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THE CITIZEN
\ STUDY OF THE INDIVIDUAL
AND THE GOVERNMENT
KE
1706
55a

 

Goruell Law School Library
Cornell University Library
KF 4700.S52

AVON
| 3 1924 020 027 896 law
THE CITIZEN
THE CITIZEN

4 Study of the Fnodtbidual
and the Government

BY

Nathaniel Southgate Shaler

Professor of Geology in Harvard University, and Dean of
Lawrence Scientific School

 

New York

@, S. Warnes and Company
1904

13353
Copyright, 1904
By A. S. Barnes & COMPANY

Published February,’ 1904.

Second Printing, June, 1904
PREFACE

with young people that they cannot be brought
to understand large matters relating to the man-
agement of public affairs, which are cared for by our
government in its various forms of town, county,
state, and national authorities. My own belief, based
on many years’ experience as a teacher, leads me to
the conviction that this view is quite mistaken: that
so far from being unfitted to deal with such questions,
young men and women are naturally interested in
knowing those things which pertain to their duties
in the wide field of life upon which they are entering.
Therefore it is with some confidence that I have
determined to set forth in the following pages the
leading facts concerning the relations of the citizens
of this country —men and women alike—to the
systems of the society and the government in which
we all have to play our part. Large as are the ques-
tions which have to be dealt with, they are made the
easier to understand by the fact that they are ever
before us, as part of our life.
The aim of this book is to set before the reader the
relation which the individual bears to the government
which controls his conduct as a citizen. In begin-

L is commonly supposed by those who have to do
vi PREFACE

ning this task it is most desirable to bring clearly
to mind the manner in which each of us, in our time,
is introduced into human society. For some years
after our career in this world is begun we know
little or nothing of human relations beyond the nar-
row circle of the households in which we belong, the
schools we attend, or the friendships which we may
form. All the experience of life which we thus gain
is accepted as a matter of course, as we accept the
fact that we are alive. Sometime between the twelfth
and sixteenth year the mind in its natural growth
awakens to larger understandings; we begin to see
that the relations of men, like the other features of
this world, are exceedingly complicated, and that
some study is required to make them in any measure
plain.

The awakening and enlargement of the mind,
which should come with the passage from infancy
to young womanhood or manhood, is not experi-
enced by all. It unfortunately happens with many
persons that the body and the motives which relate
to it develop without a corresponding growth of the
spiritual nature. Such people remain, so far as their
understanding goes, mere children, who hinder and
have to be cared for by those who are so fortunate
as to attain the normally grown-up state of mankind.
In many instances this failure to attain the fit growth
of the intelligence doubtless arises from the fact that
when at the age in which the mind naturally turns
PREFACE vil

from the interests of childhood to larger questions,
the youths were not led to consider such matters, but
were allowed to occupy themselves altogether with
those things which were trifling. A capacity to grow
to the fulness of moral and intellectual vigour has
to be born in us; it is in large measure inherited
from our ancestors, as are the qualities of our bodies,
—their strength or weakness, their liability to dis-
ease or their ability to keep wholesome. But as we
often see how a frail child may, if well cared for,
become an able-bodied youth, so one who does not
strongly tend to mental growth in the developing
age may, by the proper use of his powers, be led to
broaden his mind. For this enlargement no other
studies appear to be so well adapted as those which
concern the affairs of men, such as we are here
undertaking.

It is not at once that the youth acquires the sense
of his position in the world which makes him fit for
the duties of the citizen, and thus confers on him the
quality of civilised manhood: it is but slowly that
he attains these understandings. They come as he
considers the ways in which men do their associated
work. To see, in part at least, the way in which
mankind has done, and is now doing, the deeds which
make up the sum of human life, it is only neces-
sary to open our eyes and behold what is going on
about us. The facts are, indeed, so simple appar-
ently, so common, that they appear to be not worth
Vill PREFACE

noticing ; but the student, here as elsewhere, has to
learn that familiar events, when well understood,
often tell us the most concerning the truths we need
to know. There is a capital instance of this in the
history of our understanding of gravitation: for
ages men knew very well that all the solid bodies
about them were heavy, that they were drawn
towards the earth; but it was not until Isaac Newton
found the law of this action, and showed us how it
kept the earth in its course around the sun and the
planets in their places, that we came to know how
much the simple fact of objects falling may, if well
understood, make clear.
CONTENTS

CHAPTER Pacs
I. THe OriciIn or MANKIND ....... I

Il. Tur BEGINNINGS OF GOVERNMENT . . . . 15
JWI. Wuar Liserty is. . . . . 1 ee ee) 26

IV. On THE SHARE OF THE AVERAGE MAN IN

THE STATE . . ww. 1 ee ee ee G4
V. THE PRACTICE OF CITIZENSHIP. . . . . . 64
VI. CivizeNnsHip AND Party ALLEGIANCE . . . 85
VII. Own tHe Limits or FREEDOM. . . . - . 103
VIII. Tue Cirizen anp THE Law . . . . . . «120
IX. WeattH— Its ORIGIN AND DISTRIBUTION. . 152
X. Epucarion, Pustic HEALTH, AND OTHER
QUESTIONS . . . . 6 ee ee ee 173
XI. InmicraTion, UNIVERSAL SUFFRAGE, AND THE
NEGRO QUESTION . . . 1. 2. + « s « 200
XII. Foreign Possessions. . . - «© «© + + «© 239
XIII. Tue Crrizen anp City GOVERNMENT . . . 261
XIV. Tue Crrizen anp His FELLow-MAN. . . . 287

XV. Tue Vatve or Grear MEN To THE CITIZEN got

XVI. Tue FururE oF THE COMMONWEALTH . . . 331

INDEX . 6.02 6 ee 8 6 oe He © ew we ee B84
THE CITIZEN

CHAPTER I

THE ORIGIN OF MANKIND

r AHE student of citizenship, whether as a
youth he is trying to understand his own
place in the world, or as an adult man he

is endeavouring to see into the problems of the

society he has to help, does best to begin his inquiry
by studying certain lessons which modern science has
taught us concerning the origin and nature of man.

These teachings rest upon a great accumulation of

learning of which only the merest outlines are needed

or can be given in these pages. The main point of
it all is that the man of to-day is not a creature of
this day, but has been gradually shaped, in the suc-
cession of his ancestors, to the state of mind and
body which he now exhibits. The records of history
enable us to trace our forefathers back to a time about
three thousand years ago, when our Germanic stock
was hardly more civilised than were the American

Indians when they were first seen by Europeans.

At that stage our ancestors were barbarians, just

rising above the level of savagery. Still farther back,

we have reason to believe that these people were yet
2 THE CITIZEN

more lowly in their nature and their habits of life:
in a condition in which they knew nothing of the use
of the metals, and when their only tools and utensils
were made of stone, wood, bone, and baked clay. In
this primitive state, the records which the historian
explains leaves the northern Aryan people, the stock
to which we belong, in their ancient dwelling-place
about the Baltic Sea. In the same way the other
great groups of men—the Semitic, including the
Jews and the Turanian, which includes the Chinese
— are known to have been, though somewhat longer
ago, in a like unadvanced condition. Thus history
shows us that the best peoples of to-day have come
forth from a primitive state, where their life was very
brutal.

Great as is the story of the advance of mankind
which is told by the records, there are yet more im-
portant facts which the study of Natural History
reveals. The inquiries of naturalists have made it
evident that the body and the mind of men came forth
from the lower animals. Every bone, muscle, and
other part which is found in our frames exists also
in the bodies of the lower creatures, such as the
chimpanzee and gorilla. Step by step we may fol-
low the stages of development of our frames from
the simpler animals. Although we cannot trace every
step in the long journey, we are now compelled to
believe that our life began in the early history of the
earth, and that what we are is the result of changes
THE ORIGIN OF MANKIND 3

which have led onward and upward, through the suc-
cessions of parent and child, and from species to
species, during a time which is perhaps to be meas-
ured by hundreds of millions of years.

While the fact that man is here to-day is to be
explained by the supposition that he has come forth
from the lower life, the way in which the advance has
been brought about is not yet clear. It is, however,
evident that in the ancestry of our species, below the
human level, the upward going was largely due to
the frequent occurrence of advantageous changes in
the young of each generation, and that the fortunate
possessors of these betterments lived on, in turn, to
advance the life on its destined way, while the less
happy perished.

