washing"; has sunk a well in the "old fort," with
fine water; and built a pavilion for visitors. Here lunch was
served to the party, and addresses given by archæologists present
and officers of the Archæological Society.
On Thursday a large number of the geologists spent most of
the day in examining moraines and glacial phenomena near Lancaster,
and in the evening nearly the entire association was taken
by special train to see the gas-wells in the same neighborhood, at
Sugar Grove, which were lighted and "blown off" for their benefit.
The city of Columbus itself is to a considerable extent supplied
with natural gas.
Turning to the proceedings of the meeting, there may be noted
in the character of the papers certain tendencies which are independent
of the association and belong to the general line of
thought of the present, and doubtless yet more of the future. The
papers presented may be roughly grouped into two classes: those
relating to technical details, and those involving or seeking practical
results and applications. Of course, there is no conflict between
these two lines of thought and work—the latter, to be
really attained being dependent upon the former—but there is this
tendency distinctly shown, to consider scientific questions in their
bearing on the welfare or the needs of humanity. Naturally, this
aspect appeared more clearly in some of the sections than in others,
but no one who looks over the titles in the daily programmes can
fail to note it. The whole work of Section I (Social and Economic
Science) is of this character, and it is marked in Sections G
(Botany), D (Mechanics and Engineering), and H (Anthropology).
It would be impossible to mention all the papers bearing upon
such relations; a very few only can here be noted, even of those
that were important. In Section I no more suggestive title has
ever been presented to such a body than that of Miss Cora A. Benneson,
of Cambridge, Mass., on Federal Guarantees for Maintaining
Republican Government in the States. Miss Benneson is a
graduate in law, and has already achieved distinction in her profession
in subjects relating to questions of government. In Section
G, Prof. H. A. Weber, the secretary, read a paper on Testing
Soils for the Application of Commercial Fertilizers—the outcome
of twelve years' intercourse with farmers' institutes and
many more years of experimentation—aiming to avoid unwise
and unprofitable use of fertilizers on soils to which they are not
adapted, and to provide ready and accurate methods of determination
as to the needs and the capacities of soils. Sections D and I
united to hear a paper before the former, by Principal Morrison,
of the Manual Training High School, of Kansas City, Mo., on Thermal
Determinations in Heating and Ventilating Buildings, with
special reference to schools. These are merely given as instances.
Agriculture, electrical appliances, educational methods,
and social conditions, all received important attention.
Another paper of great practical moment was read before Section
C by Prof. H. W. Wiley, chemist to the United States Department
of Agriculture, and Mr. H. W. Krug, on New Products
from Maize Stalks. Careful analyses of the pith and stalks of
corn, and important suggestions as to their great utility in various
ways, were presented. Some of these were very surprising, not
only pointing out the value of these substances as fodder, when
properly prepared and used, but in the realm of war as well as in
peace, for protecting the sides of naval vessels as a light and most
effective armor, and in the manufacture of smokeless powder of
a superior quality. Professor Wiley claimed that from these
hitherto almost waste products of American farms immense results
may be obtained.
Very naturally, the recent war and questions connected with
it called forth some striking contributions. Prof. William S. Aldrich,
of the University of Illinois, addressed Section D and a
large proportion of members from other sections on Engineering
Experiences with Spanish Wrecks, and the story of the Maria
Teresa. Professor Aldrich was connected with the United States
repair-ship Vulcan, and described the remarkable character of that
vessel—an entire novelty in naval warfare—with her complete outfit
of engineering tools and machinery, even to brass and iron
furnaces of large capacity. Never before, he said, had such castings
been made on board ship, or a foundry operated on the ocean.
The effects of the American rapid-fire guns on Admiral Cervera's
ships were fully described and illustrated, and the paper closed
with a vivid and detailed account of the floating of the Maria
Teresa, her repairing by the crew of the Vulcan through five weeks
of most difficult work, and the unsuccessful attempt to bring her to
Norfolk, ending in her abandonment and loss. The public lecture
of Wednesday evening was by Prof. C. E. Monroe, of Washington,
D. C., on the Application of Modern Explosives, very fully
illustrated. Detailed accounts were given of the manufacture of
gun cotton and various recent forms of high explosives and smokeless
powders. In regard to the use of the latter, Professor Monroe
emphasized the fact that France and Germany had adopted
smokeless powders in 1887, and Italy and England a year or two
later, and characterized as "unpardonable" the fact that our own
service was unprovided with any such material when we began the
war with Spain. He further discussed recent and very important
experiments in the matter of throwing from ordinary guns shells
charged with high explosives, especially that known as Joveite,
with which tremendous effects have been produced in penetrating
the heaviest plating.
Very different in character was the interesting and pleasing
programme carried out by the Section of Botany in memory of two
eminent workers in bryology who were long identified with Columbus—Dr.
William S. Sullivant and his colaborer, Prof. Leo
Lesquereaux, who was eminent also in fossil botany. Wednesday
was set apart as "Sullivant day," and was marked by an extensive
display of portraits, books, and specimens, and a series of memorial
addresses, with notes on the progress of bryology. Twelve
North American species of mosses have been named for Dr. Sullivant,
and specimens of all these, with drawings made by him, were
loaned for this occasion from his collection, now at the museum
of Harvard University. Sets of duplicates of these species, from
the herbarium of Columbia University, were prepared and presented
as souvenirs to the botanists in attendance. Some members
of Dr. Sullivant's family were present, and naturally felt a
very deep sense of gratification at such a tribute to his name
and fame.
The address of the retiring president, Prof. F. W. Putnam,
had a special interest in that it was the last official appearance of
one who has been for so many years closely and prominently identified
with the association as its permanent secretary, and whose
presence and personality have seemed an essential element in
every meeting. Professor Putnam, in opening, paid an especial
tribute to the late Dr. D. G. Brinton, of Philadelphia, a former
president and leading member of the association, devoted to the
same branch of research with himself—North American ethnology—although
holding different theories therein. Professor Putnam
dealt with the prehistoric peoples of this continent, and argued
for distinct racial types as expressed in the remains that
they have left, and for resemblances as due to intercourse and
mingling of tribes, and not to autochthonous development of arts
and customs as the result of corresponding stages of evolution
without contact or outside influence—the view maintained by Dr.
Brinton.
There is not space here to dwell further upon many valuable
papers and discussions. The Section of Geology had a full and
interesting session, in which glacial phenomena, especially as displayed
in Ohio, bore a considerable part. One of the papers had
a very wide and painful interest for all Americans—that of Mr.
E. H. Barbour, on the Rapid Decline of Geyser Activity in the
Yellowstone Basin. Careful and extended comparison of the
present state of the geysers and hot springs with that to be seen a
few years ago shows that these wonderful and impressive phenomena
have greatly decreased in both the amount and the frequency
of their manifestations, and Mr. Barbour warned all who desire to
witness anything of their grandeur to visit the region without
delay, as the indications point to their speedy cessation as probable
if not inevitable.
In reference to the future of the association, it is gratifying
to observe that the various special societies, whose relations to
the association were considered in the article by the present
writer a year ago, have not only continued to hold their summer
sessions in connection with that of the association, but have shown
a very cordial spirit of co-operation, and that some others are proposing
to affiliate in a similar way. This is as it should be; but
there is in it also the suggestion of a broader and more definite
relationship of all these special societies to each other through the
medium of the association. The tendency is apparently toward
affiliation and co-operation among them, and the American Association
for the Advancement of Science could have no more fitting
or useful function than as a sort of federative or representative
body for all the others.
The next meeting is to be held in New York, two months earlier
than usual—at the end of June. Both the place and the
time were determined by the Paris Exposition. It was thought
best to arrange the meeting so that it might easily be attended
by the large number of scientists from all over the country who
will be going abroad next summer. This plan is doubtless wise,
although it is much to be regretted that the time—the last week
in June—will cut off from attendance almost all the members
who are teachers in public schools, who will be just then in the
pressure of their closing days and examinations. The peculiar circumstances
of the year, however, justify what would otherwise
be a most unfortunate time. New York will do her best, and
give the association a welcome worthy of the great metropolis
of America.
SKETCH OF DR. WILLIAM PEPPER.
By LEWIS R. HARLEY.
Philadelphia has long been regarded as the home of medical
science in America. Here was founded the first medical
school in the United States, among whose alumni are numbered
some of the most brilliant names in the profession. The spirit
of scientific research has always been most active in Philadelphia.
Here Franklin made his experiments in electricity, and Rittenhouse
observed the transit of Venus; while Rush, Morgan, Williamson,
and Physick gave the city a name abroad as a great medical
center. Each generation has contributed something to her fame
as the abode of scientific culture.
In recent times no name has been so closely associated with
the intellectual progress of the city as that of the subject of this
sketch. Dr. William Pepper was reared in a scientific atmosphere.
His father, William Pepper, the elder, was born in Philadelphia,
January 21, 1810. He graduated with first honors at Princeton
in 1829. He afterward studied medicine for a time with Dr.
Thomas T. Hewson, and in 1832 graduated in medicine at the
University of Pennsylvania. He then spent two years in study in
Paris, and in 1834 he entered upon his profession in Philadelphia,
where he rose rapidly in reputation. He was physician to the Pennsylvania
Hospital for twenty-six years. In 1860 he was elected
Professor of the Theory and Practice of Medicine in the University
of Pennsylvania. He held this position until the time of his
death, October 15, 1864. Dr. Pepper had two sons, who became
distinguished in the medical profession. The eldest son, George,
was born April 1, 1841, and died September 14, 1872. He graduated
from the college department of the University of Pennsylvania
in 1862, and completed the course in the Medical School in
1865. He served with distinction in the civil war, and died at
the beginning of a successful professional career. Another son,
Dr. William Pepper, the subject of this sketch, was born in
Philadelphia, August 21, 1843.
Dr. Pepper received his educational training solely in the city
of his birth, having graduated from the college department of
the University of Pennsylvania in 1862, in the same class with Provost
Charles C. Harrison, Thomas McKean, Dr. Persifor Fraser,
and many other men prominent in university circles. He graduated
from the Medical School in 1864, and at once began the practice
of medicine. His connection with the University of Pennsylvania
began in 1868, when he was appointed lecturer on morbid anatomy.
From 1870 to 1876 he was lecturer on clinical medicine.
In 1876 Dr. Pepper was given a full professorship of clinical medicine,
in which he continued until 1887, when he succeeded Dr.
Alfred Stillé in the chair of the Theory and Practice of Medicine.
During this early period of his career Dr. Pepper labored with
untiring zeal in the practice of his profession, and he also became
eminently successful as a teacher. In 1877 he set forth his views
on higher medical education in an address at the opening of the
one hundred and twelfth course of lectures in the University Medical
School. At that time a very low standard existed in the
medical schools of our country, and Dr. Pepper, in his address,
urged the following reforms:
1. The establishment of a preparatory examination.
2. The lengthening of the course to at least three full years.
3. The careful grading of the course.
4. The introduction of ample practical instruction of each student
both at the bedside and in laboratories.
5. The establishment of fixed salaries for the professors, so that
they may no longer have any pecuniary interest in the size of their
classes.
It was a source of gratification to Dr. Pepper that he lived to
see all these reforms in medical education adopted. On the extension
of the medical course to four years he subscribed $50,000
toward a permanent endowment of $250,000. As early as 1871
he began to urge the establishment of a university hospital, the
subject being first discussed in a conversation with Dr. H. C. Wood
and Dr. William F. Norris. An appeal was made to the public,
and Dr. Pepper was made chairman of a finance committee. By
May, 1872, a splendid site and $350,000 for building and endowment
had been secured. Dr. Pepper was selected as chairman of
the building committee, and work on the hospital was pushed so
rapidly that it was ready for patients on July 15, 1874.
When Dr. Charles J. Stillé resigned the provostship of the
university in 1881, Dr. Pepper was elected as his successor. The
executive abilities which he had displayed in connection with the
founding of the new hospital made him the natural choice of the
trustees. Although his private practice had increased to immense
proportions, besides being occupied with his duties as a clinical
professor, Dr. Pepper accepted the provostship. To the duties of
this office he devoted the best years of his life. The extent of his
practice and the demands made upon his time by the university
would have appalled an ordinary man, but his capacity for labor
appeared to be without limit, his working day often exceeding
eighteen hours. His administration was characterized by the unification
of the various schools of the university, besides the founding
and equipment of several new departments. In one of his
annual reports Dr. Pepper defined the broad policy of the university
in the following appropriate language: "The university is
truly the voluntary association of all persons and of all agencies
who wish to unite in work for the elevation of society by the pursuit
and diffusion of truth." In other words, Dr. Pepper regarded
the functions of the university as not simply an institution
of instruction, but also of research. To this end every effort was
made to open up new fields of investigation and to widen the scope
of the university. During his provostship thirteen new buildings
were erected, and the following departments, or schools, were organized:
1.The Department of Finance and Economy.
2.The Department of Philosophy.
3.The Department of Veterinary Medicine.
4.The Department of Biology.
5.The Department of Physical Education.
6.The Department of Archæology and Paleontology.
7.The Department of Hygiene.
8.The Graduate Department for Women.
9.The School of Architecture.
10.The School for Nurses in the University Hospital.
11.The Veterinary Hospital.
12.The Wistar Institute of Anatomy and Biology.
Dr. Pepper took particular interest in the Department of Archæology
and Paleontology connected with the university. For a
number of years he was president of its board of trustees, while it
was largely through his efforts that the Babylonian Exploration
Fund was formed. It was Dr. Pepper's ambition to have at the
university well-equipped laboratories that would offer an opportunity
for original investigation in medical science. The establishment
of the Laboratory of Hygiene, in 1892, was the first step in
this direction, soon to be followed by Dr. Pepper's gift of the
Laboratory of Clinical Medicine. This laboratory was founded in
memory of his father, the late Dr. William Pepper. The gift is
unique in that it is made for the purpose of promoting and stimulating
original research, and improving the methods of diagnosing
and treating the diseases of human beings. Another field of work
in the laboratory is that of giving advanced and special instruction
to men who have already obtained the degree of Doctor of Medicine.
At the opening of the laboratory in 1895 Dr. William H.
Welch, of Johns Hopkins University, said, "To the small number
of existing clinical laboratories the William Pepper Laboratory of
Clinical Medicine is a most notable addition, being the first laboratory
of the kind in this country, and it is not surpassed by any in
foreign countries."
Dr. Pepper realized more and more every year that the vast
extent of the university interests demanded the undivided activity
of its head. In 1894 he resigned the office of provost, stating at
the time that, as it became necessary for him to choose between
administration work and medical science, his devotion to the latter
determined his choice. His administration was an eventful one,
during which the university evolved from a group of disconnected
schools to a great academic body. In 1881 its property in land
amounted to fifteen acres, while in 1894 it controlled fifty-two
acres in a continuous tract. In 1881 the university property was
valued at $1,600,000; in 1894 it exceeded $5,000,000. The teaching
force in 1881 numbered 88 and the students in all departments
981; in 1894 the former were 268, and the attendance had reached
2,180, representing every State in the Union, as well as thirty-eight
foreign countries.
Dr. Pepper became well known as an author on medical subjects.
He founded the Philadelphia Medical Times, and was its
editor for two years. In 1885 he edited a System of Medicine by
American Authors, a work that has been considered a leading authority
on medical subjects. He also edited a book of medical
practice by American authors, and, with Dr. J. F. Meigs, issued
a work on Diseases of Children. He was Medical Director of the
Centennial Exposition in 1876, and for his services he received
from the King of Sweden the decoration of Knight Commander of
the Order of St. Olaf.
Dr. Pepper showed an unbounded interest in behalf of any
movement that would benefit the community in general. He was
one of the first to realize the advantage that would accrue to Philadelphia
should she become a museum center. The Philadelphia
Commercial Museum was established in October, 1893, with Dr.
Pepper as president of the board of trustees. The old offices of
the Pennsylvania Railroad Company were leased, and exhibits were
secured from the Latin-American countries, Africa, Australia,
Japan, and India, forming the largest permanent collection of raw
products in existence. Referring to the great value of the museum,
Dr. Pepper spoke as follows in his address of welcome at
the first annual meeting of the advisory board:
"It would seem clear, however, that no method of studying industries
and commerce can be scientific and complete which does
not include the museum idea as now comprehended. The museum
aims to teach by object lesson the story of the world, past and
present. The Biological Museum presents the objects of human
and comparative anatomy, arranged scientifically and labeled so
fully as to constitute the best text-book for the study of those subjects.
The Museum of Natural History does the same in its field.
The Museum of Archæology shows the progress of the race from
the most archaic times, the different types of human beings, their
mode of living, their forms of worship, their games, their weapons,
their implements, the natural products which they used for subsistence,
in their industries, and in their arts, the objects of manufacture
or of art which they produced, and the manner in which
they disposed of their dead.