The studies of Charles Darwin and a host of other
naturalists have shown us that the lower life of
the world is, and has always been, involved in a
struggle for existence. Large as the world appears
to us, it is always overcrowded by the animals and
plants which seek an opportunity to live. Every year
many more individuals come forth from seed or egg
than can find a chance of attaining their growth;
of these creatures those only which have some pe-
culiar fitness for the work they need to do live on and
propagate their kind; their progeny, in turn, are
likely to inherit the qualities which caused their
parents to survive. To this struggle for existence
and the resulting survival of the fittest, we must, in
# THE CITIZEN

the present state of our knowledge, in some measure
attribute the upward going of life, which led at length
to the creation of mankind.

Such, in very brief, is what is known of the history
of the animal man. His body has been brought to
its shape by a long battle with the difficulties of this
world; by a battle through the ages in which those
creatures which were the best fitted for action sur-
vived and passed their qualities onward and upward
to others of higher grade. In this succession, which
led in the end to man, there were many thousand
stages, each represented by what is termed a species,
or a group of beings as like to each other as are the
individuals of the various kinds of animals we see
about us.

If it were possible to recall to life all the creatures
of old through which our life has found its way,
from the lowest upward, arranging them in a long
procession, we would note, as the column passed in
review, a gradual transition from lower to higher,
from simple to complex, slowly leading from crea-
tures so simple that they seemed scarcely animate to
the perception of man. We would behold how each
of the myriad perfections which make up the human
body has been slowly and persistently contrived,
every one of them requiring ages and innumerable
lives for its completion. Supposing such a procession
to exhibit only these animals which were our ances-
tors, those alone which attained success in the en-
THE ORIGIN OF MANKIND 5

deavour for advancement, a thousand years might
be too short a time for the train moving at the speed
of a marching army to pass before us.

It is the object of the naturalists of to-day to recon-
struct the history of life by searching the rocks which
were made during the successive stages of the past.
In these strata are found vast quantities of fossils,
the remains of the beings which lived when the beds
were forming as muds and sands on the bottoms of
the ancient lakes and seas. This search into the crust
of the earth for the records of ancient species, though
it has been going on for more than a century, has
been hardly more than begun. Yet it has shown us
many thousand links in the chain of life, leading from
the earliest times to the present day, from the simplest
to the most complicated life. In this succession we
behold the train of advancements which leads to man,
not of course with the completeness of our imagined
procession, but sufficiently so to make it clear that the
train of life, from beginning to end, was unbroken.
Each new discovery serves but to make more certain
the mighty truth that the origin of man is to be
traced downward through the host of living beings,
the past dwellers on this earth, who by their divinely
guided strivings have won us our place in the world.

At first sight this revelation as to the ancient his-
tory of our race, which science has given us, seems
to many people very disagreeable; they dislike the
idea that even in a remote way their lives are derived
6 THE CITIZEN

from the lower brutal creatures. The old view, based
upon the literal acceptation of the allegory, in which
in the Bible the creation of man is described, is nat-
urally dear to us, because it long was unhesitatingly
believed — any doubt as to its exact truth was taken
to indicate a disbelief in the principles of the Chris-
tian religion. This state of mind has in most part
passed away. Few, if any, scholarly men now hold
that there is any essential relation between the state-
ments of the ancient leader of Israel concerning the
beginning of the world and the teachings of Christ;
moreover, the essence of all true religion rests upon
a perfect confidence in the Supreme Power that rules
this world and the realms about it. Where we find
the truth it must be accepted as a part of the divine
order which it is our duty to understand and to make
our own.

When we, apart from any prejudice, consider the
scientific revelation as to the origin of man, we see
in that teaching something far more stately than the
old view which made him the result of a momentary
exercise of the divine power. The creative work
which has led our life through the ages, through tens
of thousands of varied species, through the struggles
and chances of all the world’s history, gives us a
nobler sense of a Providence than we can possibly
have if we believe that we were directly shaped from
the dust of the earth. There is, indeed, no truth in
nature which is so inspiring as this we are now
THE ORIGIN OF MANKIND 7

regarding. Properly understood, it shows us that
we are no accident of this world, but the result of
processes which began with the shaping of the sphere,
and which were so guided that after ages of en-
deavour in creatures which foresaw nothing of the
result, there came forth man, the last of them all,.
the first to lift up his eyes and praise his Maker.

So long as the life which was in the end to take
shape in man was in the stages below his level, the
conditions of the intelligence were very different
from what they became when the human stage was
won. In the lower creations we find intelligence in
certain ways like our own. If we observe active-
witted animals, such as dogs, monkeys, or elephants,
either in their wild or trained state, we readily note
that they think and are guided by their thoughts,
much as we ourselves are guided. There is reason
to believe that they contrive; love their friends;
hate their enemies; are, in a word, affected by their
experiences much as are men. It is thus evident
that man brought with him, from his lower life into
his higher state of being, the greater number of the
qualities which constitute his mind. It is, however,
clear that certain of the higher spiritual features of
mankind are entirely peculiar to his kind. The re-
ligious sense, that motive which leads men to recog-
nise in the world about them the action of a supreme,
controlling intelligence, is apparently unknown in
the lower life.
8 THE CITIZEN

So, too, men in a most important way differ from
the brutes in the fact that they are able to progress
in their moral and intellectual growth with a rapidity
which is unexampled in their lower kindred. We see
this when we compare the changes which have taken
place in the domesticated animals that have been
captives of mankind for thousands of years. These
animals, such as the horse, the sheep, and the dog,
have by care been made greatly to vary in their
bodies; but their minds have remained essentially
unchanged, except so far as they may have lost some-
thing of their original wildness. While these com-
panions of man have remained, as regards their
minds, much as they were when in their wilderness
state, their master has gone on with wonderful swift-
ness in a development which has carried him, in
moral and intellectual qualities, very far up in the
scale of being. Between the primitive, brutal savage,
with hardly more moral quality than the beasts he
hunted, and the conscientious, developed, moral citi-
zen of our latter civilisations, there has been an ad-
vance in its importance to be compared with all that
has been accomplished in the course of the long pro-
cession from the beginnings of life to the plane of
the lowest men.

In the natural history of man, as modern science
has displayed it, we see the most instructive spectacle
which this earth affords. We behold a gradual ad- |
vance in the qualities of mind and body, slowly
THE ORIGIN OF MANKIND 9

gained through the ages, until the human shape was
attained; then with amazing suddenness a going
forth into the realm of freedom and of duty. Those
of us who properly read the lessons of this ancient
history of man may find in it much that helps us to
understand the meaning of our own lives as well as
the problems of government which arise from the
social and political associations of mankind. Perhaps
the most important point that is made clear to us by
the new science concerns the value of the individual
life. It is clear that each step in the advance which
served to place us on the earth has been effected by
the efforts of the creatures which strove energeti-
cally to overcome difficulties which beset them, and,
by taking advantage of the powers which came to
them as individuals, succeeded in placing their race
above their weaker kindred, thus winning a step
upward towards the higher life. All we have that
lifts us above the lowliest creatures is evidently due
to the energetic efforts of individual beings, each in
its time acting up to the full measure of the powers
which had been granted to it. Vigorous action that
called for all the inborn capacities of the being has
been the condition of all advances, both before and
after the coming of man.

As we pass from the lower life to the state of man,
we note certain great changes in the way in which the
mind, especially in its moral qualities, does its work.
In the lower creatures, the selfish propensities, the in-
10 THE CITIZEN

dividual greeds and rages, act in an unrestrained way.
The animal usually loves and cares for its offspring;
it has a certain affection, it may be, for the members
of the herd in which it dwells; in some rare cases it
will defend or care for any one of its species, but in
general the only care is for itself. Such is the case
also with the brutal man. The hunger and fury of
the beast from which he came is strongly implanted
in his spirit; but the love and self-devotion and
reasoning power which were absent or narrowly
limited in his brutal ancestors, and which grew but
slowly in them, now vigorously spring upward, gain
some measure of control of conduct, and prepare the
being for civilisation.