"The natural products and manufactured articles, which constitute
the material of commerce, come necessarily into such a scheme,
and the long-looked-for opportunity of establishing a commercial
museum upon a truly scientific basis presented itself when, at the
close of the Columbian Exposition at Chicago, it was possible,
through the enlightened liberality of the municipal authorities of
Philadelphia and the invaluable services of Prof. W. P. Wilson,
to secure vast collections of commercial material, which was so
liberally donated to the Philadelphia museums by nearly all the
foreign countries of the globe."
It was Dr. Pepper's idea to have the University Museum and
the Commercial Museum situated near each other, on the plan
of the South Kensington Museum. To this end the City Councils,
in 1896, passed an ordinance giving over to the trustees of the
Commercial Museum sixteen acres of land for the *** of suitable
buildings. When all the plans are carried out the city will
have unrivaled facilities for the study of civilization, past and
present.
One of the most enduring monuments to Dr. Pepper's zeal
and generosity is the Free Library of Philadelphia. In 1889 his
uncle, George S. Pepper, bequeathed the sum of one hundred and
fifty thousand dollars "to the trustees of such Free Library which
may be established in the city of Philadelphia." From the beginning
Dr. Pepper took a warm interest in the Free Library
movement. It was under his leadership that the library was organized,
and he was made the first president of its board of trustees.
Speaking of his activity in this direction, the librarian, Mr.
John Thomson, said: "No detail was too small for his personal
attention. No plan for its future growth was too large for his
ambitious hope of both public and private support. The remarkable
and rapid increase in the circulation of the Free Library, the
multiplication of its branches, the organization of all its departments
on a broad and generous plan, his success in enlisting a large
number of able fellow-workers, his clear, plain statements to Councils
and the city authorities, his activity in securing needed legislation
at Harrisburg, were some of the results of that intelligent
energy which enabled him to do so much and to do it so well."
The bequest of the Pepper family has been supplemented by ample
appropriations by the City Councils, and the Free Library is now
one of the most important institutions in Philadelphia. The library
at present has twelve flourishing branches, while the combined
circulation of the system for the year 1898 was 1,738,950
volumes.
Dr. Pepper was also connected with many scientific bodies.
He was Vice-President of the American Philosophical Society, and
President of the first Pan-American Medical Congress in 1893.
He was a Fellow of the College of Physicians; President of the
Philadelphia Pathological Society from 1873 to 1876; Director of
the Biological Section, Academy of Natural Sciences; President,
in 1886, of the American Climatological Association; President
of the Foulke and Long Institute for Orphan Girls; President of
the First Sanitary Convention of Pennsylvania; and in 1882 he
was a member of the Assay Commission of the United States Mint.
He received the degree of LL. D. from Lafayette College in 1881,
and from the University of Pennsylvania in 1893.
In 1873 Dr. Pepper married Miss Frances Sargeant Perry, a
lineal descendant of Benjamin Franklin, and a granddaughter of
Commodore Oliver Hazard Perry. Four sons were born, of whom
three survive—Dr. William Pepper, Jr., Benjamin Franklin Pepper,
and Oliver Hazard Perry Pepper. Failing in health, Dr.
Pepper went to California early in the summer of 1898, where he
died of heart disease on July 28th of that year. His body reached
Philadelphia on August 6th. Funeral services were held in St.
James's Protestant Episcopal Church, after which the body was
cremated, and the ashes interred in Laurel Hill Cemetery. The
American Anthropometric Society received, by the conditions of
his will, Dr. Pepper's brain. Among the members of this society
were Dr. Joseph Leidy, Phillips Brooks, and Prof. E. D. Cope.
The articles of membership of the Anthropometric Society require
that each member contribute his brain in the interests of
science.
Dr. Pepper's death was followed by many expressions of sorrow
from learned societies in various parts of the world. One
of the most beautiful tributes was the memorial meeting held in
the city of Mexico on September 12th. The leading medical
and scientific societies of Mexico assembled in the hall of Congress
to do honor to the work and character of Dr. Pepper. President
Diaz occupied the chair, and about him were gathered the leading
citizens, officials, and scientists of Mexico. Representatives of the
National Medical School and the Board of Health eulogized Dr.
Pepper, while Hon. Matias Romero spoke of him not as a physician,
but as an "altruist who had consecrated himself to doing
good for his fellow-men."
In Philadelphia, steps have been taken to erect a substantial
memorial to Dr. Pepper. At a memorial meeting, held on March
6th last, a proposition was made to place a statue of the deceased
scientist on the City Hall plaza, after the style of the Girard
Monument. A committee was appointed with power to raise funds
for the proposed statue, the cost not to exceed ten thousand dollars.
One of the letters of William Pengelly, geologist, of Torquay, England,
printed in the memoir published by his daughter, gives this sketch of
Babbage, the mathematician and inventor of the calculating machine: "I
then called on Babbage, and could not get away until after one. He is a
splendid talker. He seemed much pleased to see me, and complimented me
very much on my lecture (at the Royal Institution), in which he was evidently
much interested. He is the most marvelous worker I ever met with.
I never saw anything like the evidence of multifarious and vast labor
which his 'workshop' presents; he sticks at nothing. One drawer full of
riddles, another of epigrams, one of squared words, etc.... It is appalling!
And then the downright fun of the fellow; it is almost intoxicating
to be with him!"
Correspondence.
"DO ANIMALS REASON?"
Dr. Edward Thorndike's interesting
account, in our August number, of
his investigations touching the reasoning
power of animals has brought us a large
number of letters questioning some of
the main conclusions set forth in the article,
and criticising the method of the
inquiry. Not having room for all these
communications, we print one of them,
and add extracts from two others. These
represent the principal objections urged
by the various writers against the conclusions
drawn by the author of the article
from his experiments.
Editor Popular Science Monthly:
Sir: The first reading of Dr. Thorndike's
article Do Animals Reason? in
the August Popular Science Monthly,
gave the impression, which has been
deepened by subsequent perusal, that
his experiments were not only inadequate
to solve the question, but unfairly
chosen.
A dog or a cat, utterly hungry, is
placed in a box, from which it can escape
"by performing some simple (?)
action, such as pulling a wire loop, stepping
on a platform or lever, clawing
down a string, or turning a wooden button."
In the first place, what tends to destroy
the reasoning power more than
utter hunger? This intense physical
craving begets frenzy rather than reason.
The more intense this primeval
desire, the greater the demand upon
primitive instinct for its satisfaction.
In the open the cat will jump at a bird,
the dog at a bone. If the bird be up a
tree, the cat will climb; if the bone be
buried, the dog will burrow. Climbing
and burrowing are deep-rooted developments
of the feline and the canine nature.
Put a dog or a cat, utterly hungry,
in a box and hang a piece of meat outside.
Instinct prompts a jump through
the bars of the box at the meat, and the
greater the number of unsuccessful attempts
the less the likelihood of the
animal with a gnawing stomach sitting
down to scrutinize the mechanical construction
of the box to the point of perceiving
that by stepping on a lever it
will open a door. How many millions
of years did it take two-legged man to
arrive at the perception of the use of
the lever? Did the shaggy biped arrive
at that perception by sitting down
when utterly hungry and looking at a
lever; or did he, through countless generations,
by some such chance as lifting
a stone with a stick, come to the
knowledge of weight and fulcrum?
Put an anthropoid ape, some several
degrees nearer man in intelligence than
a cat, in a modern office elevator that
moves by the push of an electric button,
suspend the elevator between two stories,
and what do you suppose that anthropoid
ape will do?
Put a schoolgirl fresh from belles-lettres
and matinées in the cab of a locomotive
and tell her to run it to the
next station. She can not but know
that steam will make the wheels go
round, but what will she do in the maze
of throttles, handles, disks, and rods
that confronts her? What will she do
if utterly hungry?
Take a laborer from his pick and
shovel on the railway embankment and
put him at the desk of the general manager.
He can read and write. Let the
messenger boys and clerks shower him
with the letters and telegrams that bombard
that desk every day, and let him
try to settle the questions to which
they give rise.
Now, why can not the schoolgirl run
the locomotive, the laborer the railroad?
Because the relations of things
necessary to the tasks have never been
imprinted upon their registering cells;
because, in the latter case at least, of
the lack of power of co-ordination—that
is, the lack of the power of abstract
reasoning that the task involves.
Why can not anybody do anything
as well as anybody else? Because certain
relations have been more deeply
impressed upon certain brains than
upon others; because of the greater
power of certain brains to co-ordinate
certain relations, their greater ability
to give concrete manifestation of the
result of such co-ordination through the
efferent nerves. Otherwise any one of
us could design a bridge, compose a
symphony, or organize a trust.
The oftener relations are impressed
upon the registering cells, the more
readily are those relations co-ordinated,
provided the brain structure be
of the requisite caliber. Reiterated impression
through the ages of the relations
between their needs and
surrounding things, together with the development
of structural capacity, has
led the beaver to build his dam, the bee
the honeycomb, the ant its village, the
bird its nest. In each case the registered
impressions have led to action
made possible by long-continued contact
between structure and environment;
the actions are the result of development
that has proceeded mite by
mite through unknown time. The brain
of neither bird nor beast nor man will
immediately co-ordinate radically new
impressions received in a radically new
environment into coherent action that
leads to definite result.
Here is an example within the writer's
immediate knowledge: At the age
of seventeen a boy entered the service
of one of the large railway systems as
a clerk in the passenger department.
Through eleven years of enthusiastic
and concentrated endeavor to master
the details of the service he rose to the
head of the clerical force—that is, the
reiterated impression upon his brain
cells of the functions of the passenger
service led to that co-ordination which
resulted in efficient action. Then he became
employed in the office of a large
coal-mining company. For several days
it was with the utmost difficulty that he
could bring his attention to bear upon
the new tasks. While seated at the
desk in the coal office the old railway
problems would chase through his
mind; when he began to write the initials
of the Pittsburg Consolidated
Coal Company, he would find that he
had written the initials of the Pittsburg,
Cincinnati, Chicago and St. Louis
Railway Company; instead of the initials
of the Pittsburg, Fairport and
Northwestern Dock Company, the initials
of the Pittsburg, Fort Wayne and
Chicago Railway Company. The latter
initials in each case would appear upon
the paper before he knew it, actually
without his knowing that he had written
them. The entirely unfamiliar routine
entailed by the custody of bank
accounts, coal leases, deeds and contracts,
reports of coal shipments, and
the handling of vouchers, became adjusted
in his brain bit by bit through
many weeks, and it was months before
he could co-ordinate the new impressions
into broad and well-defined reasoning.
If he had been utterly hungry
through all the period of the new service,
it might have taken years.
Now, what can be expected of a dog
or a cat, whose mental processes have
been adjusted by inheritance and experience
to life in the fields and jungles,
when placed in a box, utterly hungry,
to study mechanical contrivances?
It is manifest that if the brain of a
dog or a cat would become adjusted to
the radically unfamiliar steps necessary
to release it from such a radically unfamiliar
environment, that adjustment
could only come by extremely slow degrees.
Voluntary perception is almost
beyond the limits of expectation, and
the leading of the animal through the
necessary steps would have to be repeated
time after time before the impressions
upon its brain would reach
any degree of permanence, especially as
its brain would be lacking in attention,
and the repeated handling be an annoyance
to it. But that by such tutelage
the animals, or a proportion of
them, arrived at a knowledge of the
means necessary to escape from the box
is shown by Dr. Thorndike himself.
"If one repeats the process, keeps putting
the cat back into the box after
each success, the amount of useless action
gradually decreases, the right
movement is made sooner and sooner,
until finally it is done as soon as the cat
is put in." But he says: "This sort of
a history is not the history of a reasoning
animal. It is the history of an
animal who meets a certain situation
with a lot of instinctive acts....
Little by little the one act becomes
more and more likely to be done in that
situation, while the others slowly vanish.
This history represents the wearing
smooth of a path in the brain, not
the decisions of a rational consciousness."
Wherein, however, does this differ
from the manner in which hundreds of
clerks in offices finally learn routine
work and mechanically go through the
motions necessary to its performance?
Do not the actions of thousands of laborers
in field and factory seem to proceed
from a wearing smooth of a path
in the brain, rather than from rational
consciousness? Yet they can not be
said to be devoid of reason. Is not a
great proportion of the daily actions of
any one of us gone through from force
of habit, almost by instinct?
The word reason does not apply
alone to the mental processes of a
Helmholtz, but to the co-ordination,
however slight, of relations that result
in definite action even of a humble organism.
Herbert Spencer has clearly
shown that instinct and reason differ in
degree and not in kind.
Dr. Thorndike lays stress upon the
fact that a "cat which, when first put
in, took sixty seconds to get out, in the
second trial eighty, in the third fifty,
in the fourth sixty, in the fifth fifty,
in the sixth forty," etc., and remarks:
"Suppose the cat had, after the third
accidental success, been able to reason?
She would then have, the next time
and all succeeding times, performed the
act as soon as put in." Not long ago
the writer and a man whose high intelligence
can not be questioned, in moments
of relaxation were trying to do
one of the familiar ring puzzles—endeavoring
to separate a ring from two
others of peculiar shape and then to
join the three. After repeated trials,
one would loosen it, but could not replace
it; the other finally succeeded in
replacing it, but could not loosen it.
Then the one could replace it, but not
loosen it; the other loosen, but not replace
it, and each was closely watching
the other all the time. It was half an
hour or more before either could both
loosen and replace the ring, occasional
successful attempts not being repeated
until after several succeeding failures.
Contrast the relation of the brain of the
dazed and indifferent and peculiarly bedeviled
cat to the puzzle presented to it
by the inside of the box with the earnest
effort of the two men to solve the
ring puzzle. Who has not found a task
more difficult the fifth or sixth time
than the second or third, and has only
performed it with ease after repeated attempts
of varying degrees of success and
failure?
In conclusion, the writer begs leave
to relate an incident, which has not before
appeared in print, that profoundly
impressed him with the belief that at
least in one instance one particular
animal displayed reason. One Sunday
morning, a dozen years or more ago,
he was standing on the bank of the
Ohio River at the Sewickley Ferry. A
family group, accompanied by a large
Newfoundland dog, hailed the ferryman
and got in his boat, leaving the
dog, which persuasively barked and
wagged his tail, on the bank. As the
boat pulled out into the stream the
dog whined, and then made ready to
leap in after it. Then he stopped at
the water's edge, and, with head down,
gazed intently at the river for several
seconds—it seemed a minute or more.
Then he ran up the bank more than a
hundred feet, stopped, looked at the receding
boat, plunged into the stream,
and swam vigorously. The current,
bearing him down, made his course diagonal
to the bank. A boy standing by
my side said: "Isn't that a smart dog?
If he'd been a crazy dog he'd have
jumped in where he was, but he ran up
the bank so the current wouldn't wash
him down away from the boat."
But the dog, swimming with all his
vigor, was borne past the boat when
within twenty feet or so of it; he
endeavored to straighten his course
without success, and then, in a long
semicircle, swam around to the near
bank, landing two or three hundred feet
below the place whence the ferryboat
had started.
What this dog would have done if
placed, utterly hungry, in a box from
which he could only liberate himself by
stepping on a platform or turning a
wooden button, I do not know.
Logan G. McPherson.
Pittsburgh, August 3, 1899.
Mr. Frederic D. Bond, of 413
South Forty-fourth Street, Philadelphia,
writes: Of the accuracy of Dr.
Thorndike's experiments I have no
doubt, but certain facts connected with
them seem to deprive the observations
of much of their relevance.
Dr. Thorndike states that he arranged
his experiments to give reasoning
every chance to display itself, if it existed,
and to observe those in which the
acts required and the thinking involved
were not far removed from the acts and
feelings of ordinary animal life. Of
these experiments one of the chief was
to determine whether and in what way
a cat would escape from a box opening
by turning a button. Now, I submit
that in this and the succeeding experiments
the conditions Dr. Thorndike fancied
to exist by no means did so. Simple
as the release of a door by a button
seems to us, the apparent simplicity
arises merely from our empirical knowledge
of what does happen in such a
situation. Actually to think out the
rationale of the matter, as an animal
having no experience either personally
or from heredity would have to do, involves
very complex mental processes.
The environment of a human being
is vastly different from an animal's,
though of this fact we constantly lose
sight in reasoning; of mechanical appliances
and principles, for example, an
animal knows nothing, and yet we are
too apt to suppose it regarding the
world with a store of ancestral and individual
experiences utterly foreign to
it; and then, on its failing to do what,
in the light of such experience, seems to
us easy, we proceed to call into question
its possession of reason....
That the cats did finally learn to
escape shows, according to Dr. Thorndike,
"the wearing smooth of a path in
the brain, not the decisions of a rational
consciousness." May I ask Dr. Thorndike
what possible reason could a cat
have to suppose that what happened
once must needs happen again? Does
Dr. Thorndike fancy his own knowledge
of a million like matters was acquired
by reason, and not empirically elaborated
by processes of exactly the same
sort as the cats went through? Let
this experiment be tried on a healthy
infant of two years, and I am of the
opinion that the results would be the
same as with the cat; yet the infant
undoubtedly carries on "thinking processes
similar, at least in kind, to our
own," which Dr. Thorndike implicitly
denies to his cats.