The point to which we have now attained in this
brief study as to the natural history of man enables
us to see how important to the student of government
is this knowledge, as to the ways in which his kind
came upon this earth. We see how the lower crea-
tures, with which we are most familiar, — the domes-
ticated animals, — have their nature determined by
that of their ancestors. We may thus judge of the
controlling influence of the inheritances which each
living being has as its guides in life; and also how
very far primitive men, or even those of to-day, are
affected by the qualities which they inherit from the
lower beings, whence they came. In fact, the life
of each one of us is full of ancient evil, derived from
the brutes, which is ever at war with the better and
THE ORIGIN OF MANKIND 11

higher qualities, — the true human part of our minds.
By no means all that has come to us from the lower
life is evil; much of it, indeed, is, when joined with
the larger affections and understandings which be-
long to us as men, of the best our nature affords.
But in the conduct of our individual lives, as well
as in the control of our societies, we have always to
remember that we have in us this mingling of the
old and the new life.

It is most important that the student of society
and of government should see and reflect on the
position of man in relation to the lower life, for in
that history is to be found the basis for a true under-
standing of the greater part of the evils with which
the reformers are ever contending, — evils which
make the business of securing a good government so
very difficult.

Our truly human quality points the way of life
towards high places, but the ancient brutal motives
are ever ready to drag men down to lower deeds,
those which were fit enough for the animals, but
which to men are a degradation.

Among the marvels of man’s nature and history
we must count as the greatest the fact that in what °
seems to have been his first distinctly human course
of conduct he began to subjugate his brutal propen-
sities, submitting them to the control of the higher
motives of his nature. The social order of even the
lowest society of savages shows us something of the
12 THE CITIZEN

sacrifice of animal greeds to the ideal of a govern-
ment which shall shelter and protect the members of
the community. Thence on to the highest results
yet attained by our societies. All advance has been
effected by the progressive increase in the power of
the better human qualities in controlling actions, and
by a corresponding reduction of the share which the
inherited brutal motives have in the lives of men.
At present in all well-ordered societies those persons
who by some ill chance have not attained enough of
the truly human spirit to master their animal pro-
pensities are regarded as idiots or criminals, and are
put apart from their more fortunate brethren.

In the advance of living creatures all the members
of a society do not go forward together. The estab-
lishment of each profitable innovation was effected
by some individual born with peculiar powers and the
desire to use them. In human associations the leader
goes forward, and the throng follows him. This is
as true in the great states of our time as in the primi-
tive tribes of the lower races of men. Each brave,
discerning person who sees some chance of improving
the state or mankind, and resolutely strives for it,
leads his people on the upward path. Whether his
work consists in some serviceable invention, in the
establishment of honest methods in public affairs, or
in the discernment of a higher truth in the field of
science or religion, his leadership is alike good. Its
nature rests upon the anciently established principle
THE ORIGIN OF MANKIND 13

that all advance depends on the coming of the master-
ful individual who shall show the body of his kind
their appointed way.

The exceptional nature of man’s history, as com-
pared with that of all other animals in past ages,
consists in the very great change in his mental qual-
ity without any considerable alteration in the charac-
teristics of his body. For all the great variety we
find in men as regards their moral and intellectual
character, they are in form so far alike that, not-
withstanding the diversities of colour and shape,
many naturalists who have given attention to the
matter regard them all as of the same species; the
different races, as the negro, the Indian, the Chinese,
the Caucasian, being counted as mere varieties of the
same stock. In fact, the body of man appears to be
essentially unalterable, while his spirit is endowed
with a very great capacity for change.

Although it will be profitable to the reader to
make a careful study concerning the relation of
mankind and the lower creatures, we have for our
purpose to limit the inquiry to the statements which
have been made in this chapter. The main points
are that the body of man, with all its manifold parts
and functions, has come to him through the lower
creatures, and that his mind has in large part been
derived from the same realm; the higher of its quali-
ties having been taken on since the human state was
attained. The result of this humanising process is a
14 THE CITIZEN

nature so distinct from the brute ancestors in its
spiritual quality that we must reckon it as in a new
realm, — one quite apart from that which contains
the lower life. It may at first sight seem puzzling
that man is here spoken of as at once very closely
akin to the brutes, yet widely separated from them,
but such combinations of relations and differences
are very common in this world. Thus the chemist
sees at every stage of his work that some slight
addition to a combination of elements may entirely
alter a compound. A difference in temperature too
slight to be measured can change substances, such
as water, from the liquid to the frozen or solid state,
or in other cases may bring about a change such as
the explosion of gunpowder. The question whether
a seed is to grow or to decay may likewise be de-
termined by inconceivably slight amounts of moist-
ure and heat. In fact, this world is full of just such
delicately poised conditions, in which very slight al-
terations of action bring about very great changes
in the course of events. A century plant may develop
for years until it has attained the stage at which it is
prepared to put forth for flower and seed. So ina
larger way it seems to have been with the coming
of man. The work of the millions of years before
this earth saw its master may be accounted as a
period of preparation. When all was made ready
the human nature began to unfold like a blossom.
CHAPTER II

THE BEGINNINGS OF GOVERNMENT

N this chapter we shall consider the beginnings
I of government as they are shown in the present

state of those peoples which are just entering
on the paths of advancement upon which our race
has travelled so far. The history of our own and
of other civilised folk shows that they have slowly
passed from a savage state to their present station.
A host of tribes have, fortunately for our informa-
tion, retained that lowly condition, so that we can
from them determine how our own ancestors began
their upward march.

The lowest. savages show us, what we know full
well from our individual experience, that man, com-
pared with the more vigorous brutes, as regards his
body is a very weak creature. His frame has little
to commend it for the rough uses of this world.
While his lower kinsmen are clothed with hair or
wool, so as to fit the climate in which they belong,
he is naked; while they have weapons for attack or
defence, hoofs, strong teeth, or claws, he is unpro-
vided with natural weapons. Moreover, owing to
the fact that he has been compelled to use his fore-
16 THE CITIZEN

limbs for other purposes, he has but one pair of legs
for motion; the result being that nearly every large
animal of the wilderness can easily outrun him. The
strength of man lies not in his body but in his mind;
in his intelligence, his capacity to plan actions in
relation to his needs, in his quick sympathy with his
fellows, and his understanding of the world about
him. Beginning as a weak animal, man made head
against the dangers and trials of the wilderness by
his inventive power, which enabled him to make
weapons and other tools. The spear tipped with a
flake of stone, such as flint, gave him a better
weapon than any claw or horn affords. The bow
and arrow, which came later, enabled him to strike
deadly blows from a distance. The possession of
fire, another distinctively human acquisition, made it
possible to provide utensils of baked clay and to
obtain better food. These and other similar re-
sources which nearly all savages command begin the
institution of property, and on this possession of
wealth rests, in a large measure, the development of
all the subsequent growth of society.

The first distinct step towards civilisation after
the beginning of the invention of weapons, tools,
and utensils, one of enduring importance, consisted
in the development of the family. On this depends
the care of children, and consequently the very life
of the people. It is impossible in this writing to
trace in any detail the interesting history of the
BEGINNINGS OF GOVERNMENT 17

family relations. Beginning on a grade little, if at
all, above the level of the beasts, it appears in many
cases to have come to depend upon some form of
marriage, in which the woman was often a captive
stolen from some neighbouring tribe; she was usu-
ally regarded as, in a way, a slave, yet with certain
definite privileges, which were often considerable, as
in the case of the women of certain tribes of Amer-
ican Indians, where the wives had a right to deter-
mine on the question of making war.

The family, from the time of its origin, has been
the unit by which societies have been organised; it
afforded the beginning of the associations among
men which led first to the tribe and then slowly to
the state. The natural affection of parents and chil-
dren extended to other and more remote kindred, so
that larger societies were formed, all the members
of which reorganised a common bond of kinship.
Thus the tribe was in effect an enlarged household,
more or less under the control of the chief in the
beginning elder of the clan. The sense of mutual
obligation, based on common ancestry, is among
most primitive folk very strong, as is shown by the
frequent custom of adopting the esteemed stranger
by some ceremony which indicates a mixing of his
blood with that of the people who admit him to
their ranks. To address an Indian politely, in the
manner of his people, he must be called by words

which mean elder brother or younger brother, all
2
18 THE CITIZEN

relations being with them dependent on kinship. If
the reader will compare this form of addressing the
stranger with that we are accustomed to use, he will
note an instructive difference. We use the terms sir
or mister both alike, indicating a formal confession
that the stranger is a man of authority and station,
but in no way denoting any blood relationship. This
apparently trifling difference in the forms of:courtesy
has a great meaning; for it shows a state of mind
that makes possible the growth of the state to a size
in which the idea of kinship of blood is lost, and in
its place is set the idea of relative station.

As soon as the tribe, by the efforts of its abler
men, gained in strength, it began that system of war
with other tribes which is the mark of the savage
state, and which has commonly persisted even among
civilised peoples. So long as men were fed by the
chase, which they usually did until a long time after
the tribal life began, the strife for hunting grounds
was the source of constant wars. Among most of
these primitives peoples some form of slavery was
common, and war was the natural means of winning
captives. Moreover, war is but another form of
hunting; it was a primitive, brutal amusement much
indulged in for the scalps and heads which might be
won, for the excitement which it afforded in the
preliminary dances or the feasts which crowned suc-
cess. In a certain measure war was an advantage
in laying the foundations of the early states. The
BEGINNINGS OF GOVERNMENT 1g

stronger tribes — those containing the ablest men,
those who could contrive the best weapons and lead
the warriors most successfully on their expeditions
— supplanted the weaker. It acted to select the abler
of the innumerable primitive tribes for control, and
so continued that principle of the survival of the
fittest which had operated in the lower life to lift
the beings towards the level of man.

The father in the tribal state of man was not only
ruler of his family, but, in most cases, he was also
priest; he led in the sacrifices and other religious
ceremonies. In time, and in most cases early in the
development of the people, the religious functions
came to be allotted to particular men. Yet priestly
authority was and is often retained as a part of
chieftainship among very advanced states. Julius
Cesar, by birth a man of high estate, was in early
youth made pontifex maximus, a religious title mak-
ing him the recognised head of the churches of his
country. Such spiritual headship is also, in a certain
way, claimed for the sovereigns of Russia and Great
Britain.

Among all early or primitive peoples we find some
recognition of powers unseen but influential on the
life of man. Savages, like better-instructed people,
try to shape ideas of the unseen forces which lead
to natural actions. There are two usual ways in
which they seek to explain such matters; in one of
these the forces of nature are supposed to be due to
20 THE CrTizEN

the action of unseen animals. Thus a common In-
dian explanation of the wind is that the air is moved
by the wings of a great, invisible bird. The idea of
these mysterious animals controlling the actions of
nature arises from the fact that the savage hunter
is constantly experiencing the strength and skill of
the creatures he hunts; he thinks much of them and
is disposed to exaggerate their powers. Another
common explanation of the actions that go on in
the world is the supposition that they are due to the
ghosts of the dead of his tribe, — men of strength
in their time who, after life, remain powerful for
good or evil. Various other beings, such as fairies,
elves, and giants, are also supposed to people the
unseen world, occasionally showing themselves to
man. These creatures of fancy are believed by
savages and half-civilised men to be constantly in-
terfering with man, sometimes for good, but more
commonly for evil, bringing ill fortune in the chase
or in war, drought, storms, earthquakes, and other
natural accidents as well as all diseases, and, in the
end, death.

It is difficult to imagine how much the savage and
even some apparently civilised men suffer from this
superstition concerning the ways in which the world
is ruled. Among such people a large part of their
thought is devoted to the task of defeating the efforts
of evil spirits and to soliciting the help of the good.
It is not surprising that a class of men becomes
BEGINNINGS OF GOVERNMENT 21

established among these deluded people, such as the
medicine-men of the Indians or the wizards of our
own ancestors, whose business it was to see to the
means by which the good and evil spirits may be
controlled. The sufferer from disease was subjected
to cruelties and even to death in order to expel the
demon which was supposed to possess him. Among
some savage tribes, as, for instance, in our American
Indians, the loss of life from this cause was very
great, perhaps greater than from their frequent wars.
There can be no question that next after war super-
stition and the accompanying sorcery was the most
oppressive evil of early peoples. In certain ways it
was the greatest of all curses, for the reason
that it might fall upon every man, woman, and
child of the community. At any moment a person
might be found guilty of being possessed of a
demon for which the treatment was usually a pain-
ful death.

The doctrines of the Christian religion properly
interpreted should have banished these grave super-
stitions from the greater part of the world, but the
fact that witchcraft was punished, that half-insane
women were executed by upright, God-fearing Amer-
ican churchmen, because they were supposed to be
possessed by the devil, shows that the highest reli-
gious motives were incompetent to overcome this
monstrous error. The only way out of this slavery,
in certain ways the most shameful that men have
me THE CITIZEN

been subjected to, was through the revelations of
science, which replaced the old notion of a world
controlled by a mob of contending good and evil
spirits by that of a world guided by the action of
uniform laws. This great task of explaining things
in the scientific way began with the ancient Egyp-
tians; more than four thousand years ago it was
extended thence to the Greeks, but this understand-
ing was lost with the downfall of the Greek civilisa-
tion, and was not in a fair way to be restored until
within the last three centuries. There are traces of
the old superstition left even in the most civilised
and educated communities, but it has ceased to be a
serious evil among the better-informed peoples.

It is not easy to estimate the importance of the
process of clearing away the ancient superstitious
view of nature to the development of man. The
true ideal of personal liberty on which all the better
life of men ‘depends could not be established until
this oppression was removed. Therefore the devel-
opment of natural science was a condition on which
real freedom depended. Under the earlier condi-
tions men whose lives were passed in superstitious
fear were naturally fit to be enslaved by their politi-
cal masters.

One other among the many conditions which made
for progress towards civilisation was the develop-
ment of the right to hold property. With the lowest
savages the idea of property was very limited; there
BEGINNINGS OF GOVERNMENT 23

was, indeed, little to which the notion could be ap-
plied. At first the man’s sense of possessions con-
cerned alone his arms, clothing, and ornaments.
There was no individual ownership in land; even
the food was a common store from which each mem-
ber of the society could take sufficient for his needs.
Gradually, as the tribe began to depend on agricul-
ture, the fields for tillage were each year allotted
for use on some basis of division by families. In
course of time the title to land, which originally was
supposed to belong to the chief, as the representa-
tive of the tribe, came to be more or less completely
in the hands of the tiller of the soil. Yet in some
countries the plan of common ownership is to this
day retained.

With the development of the arts individuals or
families began to have more personal property than
at first existed; flocks and herds became important
possessions; the invention of the loom gave stores
of cloth; every art, indeed, added to wealth and
served to develop questions as to property rights.
In the old tribal state the tribe itself or the chieftain
as its representative was supposed to have a kind
of right to all the goods of his people; but the more
men came to have of value, the more the notion of
individual rights began to be asserted, and so the
development of distinct property law began.

Some notions of justice serving to guide the chiefs
or head men in their decisions concerning wrongs
24 THE CITIZEN

done by one person to another appears to have been
in existence from the very beginnings of tribal life.
Such injuries were commonly atoned for by pay-
ments of various kinds made by the offender. So
that an idea of property existed even before wealth
began to accumulate, but it is to the extension of
personal possessions, which began when men aban-
doned the habit of living by the chase alone, and
betook themselves to tilling the earth, or to flocks
and herds, that we must attribute the development
of property law.

The development of property served to create in
man that idea of fixed rights and rules in the con-
duct of human affairs which has made civilisation
possible. The idea of absolute right, at first well
established in relation to possessions, was in time
naturally and easily extended to matters pertaining
to personal liberty. In this way the original despotic
authority of the chief or king over the bodies and
lives of his people became in time limited. At first
all these rules of conduct were traditional; but as
soon as the arts of writing were invented, as they
were in one or another form among all the peoples
which attained to civilisation, they were generally
recorded, and became the treasures of the states
which were so fortunate as to possess them. So
important was this record of the law that we may
fairly assume that a people entered on the plane of
civilisation when they had attained in their social .
BEGINNINGS OF GOVERNMENT 25

development to the point when their laws were writ-
ten down.