The chief cause of the inability of
students to reach concordant results in
this matter of animal intelligence appears
to lie in a certain uncritical assumption
often made. That all consciousnesses
have a certain field of presentations,
that to this field they attain,
that because of it they feel and will,
are fundamental facts; but the belief
that attention or feeling or will differs
per se in different consciousnesses, other
than as the field to which they are at
the moment related, differs—this is an
utterly unwarranted assumption. According
to the action of its environment,
each conscious being must know the
world just so far as is needed to conform
its existence thereto, or else it
must perish; but whether such knowledge,
which is acquired by experience
only, be quite small, as with animals,
or somewhat larger, as with man, there
is no reason to suppose that the attention,
feeling, or will of the animal differs
in itself from the same psychological
state in man.
Mr. Andrew Van Bibber, of Cincinnati,
Ohio, says: Animals, and especially
wild ones, have no bank account
or reserve, and have to face new conditions
daily, and yet they make a living
where man would starve.
When I was out in Colorado and
Utah, years ago, I used to know of animals
removing the bait nicely from dangerous
traps without springing the trap.
I knew of a dog who went over a mile
to call his owner to the aid of a boy
who had broken his leg, and who would
not be refused till understood. This is
brutish "instinct," is it?—something
that Dr. Thorndike can't define. Will
"instinct" teach a tired, half-starved
horse to eat oats if you set them before
him? Dr. Thorndike would say "Yes,"
but Dr. Thorndike would be wrong
unless that horse knew from personal
past experience what oats were. What
animals learn (like the human animal)
they learn chiefly by experience. They
accumulate facts in their minds and use
them.
I served in the cavalry of the Armies
of the Tennessee and the Cumberland,
and I know that instinct will not cause
a hungry horse to touch oats unless he
knows from his own experience what
oats are. We used to capture horses in
Mississippi which had never seen oats.
It is all corn down there. We would
bring them into camp tired out and
hungry, and would pour out our oats
for them. Not one of them would touch
the oats. You could leave the hungry
horses hitched for twenty-four hours before
oats, and not one grain would they
touch. They would stand there and
starve. We had to throw up their
heads and fill their mouths full of oats.
If we stopped there, they would spit
them out. We had to grab their jaws
and work them sideways until they had
a good taste. Then they understood,
and ate oats right along. Plenty of
such horses in Mississippi to-day....
If Dr. Thorndike tried his intelligent
"Experiment No. 11" with a two-year-old
cat, why didn't he try it with
a two-year-old human? I guess he
would have found an equal amount of
ignorance of the mechanism of door fastenings,
which comes only with teaching,
and would have produced only
struggles and screaming.
THE TREND OF POPULATION IN MAINE.
Editor Popular Science Monthly:
Sir: In the article contributed to
your magazine for the month of August
on Recent Legislation against the
Drink Evil, I notice what appears to
me to be a misstatement of fact. The
writer speaks of the results of prohibition
in the State of Maine, and says,
"In sixty-three years Maine has seen
her commerce disappear and her population
dwindle."
I have not investigated the matter
of Maine's commerce, but I find that
her population has not dwindled in any
possible sense of the term during the
period indicated above.
It is, perhaps, a common impression
that Maine has had such an exodus of
her people to other States of the Union
that she has suffered a loss in population.
What are the real facts of the
case? The census taken by the Government
in 1840 gave the State 501,000
people, and that taken in 1890, 661,000,
which shows, during the interval between
1840 and 1890, an increase of
160,000. The increase in population even
during the decade 1880-'90 was 13,000.
Whether there has been a decrease since
1890 nobody at present knows, and will
not know until the decennial census is
taken next year.
In view of these facts, I feel justified
in challenging the correctness of the
gentleman's statement, quoted above.
There can be no room for doubt that
Maine has sustained considerable losses
in population from farm desertion, but
no statistics can be presented to show
that the State has, during the time
stated above, been dwindling in the
number of people living within her borders.
J. Earle Brown.
Woonsocket, R. I., August 17, 1899.
Editor's Table.
EDUCATION AND CHARACTER-BUILDING.
It is many years ago now since
Mr. Spencer, in his Study of Sociology,
remarked upon the exaggerated
hopes commonly built upon
education. With the courage that is
characteristic of him, he went counter
to a current of opinion which
was then running with perhaps its
maximum force. He said that the
belief in the efficacy of education to
remold society had taken so strong
a hold of the modern world that
nothing but disappointment would
avail to modify it. This was in the
year 1872; since then the disappointment
has in a measure come, and
many are prepared to accept his
views to-day, who, twenty-seven
years ago, thought they proceeded
from a mind fundamentally out of
sympathy with modern progress.
Facts indeed are accumulating from
year to year to prove the soundness
of the philosopher's contention that
"cognition does not produce action,"
and that a great variety of
knowledge may be introduced into
the mind without in the least inclining
the individual to higher
modes of conduct.
We are reminded of Mr. Spencer's
line of argument by an article
lately published in the London
Spectator, entitled Influence on the
Young. The writer sees clearly that
enthusiastic educationists undertake
far more than they can perform.
"The character forms itself," he
says, "assimilating nutriment or
detriment, as it were, from the
air, which the parents or teachers,
for all their pains, can in no way
change." There seems indeed to be
in the young, he remarks, a distinct
tendency to resist influence. Father
and son will be opposed in politics;
very pious people too often find, to
their sorrow, their children growing
up far otherwise than they could
wish. The man who is very settled
in his habits is as like as not to have
a boy who can not be persuaded to
take a serious view of life. The
most unexceptionable home lessons
seem to be of no avail against the
attractive power of light companions.
Evidently, Nature is at work
in ways that men can not control.
If there is a law of "recoil," as the
writer in the Spectator hints, we
may be pretty sure it serves some
good purpose. It introduces, we can
see at once, a diversity which makes
for the progress, and perhaps also
for the stability, of society. Two
practical questions, however, suggest
themselves: (1) What can we
reasonably hope from education?
and (2) What can we do to make a
wholesome milieu for the rising generation?
With regard to education, it is
evident that we can not know the
best it can do until it has been reduced
to a science—until, that is to
say, as a result of the joint labors
of practical educators and psychologists,
we can claim to possess a reasonable
degree of certainty as to the
best arrangement and sequence of
studies and the best methods of
stimulating the mind and imparting
knowledge. Upon these important
questions there is still considerable
diversity of opinion. Some educators
think we should be very sparing of
abstractions in the instruction of
younger pupils. Others are of a contrary
opinion. Professor Baldwin,
for example, in his little work on
The Mind, says that "grammar is
one of the very best of primary-school
subjects." He also recommends
mathematics. These are questions
which, it seems to us, admit
of being finally settled. Allowance
must of course be made for the varying
capacities of individual children,
but this need not stand in the way
of the establishment of some general
doctrine as to the law of development
of the human mind. We
shall then further require a true
theory of method in education, so
that we may know by what means
the best results in the imparting of
knowledge and the development of
the capacities of the individual
mind may be obtained. Assuming
that these vantage points have been
gained, education should be for
every mind an eminently healthful
and invigorating process, which is
more than can be said for the forms
of education that have prevailed in
the past. These, while developing
certain faculties, have, to a great
extent, stunted others—have indeed,
in too many cases, fatally impaired
the natural powers of the mind. A
notable paper, which appeared in
the first number of this magazine,
was one by the late Dr. Carpenter
on The Artificial Cultivation
of Stupidity in Schools. Professor
Baldwin, in the work already
cited, seems to be of the opinion
that the process of cultivating stupidity,
or at least mental shiftlessness,
is in full blast to-day in many
of our secondary schools owing to
the prominence given to language
studies. The science of education
must at least put an end to this, and
insure that the youths who are committed
to the public schools shall
not be subjected to any mind-destroying
exercises. We can hope,
however, that it will do much more.
The mind, like the body, grows by
what it feeds upon; and it is hard
to conceive that suitable kinds of
knowledge could be imparted in a
natural manner, so as to awaken interest
and develop the perceptive and
reasoning powers, without at least
preparing the mind for the reception
of right sentiments.
So much the science of education,
when it is fairly established,
may reasonably be expected to do.
It will deal with the mind upon true
hygienic principles. There remains
the more serious question how such
a moral atmosphere can be created
as will incline the young to take a
right view of knowledge and its
uses. Knowledge, it is hardly necessary
to say, is power, just as money
is power; and it is quite as needful
that the idea of social service should
be associated with the one as with
the other. The best social service
which, perhaps, any man can render
is to give to the world the example
of high disinterestedness and general
nobility of character; and
knowledge should be valued not as
conferring individual distinction,
but according as it expands and liberalizes
the mind. The poet Coleridge
has said with some truth that
"Fancy is the power
That first unsensualizes the dark mind,
Giving it new delights; and bids it swell
With wild activity; and peopling air,
By obscure fears of beings invisible,
Emancipates it from the grosser thrall
Of the present impulse, teaching self-control,
Till Superstition with unconscious hand
Seat Reason on her throne."
The mind having been "unsensualized,"
the next step is to moralize
and humanize it, otherwise Reason
on her throne may act not much
more wisely than other monarchs
have done. The classic example of
the worship of reason is not reassuring
as to the infallibility of the goddess.
The question, then, as to how
intellectual education and the education
of the moral sentiments may
go hand in hand is one that comes
home to every member of the community.
We all help to make the
moral atmosphere and create the
moral ideals of our time; and there
is no use in looking for high standards
in our colleges and other institutions
of learning if we have low
standards in our homes. The youth
who hears nothing talked of at home
but money is not likely to take
much interest in instruction that
does not bear directly on the question
of making money. The youth
who hears money spoken of in the
home circle simply as a means of
personal enjoyment and glorification
will need something more than
a few lectures on political or social
economy to make him take a different
view of it. We may employ excellent
men and women as teachers,
but their success from a moral point
of view will always be limited by the
general tone of the community.
It is evident, then, that no very
special directions can be given for
solving the problem with which we
are concerned. Still, the posing of
the problem and the indication of
the conditions on which its solution
depends may awaken in a few minds
a new sense of their responsibility
in the matter, and it is a gain for
even one to go over to the right side.
It would be quite as easy for the
whole of society to live on a somewhat
higher plane as it is for it to
live on its present plane. It would
simply mean that the average man
would treat the average man a little
better than he does now: whatever
one gave he would thus get in return,
and the burdens which are always associated
with mutual distrust would
be proportionately lightened.
The philosopher whom we began
by quoting has indicated ways in
which the craze for legislative shortcuts
is working against the moral
improvement of society. He holds
that parental responsibility has been
seriously impaired by legislative encroachments
in the matter of education
and otherwise. Book learning
has become to the modern world a
kind of fetich; and minds that ought
to be in contact with the facts of
life are stupefied, and so far prevented
from getting their normal
moral growth by being drilled in
studies that bring no real profit.
We can not bear the idea that one
of our human brethren should not
be able to read and write; but, provided
he possesses these accomplishments,
we ask no questions as to
what use he makes of them. We
have before us a police description
of a criminal who graduated at one
of the most celebrated universities
on the Continent, who studied afterward
for the Church, who was for
several years an elder, and who possesses—so
we are distinctly informed—fine
literary tastes. The gentleman
with all these advantages is
a fugitive from justice. With all
his knowledge and accomplishments
he got no hold of the principles of
right conduct, and—there are not a
few like him. We need not only a
science of education, but a science
of government, the most valuable
part of which will probably be that
which shows us with demonstrative
force what things government ought
to leave alone. It is quite possible
we should find the moral atmosphere
materially improving if only the
natural reactions between the individual
and his environment were not
interfered with. The course of Nature,
we may feel assured, provides
not less for moral than for mental
growth, and if either process is defectively
carried on we may safely
attribute it to some ill-advised attempt
we are making to improve on natural
institutions. Science has done much
for the world in the past, but it has
yet to do much more. It will yet
give us a light to our feet in matters
educational and political, and will
liberate us from many of the yokes
and trammels we have foolishly imposed
upon ourselves. Mankind will
then look into the face of Nature
and see in it a new beneficence and
brighter promises for the future of
the race.
THE AMERICAN ASSOCIATION AT COLUMBUS.
A fairly good attendance, with
an unusually large proportion of
men prominent in science, and most
cordial welcome and painstaking
care of the members by the Ohio
State University and the citizens of
Columbus, combined to make the
forty-eighth annual meeting of the
American Association for the Advancement
of Science a most enjoyable
and instructive one. The two
features of the meeting which seem
to deserve the most attention are:
First, the tendency which was shown
in every section to direct the papers
and discussions to practical subjects,
so that all could participate in the
proceedings and each member feel
justified in having a word to say in
them; and, secondly, the perfect cordiality
with which the association
was received and the assiduous attention
with which it was taken care
of by the local committee. The
smaller and apparently less important
details, but at the same time
those which so largely determine
one's comfort in a strange community,
were thoughtfully arranged,
and to this alone much of the success
of the meeting was due. The
numerous excursions were not only
exceedingly enjoyable, but were arranged
in every case primarily for
their instructive and scientific features,
and an Easterner, at any rate,
could not take any of them without
learning something. Another feature
of the meeting that was especially
satisfactory was the possibility
it afforded for the younger workers
in science to meet their elders,
who had hitherto led the way—who
were present, as we have already
said, in larger proportion than usual.
The importance of this feature, as
President Orton pointed out in
these pages a few months ago, can
not be overestimated. The instruction
and encouragement which a
new worker in the scientific field
gains from a personal acquaintance
with the older men who have already
achieved success and reputation
in his branch of science are
obvious enough. With the increasing
specialization which modern research
is making absolutely unavoidable,
the social feature of the annual
gathering of such a company
of scientists is coming to be its most
important function. A slight extension
of it might very readily lead
to the adoption of a specific policy
by the several sections of devoting
at least a part of their time to such
a general statement of what has been
accomplished in their department or
to some especially important work
of general interest that some of the
members have been engaged in as
would be most instructive to the
members of the other sections. In
the earlier meetings of the association
the sectional chairmen often
made such presentations in their
stated addresses, but as times and
men have changed, the idea has been
departed from and this feature has
become an exceptional one. If it
could be restored, in a modified if
not an identical form, and made a
regular part of the programme of at
least one of the sections at each
meeting, the interest would be greatly
enhanced, and in this way the
chemist, the geologist, the botanist,
and the others could be given regularly
an authoritative account of
what is being done in the other
branches of science, and an important
step would be taken toward doing
away with the unfortunate narrowing
influence which special scientific
work is too apt to exercise.
The fixing of the last week in
June as the time for holding the
next meeting of the association,
which is to be in New York, is a departure
from recent practice as to
date, but, aside from the special reason
for it in this particular case—the
probability that many of the
members will be at the Paris Exposition
during the following August—the
experiment seems a desirable
one because of the almost invariably
excessive heat to which August
meetings are exposed.
Scientific Literature.
SPECIAL BOOKS.
Evidences are apparent in many quarters of a reaction against the
headlong rush toward aggression and territorial aggrandizement in which
the American people have allowed themselves to be carried away. For a
time the lovers of the Constitution of the United States as the fathers
of the republic left it and Lincoln glorified it were bewildered, stunned
by the revolution suddenly precipitated upon us from Washington, while
the people at large seemed to be wild with enthusiasm for they knew not
what, and men suffered themselves to be led—they knew not whither.
Very slowly the true patriots recovered their voices, and signs appear that
the people are at last getting into a mood to listen to reason. President
David Starr Jordan's Imperial Democracy comes very opportunely,
therefore, to call to the minds of those who can be induced to think some
of the forgotten principles of American policy, and to depict, in the terse,
incisive style of which the author is master, the true nature and bearing
of those iniquitous proceedings to which the American people, betrayed
by treacherous leaders, have allowed themselves to become a party. President
Jordan was one of the first who dared, in this matter, to make a public
protest against this scheme of aggression. His first address on the subject—Lest
we Forget—delivered to the graduating class of Leland Stanford
University, May 25, 1898, was separated only a few days in time from
Prof. Charles Eliot Norton's exposure of the reversal of all our most cherished
traditions and habits which the precipitation of the war with Spain
had brought about. The two men must share the honor of leadership in
the awakening movement. In this address President Jordan gives a true
definition of patriotism as "the will to serve one's country; to make one's
country better worth saving"—not the shrilling of the mob, or trampling
on the Spanish flag, or twisting the lion's tail. Even so early he foresaw
the darkness of the future we were bringing upon ourselves, and said:
"The crisis comes when the war is over. What then? Our question is not
what we shall do with Cuba, Puerto Rico, and the Philippines. It is what
these prizes will do to us." This, with the wickedness of the whole business,
is the burden of most of the other papers in the volume. In the paper
on Imperial Expansion we are told of three "world crises" in our history
when we were confronted with momentous questions. The first was after
the Revolution. The second came through the growth of slavery. The
third is upon us now. "It is not the conquest of Spain, not the disposition
of the spoils of victory which first concerns us. It is the spirit that
lies behind it. Shall our armies go where our institutions can not? Shall
territorial expansion take the place of democratic freedom? Shall our
invasion of the Orient be merely an incident, an accident of a war of
knight-errantry, temporary and exceptional? Or is it to mark a new
policy—the reversion from America to Europe, from democracy to imperialism?"