We have now glanced at a few of the most im-
portant steps which have to be taken in order to
lift the primitive animal man up the ways that lead
towards civilisation. At each step in the advance
of a people the system of government under which
they live profoundly affects their welfare; it may,
if it is fit, serve to help them on their way upward,
as has long been the case with the government of
the English-speaking peoples, or it may tend to
lessen the energy and courage of men, so that they
make no progress in the arts of life, as is the case
with countries which are under the Mohammedan
governments.

The first condition of a government is that it shall
be so ordered that while it secures the most com-
plete protection to the lives and property of the
people, it shall leave the largest possible freedom
to the individual. This ideal of liberty is slowly
developed; it is, in fact, the latest product of advance
in government, one that is just now, after centuries
of active discussion and contest, taking shape. This
matter of liberty — its nature, limits, rights, and
responsibilities — is so hard to understand and so im-
portant to a right view concerning the place of the
citizen, that we shall have to give it careful consider-
ation; it is the proper subject of the next chapter.
CHAPTER III

WHAT LIBERTY IS

P “AHE idea of liberty is very ancient. Never-
theless, it is not yet clear to the masses
of men what liberty or freedom means or

should mean to the citizen. To clear up this point
we must attend to certain features in the history of
man’s relation to government which have already
been referred to in the foregoing brief account of the
steps which led from savagery to civilisation.

In the early state of mankind the common man
was practically a slave to the head of his family or
to the chief who was the head of the enlarged family,
the clan. He was brought up to feel himself a sub-
ject, one who had hardly any rights that his superiors
were bound to respect. Much is said in fanciful
writings concerning the freedom of the savage. The
fact is that slavery of an abject kind is the lot of all
men in primitive societies; they are slaves to their
chiefs and to an endless array of superstitions and
customs. Gradually, with the development of wealth,
and of the law which comes therewith, the man began
to consider his rights; very slowly he gained an idea
of his own value as an independent being. The slow-
WHAT LIBERTY IS 27

ness with which this value of the man to himself, of
his right and duty by his natural powers, was estab-
lished even among abler folk, is indeed surprising.

To the men of the earlier ages the individual was
felt to have value only because he belonged to some
clan, state, chief, or king. The Roman’s boast was
not that he was a man, but that he was a Roman;
and in one or another form the ancients found their
right to esteem in that they belonged to some power
which alone gave them their place and value. With
the diffusion of knowledge concerning the nature of
man’s relations to the world about him, with a clearer
sense as to the history of his kind, and with the
broadening of the understanding as to the meaning
of laws, men began to question the rights of their
superiors. For thousands of years before the so-
called French Revolution, the growth in the art of
government had led to more and more bitter oppres-
sion of the common people. Every one in authority
above them used the various means of taxation to
seize upon their earnings. For all their days they
were taxed in money, or labour, or their lives were
given on battlefields for causes in which they had no
interest. At length there came a revolt against this
oppression.

There had been endless revolts all down the ages
in which the people withstood tyrants, but until the
middle of the eighteenth century these struggles
were, except in the case of the individual able men,
28 THE CITIZEN

on the part of conquered people against their op-
pressors, or of the lower classes against those in
authority; sometimes the cities fought the kings of
the land in which they lay, or a trade association
struggled, as in our time, to maintain its privileges.
But these contests, in almost all instances, were for
the rights of communities of men and not for those
of individuals. For a long time, however, the prog-
ress of human affairs had led to a higher estimation
of the citizen. Some of the features in this progress
we may well note in a brief way, as follows: —
In the Middle Ages the customs of war became
greatly changed from what they were in the Roman
times. Men no longer fought in serried ranks, in
some cases chained together, as in the later Roman
battles, but separately, in such a manner that there
was a place for heroism to do its part. Even the
lowest man had a chance, by the display of extraor-
dinary valour or skill, to win his way upward. The
extension of education through the church and other
schools, and the development of professions, also
gave a chance for men of ability, even if of lowly
birth, to achieve high station. The discovery of the
New World—the Americas—opened wide fields for
enterprising spirits where men were free to win their
way to wealth and power. Even more effectively
than these the advance in the understanding of the
world that science has given to man made for free-
dom. By the growth of such knowledge it came to
WHAT LIBERTY IS 29

be seen that the old idea that the world was a place
of mere accidents and iniquities, which was soon to be
consumed in a vast burning sent as a judgment of
God, was mistaken. In the place of this misconcep-
tion there began to arise in the minds of abler men
a sense of the nobility of human life and of the
dignity of the individual man. At first this enlarged
view of man’s place in nature was limited to a few
philosophers; it is doubtful, indeed, if the bettered
understanding would have made much growth had it
not been that a place had been made ready in this
country where such ideas could readily take root.

The growth of the English colonies in this country
gave to the men of our race the first good chance
for a great experiment in individual freedom. The
settlements brought together people who had the tra-
ditions of England, a country which had gone further
towards the enfranchisement of men than any other
land. Moreover, in the vast wilderness to which they
came, each man and woman had to summon up
strength and courage for the battle for life against
a host of enemies. They had to subdue the earth to
their uses; to shape a society; to build a civilisation
by their valour and skill. All the ancient framework
of authority was lacking; even the system of church
government which, in the Catholic settlements of
Canada or Mexico, held the people in some bondage
to the Old World, was absent, or, at least, did not
exist in an oppressive form in those parts of the
30 THE CITIZEN

colonies, which were of Protestant-English origin,
and which shared in the revolutionary movement.

The American colonies were in many ways pect-
liarly adapted to be the nursery of freedom not only
in the sense of independence of rulers, but in the
more important regard of individual liberty. Here
alone, in all the history of civilised man, had there
been a chance given to people of intelligence and
culture to emancipate themselves from the tyranny
of ancient institutions which, even in the best of the
old governments, reduced each person to the place
of a servant of a system. Even those of high estate,
not excepting the sovereigns, were thus hampered in
their actions, being in effect mere parts of a great
machine. Coming to a wilderness which could be
subdued to fertility, which afforded abundant oppor-
tunities for enterprise, in no wise restrained in their
activities, our forefathers gradually escaped from the
cramping influences of their ancient life. They be-
came accustomed to think and act freely, guided only
by the ideals which their religious and social tra-
ditions and their written law enjoined upon them.
They laid the foundations of commonwealths, but
the better part of their building was done in the
development of individual independence.

After more than one hundred years of existence
in a state of tolerable independence, the American
colonies began to feel the tightening reins of author-
ity. The mother country, at first careless of her
WHAT LIBERTY IS 31

far-away possessions, seeing at length that they were
destined rapidly to grow, undertook to reduce them
to some control, so that they might be of profit to
her. The steps which were taken were, as measured
by the customs of European states in reference to
their colonies, of a very mild sort. To a Spanish
colony the worst of the so-called British oppression
would have appeared as liberty, yet they led to a
determined rebellion.

It appears tolerably plain that the colonial Revolu-
tion was not so much a contention against the taxa-
tion which was laid on the people by a parliament
in which they were not represented, or against the
foreign governors who were sent as tokens of the
imperial authority, as an unexpressed, perhaps not
distinctly felt revolt against the system of privileges,
castes, and cther subjections of the individual man,
from which the colonists had become emancipated
and which they feared might again be thrust upon
them. It was the sense of personal government by
the well-meaning but very dull king, George the
Third, that exasperated the colonists even more than
the errors or oppressions of the British Parliament.
In a word, the American man had been so far eman-
cipated by his life of a hundred years in a new land,
where the institutions were to a great extent of his
own making, that he could not endure the methods
of the old world. He became a rebel because he had
outgrown the system of the mother country.
32 THE CITIZEN

The Declaration of Independence is a clear and
masterful statement of the conclusions to which the
thinking people of this country had come in their
long training in a large, free life. It said in a vig-
orous way the thoughts which had formed themselves
in the minds of these men emancipated from ham-
pering traditions, and free to consider the place of
the individual in his government apart from the old
bondage of customs. The key to this account of their
state of mind, which our forefathers thought fit to
give to the world, and which that world has well
remembered, is that “all men are born free and of
equal rights.” Much objection has been made to
this statement for the reason that it was written by
a man of the slaveholding class of Virginia, and
therefore has a certain element of untruth on its
face. Moreover, it is not at once clear what is
meant by rights, for, as is evident, the differences
of capacity with which men are endowed leads in a
natural and inevitable way to a great diversity in
what the world may properly give them. Thus, a
dull-witted youth may have no birthright to an edu-
cation such as might fairly be claimed as due to
one of large intellectual powers. Yet there for the
first time in the history of mankind do we find this
conception of the man as detached from the ancient
enslaving institutions which made for his oppression
in the societies.

The effect of this declaration of independence,
WHAT LIBERTY IS Se

though considerable in this country, has been even
more marked among other peoples than our own.
Here it merely embodied in apt phrases what had
long been firmly set in the minds of the people, and
which has ever since abided with them. In effect,
the trials of the Revolutionary War and the subse-
quent years of political activity reduced this procla-
mation among the people who put it forth to the
position of a revered literary monument, the reading
of which was not likely to convey much inspiration
to those who knew the best of it by heart before they
ever heard its noble phrases.

It was otherwise in foreign countries: to many
oppressed peoples, such as the Spanish colonies of
America and especially to the French, the American
Bill of Rights came as a revelation of political gospel.
The doctrine of freedom by birth had in a way been
established in England before the American Revo-
lution. In the mother country slaves were adjudged
free from the time they set foot on the soil; so, too,
equal rights before the law for all except sovereigns
had, long before our declaration, been effectively a
part of the English system; but to the less advanced
folk of continental Europe the ideas thus vigorously
stated and supported by successful war had a most
inspiring quality. Out of the stir which it made, or
helped to make, came the French Revolution, which,
beginning with fair promise, soon became a sad
travesty of the doctrine of freedom, equality, and the

3
34 THE CITIZEN

brotherhood of man. Other political movements, in
South America and Mexico, as well as in Europe,
have owed much of their spirit, if not their very be-
ginnings, to the example of our people set them in
1776, supported, as it has been, by the successes in
war and peace which came in its train.

Perhaps the most important motive of freedom
which animates our people and which is expressed in
the Declaration and in the more effective federal
Constitution has been due to the long-continued and
far-reaching discussion of liberty by many able men.
The discussion is indeed a very ancient matter, but
among the older writers it is usually either fanciful
or related to states of society or views concerning it
which are unreal, if not impossible. Only since the
American experiment has there been any effort made
to set the nature of liberty before the people in a way
to be helpful to those who are to live in the condi-
tions of a republic such as our own. The greater
number of these writings are based on the assumption
that society rests on a kind of contract which has
been in some way or other entered into by the citi-
zens of a state, and which binds them together much
as men are held in business engagements: that their
rights in the state and their obligations to one another
rest upon this agreement into which each person
enters at his birth.

It cannot be denied that there are rights and obli-
gations which bind men together in a government,
WHAT LIBERTY IS 35

but these elements of union are not to be reckoned
as founded on any ancient agreement, for such an
agreement has never existed; they rest upon the
nature of mankind. If our kind could be re-created
from the dust and newly set to the task of living
together, social and political bonds would doubtless
arise and come to be in quality as we now find them.
In other words, it is from within the man, and not
from without, that arise the shaping influences which
make the noblest thing of this world, — the perfect
citizen. Therefore, to understand the nature of lib-
erty each man must look within himself, examine
his motives, and learn how his desires have come
to be what they are. He must see how the ancient
animal selfishness and greed have, by the ordering
of Providence through the long ancestral training,
been so far subjected to the newer and better impulses
that the beast and savage have given place to the
religious man devoted to noble ends and willing to
sacrifice himself for the good of his kind; ready to
die in order to save his fellows from misery or to lift
them to a higher plane of life. Let us, then, see if
we can find in ourselves the qualities on which citi-
zenship rests.

Although it is not very easy, for a man to see into
himself, — into his mind, wherein is recorded the
most wonderful of all earthly histories, — the facts
which we have to note are so plain that it requires
no more than common insight to understand them.
36 THE CITIZEN

First of these is that every person who is not an
idiot, or who has not reduced himself to the state af
a beast by long-continued evil doing, has a natural
affection for his fellow-beings. Among the less
developed of our kind, with children and savages,
this love of the neighbour is limited to kindred and
other persons who are well known; but with the
advance in civilisation, and as a condition and test
of that advance, this sympathy goes forth first to the
other people of the tribe or state, then to all mankind,
and, in time, still further, though as yet among but
a few, to the lower creatures which with us share
the blessings of life. On this love of fellow-beings
who feel as we do has rested all the advance which
has led us out of the ancient darkness to the modern
day; on it has depended the association of individuals
in societies and states for mutual help. When and
in proportion as this motive is awakened, informed
by religion and by the understanding, it gives the
person the true citizenly motive, the desire to do
under the guidance of reason those things which
may best help his fellow-men.

At first among men this motive-of sympathy and
of self-sacrifice is weak; but as the savage goes on
towards civilisation, indeed, as the cause of the ad-
vance, it becomes ever stronger and more effective
in its helpfulness. So, too, in the child it is limited
to those just about him, and leads to no motive of
self-sacrifice; but as the youth comes to the dignity
WHAT LIBERTY IS 37

of manhood or womanhood this flower unfolds to
give beauty and sweetness to life, in time to yield
its good fruit in the citizenly quality. The mark of
this growth is found in the increased interest in
such things as we are now considering. The history
of our kind, the problems of government and of the
social order, which are beyond the comprehension of
the child, but become attractive as it passes towards
the adult, in fact, the true growing up of the mind
and soul, is as distinctly and inevitably marked by
these enlargements of the spirit as is that of the
body by its increase in size and strength.

It should not be supposed that these affections for
the fellow-men will perfectly develop of themselves
because of what comes to us from our ancestors, or
that which we insensibly take in from the life about
us. Some growth of the motives is, except in very
low people, sure to occur, but the fulness thereof
is only to be had by the exercise of these gifts. A
child may be born with a promise of health and
strength, but if kept in a prison and with but enough
food to maintain life it will never fulfil that promise.
So, too, with the love and understanding of the
. fellow-beings, these offerings will perish unless sus-
tained by their fit nourishment and exercise; the
more so than those of the body, for the reason that
they are not so firmly fixed in the inheritances of
man. Therefore every youth should have his mind
nourished by those things in the way of knowledge
38 THE CITIZEN

which will help him to know and to love his com-
rades of the present and the past. Such history as
tells us of the self-devotion of men, which has served
to make our lot good; such poetry as develops or
records the high-minded endeavours of those who
have striven to elevate the thoughts of their race, —
all indeed that shows us how we came up from the
level of the brutes to the dignity of citizens in an
enduring state is needed to awaken us to the full
sense of our duty by the heritage of human achieve-
ment which is committed in trust to our hands.

As the student gains in knowledge of human his-
tory, not that of princes and battles, which all too
often masquerades as history, but of the love and
self-sacrifice which alone have made for the ennoble-
ment of man, he will come of his own knowledge
to feel that true liberty in the largest sense rests
upon the right and duty of the man to exercise the
higher qualities of his intelligence for his own de-
velopment, and ever for the benefit of those who
may be bettered by his thoughts or deeds. He will
find that many kinds of men have been considered
heroic or, at least, have had the name of heroes in
the common reckoning.

If he examines into the lives of these famous
people, he will discover that the greater number of
them have lacked the quality of freemen, in that
they were slaves to their passions or to their selfish
desires, and that so far from their abilities being
WHAT LIBERTY IS 39

profitable to their kind, their lives were a curse to
humanity.

From this point of view it will be instructive
for the inquirer to compare the careers of George
Washington and Napoleon Bonaparte, men of the
same century, alike of commanding ability, and with
similar opportunities of leadership in revolutionary
periods of their respective nations. The one, our
own hero, gave himself with a single-hearted devo-
tion, without thought of recompense, to the grave
task of leading his people. Never taking a penny
for his services as a soldier, never seeking for pre-
ferment or authority beyond the limits necessary for
the performance of his obligations, he led his country-
men through many years of trial to the political free-
dom they coveted. Again, for eight years as their
chief magistrate, he helped them to order their in-
stitutions, so that their liberty might be affirmed and
secured for the generations to come. This task done,
he laid down his authority and betook himself once
again to the life of the planter, which he had regret-
fully left, in order that he might do the will of his
fellow-citizens. In every trait this is the history
of the ideal freeman; of the man liberated from
the enslaving influence of prejudices and of greeds,
and animated by an intelligent affection for his
fellow-men.