President Jordan has an answer to the question, What are
we to do in the shape affairs have assumed? The right thing would be
"to recognize the independence of the Philippines, under American protection,
and to lend them our army and navy and our wisest counselors;
not our politicians, but our jurists, our teachers, with foresters, electricians,
manufacturers, mining engineers, and experts in the various industries....
The only sensible thing to do would be to pull out some dark
night and escape from the great problem of the Orient as suddenly and as
dramatically as we got into it." Yet President Jordan recognizes that
some great changes in our system are inevitable, and belong to the course
of natural progress. They must not be shirked, but should be met manfully,
soberly, with open eyes. A paper on Colonial Lessons of Alaska
presents as an object lesson the muss we have made with colonial government
in that Territory.
Mr. A. H. Keane's Man Past and Present is a part fulfillment of a
promise held out in his Ethnology, the first volume of the Cambridge Geographical
Series, that it might be followed by another dealing more systematically
with the primary divisions of mankind. In it the "four
varietal divisions" of man over the globe are treated more in detail, with
the primary view of establishing their independent specialization in their
several geographical zones, and of elucidating the difficult questions associated
with the origins and interrelations of the chief subgroups. The
work consequently deals to a large extent with the prehistoric period,
when the peoples had already been fully constituted in their primeval
homes and had begun their subsequent developments and migratory movements.
The author has further sought to elucidate those general principles
which are concerned with the psychic unity, the social institutions,
and religious ideas of primitive and later peoples. The two principles,
already insisted upon in the Ethnology, of the specific unity of all existing
varieties of the human family and the dispersion of their generalized precursors
over the whole world in Pleistocene times are borne in view
throughout. Subsequent to this dispersion, the four primary divisions of
man have each had its Pleistocene ancestor, from whom each has sprung
independently and divergently by continuous adaptation to their several
environments. Great light is believed to have been thrown on the character
of the earliest men by the discovery of the Pithecanthropus erectus,
and this is supplemented as to the earliest acquirements by Dr. Noetling's
discovery, in 1894, of the works of Pliocene man in upper Burmah.
The deductions made from these discoveries strengthen the view Mr. Keane
has always advocated, that man began to spread over the globe after he
had acquired the erect posture, but while in other physical and in mental
respects he still did not greatly differ from his nearest of kin. As to the
age when this development was taking place, agreement is expressed with
Major Powell's remark that the natural history of early man becomes
more and more a geological and not merely an anthropological problem.
The human varieties are shown to be, like other species, the outcome of
their environments, and all sudden changes of those environments are
disastrous. In both hemispheres the isocultural bands follow the isothermal
lines in all their deflections—temperate regions being favorable, and
tropical and severe ones unfavorable, to development. Of the metal ages,
the existence of a true copper age has been placed beyond reasonable doubt.
The passage from one metal to another was slow and progressive. In
art the earliest drawings were natural and vital. The apparent inferiority
of the drawings of the metal period to those of the cave dwellers and
of the present Bushmen is due to the later art having been reduced to
conventions. The development of alphabetical writing from pictographs
is briefly sketched. Thus light is sought from all quarters in dealing with
the questions of the book, and due weight is given to all available data—physical
and mental characters, usages, religion, speech, cultural features,
history, and geographical range. The general discussion of these leading
principles is brief but clear and comprehensive. The bulk of the volume,
following them, is occupied with the detailed and minute studies of the
four main groups of mankind—the ***, Mongol, American Indian, and
Caucasic—and their subgroups, the discussion of each being preceded
by a conspectus showing its Primeval Home, Present Range, Physical
Characters, Mental Characters (Temperament, Speech, Religion, and Culture),
and Main Divisions. The text is full, clear, good reading, instructive
and suggestive, and in it the author has sought to make the volume
a trustworthy book of reference on the multifarious subjects dealt with.
GENERAL NOTICES.
The fact that Mr. Charles A. Dana
stood in close personal relations with
Secretary Stanton and was officially associated
with him during a considerable
period of the war for the Union, and was
also incidentally brought near Mr. Lincoln,
gives whatever he may relate concerning
the events of that period somewhat
the air of a revelation from the inside.
Accordingly, we naturally expect
to find things narrated in his Recollections
of the Civil War that could not
be told as well by any one else. The account
given in the book relates to events
in which the author was personally concerned.
Mr. Dana had been associated
with Horace Greeley in the editorial
management of the New York Tribune
for fifteen years, when, in April, 1862,
Mr. Greeley invited him to resign. No
reason was given or asked for the separation,
and no explicit statement of a
reason was needed. Mr. Greeley, having
expressed in the beginning his willingness
to let the secessionist "wayward-sister"
States go in peace, was in favor of peace;
Mr. Dana was for vigorous war. A correspondence
was opened between him and
Mr. Stanton in reference to public matters
shortly after Mr. Stanton went into
the War Department. Then Mr. Dana
was intrusted with special commissions
that carried him to the front and
brought him in contact with the leaders
of the army; and finally, in 1863, was
appointed Assistant Secretary of War,
an office he filled till the end of the contest.
His narrative deals as the story
of one having knowledge with questions
of policy, with the critical phases of the
hard conflict, with the perplexities and
anxieties of the men charged with
responsibilities, with stirring scenes in the
councils at the Capitol and in battle at
the front, and with personal incidents of
the men whose names the nation loves
and delights to honor. All is related in
the straightforward, fluent style, touching
only the facts, of a writer who has
a story to tell and makes it his business
to tell it. The result of the reading of
the book is to arouse a new appreciation
of the abilities and virtues of those great
men in their various walks of civil, political,
and military life, who took our
country through its supreme trial.
Mrs. Arabella B. Buckley's Fairy-Land
of Science has stood the test of
about thirty years' publication as one
of the simplest, clearest, and best popular
introductions to physical science.
Originating in a course of lectures delivered
to children and their friends, the
thought of publishing the book was suggested
by the interest taken in the lectures
by all the hearers. It was a happy
thought, and the carrying of it out is
fully justified by the result. But thirty
years is a long time in so rapidly advancing
a pursuit as the study of science,
and makes changes necessary in all
books treating of it. The publishers of
this work, therefore, with the assistance
of the author, have considerably
extended the original volume, adding to
it notices of the latest scientific discoveries
in the departments treated, and
amplifying with fuller detail such parts
as have grown in importance and interest.
A few changes have been made in
the interest of American readers, such as
the substitution, where it seemed proper,
of words familiar here for terms almost
exclusively used in England, and the introduction
of American instead of English
examples to illustrate great scientific
truths. The book has also been
largely reillustrated.
Some of the essays in Miss Badenoch's
True Tales of the Insects have already
appeared in serials—two of them in
the Popular Science Monthly. The essays
are not intended to present a view
of entomology or of any department
of it, but to describe, in an attractive
and at the same time an accurate
manner, a few special features of insect
life and some of what we might call its
remarkable curiosities. The author is
well qualified for her undertaking, for,
while being an entomologist of recognized
position, she has those qualities of
enthusiasm in her pursuit and literary
training that enable her to present her
subject in its most attractive aspect.
From the great variety of insect forms
she has selected only a few for this special
presentation, including some of eccentric
shape and some of genuine universal
interest. She begins with the
strange-looking creatures of the family
of the Mantidæ, or praying insects, or, as
the Brazilians call the Mantis, more fitly,
the author thinks, the devil's riding
horse, which is characterized as "the
tiger, not the saint, of the insect world."
The walking-stick and walking-leaf insects,
of equally strange appearance, but
peaceful, naturally follow these. Then
come the locusts, and grasshoppers, which
are more familiar, and the butterflies
and moths, which attract the most attention
and present such remarkable
forms as the case-moths and the hawk
and death's-head moths. The insects
made subjects of treatment are described
with fullness of detail, and the record of
their life histories. The book is published
in an attractive outer style, on
thick paper, with thirty-four illustrations
by Margaret J. D. Badenoch.
Prof. Charles C. James, now Deputy
Minister of Agriculture for Ontario, defines
the purpose of his book, Practical
Agriculture to be to aid the reader and
student in acquiring a knowledge of the
science as distinguished from the art of
agriculture—"that is, a knowledge of
the 'why,' rather than a knowledge of
the 'how.'" The author believes, from
his experience of several years' teaching
at the Ontario Agricultural College, that
the rational teaching of agriculture in
public and high schools is possible and
would be exceedingly profitable, and that
an intelligent knowledge of the science
underlying the art would add much interest
to the work and greatly increase
the pleasure in it. The science of agriculture
is understood by him to consist
of a mingling of chemistry, geology, botany,
entomology, physiology, bacteriology,
and other sciences in so far as they
have any bearing upon agriculture. He
has aimed in this book to include only
the first principles of these various sciences,
and to show their application to
the art of agriculture. The subject is
treated as it relates, consecutively, to
the plant, the soil, the crops of the field;
the garden, orchard, and vineyard; live
stock and dairying; and, under the heading
of "other subjects," bees and birds,
forestry, roads, and the rural home. The
appendix contains lists of trees and of
weeds, and an article on spraying mixtures.
Questions to be answered by the
reader are attached to most of the chapters.
The illustrations are well chosen
and good.
Considerable information about the
Philippine Islands and their inhabitants
is given by Dr. D. G. Brinton in a pamphlet
entitled The Peoples of the Philippines.
Dr. Brinton's point of view is the
anthropologist's, and accordingly, after
a few paragraphs about the geography,
geology, and history of the islands, he
takes up their ethnology and describes
their various peoples as they have been
studied by the masters of the science and
by travelers. Much valuable as well as
interesting information is given respecting
their manners and customs, languages,
and literature, for the Tagals
have had a written language from the
earliest known times, and though their
old literature does not amount to much
they are to-day exceedingly facile versifiers.
The Open Court Publishing Company
(Chicago) publishes The Lectures on
Elementary Mathematics (Leçons élémentaires
sur les mathématiques) of
Joseph Louis Lagrange, "the greatest of
modern analysts," in a translation from
the new edition of the author's collected
works by Thomas J. McCormack. These
lectures, which were delivered in 1765 at
the École Normale, have never before
been published in separate form, except
in the first printing in the Journal of
the Polytechnic School and in the German.
"The originality, elegance, and
symmetrical character of these lectures
have been pointed out by De Morgan,
and notably by Dühring, who places
them in the front rank of elementary
expositions as an example of their kind.
They possess, we might say, a unique
character as a reading book in mathematics,
and are interwoven with helpful
historical and philosophical remarks."
They present with great clearness the
subjects of arithmetic and its operations,
algebra, equations of the third and
fourth degrees, the evolution of numerical
equations, and the employment of
curves in the solution of problems. The
translator has prefixed a short biographical
sketch of Lapouge, and an excellent
portrait is given.
A book of Observation Blanks for
Beginners in Mineralogy has been prepared
by Herbert E. Austin, as an aid
to the laboratory course, and is published
by D. C. Heath & Co. (Boston, 30 cents).
The laboratory course is intended to
make the pupil familiar with the characteristics
of minerals and the terms
used in describing them by directing him
to observe typical specimens and describe
what he sees, and to develop his faculties
of observation, conception, reasoning,
judgment, comparison, and memory. A
description is given of apparatus that
may be home-made. The blanks follow,
containing spaces for the insertion of
notes under the heads of Experiment,
Observation, Statement, and Conclusion.
In Volume No. *** of the International
Education Series—Pedagogics
of the Kindergarten—a number of Froebel's
essays relating more especially
to the plays and games were printed
from the collection made by Wichard
Lange. A new volume of the series,
Friedrich Froebel's Education by Development,
includes another selection from
Lange's publication, in which the gifts
are more thoroughly discussed. "Again
and again, in the various essays," the
editor of the series says, "Froebel goes
over his theory of the meaning of the
ball, the sphere, the cube, and its various
subdivisions. The student of Froebel
has great advantage, therefore, in reading
this volume, inasmuch as Froebel has
cast new light on his thought in each
separate exposition that he has made....
The essays on the training school
for kindergartners and the method of introducing
children's gardens into the
kindergarten are very suggestive and
useful. In fact, there is no other kindergarten
literature that is quite equal in
value to the contents of this volume."
The few essays in Lange's volume that
still remain untranslated are characterized
as being mostly of an ephemeral
character. With the publication of the
present volume, of which, as of the Pedagogics,
Miss Josephine Jarvis is the
translator, a complete list of the original
works of Froebel in English translations
has been provided in the International
Education Series of Messrs. D. Appleton
and Company.
A useful manual for students in
chemistry is the Chemical Experiments
of Prof. John F. Woodhull and M. B.
Van Arsdale (Henry Holt & Co., New
York). It embraces directions for making
seventy-five experiments with different
substances and chemical properties,
including oxygen and the air, hydrogen
and water, chlorine and the chlorine
family, acids, bases, salts, sulphur, nitrogen,
carbon, carbon dioxide and the carbonates,
fermentation, potash, and problems
to illustrate the law of definite proportions.
A title is given to each experiment,
suggesting what is to be proved
by it; the details of the process are
given, and the pupil is left to do the rest,
entering his particular observations and
conclusions on the blank page opposite
the text. Questions are appended, of a
nature further to develop the thinking
powers of the pupils, and tables or lists
are added of the elements concerned in
the experiments, weights and measures,
apparatus, and chemicals.
The book Defective Eyesight: the
Principles of its Relief by Glasses, of
Dr. D. B. St. John Roosa, is the result
of an attempt to revise The Determination
of the Necessity for Wearing
Glasses, published by the same author in
1888. It was found, on undertaking the
work of revision, that the advance in
our knowledge of the proper prescription
of glasses, especially in the matter of
simplicity in method, had been so great
as to require a complete rewriting. In
doing this the book has been very much
enlarged, and illustrations have been introduced.
The author hopes his manual
may prove a reliable guide to the student
and practitioner in ophthalmology,
and may also be of interest to persons
who wish to know the principles on
which the prescription of glasses is based.
The special subjects treated of are the
measurement of visual power, presbyopia,
myopia or short-sightedness, hypermetropia,
corneal astigmatism, asthenopia,
and the qualities of lenses. (Published
by the Macmillan Company.
Price, $1.)
PUBLICATIONS RECEIVED.
Agricultural Experiment Stations. Bulletins
and Reports. North Carolina State
Agricultural Society: Second Annual Report
(1896) of the Experimental Farm at
Southern Pines. Pp. 90.—Ohio: Press Bulletin
No. 195. Stomach Worms in Sheep.
Pp. 2; No. 196. Comparison of Varieties
of Wheat. Pp. 2; No. 197. Successful
Treatment of Stomach Worms in Sheep.
Pp. 2; No. 198. Varieties of Wheat and
Home-mixed Fertilizers. Pp. 2.—United
States Department of Agriculture: Monthly
List of Publications (July, 1899). Pp.
4; Report on North American Fauna. No.
14. Natural History of the Tres Marias
Islands, Mexico. Pp. 96; No. 15. Revision
of the Jumping Mice of the Genus Zaphus.
By Edward A. Preble. Pp. 34, with one
plate; Report of the Puerto Rico Section
of the Weather and Crop Service of the
Weather Bureau, for May, 1899. Pp. 8.
Baker, M. N. Potable Water and
Methods of Detecting Impurities. New
York: The Van Nostrand Company. (Van
Nostrand Science Series.) Pp. 97. 50
cents.
Beman, W. W., and Smith, D. E. New
Plane and Solid Geometry. Boston: Ginn
& Co. Pp. 382.
Bulletins, Proceedings, Reports, etc.
Boston Society of Natural History: Vol.
XXIX. No. 2. Variation and *** Selection
in Man. By E. T. Brewster. Pp.
16; No. 3. Notes on the Reptiles and Amphibians
of Intervale, New Hampshire. By
Glover M. Allen. Pp. 16; No. 4. Studies in
Diptera Cyclorhapha. By G. & N. Hough.
Pp. 8; No. 5. Contributions from the
Gray Herbarium of Harvard University.
New Series: No. 17. By B. L. Robinson
and J. M. Greenman. Pp. 12.—Dominion
of Canada: Parliamentary Standing Committee
on Agriculture and Colonization.
Improvements In Crop Growing. By Prof.
James W. Robertson. Pp. 39.—International
Correspondence Schools, Scranton,
Pa.: General Circular. Pp. 32.—Liberal
University, Silverton, Oregon: Announcements.
Pp. 18.—Society of American Authors:
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Artillery Journal: Index to Vol. X, 1898.
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Carpenter, George H. Insects, their
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1899, by the Commission of the United
States to the International Peace Conference.
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Nuggets. New York: Ford, Howard &
Hulbert. Pp. 215. 50 cents.
McIlvaine, Charles, and Macadam, R.
K. Toadstools, Mushrooms, and Fungi,
Edible and Poisonous. (Specimen pages.)
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Company. (Author's Edition.) $10.
Massee, George. A Text-Book of Plant
Diseases caused by Cryptogamic Parasites.
New York. The Macmillan Company.
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the author. Times Building, Chicago.
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Miller, Prof. Kelly. The Primary
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Officers of the American Association
for 1900.—The American Association,
at Columbus, Ohio, elected as
president for the next meeting, which is
to be held in New York city, June 25
to 30, 1900, Prof. R. S. Woodward, of
Columbia University. The vice-presidents-elect
are: Section A (Mathematics
and Astronomy), Asaph Hall, Jr., of
Ann Arbor, Mich.; Section B (Physics),
Ernest Merritt, of Ithaca, N. Y.; Section
C (Chemistry), James Lewis Howe, of
Lexington, Va.; Section D (Mechanical
Science and Engineering), J. A. Brashear,
of Pittsburg, Pa.; Section E (Geology
and Geography), J. F. Kemp, of
New York city; Section F (Zoölogy),
C. B. Davenport, of Cambridge, Mass.;
Section G (Botany), William Trelease,
of St. Louis, Mo.; Section H (Anthropology),
A. W. Butler, of Indianapolis,
Ind.; Section I (Economic Science and
Statistics), C. M. Woodward, of St.
Louis. The permanent secretary is L. O.
Howard, United States Entomologist,
Washington, D. C.; General Secretary,
Charles Baskerville, of Chapel Hill, N.
C.; Secretary of the Council, William
H. Hallock, of New York city. The sectional
secretaries are: Section A, W. M.
Strong, of New Haven, Conn.; Section B,
R. A. Fessenden, of Allegheny, Pa.; Section
C, A. A. Noyes, of Boston, Mass.;
Section D, W. T. Magruder, of Columbus,
Ohio; Section E, J. A. Holmes, of
Chapel Hill, N. C.; Section F, C. H.
Eigenmann, of Bloomington, Ind.; Section
G, D. T. McDougal, of New York
Botanical Garden; Section H, Frank
Russell, of Cambridge, Mass.; Section I,
H. T. Newcombe, of Washington, D. C.
Treasurer, R. S. Woodward, of New
York city.
Graphite.—An interesting account
of the history and manufacture of graphite
is given by E. G. Acheson in the
June issue of the Journal of the Franklin
Institute. In the year 1779 Karl
Wilhelm Scheele, a young apothecary in
the town of Köping, Sweden, discovered
that graphite was an individual compound.
It had up to this time been confounded
with molybdenum sulphide. In
1800 Mackenzie definitely added graphite
to the carbon group by showing that,
on burning, it yielded the same amount
of carbon dioxide as an equal amount of
charcoal and diamond. Graphite in a
more or less pure state is quite freely
distributed over the earth, but only in
a few places is it found under conditions
of purity, quantity, ease of mining,
refining, and transportation to market
that permit of a profitable business
being made of it. Statistics for the last
six years (1890-'95) show an average
yearly production of 56,994 short tons.
The countries contributing to the supply
were Austria, Ceylon, Germany,
Italy, United States, Canada, Japan, India,
Russia, Great Britain, and Spain.
Great differences exist in the structure
and purity of the graphites furnished
from the various mines. There are two
general forms—the crystalline and the
amorphous. The product of the Ceylon
mines is crystalline of great purity, analyzing
in some cases over ninety-nine per
cent carbon, while that of the Barrowdale
mines is amorphous and also very
pure. The chief impurity in graphite is
iron. It is probable that the first use
made of graphite was as a writing substance.
The first account we have of its
employment for this purpose is contained
in the writings of Conrad Gessner
on Fossils, published in 1565. Its
present uses include the manufacture
of pencils, crucibles, stove-polish, foundry-facing,
paint, motor and dynamo
brushes, anti-friction compounds, electrodes
for electro-metallurgical work,
conducting surfaces in electrotyping, and
covering the surfaces of powder grains.
For most of these purposes it is used in
the natural impure state. The mining
and manufacture of graphite into articles
of commerce give employment to
thousands of people. The mines of Ceylon
alone, when working to their full capacity,
employ about twenty-four thousand
men, women, and children. The
rapid increase in the use of graphite has
led to considerable discussion in recent
years regarding the possibility of its
commercial manufacture. It has been
made in a number of different ways in
the laboratory, all, however, depending
on the same fundamental principle—viz.,
the liberation of the carbon from some
one of its chemical compounds, under
conditions which prevent its reassociation
with the same or other elements.
Mr. Acheson, who has been working for
several years in an endeavor to devise a
commercially successful process of manufacture,
found, somewhere back in 1893,
that graphite was formed in the carborundum
(electric) furnaces of the Carborundum
Company of Niagara Falls.
Since then he has been following up this
clew, and now believes that "the only
commercial way to make graphite is by
breaking up a carbide by the action of
heat." A building for its manufacture
in this way, by the use of the electric
furnace, is now in course of *** at
Niagara Falls.
Commercial Education in England.—It
is only of comparatively late
years that the Government has had anything
to do with the education of the
people. For some centuries back all
English education was practically controlled
by our two ancient universities—Oxford
and Cambridge. They decided
what subjects were to be taught, and
how they were to be taught. The control
they exercised over our English
schools was an indirect one, but it was
none the less effectual. The schools
themselves were, like the universities,
independent of Government, or, indeed,
of any control. The principal of these
are known as "public schools," though
the term "public" has of late years also
been applied to the public elementary
schools. These are nearly all developments
of ancient foundations. Winchester,
founded in the fourteenth century,
and Westminster, in the sixteenth, grew
up under the shadows of great religious
houses; Eton was established in the fifteenth
century by the monarch, close to
his own palace at Windsor; Harrow,
which dates from the sixteenth century,
is the most important example of the
most numerous class of all privately
founded local schools—grammar schools,
as they were generally entitled—which
have developed beyond their original
founders' intention, and have eventually
come to attract boys from all parts of
the kingdom. The best boys from all of
them went to the universities, and the
course of study which was most successful
at the university was naturally the
course of study which was preferred
at the school. The literæ humaniores,
which were the sum total of university
education, included only Greek and
Latin language and literature, mathematics,
and logic. Science—I have now
in my mind the education of but a single
generation back—was ignored. The
teaching of modern languages was perfunctory
in the extreme; the same may
be said of history and geography, while
even English language and literature
were almost entirely neglected. Now an
education modeled on these lines was
not ill suited for professional men—men
who went from the university into law,
the Church, or medicine. But it was by
no means suited, especially when cut
short in its early stages, for boys whose
future destination was the counting-house
or the shop. We are not met to
consider the training of scholars, but
the sort of education best adapted to the
requirements of the ordinary man of
business, and given under the limitations
inevitable in the conditions of the
case—that is to say, in a very limited
period and during the early years of life—intended
also not only to train the
mind but to provide a means of earning
a living. Commercial education must in
fact be a compromise between real education
and business training. The more
it inclines to the former the better.
With the growth of modern industry
and commerce the necessity for a training
better suited for the requirements of
modern life became more and more evident,
and the place was supplied, or
partially supplied, by private-adventure
schools, which undertook to provide the
essentials of a commercial education. Of
late years also some important middle-class
schools have been founded by institutions
like the Boys' Public Day
Schools Company, and the Girls' Public
Day Schools Company, the teaching in
which is of a modern if not of a commercial
character. The growth also of science
had its natural and obvious effects
on educational methods. Scientific
teaching was introduced at the universities—it
had been practically ignored
at Oxford, and recognized at Cambridge
only as a department of mathematics.
The more important of our public schools
introduced what was known as a "modern
side," that is to say, an alternative
course which a boy might take, and in
which science, modern languages, and
mathematics took the place, to a greater
or less extent, of the classical languages.
Other schools modified their whole curriculum
in a like direction; others again
almost abandoned the ancient knowledge
in favor of the modern. Such, in
briefest and baldest summary, is the condition
at which our system of secondary
education has now arrived. In the
meantime, elementary education in England
had been organized and systematized.
At the beginning of the century
elementary education was imparted to
the children of the peasants and agricultural
laborers in village schools, most
of which were sadly inefficient. In the
towns there were various charitable institutions
for educating the children of
those who were unable to provide education
for themselves, and there were
also what were known as ragged and
parochial schools, which were more or
less of the same character as the elementary
schools of to-day. Early in the
century several important societies were
established—they were mostly of a religious
character—for the improvement
of elementary education. By their assistance
schools were founded throughout
the country. These were maintained
by voluntary effort, and so gained
their name of voluntary schools, though
they received aid from the Government,
an annual grant being allotted for the
purpose. In 1839 a committee of the
Privy Council was created to regulate the
administration of Government grants for
education, and this committee still remains
the governing body of our education
department. The Elementary Education
Act of 1870, with later acts of
1876 and 1880, laid down the principle
that sufficient elementary education
should be provided for all children of
school age, and established a system of
school boards, which boards were to be
and were formed in all districts where
such sufficient provision for education
did not exist. By a later act of 1891
education was made gratuitous as well
as compulsory. We have, therefore, now
two great classes of elementary schools—school-board
schools, in which education
is free, and voluntary schools, in
which a fee may be charged. Both alike
receive Government aid under certain
conditions. As a rule the voluntary
schools are connected with the Church
of England or with one or other of
the nonconformist bodies. The boards
which control the board schools are
elected bodies, and the teaching is undenominational.
Genius and Habit.—W. L. Bryan
and N. Harter are the authors of an interesting
monograph in the Psychological
Review for July, from which the
following paragraphs are taken: "There
is scarcely any difference between one
man and another of greater practical
importance than that of effective speed.
In war, business, scientific work, manual
labor, and what not, we have at the one
extreme the man who defeats all ordinary
calculations by the vast quantity of
work he gets done, and at the other extreme
the man who no less defeats ordinary
calculations by the little all his
busyness achieves. The former is always
arriving with an unexpected victory,
the latter with an unanswerable
excuse for failure. It has seemed to
many psychologists strongly probable
that the swift man should be distinguishable
from the slow by reaction time
tests. For (a), granting that the performances
demanded in practical affairs
are far more complicated than those required
in the laboratory tests, it seems
likely that one who is tuned for a rapid
rate in the latter will be tuned for a
rapid rate in the former, when he has
mastered them. Moreover (b), a rapid
rate in elementary processes is favorable
to their fusion into higher unitary processes,
each including several of the
lower. Finally (c), a rapid rate in elementary
processes is favorable to prompt
voluntary combinations in presence of
new emergencies. In face of these a
priori probabilities, eleven years' experience
in this laboratory (the first three
being spent mainly on reaction times)
has brought the conviction that no reaction
time test will surely show whether
a given individual has or has not effective
speed in his work. Very slow rates,
especially in complicated reactions, are
strongly indicative of a mind slow and
ineffective at all things. But experience
proves that rapid rates by no means
show that the subject has effective speed
in the ordinary, let alone extraordinary,
tasks of life. How is this to be explained?
The following answer is proposed:
The rate at which one makes
practical headway depends partly upon
the rate of the mental and nervous processes
involved; but far more upon how
much is included in each process. If A,
B, and C add the same columns of figures,
one using readily the method of
the lightning adder, another the ordinary
addition table, while the third
makes each addition by counting on his
fingers, the three are presently out of
sight of one another, whatever the rates
at which the processes involved are performed.
The lightning adder may proceed
more leisurely than either of the
others. He steps a league while they
are bustling over furlongs or inches.
Now, the ability to take league steps in
receiving telegraphic messages, in reading,
in addition, in mathematical reasoning,
and in many other fields, plainly
depends upon the acquisition of league-stepping
habits. No possible proficiency
and rapidity in elementary processes
will serve. The learner must come to do
with one stroke of attention what now
requires half a dozen, and presently, in
one still more inclusive stroke, what
now requires thirty-six. He must systematize
the work to be done, and must
acquire a system of automatic habits
corresponding to the system of tasks.
When he has done this he is master of
the situation in his field. He can, if he
chooses, deal accurately with minute details.
He can swiftly overlook great
areas with an accurate sense of what
the details involved amount to—indeed,
with far greater justice to details than is
possible for one who knows nothing else.
Finally, his whole array of habits is
swiftly obedient to serve in the solution
of new problems. Automatism is not
genius, but it is the hands and feet
of genius."
"A vague Impression of Beauty."—The
following sentences occur in an
article on The Real purpose of Universities
in a recent issue of the London
Spectator. They give so strange a
picture of the ideals of the two leading English
universities as to seem worthy of
reproduction: "However, Dr. Hill made
one statement for which we owe him a
sincere gratitude. 'The excellence of the
classics,' said he, 'lay chiefly in their
complete uselessness.' ... In this simple
statement is expressed the true value of
our old universities. They should be
practically useless. They should not
teach you to be a good carpenter or a
skillful diplomatist. You can not march
out of Oxford or Cambridge into any career
which will return you an immediate
and efficient income.... The other universities
of Europe are prepared to cut
you to a certain measure, or to render
you technically competent. But our English
universities have hitherto declined
to discharge this humble function, save
in rare lapses, from a noble ideal. They at
least profess to accomplish a far greater
task. There is a strange period dividing
the man from the boy, which clamors
aloud for intelligent discipline, and this
discipline Oxford and Cambridge are
anxious to supply. The undergraduate
is too young to specialize, and not too
old to receive instruction. When his
period of training is finished he is asked
to assume the heavy burdens of life, to
discharge tasks which may be dull, and
which are rarely concerned with what
were once called the humanities. As he
passes through the university he may
not have the time nor the wit to become
a sound scholar nor a profound mathematician.
But he may, if he understand
his privilege aright, linger for a while in
the groves of 'practically useless' knowledge.
He may learn what literature
meant in an age when it was concerned
only with the essentials of simplicity;
he may read the lessons of history when
history was still separate from political
intrigue. And though he forgets his
Greek grammar, though in middle life
he can not construe a page of Virgil, yet
he carries away from this irrational interlude
a vague impression of beauty
which no other course of education will
ever give him." Even for the schoolmen
"a vague impression of beauty," whatever
that may mean, seems rather unpractical
as an educational ultima Thule.
The Purple of Cassius.—There are
few substances in the field of inorganic
chemistry on which so much speculation
and actual work has been expended as
the so-called purple of Cassius. A recent
article by Mr. C. L. Reese, in the
Chemical News, contains some interesting
information regarding this curious
compound. Up to the present time there
have, it seems, been two views held as
to its chemical nature—one that it is a
mixture of stannic acid and metallic
gold; the other, that of Berzelius, that
it is substantially a chemical compound
of purple gold oxide with the oxides of tin
possibly mixed with an excess of stannic
acid. It has seemed very likely that the
substance is a chemical compound of
acid character, and that the solubility in
ammonia is due to the formation of a
salt, but it has been found that by oxidation
of stannous chloride and by allowing
very dilute solutions of stannic
chloride to stand, the "hydrogel" of
stannic acid separated out, which, on the
addition of a few drops of ammonia,
liquefied and so became soluble in water,
just as the purple of Cassius does. There
can therefore be no salt formation here.
Some comparatively recent work by
Richard Zsigmondy, however, seems to
have finally cleared up the chemical nature
of this curious substance. Its formation
is explained by assuming that
when stannous chloride is added to a
sufficiently dilute solution of gold chloride
the latter is immediately reduced to
metallic gold while stannic chloride is
formed. Generally after a few seconds
the liquid becomes red, but the purple
is not precipitated for several days, unless
it is heated. The gold is not precipitated
as a black powder because the
stannic chloride formed is immediately
hydrolized into hydrochloric acid and
the hydrate of stannic acid. The latter
prevents the aggregation of the gold particles,
and the stannic acid remains in
solution as a colloid, which on standing
gradually changes under the influence
of the dilute hydrochloric acid to an insoluble
form, the "hydrogel" of stannic
acid. By heating, this change takes
place immediately. The properties of the
purple of Cassius depend on the properties
and character of the stannic acid
present, and the great variety in the
properties of the stannic acids, the ortho,
the meta, and the colloidal mixtures
of the two explain the many contradictions
in the literature with reference
to the properties of the purple of
Cassius. Zsigmondy says, "I look upon
the knowledge that a mixture of colloid
bodies can behave, under some conditions,
as a chemical compound, and that
the properties of one body in such mixtures
can be hidden by those in another
as the most important conclusion to be
drawn from this work."
The Abuse of Unskilled Labor.—The
number of diseases directly or indirectly
due to continued long standing
is especially numerous among women.
The London Lancet, which nearly twenty
years ago attempted to improve matters
in this respect in the case of shopgirls,
has again taken up the subject,
and recently published an editorial urging
customers of the shops to boycott
those establishments where no sitting
accommodations are provided for the
clerks. It says: "We, as medical men,
maintain that sitting accommodations
are absolutely necessary for shopgirls.