Against the truly heroic figure of Washington set
that of Bonaparte, doubtless the abler of the two, if
40 THE CITIZEN

ability be judged by mere mental power. Placed,
like our American leader, amid a great overturning
of his state, he used every opportunity that chance
and his sagacity gave him to gather the strength of
the tyrant. Mastering his people for his selfish pur-
poses, for a score of years he wasted them in merci-
less wars, which in the end cost the lives of more
men than dwelt within the limits of the United
States when Washington laid down his sword as
commander of the colonial armies. In this course
Bonaparte’s main aim was ever the increase of his
personal power and fortunes, and the aggrandise-
ment of his family; in seeking to attain these ends,
no considerations of fair dealing, much less of mercy,
found any place; his career ended with his country
in ruins, with no profit to his people for their sacri-
fices, and with his worn-out body a prisoner in the
hands of stronger, because freer, men. It may be
granted to those of to-day who are renewing the
worship of the Corsican adventurer that some im-
provements in the laws and other institutions of
France were due to his action; it is indeed true
that almost any intelligence as great as his is certain
to better in some respects the mere machinery of the
state which it controls; but rightly judged by the
standards of liberty and the patriotism which comes
therefrom, the life of that man was a curse to his
time and people, the greater because of his amazing
ability. Thus from a comparison of two men who
WHAT LIBERTY IS 41

“worked together in the affairs of mankind, we see
the difference between the ancient, selfish type of the
tyrant enslaved by himself and the modern hero, who,
freed from the bondage of greed, gives his strength
for the good of his kind.

Probably no one man has ever been able to do for
his country as much as Washington did in the term
of his service as Commander and President. The
opportunity was singularly large; it was met with
courage, judgment, and self-sacrifice, yet his life is
but a very noble example of what a man of fair but
not great intellectual ability may do for his people
if he be just, high-minded,. and sympathetically de-
voted to their best interests. When a man thus puts
aside himself he gains a power for good that no
inborn talent can possibly give him, for by dismiss-
ing his greeds he becomes fitted to act in the large
and free way which true patriotism requires. So
long as he seeks personal ends he can win only
transitory things, — goods which end with his life,
— which may indeed satiate and weary him before
he comes to die; but that which he does for others
lives after him.

So far as our country is better than other lands,
it is so because its better citizens have had the un-
selfish spirit of their great leader of a century ago.
All our hope of maintaining its high place depends
upon the succession of like citizens, who, animated
with the true spirit of liberty, may ever be ready to
42 THE CITIZEN

see to it that their fellows are likewise free; who
recognise that the test of freedom is the sense of
duty by the neighbour, or that throng of neighbours
we name the state.

It is hardly needful to say that the idea of freedom
which is here presented to the reader is akin to those
which enter into the Christian religion. The love of
the fellow-man, the desire to help him to the enjoy-
ment and enlargement of his life, is, in truth, at
once religious and patriotic.

The great question before the people of any free
state is whether they can keep the citizens in suc-
cessive generations so alive to the real nature and
duties of freemen that their commonwealth may be
maintained in its spirit. In a despotic state, one
which is fully controlled by the machinery of its
government, the engine of the state may continue to
work because it has been so contrived as to take
account of the prevailing selfishness of men; but in
a democratic republic the system reckons that a great
majority of the citizens are fully imbued with the
motives of freemen, and that they will ever manifest
the devotion of the public good which is character-
istic of those who know what true liberty is, and wiil
consecrate themselves to its interests. As soon as a
majority of the voters relapse into the condition of
the folk who dwell under despotic governments, we
may be sure that the state will become worse than
those which are ruled in the ancient arbitrary way.
WHAT LIBERTY IS 43

The question, therefore, which every American
citizen has to consider when he is about to enter on
the grave responsibilities which are to be conferred
on him is as to the ways in which he can do his
share to continue and enlarge the spirit of liberty
which has come to his day from the times before.
Not only must he seek to perpetuate what we have
of that free and dutiful spirit; he must strive to
enhance it, to deepen the sense of obligation by
public duty, and to bring it home to a greater pro-
portion of the people. As with other matters of the
mind, public spirit cannot remain in a fixed state; as
the price of living at all, it must continue to grow.
We will therefore consider what the youth of our
time should endeavour to do in fostering the liberty
which has been given them to cherish.
CHAPTER IV

ON THE SHARE OF THE AVERAGE MAN IN
THE STATE

S the writer well knows from the memories of
A his own youth, the spectacle which a young
man beholds when he begins his life as a citi-
zen is not such as is likely to encourage him to be-
lieve that he can do much to affect his country for
good or ill. There are at the present time about
seventy-five million people in the United States; of
these about forty million are adult men and women
who are effective in some measure in shaping the
society or its government. Nearly twenty million
have the right to vote, and thus may have an im-
mediate share in the conduct of the government;
among these hosts of what account is the life and
work of one man?

The answer to this question is easily made: no
person can clearly foresee what value his deeds may
have to his fellow-men; his responsibility goes no
further than his powers. If he acts unselfishly and
to the best of his ability for the good of his com-
rades; if he does all he can to inspire those about
SHARE OF THE AVERAGE MAN 45

him to do likewise, — his duty is done; the rest he
must leave to the Power above.

We should be careful to remember that public duty
is made up of the personal duty of the individual
members of the state. We are apt to get the notion
that the commonwealth is something apart from the
persons who dwell within it; only so far as each
and every man and woman lives in a fit way can it
be a common wealth. A rude but effective parallel
to the place of the average man in a state is to be
found in the position of a private soldier in the
ranks of an army. There, as in the state, he may
be one of a thousand or of millions, but his path of
duty is as clear, if not clearer, than if he fought
alone. He owes to himself and to his neighbours
the perfect and intelligent devotion of his strength
and courage as in a common cause. To the tasks
before him his duty is as obligatory as though he
commanded the host. His reward, in the peace of
mind that comes when his conscience tells him that
he has done for the best up to the measure of his
capacity, is as great as that of the commander.

The analogy between the duty of the soldier and
that of the citizen is defective in a way which should
be pointed out, though the reader may have seen it
already. The soldiers in the ranks have but to obey

orders
Theirs not to make reply ;
Theirs not to reason why;
. Theirs but to do and die.” -
46 THE CITIZEN

Thus the position of all but the commander of a
host has. only one likeness to the attitude of the
freeman; this is in the element of self-devotion
which may animate them. The duty and privilege |
of the citizen is to reason as to his conduct and to
debate all his plans of action with his neighbours.
On this account the habit of the soldier, which leads
to swift and unquestioning obedience, is very differ-
ent from that which inspires the citizen. As the
rulers of the European states well know, the best
way to keep their people in safe control is to subject
all the young men to military discipline in the years
when habits of mind are most easily formed; they
thus acquire the custom of implicit obedience to
command.

In the ranks of citizens each man is essentially a
commander: it is his to plan for the good of his
people and to act in their behalf to the measure of
his abilities; whether he be successful or no, he has
enriched himself by his endeavour. Success, in some
measure, is so certain to follow from any reasonable
effort to better the commonwealth that we may all
look forward to that reward. It must not be sup-
posed that to do good work by the state it is neces-
sary for a man to have the large public opportunities
which are afforded by a leader’s position or influence,
—such men as are needed to animate and direct
a people in times of grave difficulties. In abso-
lute governments, where the people have no effective
SHARE OF THE AVERAGE MAN 47

share in affairs, the whole direction of the state com-
monly depends upon leaders, or rather rulers, but in
a republic the plain citizen has to do his own think-
ing; he has really to direct the course of events.

So important is the work which is to be done by
the plain people of this country, that if it were in
our power to choose between having a hundred able
statesmen created for public affairs, or of bringing
into such work a hundred thousand men of ordinary
life who were engaged in private business, but who
would inform themselves concerning their political
duties and act on that knowledge in a dutiful way,
we would be compelled to select the last-named con-
tribution, for the reason that it would be more profit-
able to the commonwealth. .In the present condition
of this country the supreme need is for a great
number of men who have an understanding of lib-
erty, its rights and obligations, and who will, by
their speech and conduct, influence their neighbours
to acquire a like state of mind.