The only argument having even the semblance
of legitimacy which we have heard
put forward in defense of the nonprovision
of seats is that sitting is conducive
to idleness, but in this connection such a
premise can not be permitted, for an employee
would be bound to come forward
when an intending purchaser entered the
shop.... The very fact that in many
shops she is not allowed to sit down is
conducive to idleness—idleness of the
worst kind, the idleness of pretending to
do something while in reality nothing is
being done. Can nothing be done to
stop this—as we once called it without
the least exaggeration or sensationalism—'cruelty
to women'? To the true
woman—the woman with feelings for
her sisters, the woman of love and sympathy,
the true woman in every sense of
the word—we appeal for help in this
matter. If such women would abstain
from purchasing at shops where they see
that the employees are compelled to
work from morning till night without
permission to rest from their labors even
when opportunity occurs, we should
soon see the end of a practice which
ruins the health and shortens the lives
of many of our shopgirls." That there
is a certain amount of danger for women
from long-continued standing, to the
point of exhaustion, there is no doubt,
and much can be done toward improving
the present conditions in this respect
and in other hygienic ways in the shops.
The large influx of women during recent
years into the counting-room and the
salesroom gives such questions an increasing
importance, especially in the
less skilled positions where labor combinations
for mutual protection are not
possible. There has already been considerable
agitation of the question in
this country, and there still remains
much to be done. But, as Lord Salisbury
pointed out in causing the rejection
of a bill for remedying present shop
conditions in England, it is a question
not suitable for legislation, and can only
be settled through the indirect action of
public opinion on the shopkeeper himself.
The Occurrence of Gold Ores.—The
following paragraphs are from an
article by H. M. Chance in the Engineering
Magazine for July, entitled The Increasing
Production of Gold: "Another
reason for anticipating further increase
in the production of gold is found in our
better knowledge of gold ores, and of the
conditions under which gold occurs in
Nature. Until the discovery of the Cripple
Creek district the occurrence of gold
as tellurid in deposits of large extent
and value was practically unknown.
Gold was, of course, known to occur,
sparingly in some ores, partially as a
tellurid associated with other minerals;
but such a mineralized belt as that at
Cripple Creek was entirely unknown,
and such deposits were not looked for by
the prospector. Similarly, we now know
of another class of gold ores in which the
gold occurs apparently in some form
chemically combined in a siliceous matrix,
often approaching a true jasper or
hornstone, and showing by analysis possibly
ninety-five per cent of silica. Such
ores show no trace of 'free' or metallic
gold, and the presence of gold can be
determined only by assay or analysis.
A few such discoveries have recently
been made, accidentally, by inexperienced
persons, who had rock assayed
from curiosity. Similarly again, in the
last few years gold has been found
in most unpromising-looking porphyry
dikes—the very rocks prospectors the
world over have regarded as necessarily
barren because they almost invariably
fail to show any 'free' or metallic gold
by the miner's quick 'horn' or 'pan'
test. But mining engineers and prospectors
are learning that in a mineralized
region gold may occur in any rock,
and hundreds of prospectors are assaying
all sorts of most unpromising-looking
rock, satisfied that by assay alone
can they determine whether a certain
rock is gold-bearing or not. This persistent
and more or less systematic work
now going on in every mining district
must result in the discovery of many
valuable deposits in unexpected localities,
and ultimately promises to add
largely to the annual output of gold."
MINOR PARAGRAPHS.
The investigations of F. E. L. Beal
of the Food of Cuckoos and S. D. Judd
of the Food of Shrikes in their relation
to agriculture are published in a single
bulletin by the Department of Agriculture.
Mr. Beal finds that the food of
cuckoos consists almost wholly of insects,
of which he has found sixty-five
species in their stomachs, and concludes
that from an economical point of view
they rank among our most useful birds;
and, in view of the caterpillars they eat,
it seems hardly possible to overestimate
the value of their work. Mr. Judd
finds, from a very extensive examination,
that the food of butcher birds and
loggerhead shrikes consists of invertebrates
(mainly grasshoppers), birds, and
mice. During the colder half of the year
the butcher bird eats birds and mice to
the extent of sixty per cent, and ekes
out the rest of its food with insects.
In the loggerhead's food, birds and mice
amount to only twenty-four per cent.
Its beneficial qualities "outweigh four
to one its injurious ones. Instead of being
persecuted, it should receive protection."
The Engineering Magazine is authority
for the following: "The wrecking of
the steamship Paris on the coast of
Cornwall and the difficulties encountered
in attempting to save her while a
number of her compartments forward are
filled with water, lead Mr. Richards, in
the American Machinist, to suggest the
applicability of compressed air. 'There
is a means of expelling the water from
the filled compartments so obvious, and
so certainly effective, that it seems unaccountable
that some engineer has not
suggested it before this. Close the
hatches of the flooded compartments and
drive the water out by forcing air in. It
would not make the slightest difference
how big the holes might be in the bottom,
as the water would be expelled and
kept out on the same principle as in the
old-fashioned diving bell.' This suggestion
carries with it a much larger and
more important one—namely, the use of
air pumps instead of water pumps to
save a leaking ship while afloat. As Mr.
Richards well remarks, the work of trying
to pump out a leaky ship is not only
enormously wasted while it is going on,
but it is never finished. If, however, the
water leaking into a compartment of a
ship be expelled by pumping air into the
space, the work is done so soon as the
compartment is filled with air down to
the level of the leak. After that point
is reached the ship is safe, no matter
how large the hole, and no further
pumping is necessary."
Chlorate of potash has always been
regarded by manufacturers and chemists
as a nonexplosive, and hence there has
been little care taken in handling and
storing it. A recent explosion, however,
at a large chemical works at St.
Helens, in England, seems to disprove
this view. A storehouse containing
about one hundred and fifty tons of
chlorate in the form of both powder and
crystals took fire, and almost immediately
after the falling in of the roof an
explosion of terrible violence occurred,
the shock being felt over a distance of
twenty miles. The chlorate works were
entirely demolished. A large gas holder
of the city gas works, containing two
hundred and fifty thousand cubic feet of
gas, was burst and the gas ignited. Eight
hundred tons of vitriol was poured into
the streets of the town by the wrecking
of ten vitriol chambers in a neighboring
alkali works. Houses were unroofed,
and in the main streets of the town, a
quarter of a mile away, nearly every
plate-glass window was demolished. A
theory accounting for the explosion, advanced
by Mr. J. B. C. Kershaw, in the
Engineering and Mining Journal, is that
it was due to the sudden and practically
simultaneous liberation of all the oxygen
from such a mass of chlorate, combined
with the restraining influence of
the kegs (the chlorate was packed in
kegs of one hundredweight each), and
possibly also helped by the presence of
much charred wood and the dense volume
of smoke. Whatever is the true
theory, however, it is evident that our
belief in the nonexplosiveness of potassium
chlorate must be modified.
NOTES.
A piece of experimental glass pavement
was laid in Lyons, in the Rue de
la République, last fall, and it is reported
to have worn very well thus far. The
silicate of which the pavement is composed
is called by the manufacturers
ceramo-crystal or devitrified glass. It
may be finished in various colors and
with a rough or smooth surface. The
blocks are made by heating broken glass
to a temperature of 1,250° C. and then
compressing it by hydraulic power. The
resulting compound is said to have all
the qualities of glass except its transparency.
The New York Agricultural Experiment
Station reports of its analyses of
sugar beets in 1898 that the average percentage
of sugar in the samples analyzed
is 14.2, with a coefficient of purity of 85.
In general the yield of beets was between
nine tons and twenty tons per acre.
An altitude of 12,440 feet, or 366 feet
greater than any attained before, was
reached in the kite-flying experiments
at Blue Hill Observatory, Massachusetts,
on February 21st. The flight was begun
at twenty minutes to four in the afternoon,
with a temperature of 40° and a
wind velocity of seventeen miles an hour
at the surface. At the highest point
reached by the kite the temperature was
12° and the wind velocity fifty miles an
hour. Four improved Hargreave kites
with curved surfaces, like soaring birds'
wings, were used tandem, and the flying
line was a steel wire.
The first to be unveiled of a series
of tablets to be fixed by the Municipal
Council of Bath, England, to mark historical
houses is on the house where
William Herschel lived in 1780, and was
officially unveiled by Sir Robert Ball,
April 22d. In a little workshop at the
end of the back garden of this house
Herschel made his Newtonian reflector,
and here he discovered Uranus.
Attention is called by Dr. Martin
Ficker to the fact, brought out in his
experiments, that cultures of microbes
are affected by the glass of the tubes
in which they are made. By virtue of
differences in composition, different sorts
of glass give varying degrees of alkalinity
to water in contact with them,
and the activity of the bacteria they
contain is correspondingly affected.
We have to add to our obituary list
of persons in whom science is interested
the names of Professor Socin, late of the
University of Leipsic, Orientalist, and
author of Baedeker's Palestine and Syria
and many special works on the Arabic
language and dialects; M. N. Rieggenbach,
correspondent of the Paris Academy
of Sciences, Section of Mathematics,
at Olten, Switzerland; Elizabeth Thompson,
donor of liberal gifts for scientific
purposes, at Stamford, Conn.; she contributed
toward the telescope for Vassar
College, was a patron of the American
Association, and endowed the Elizabeth
Thompson Scientific Fund; George
Averoff, who died at Alexandria, Egypt,
July 27th, leaving, among other bequests,
£20,000 to create an agricultural
school in Thessaly, and £50,000
to the polytechnic schools at Athens;
Charles J. Stillé, ex-Provost of the University
of Pennsylvania, under whose
administration the institution took a
great stride in its development; Mrs.
Arvilla J. Ellis, an assiduous student of
the fungi, who assisted her husband, J.
B. Ellis, in preparing and mounting the
five thousand specimens for the North
American Fungi and the Fungi Columbiani,
and more than two hundred thousand
other specimens which were distributed
to the botanists of the world,
at Newfield, N. J., July 18th; M. Balbiani,
Professor of Embryology at the
Collége de France; Prof. Pasquale Freda,
Director of the Station for Agricultural
Chemistry at Rome; Dr. S. T.
Jakčič, Professor of Botany and Director
of the Botanic Gardens, at Belgrade;
Dr. Carl Kuschel, formerly Professor of
Physics in the Polytechnic Institute at
Dresden; M. A. de Marbaix, Professor of
Zoölogy and Anatomy in the Agricultural
Institute at Louvain; Dr. N. Grote,
Professor of Psychology and Philosophy
in the University of Moscow and editor
of a journal devoted to those subjects;
Robert Wilhelm Bunsen, the eminent
German chemist, of whom a fuller notice
will be given; and Sir Edward
Frankland, another eminent chemist
(English), one of Bunsen's pupils, a
member of the Royal Commissions on
Water Supply and River Pollution, and
author of researches on the luminosity
of flame and the effect of the density
of a medium on the rate of combustion,
died in Norway, aged seventy-four years.
INDEX.
ARTICLES MARKED WITH AN ASTERISK ARE ILLUSTRATED.
Abbott, C. C. The Antiquity of Man in North America*, 326
Abuse of Unskilled Labor. (Frag.),
Acetylene, The Use of.* E. Renouf, 335
A Correction. (Corr.), 702
African Music in America, Survival of. J. R. Murphy*, 660
"Religious Ideas, Variations in. (Frag.), 281
Agriculture, Fungicides, Relative Power of. (Frag.), 717
Alleghanies, Folklore of the. F. A. Doughty, 390
Alloys, Metallic, of Rich Colors. (Frag.), 284
American Association for the Advancement of Science, Proper Objects of. E. Orton, 466
""Columbus Meeting of,
""Meeting of. (Table),
""Meeting, The. (Frag.), 568
""Officers of, for 1900. (Frag.),
"Indians and Mongolians. (Frag.), 715
Andrews, E. A. Sketch of W. K. Brooks. (Portrait), 400
Animals Reason? Do. E. Thorndike*, 480
"""(Corr.),
An Old-fashioned Moral. (Table), 703
Anthropology: American Indians and Mongolians. (Frag.), 715
"Antiquity of Man in North America. C. C. Abbott*, 326
"Aztec Pictorial Record, An. (Frag.), 716
"Bows and Arrows, The Teaching of. (Frag.), 715
"Brinton, D. G., Death of. (Frag.), 713
"European Culture, Origin of. W. Z. Ripley*, 16
"Folklore of the Alleghanies. F. A. Doughty, 390
"Gypsies and their Folk-Tales. (Frag.), 424
"Hopi Indians of Arizona. George A. Dorsey*,
"Jews? Are Jews. J. Jacobs, 502
"Origin of Ancient Hindu Astronomy. Count G. D'Alviella, 396
"Primitive Man. (Table), 410
"Race Questions in the Philippine Islands. F. Blumentritte, 472
Antiquity of Man in North America. C. C. Abbott*, 326
Astronomy, Origin of Ancient Hindu. Count G. D'Alviella, 396
Austen, W. Bookworms in Fact and Fancy, 240
Aztec Pictorial Record, An. (Frag.), 716
Bacon's Idols. W. H. Hudson,
Baker, Smith. Causes and Prevention of Insanity, 102
Baldwin, F. S. Present Position of Sociology,
Beautifying the Home Grounds. (Frag.), 430
Benjamin, M. American Industrial Expositions, 231
Bering Sea Controversy again. T. C. Mendenhall, 99
Bertillon, M. J. Remedies for the Depopulation of France, 672
Bible, Scientific Method and the. (Corr.), 701
" The Scientific method and its Application to the. Rev. D. Sprague, 289
Bicknell, E. From Serfdom to Freedom, 84
Birds as Pest Destroyers. (Frag.), 571
Block Island, Geology of. (Frag.), 570
Blumentritte, F. Race Questions in the Philippine Islands, 472
Books Noticed, 126, 270, 415, 557, 705,
African Frontier, On the South. W. H. Brown, 708.
— Studies, West. M. H. Kingsley, 418.
Agriculture. Fertilizers. E. B. Voorhees, 274.
— Practical. C. C. James, .
— The Principles and Practice of. L. H. Bailey, 421.
Algebra. Text-Book of. G. E. Fischer and I. J. Schwatt, 420.
Allen, A. H. Commercial Organic Analysis, 274.
American Indians. F. Starr, 421.
Amryc, C. Pantheism: the Light and Hope of Modern Reason, 421
Anatomy and Physiology, Laboratory Exercises in. J. E. Peabody, 277.
Anglo-Saxon (Monthly), 562.
Animated Pictures. C. F. Jenkins, 132.
Anthropology. Australian Bush, In the. R. Semon, 417.
— Australia, The Native Tribes of Central. B. Spencer and F. J. Gillen, 417.
— History of Mankind. F. Ratzel, 272.
— Man, Past and Present. A. H. Keane, .
— Philippines, People of the. D. G. Brinton, .
Arctic, A Thousand Days in the. F. G. Jackson, 705.
Arithmetic, Primary. A. R. Hornbrook, 420.
— The American Elementary. M. A. Bailey, 422.
Armageddon. Stanley Waterloo, 133.
Aston, W. G. History of Japanese Literature, 131.
Astronomy, A Short History of. A. Berry, 710.
Atkinson, G. F. Elementary Botany, 131.
Austin, H. E. Observation Blanks for Beginners in Mineralogy, .
Australian Bush, In the. R. Semon, 417.
Australia, The Native Tribes of Central. G. Spencer and F. J. Gillen, 417.
Badenoch, L. N. True Tales of the Insects, .
Bailey, L. H. The Principles of Agriculture, 421.
— M. A. The American Elementary Arithmetic, 422.
Bardeen, C. W. Commissioner Hume, 562.
Bates, F. G. Rhode Island and the Formation of the Union, 421.
Bauer, L. A., and French, Thomas, Jr. Terrestrial Magnetism. (Quarterly), 132.
Beddard, F. E. Structure and Classification of Birds, 128.
Bell, M. G. Story of the Rise of the Oral Method in America, 711.
Berry, A. A Short History of Astronomy, 710.
Bickerton, A. W. New Story of the Stars, 134.
Biology, Principles of. H. Spencer, 275.
Birds, Structure and Classification of. F. E. Beddard, 128.
Botany, Elementary. G. F. Atkinson, 131.
— Elementary Text-Book of. S. H. Vines, 131.
— Evolution of Plants, Lectures on the. D. H. Campbell, 561.
— Ferns, How to Know the, 708.
Bradford, Gamaliel. The Lesson of Popular Government, 415.
Brinton, D. G. Peoples of the Philippines, .
Brooks, W. K. Foundations of Zoölogy, 270.
Brown, W. H. On the South African Frontier, 708.
Bryant, W. M. Life, Death, and Immortality, 130.
Buckley, A. B. The Fairy-Land of Science, .
Bush Fruits. F. W. Card, 129.
Call, R. E. Ichthyologia Ohioensis. (C. E. Rafinesque), 560.
Cajori, Florian. History of Elementary Physics, 419.
Campbell, D. H. Lectures on the Evolution of Plants, 561.
Card, F. W. Bush Fruits, 129.
Carpenter, F. G. Geographical Reader for North America, 561.
— of Nazareth, The, or the Silver Cross, 278.
Catering for Two. A. L. James, 278.
Cave Regions of the Black Hills. L. A. Owen, 562.
Census, The Federal, 558.
Chemical Experiments. Woodhull and Van Arsdale, .
Cole, J. R. Miscellany, 134.
Commercial Organic Analysis. A. H. Allen, 274.
Cuba, Industrial. R. P. Porter, 560.
Cumulative Index for 1898, 712.
Dall, C. H. Memorial of W. W. Turner and Sisters, 563.
Dana, C. A. Recollections of the Civil War, .
Deaf and Dumb. Comparison of Methods of Instruction. Volta Bureau, 712.
— Oral Method of Instructing, Rise of, in America. M. G. Bell, 711.
De Morgan, A. On the Study and Difficulty of Mathematics, 561.
Drinking Water, The Microscopy of. G. C. Whipple, 709.
Dr. Therne. H. R. Haggard, 711.
Dyers and Colorists, Year-Book of. H. Huntington, 563.
Economics. Census, The Federal, 558.
— Strikes and Lockouts, Sympathetic, 563.
Education. Commissioner Hume. C. W. Bardeen, 562.
— Froebel's, by Development, 855.
— Ideals and Programmes. J. L. Gourdy, 421.
— Nature Study In Elementary Schools. L. S. W. Wilson, 422.
— Report of the Commissioner of, for 1896-'97, 562.
Elliott, A. G., and Graffigny, H. de. Gas and Petroleum Engines, 277.
Ethnology. American Indians. F. Starr, 421.
Evolution, Footnotes to. D. S. Jordan, 559.
Evolution of Plants, Lectures on the. D. H. Campbell, 561
— The Last Link. E. Haeckel, 126.
Eyesight, Defective: Its Relief by Glasses. D. B. St. John Roosa, 856.
Faraday, Michael, His Life Work. S. P. Thompson, 421.
Farrington and Noll, E. H. and F. W. Testing Milk and its Products, 278.
Ferns, How to Know the. F. T. Parsons, 708.
Fertilizers. E. B. Voorhees, 274.
Fischer, G. E., and Schwatt, I. J. Text-Book of Algebra, with Exercises for Secondary Schools, 420.
Fitz, G. W. Revised Edition of H. N. Martin's The Human Body, 422.
Force, General M. F. General Sherman, 419.
Fossil Medusæ. C. D. Walcott, 278.
Froebel's Education by Development, .
Gas and Petroleum Engines. A. G. Elliott, 277.
Geographical Nature Studies. F. O. Payne, 277.
— Reader for North America. F. G. Carpenter, 561.
Geology. Cave Regions of the Black Hills. L. A. Owen, 562.
— Rivers of North America. I. C. Russell, 127.
— Stratigraphical, Principles of. J. E. Marr, 276.
Gourdy, J. L. Ideals and Programmes, 421.
Graffigny, H. de. (See Elliott, A. G.), 277.
Guerber, H. A. Story of the English, 133.
Haeckel, Ernst. The Last Link, 126.
Haggard, H. R. Dr. Therne, 711.
Hall, F. S. Sympathetic Strikes and Lockouts, 563.
Histology, An Epitome of Human. A. W. Weysse, 130.
History of Mankind. F. Ratzel, 272.
— Civil War, Recollections of. C. A. Dana, .
— of the World. E. Sanderson, 129.
— Story of the English. H. A. Guerber, 133.
Holman, S. W. Matter, Energy, Force, and Work, 276.
Hornbrook, A. R. Primary Arithmetic, 420.
Horticulture. Bush Fruits. F. W. Card, 129.
Human Body, The. H. N. Martin. Revised edition by G. W. Fitz, 422.
Huntington, H. The Year-Book of Colorists and Dyers, 563.
Hygiene. Drinking Water, The Microscopy of. G. C. Whipple, 709.
Hypnotism: its Application to Medicine. O. G. Wetterstrand, 709.
Imperial Democracy. D. S. Jordan, .
Insects, True Tales of the. L. N. Badenoch, .
Instinct and Reason. H. R. Marshall, 710.
Jackman, W. S. Nature Study for Grammar Grades, 274.
Jackson, P. G. A Thousand Days in the Arctic, 705.
James, A. L. Catering for Two, 278.
— C. C. Practical Agriculture, .
Japan-American Commercial Journal. (Monthly), 561.
Japanese Literature, History of. W. G. Aston, 131.
Jenkins, C. F. Animated Pictures, 132.
Jordan, D. S. Footnotes to Evolution, 559.
— D. S. Imperial Democracy, .
Keane, A. H. Man, Past and Present, .
Kingsley, Mary H. West African Studies, 418.
Klondike, In the. F. Palmer, 418.
Labor, Bulletins Department of: Wages in the United States and Europe. The Alaskan Gold Fields, and The Mutual Relief Associations in the Printing Trade, 711.
— Twelfth Annual Report of Commissioner of, 134.
Lagrange, J. L. Lectures on Elementary Mathematics, .
Lange, W. Froebel's Education by Development, .
Language Lessons. J. G. Park, 422.
Life, Death, and Immortality. W. M. Bryant, 130.
Loomis, Ernest. Occult Science Library, 562.
Marr, J. E. Principles of Stratigraphical Geology, 276.
Marshall, H. R. Instinct and Reason, 710.
Mathematics. Algebra, Introduction to Graphical. F. E. Nipher, 133.
— Elementary, Lectures on. J. L. Lagrange, .
— On the Study and Difficulty of. A. De Morgan, 561.
Mechanics and Heat. Nichols and Francis, 278.
Merriman, M. Elements of Sanitary Engineering, 130.
Metric System of Weights and Measures. A. D. Risteen, 132.
Microscopy of Drinking Water, The. G. C. Whipple, 709.
Milk and its Products, The Testing of. Farrington and Noll, 278.
Miller, A. The Sun an Electric Light, 711.
Mineralogy, Observation Blanks for Beginners in. H. E. Austin, .
Music, Short Course in. Ripley and Tappen, 276.
Natural History. Outdoor Studies. J. G. Needham, 562.
— Rafinesque. Ichthyologia Ohioensis (by R E. Call), 560.
Nature Study for Grammar Grades. W. S. Jackman, 274.
— in Elementary Schools. L. S. W. Wilson, 422.
Needham, J. G. Outdoor Studies, 562.
New Man, The. E. P. Oberholzer, 133.
New Story of the Stars. A. W. Bickerton, 134.
New York Academy of Sciences. Publications, 134.
Nichols and Francis, E. L. and W. S. Mechanics and Heat, 278.
Nipher, F. E. Introduction to Graphical Algebra, 133.
Ober, F. A. Puerto Rico and its Resources, 559.
Oberholzer, E. P. The New Man, 133.
Occult Science Library. E. Loomis, 562.
Owen, L. A. Cave Regions of the Black Hills, 562.
Palmer, F. In the Klondike, 418.
Pantheism: the Light and Hope of Modern Reason. C. Amryc, 421.
Park, J. G. Language Lessons, 422.
Parsons, F. T. How to Know the Ferns, 708.
Patten, S. N. The Development of English Thought, 273.
Payne, F. O. Geographical Nature Studies, 277.
Peabody, J. E. Laboratory Exercises in Anatomy and Physiology, 277.
Perspective, Elements of. C. G. Sullivan, 277.
Philosophy. Development of English Thought. S. N. Patten, 273.
— Life, Death, and Immortality. W. M. Bryant, 130.
Physics, History of, in its Elementary Branches. F. Cajori, 419.
— Matter, Energy, Force, and Work. S. W. Holman, 276.
— Philip's Experiments. J. Trowbridge, 132.
Popular Government, The Lessons of. G. Bradford, 415.
Porter, R. P. Industrial Cuba, 560.
Porto Rico of To-day. A. G. Robinson, 275.
Psychology. Reason and Instinct. H. R. Marshall, 710.
Puerto Rico and Its Resources. F. A. Ober, 559.
Rafinesque, C. S. Ichthyologia Ohioensis (by R. E. Call), 560.
Ratzal, F. History of Mankind, 272.
Rhode Island and the Formation of the Union. F. G. Bates, 420.
Ripley and Tappen, F. H. and T. Short Course in Music, 276.
Risteen, A. D. Metric System of Weights and Measures, 132.
Rivers of North America. I. C. Russell, 127.
Robinson, A. G. Porto Rico of To-day, 275.
Roosa, D. B. St. John. Defective Eyesight: Its Relief by Glasses, .
Russell, I. C. Rivers of North America, 127.
Sanderson, E. History of the World, 129.
Sanitation. Elements of Sanitary Engineering. M. Merriman, 130.
Schimmel & Co. Semiannual Report, 423.
Science, The Fairy-Land of. A. B. Buckley, .
Semon, Richard. In the Australian Bush, 417.
Sherman, General. General M. F. Force, 419.
Socialist Almanac and Treasury of Facts, 563.
Sociology. Imperial Democracy. D. S. Jordan, .
— Leisure Class, The Theory of the, 557.
— Popular Government, The Lessons of. G. Bradford, 415.
Spencer, B., and Gillen, F. J. The Native Tribes of Central Australia, 417.
— H. Principles of Biology, 275.
Starr, F. American Indians, 421.
St. John Roosa, D. B. Defective Eyesight: Its Relief by Glasses, .
Sullivan, C. G. Elements of Perspective, 277.
Sun, The, an Electric Light. A. Miller, 711.
Terrestrial Magnetism. Bauer and French. (Quarterly), 132.
Thompson, S. P. Michael Faraday, His Life Work, 421.
Travel. African Studies, West. M. H. Kingsley, 418.
— Arctic, A Thousand Days In the. F. G. Jackson, 705.
— Klondike, In the. F. Palmer, 418.
— On the South African Frontier. W. H. Brown, 708.
Trowbridge, John. Philip's Experiments, 132.
Turner, W. W., Memorial of, and Sisters. By C. H. Dall, 563.
Veblen, Thorstein. The Theory of the Leisure Class, 557.
Vines, S. H. Elementary Text-Book of Botany, 131.
Voorhees, E. B. Fertilizers, 274.
Walcott, C. D. Fossil Medusæ, 278.
Waterloo, Stanley. Armageddon, 133.
Wetterstrand, O. G. Hypnotism and Its Application to Medicine, 709.
Weysse, A. W. An Epitome of Human Histology, 130.
What is This? 564.
Whipple, G. C. The Microscopy of Drinking Water, 709.
Wilson, Lucy S. W. Nature Study in Elementary Schools, 422.
Woodhull and Van Arsdale. Chemical Experiments, .
Zoölogy. Australian Bush, In the. R. Semon, 417.
— Birds, The Structure and Classification of. F. E. Beddard, 128.
— Foundations of. W. K. Brooks, 270.
Bookworms in Fact and Fancy. W. Austen, 240
Boston Public Library and Science. (Table), 412
Botany: Colors of Northern Flowers. J. H. Lovell, 685
"Forms, Unusual, in Plants. B. D. Halsted*, 371
"of Shakespeare. T. H. MacBride, 219
"Poisonous Plants, Somewhat. (Frag.), 572
Bounties and Free Trade. (Frag.), 569
Bows and Arrows, The Teaching of. (Frag.), 715
Bracchi, M. A. The Sense of Color, 253
Brinton, D. G., Death of. (Frag.), 713
Brinton's Contributions to American Linguistics. (Frag.), 284
Brooks, William Keith. Sketch of. (With Portrait), 400
"William K. Thoughts about Universities, 348
Canada, Wheat Lands of. S. C. D. Roper,
Catskills, Forest and Animal Life in the. (Frag.), 569
Charity, Public and Private Vigilance. F. H. Giddings, 433
Chemistry Teaching in Grammar and High Schools. (Frag.), 574
Cherry Leaves, Poison in Wild. (Frag.), 283
Christian Science from a Physician's Point of View. J. B. Huber,
Climate and Acclimatization. (Frag.), 565
Climate, Is Freedom limited by. (Table), 124
Coler, B. S. Abuse of Public Charity, 155
"""Reform of Public Charity,
Colonial Expansion and Foreign Trade. J. Schoenhof, 62
Colors of Flowers, The. Henri Coupin, 386
""Northern Flowers. J. H. Lovell, 685
Color, The Sense of. M. A. Bracchi, 253
Commercial Education in England. (Frag.),
Conn, H. W. The Milk Supply of Cities, 627
Coolidge, D. Hydrophobia in Baja California, 249
Country Checks, The Charges on, an Economic Mistake. (Frag.), 567
Coupin, Henri. The Colors of Flowers, 386
Cram, W. E. Hawk Lures*, 623
Crime, Influence of the Weather upon. E. G. Dexter, 653
Criminology: Desire for Notoriety a Cause of Crime. (Frag.), 568
"Luccheni, Study of Luigi. C. Lombroso*, 199
Curry, J. L. M. The *** Question, 177
D'Alviella, G. Origin of Ancient Hindu Astronomy, 396
Deaf and Dumb, Instruction of the. (Frag.), 573
Degeneration. (Frag.), 571
Desire for Notoriety a Cause of Crime. (Frag.), 568
Dexter, E. G. Influence of the Weather upon Crime, 653
Dorsey, George A. Hopi Indians of Arizona*,
Doughty, F. A. Folklore of the Alleghanies, 390
Economics: Colonial Expansion and Foreign Trade. J. Schoenhof, 62
"Country Checks, The Charges on, An Economic Mistake. (Frag.), 667
"Free Trade and Bounties. (Frag.), 569
"Philippine Islands and American Capital. J. R. Smith, 186
"Unskilled Labor, The Abuse of. (Frag.),
"Wheat Lands of Canada. S. C. D. Roper,
Edgar, P. Tendencies in French Literature, 207
Education and Character Building. (Table),
Education: "A Vague Impression of Beauty." (Frag.),
"Chemistry Teaching in Grammar and High Schools. (Frag.), 574
"Commercial, in England. (Frag.),
"Deaf and Dumb, Instruction of the. (Frag.), 573
"High School, The Claims of. (Frag.), 570
"Kindergartenized Children (Table), 122
"Putting Life in the School. (Frag.), 429
"Sloyd in. (Frag.), 717
"Teaching the Teachers. (Frag.), 138
"Universities, Thoughts about. W. K. Brooks, 348
Educational Work of an Experiment Station. (Frag.), 425
Egleston, T., Sketch of.* D. S. Martin, 256
Enchanted Ravine, An. (Frag.), 428
European Culture, Origin of.* W. Z. Ripley, 16
Field Columbian Museum, The Work of the. (Frag.), 428
Firecrackers, Manufacture of, in China. (Frag.), 427
Fish Supply, Permanence of. (Frag.), 716
Fittest to Survive, Which is the. (Frag.), 137
Flies as Bearers of Disease. (Frag.), 425
Ford, R. C. Malay Literature, 379
Forest and Animal Life in the Catskills. (Frag.), 569
"Reserves, National. (Frag.), 717
France, Remedies for the Depopulation of. M. J. Bertillon, 672
Freedom limited by Climate. (Table), 124
French Literature, Tendencies in. P. Edgar, 207
Fungicides, Relative Power of. (Frag.), 717
Genius and Habit. (Frag.),
Geology: Niagara, New Method of Estimating the Age of. G. F. Wright*, 145
"of Block Island. (Frag.), 570
Giddings, F. H. Public Charity and Private Vigilance, 433
Glacier Water. (Frag.), 282
Gold Ores, The Occurrence of. (Frag.),
Government Scientific Work. (Frag.), 714
Graphite. (Frag.),
Gypsies and their Folk Tales. (Frag.), 424
Halsted, B. D. Unusual Forms in Plants*, 371
Harley, L. R. Sketch of William Pepper. (With Portrait),
Harvard Observatory, A Year at. (Frag.), 429
Hawaiian Reptiles. (Frag.), 718
Hawk Lures. W. E. Cram*, 623
Heilprin, A. Alaska and the Klondike*, 1, 163, 300
Help that Harms, The. H. C. Potter,
High School, The Claims of the. (Frag.), 570
Hopi Indians of Arizona. George A. Dorsey*,
Huber, J. B. Christian Science from a Physician's Point of View,
Hudson, W. H. Bacon's Idols,
Hydrophobia in Baja California. D. Coolidge, 249
Hygiene: Milk Supply of Cities. H. W. Conn, 627
"Plague, Are We in Danger from the. V. C. Vaughan, 577
Hypnotism, The Dangers of. (Frag.), 572
Imagination, Power of the. (Frag.), 714
Indian Peoples and the Missionaries. (Frag.), 138
Industrial Expositions, American. M. Benjamin, 231
Insane Characters in Fiction and the Drama. C. Lombroso, 53
Insanity, Causes and Prevention of. S. Baker, 102
Interpretation of Nature. E. Noble, 72
Jacobs, Joseph. Are Jews Jews?, 502
Jews? Are Jews. J. Jacobs, 502
Jordan, D. S. In the Little Brook, 355
Keyser, L. S. A Feathered Parasite,
Kindergartenized Children. (Table), 122
Klondike, Alaska and the. A Heilprin*, 1, 163, 300
Laisant, M. Mathematics for Children*,
Lamps, Evolution in. (Frag.), 140
La Nature's Second Scientific Excursion. (Frag.), 568
Lead Poisoning and Pottery Making. (Frag.), 426
Life in the School, Putting. (Frag.), 429
Linguistics, Brinton's Contributions to American. (Frag.), 284
Liquid Air. I. Remsen*, 35
Locusts, Seventeen- and Thirteen-Year. (Frag.), 141
Lombroso, C. Insane Characters in Fiction and the Drama, 53
""Study of Luigi Luccheni*, 199
Longevity of Animals, The. (Frag.), 426
Lovell, J. H. Colors of Northern Flowers, 685
Luccheni, Study of Luigi. C. Lombroso*, 199
MacBride, T. H. Botany of Shakespeare, 219
Malay Literature. R. C. Ford, 379
Marcy, Death of Prof. Oliver. (Frag.), 137
Marsh, Death of Professor. (Frag.), 136
Martin, D. S. Columbus Meeting of the American Association,
"""Sketch of Thomas Egleston*, 256
Mathematics for Children. M. Laisant*,
Mather, Fred. White Whales in Confinement, 362
Meat Extracts. (Frag.), 286
Medicine: Flies as Bearers of Disease. (Frag.), 425
Mendenhall, T. C. The Bering Sea Controversy again, 99
Mental Fatigue. M. V. O'Shea, 511
Metric System, The. (Frag.), 280
Milk Supply of Cities, The. H. W. Conn, 627
Morgan, Appleton. Recent Legislation against the Drink Evil, 438, 610
Murphy, J. R. Survival of African Music in America*, 660
National Museum, The United States. C. D. Walcott, 411
Natural History: A Feathered Parasite. L. S. Keyser,
""Hawk Lures. W. E. Cram*, 623
""In the Little Brook. D. S. Jordan, 355
""Longevity of Animals. (Frag.), 426
""Poisonous Fishes of the West Indies. J. M. Rogers, 680
""Reptiles of Hawaii. (Frag.), 718
""Society as a School, A. (Frag.), 281
""White Whales in Confinement. Fred Mather, 362
Nature Study, Experiments in. (Frag.), 573
Nebraska as a Home for Birds. (Frag.), 714
*** Problem in the United States, The. B. T. Washington, 317
"Question, The. J. L. M. Curry, 177
New Zealand Experiment in Woman Suffrage. (Frag.), 279
Niagara, New Method of Estimating the Age of. G. F. Wright*, 145
Noble, E. The Interpretation of Nature, 72
Ornithology: Nebraska as a Home for Birds, 714
Orthodoxy, The Troubles of. (Table), 704
Orton, E. Proper Objects of the American Association for the Advancement of Science, 466
O'Shea, M. V. Mental Fatigue, 511
Oswald, F. L. Physical Geography of West Indies* (continued), 47, 193
Papuan Children, Photographing. (Frag.), 285
Pengelly, William. Sketch of (Portrait), 113
Pepper, William. Sketch. (With Portrait.) L. R. Harley,
Philippine Islands and American Capital. J. R. Smith, 186
""Race Questions in. F. Blumentritte, 472
Philosophy: An Old-fashioned Moral. (Table), 703
Philozoists, Inconsistent. (Frag.), 140
Physics: Liquid Air. I. Remsen*, 35
Physiology: Color, The Sense of. M. A. Bracchi, 253
Picture Telegraphy. (Frag.), 566
Plague, Are We in Danger from the. V. C. Vaughan, 577
Poison in Wild Cherry Leaves. (Frag.), 283
Poisonous Fishes of the West Indies. J. M. Rogers, 680
"Plants, Somewhat. (Frag.), 572
Popular Co-operation in Health Work. (Frag.), 136
Population in Maine, The Trend of. (Corr.),
Potter, H. C. The Help that Harms, 721
Pottery Making and Lead Poisoning. (Frag.), 426
Practical Philanthropy. H. A. Townsend, 534
Primitive Man. (Table), 410
Protection of Plants and Birds in France and Italy. (Frag.), 282
Psychology: Animals Reason? Do. E. Thorndike*, 480
"Crime, Influence of the Weather upon. E. G. Dexter, 653
"Habit and Genius. (Frag.),
"Imagination, Power of the. (Frag.), 714
"Insane Characters in Fiction and the Drama. C. Lombroso, 53
"Mental Fatigue. M. Y. O'Shea, 511
Public Charity, Abuse of. B. S. Coler, 155
""Reform of. B. S. Coler,
Purple of Cassius, The. (Frag.),
Race Troubles, Our. (Table), 414
Racial Geography. (Table), 268
Recent Legislation against the Drink Evil. Appleton Morgan, 438, 610
Remsen, I. Liquid Air*, 35
Renouf, E. The Use of Acetylene*, 335
Ripley, W. Z. Origin of European Culture*, 16
Rogers, J. M. West Indian Poisonous Fishes, 680
Roper, S. C. D. Wheat Lands of Canada,
Sausages, Chemistry of. (Frag.), 285
Schmidt, Oscar. Sketch. (With Portrait), 693
Schoenhof, J. Colonial Expansion and Foreign Trade, 62
Science and the Boston Public Library. (Table), 412
"and the Ideal. (Table), 266
"Teachers' School of. F. Zirngiebel*, 451, 640
Scientific Method and its Application to the Bible. Rev. D. Sprague, 289
""and the Bible. (Corr.), 701
Serfdom to Freedom. E. Bicknell, 84
Shakespeare, Botany of. T. H. MacBride, 219
Sloyd as an Educational Factor. (Frag.), 717
Smith, J. R. Philippine Islands and American Capital, 186
Sociology: Charity, Abuse of Public, 155
"Depopulation of France, Remedies for the, 672
"Drink Evil, Recent Legislation against. A. Morgan, 438, 610
"Help that Harms, The. H. C. Potter,
"*** Question, The. J. L. M. Curry, 177
"Philanthropy, Practical. H. A. Townsend, 534
"Present Position of. F. S. Baldwin,
"Public Charity and Private Vigilance. F. H. Giddings, 433
"Race Problem in the United States. B. Washington, 317
"Race Troubles, Our. (Table), 414
"Reform of Public Charity. B. S. Coler,
Spencer, Herbert, at Seventy-nine. (Portrait), 542
Sprague, Rev. D. Scientific Method and its Application to the Bible, 289
Taxation, Best Methods of. Part II. D. A. Wells 524,
Teachers' School of Science. F. Zirngiebel*, 451, 640
Teaching the Teachers. (Frag.), 138
Theology: Troubles of Orthodoxy. (Table), 704
Thorndike, E. Do Animals Reason?*, 480
Thrasher, M. B. Tuskegee Institute and its President*, 592
Tortoise Shell. (Frag.), 283
Townsend, H. A. Practical Philanthropy, 534
Travel: Klondike, Alaska and the. A Heilprin*, 1, 163, 300
Tuskegee Institute and its President. M. B. Thrasher*, 592
Universities, Thoughts about. W. K. Brooks, 348
"Vague Impression of Beauty, A." (Frag.),
Vaughan, V. C. Are we in Danger from the Plague?, 577
Walcott, C. D. The United States National Museum, 491
Washington, B. T. The Race Problem in the United States, 317
Weather, Influence of the, on Crime. E. G. Dexter, 653
Weeds under Cultivation. (Frag.), 139
Wells, D. A. Best Methods of Taxation. Part II, 524,
West Indies, Physical Geography of. F. L. Oswald* (continued), 47, 193
Wheat Lands of Canada. S. C. D. Roper,
"Question. A Correction. (Corr.), 702
White Whales in Confinement. Fred Mather, 362
Woman Suffrage, New Zealand Experiments in. (Frag.), 279
Woodchucks, Operations against. (Frag.), 139
Wright, G. F. New Method of Estimating the Age of Niagara*, 145
Xkichmook, Yucatan, Ruins of. (Frag.), 141
Yang-tse-Kiang, The. (Frag.), 571
Zirngiebel, Frances. The Teachers' School of Science*, 451, 640
THE END.
FOOTNOTES:
Proverbs ***, 8.
I had arranged with the editor of the New York Medical News for the publication in
that journal of a paper on Christian Science, and had so informed Mrs. Stetson.
These medical histories are a part of my serial paper in the New York Medical News
of January 28, 1899, et seq.
New York Times, June 24, 1899.
Science and Health.
Ibid.
Ibid.
Science and Health.
The Arena, May, 1898.
The commissioners "have no confidence in any system of inquisition or system which
requires assessors to be clairvoyants; to ascertain things impossible to be ascertained by
the agencies provided in the law; to ascertain the indebtedness of the taxpayer; to ascertain
or know who is the owner of property at a given time that can be and is transferred
hourly from owner to owner by telegraph or lightning, and that may be transported into or
out of the jurisdiction of the assessor with the rapidity of steam, or that requires assessors
or taxpayers to make assessments on evidence not admissible in any court, civil or criminal,
in any civilized country where witches are not tried and condemned by caprice or malice on
village or neighborhood gossip."
Report of the Massachusetts Commission, 1897, p. 74.
The New York commission of 1870 submitted two propositions on this point:
1. Tax the house or building as real estate separately, at the same rate of valuation as
the land—that is, fifty per cent—and then assuming that the value of the house or building,
irrespective of its contents, be such contents furniture, machinery, or any other chattels
whatsoever, is the sign or index which the owner or occupier puts out of his personal property,
tax the house or building on a valuation of fifty per cent additional to its real estate
valuation, as the representative value of such personal property; or, in other words, tax the
land separately on fifty per cent of its fair marketable valuation, and tax the building apart
from the land, as representing the owner's personal property, on a full valuation, as indicated
by the rent actually paid for it or its estimated rental value. Or—
2. Tax buildings conjointly with land as real estate at a uniform valuation; and then as
the equivalent for all taxation on personal property, tax the occupier, be he owner or tenant
of any building or portion of any building used as a dwelling, or for any other purpose, on
a valuation of three times the rental or rental value of the premises occupied. Tenement
houses occupied by more than one family, or tenement houses having a rental value not in
excess of a fixed sum, to be taxed to the owner as occupier.—Report, p. 107.
Massachusetts Report, p. 106.
California vs. Southern Pacific Railroad, 127 U. S., 40.
93 U. S. Reports, pp. 217, 224.
A recent law of New York is very full on this point:
"The terms 'land,' 'real estate,' and 'real property,' as used in this chapter, include
the land itself above and under the water, all buildings and other articles and structures,
substructures, and superstructures, erected upon, under, or above, or affixed to the same;
all wharves and piers, including the value of the right to collect wharfage, cranage, or
dockage thereon; all bridges, all telegraph lines, wires, poles, and appurtenances; all supports
and inclosures for electrical conductors and other appurtenances upon, above, and
underground; all surface, underground, or elevated railroads, including the value of all
franchises, rights or permission to construct, maintain, or operate the same in, under, above,
on, or through streets, highways, or public places; all railroad structures, substructures, and
superstructures, tracks, and the iron thereon, branches, switches, and other fixtures permitted
or authorized to be made, laid, or placed on, upon, above, or under any public or
private road, street, or grounds; all mains, pipes, and tanks laid or placed in, upon, above,
or under any public or private street or place for conducting steam, heat, water, oil, electricity,
or any property, substance, or product capable of transportation or conveyance
therein, or that is protected thereby, including the value of all franchises, rights, authority,
or permission to construct, maintain, or operate in, under, above, upon, or through any
streets, highways, or public places, any mains, pipes, tanks, conduits, or wires, with their
appurtenances, for conducting water, steam, heat, light, power, gas, oil, or other substance,
or electricity for telegraphic, telephonic, or other purposes; all trees and underwood growing
upon land, and all mines, minerals, quarries, and fossils in and under the same, except
mines belonging to the State. A franchise, right, authority, or permission, specified in this
subdivision, shall for the purposes of taxation be known as a 'special franchise.' A special
franchise shall be deemed to include the value of the tangible property of a person, copartnership,
association, or corporation, situated in, upon, under, or above any street, highway,
public place, or public waters, in connection with the special franchise. The tangible property
so included shall be taxed as a part of the special franchise." The reason for classing
franchises as real estate was that under the existing laws of New York a franchise could
not be assessed as personal property, as the bonded debt could then be deducted, leaving
little or nothing to be taxed.
Idola (ειδωλα), though commonly rendered idols, would here undoubtedly be
more correctly translated phantoms or specters. With this explanation, however, I shall
usually employ the more familiar word.
Novum Organon, edited by Thomas Fowler, introduction, p. 132.
Animals and Plants under Domestication, vol. i, p. 6.
Logic, ninth edition, Book V, chapter v, § 6.
Leviathan, Part I, chapter xi.
It is well to remember that if common sense had said the last word about the matter,
the Ptolemaic theory of the universe would still stand unshaken.
The metaphor is taken from the opening of the seventh book of Plato's Republic.
Cf. Spencer's Introduction to the Study of Sociology, chapters viii-xii.
The need of a language of rigid mathematical precision for the purposes of philosophic
thought and discussion has long been the subject of remark. Hence Bishop Wilkins's
Essay toward a real character and a philosophic language (1668), and the earlier Ars
Signorum of George Dalgarno—boldly presented by its inventor as a "remedy for the confusion
of tongues, as far as this evil is reparable by art." We may give these ingenious
authors full credit for the excellent intentions with which they set out on impossible undertakings.
A philosophic language may perhaps be attained in the millennium, but then probably
it will be no longer needed. Meanwhile readers interested in the history of the mad
scheme called Volapük may find some curious matter in these rare works.
History of Philosophy, vol. ii, pp. 95, 96.
This quotation is not from Bacon.
Present Condition of Sociology in the United States. Ira W. Howarth. Annals of
the American Academy, September, 1894.
Fairbanks. Introduction to Sociology, p. 1.
See for the following: H. H. Powers. Terminology and the Sociological Conference,
in Annals of the American Academy, March, 1895.
See Giddings. Principles of Sociology, p. 29.
Lester F. Ward. Purpose of Sociology. American Journal of Sociology, November,
1896.
Ward. Ibidem.
See Giddings. Principles of Sociology, chap. i.
In American Journal of Sociology, September, 1896.
In Annals of the American Academy, July, 1896.
See Giddings. Principles of Sociology, chap. i.
Small and Vincent. Introduction to the Study of Society, p. 46
Fairbanks. Introduction to Sociology, p. 44.
Fairbanks. Ibidem.
Small and Vincent. Introduction to the Study of Society, p. 218.
Herbert Spencer. Study of Sociology, chaps. iv to xii.
The Nation, vol. lx, p. 351. Review of Small and Vincent's Introduction to the Study
of Society.
Quoted by Vincent in American Journal of Sociology, January, 1896, p. 487.
Higher Medical Education. The True Interest of the Public and of the Profession.
By William Pepper, M. D., LL. D. Philadelphia: J. B. Lippincott Company, 1894.
Report of the Provost of the University of Pennsylvania, from October, 1892, to June,
1894. Philadelphia, 1894.
See the article on Science at the University of Pennsylvania, in Popular Science
Monthly for August, 1896.
Proceedings at the Opening of the William Pepper Laboratory of Clinical Medicine,
December 4, 1895. Philadelphia, 1895.
Imperial Democracy. A Study of the Relation of Government by the People, Equality before
the Law, and other Tenets of Democracy, to the Demands of a Vigorous Foreign Policy, and other
Demands of Imperial Dominion. By David Starr Jordan. New York: D. Appleton and Company.
Pp. 293. Price, $1.50.
Man Past and Present. By A. H. Keane, F. R. G. S. (Cambridge Geographical Series). Cambridge,
England: At the University Press. New York: The Macmillan Company. Pp. 584. Price, $3.
Recollections of the Civil War. With the
Leaders at Washington and in the Field in the
Sixties. By Charles A. Dana. New York: D. Appleton
and Company. Pp. 296. Price, $2.
The Fairy-Land of Science. New York: D.
Appleton and Company. Pp. 252.
True Tales of the Insects. By L. N. Badenoch.
London: Chapman & Hall. Pp. 253.
Practical Agriculture. By Charles C. James.
American edition edited by John Craig. New
York: D. Appleton and Company. Pp. 203. Price,
80 cents.
From a paper read by Sir H. T. Wood, at the
International Congress, on Technical Education,
at Venice, May, 1899.
Transcriber's Notes:
Obvious printer's errors have been repaired, other inconsistent
spellings have been kept, including inconsistent use of hyphen (e.g.
"far reaching" and "far-reaching").
Some illustrations were relocated to correspond to their references in the
text.
Pg. , word "of" added to sentence "...acceleration of social
evolution."
Entries in Index refer to all five issues of Popular Science Monthly
Vol. LV:
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June (pp. 137-288) http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/45115
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August (pp. 433-576) http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/45938
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October (pp. 721-864), this issue.
Page number links have been created for index entries refering to the October
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