Those who know the state of our society have
often had chances to see how some one private citi-
zen has, in a way unnoticed by himself and by those
about him, so controlled the people of a“neighbour-
hood that they show the effect of his mastering mind.
The writer has often observed this admirable influ-
ence of some unrecognised patriot in the high grade
of citizenship noticeable in a rural community where
the little society was surrounded by people of.a very
48 THE CITIZEN

much lower quality. The blessed difference is indi-
cated in the way the men and women of the place look
upon the questions of private and public conduct;
in their devotion to those things which shape the
action of the adults and to guide the youth to the right
way. It is often possible to trace the good which
has thus been done to its source; if this be found it
is likely. to be discovered in the life of some plain
man who has had no recognised station as a political
leader, but who has had the quality of the patriot
guide in that he has seen what true liberty meant and
has set it before those about him. The man may
have passed away a generation or more ago, but his
deeds live after him to bless his people and to enrich
the state. These uncelebrated prophets of good gov-
ernment make the strength of the republic; all the
true and faithful leaders who are in high offices are
in a way their agents. As soon as our country comes
to depend upon its highly placed men for guidance,
it will lose its character as a democracy and descend
to the level of an oligarchy, —a state in which the
power does not arise from the people, but is in a se-
lected few who, by their superiority of wealth, birth,
or education, are able to control the government.
It should be noted that there is a natural tendency
in every republican government to run into either
of two kinds of danger: on the one hand, the unin-
formed, little-thinking masses of people moved by
whims or prejudices, stirred, it may be, by the cap-
SHARE OF THE AVERAGE MAN 49

tivating speech of demagogues to become the tools
of their greed or ambition. The result of this is
certain danger to the best interests of the common-
wealth. On the other hand, the people, losing the
true spirit of liberty, to keep which involves much
labour, carelessly leave the matters of their govern-
ment in the hands of those who find their occupation
and profit in public affairs. They get into the habit
of following their leaders blindly; they are apt to
look upon any criticism of them as disloyalty. In
such a state a commonwealth is on the road towards
an oligarchy, — a kind of government which is rather
more dangerous to the best interests of liberty than
a despotism pure and simple. These two dangers
of republican institutions are not limited to the work
of the state or federal government, they are equally
grave in our precinct, town, city, and other local
organisations; they are indeed rather more serious
in those lesser parts of our machinery than in the
* greater.

In the present condition of our country, even in
the most enlightened societies, it is too much to
expect that every voter will have the ability, the train-
ing, or the innate patriotic motives which will make
it possible out of his own spirit to win the support
for true liberty which the commonwealth needs. The
only way to preserve our institutions and to insure
their advance to a higher plane is to raise up those
leaders of opinion who, in all stages of human ad-

4
50 THE CITIZEN

vancement, have been the most effective guides of the
people. Into this army of the good every youth who
sympathises with the objects here set forth may of
right enter. If he takes his place and fills it man-
fully, he will have as his reward the assurance that
he is thereby serving his country as nobly and to as
good purpose as he could have done on any battle-
field or in any legislative hall. To fit himself for the
place of a leader of his people it is requisite that the
youth should gain a clear idea as to the history of
human society and the ways in which it does its
work. A general account as to how peoples came
to the exalted stage of civilisation has been presented
in the foregoing pages.

It now remains to set forth in outline the ways in
which our own system of government operates, its
advantages and defects, and the manner in which
the patriot may work to better its action. It is
clear that the first thing for one to do in making
ready for the duties of citizenship is to be sure that
he has a sufficient understanding as to what his
people have been striving for before his time, not
only what they have deliberately been endeavouring
to do, but, what is more important, the direction
which has been given to their actions, by them un-
planned, through the beneficent rule which controls
the world.

To gain a basis for the fuller understanding of the
patriot’s task the student should acquaint himself
SHARE OF THE AVERAGE MAN 51

with the history of his people. This should extend
at least as far back as the beginnings of English
history, and may well include something of the story
of the Jews, the Greeks, and the Romans of anti-
quity, and of the French, the Germans, the Spaniards,
and Swiss of modern times. English history is, to
the American, of first importance for the reason that
our speech, laws, modes of life, and ways of thinking
on political matters have come to us from Great
Britain, and have not been greatly changed in their
transfer from the old world to the new. The Spanish
and French histories are important as they show us
many instructive contrasts with our own, and also
for the reason that those nations shared largely in
the settlement of the Americas, and have left their
mark on many parts of our country. The history of
Switzerland is of value for the reason that it is the
one European state which has attained to a federal
republican government essentially like our own, mod-
elled, indeed, upon it, and which is in certain impor-
tant ways more successful than that of our United
States.

The study of American history should begin with
reading, which will give a clear knowledge of the
natural features of the country, — its climate, prod-
ucts of the soil, and under-earth and other condi-
tions which determine the fitness of the land and of
its several parts for the uses of man. If this reading
is done with the use of good maps, the student may
ce THE CITIZEN

gain a tolerably clear notion as to the characteristics
of the portion of the continent which has fallen to
the lot of his folk. The study will not only show
him the stage on which the people have played
their part, but it will enable him to understand the
diversities of their qualities so far as these ‘diver-
sities depend on the character of the world about
them.

On the above-noted foundation the history of our
people may be set. The study of this should begin
with the work of the explorers who first revealed
the wonders of the land to our race. There the
French have the first place. Their labours and
adventures are admirably told by the historian
Parkman. The French, as the record will show,
were as eminent as pathfinders of the wilderness as
they have been unsuccessful in winning it to their
empire. It is well worth while to note that they at
one time held, by the right of discovery and of some
slight efforts at settlement, the greater part of the
Mississippi valley, while the next important river
basin, that of the St. Lawrence, as well as the lands
about the gulf of that name, were theirs for more
than a century; yet this promising empire of the
early days of the colonies faded away before the
strength of the English people, and has left no trace
except it be in the presence of the French-speaking
people of Canada, and many names in the countries
from which they have vanished. St. Louis, Vin-
SHARE OF THE AVERAGE MAN 53

cennes, Des Moines, as well as the appellations of a
host of streams and lakes, recall the part France
once had in our country, as other names do that of
the banished Indians, with a startling suggestive-
ness of the incapacity of certain peoples to hold their
place in the struggle for existence.

The student may well consider the reason for this
failure of the French, who were so daringly success-
ful in exploring and planting colonies in the wilder-
ness of America, to make good their claim to the land.
He will find the answer in the fact that our English
people, where they settle in a new country, do not
found colonies in the common sense of the word, but
rather sow the seed of states which depend for their
nurture not on the sustenance of the mother country,
but on their own strength. It is this quality of those
of our race and speech which has lined the shores of
the seas with their establishments giving them do-
minion of the fairest parts of the earth; assuring
them dominance of it so long as they hold to the
kinship of race and purpose which should knit them
firmly together.

The colonial history of this country needs to be
understood, at least as regards its outlines, in order
to see how the original diversities of population and
motive became, by the state-making ability of our
English people, converted into a true nation having
a more really united character than has ever been
given to any like numbers of folk. Interesting and
54 THE CITIZEN

instructive as is the story of our revolutionary period
and of the development which has come about since
that time, including the vast struggle of the Civil
War, that of the earlier days has even more to tell
the student of liberty, for there he may see the first
and shaping stages of its American development.
On the sturdy independent motive of the Puritan
English of the mother country, as shown in Hamp-
den and his fellows, he may see arising the larger
feeling as to the position of men which in the end
found its expression in the phrase that rings the
world round, — “ All men are born free and of equal
rights.”

Every young American should learn the steps by
which the colonies worked their difficult way to an
effective union of the originally distinct settlements.
In most American histories the writers have given
much attention to the Revolutionary War, as if that
were the principal matter of the struggle to found
this nation. Interesting as were the military inci-
dents of the Revolution, they differed in no important
respects from those of many another conflict. More
brilliant campaigns, more heroic endurance of trials,
greater sacrifices in the cause of country, can be found
in the records of other states and times. The really
admirable part of the story begins when the patriots,
having won their independence after some years of
war, came to the task of uniting the several colonies
so that a nation should arise where before there were
SHARE OF THE AVERAGE MAN 55

separate and contending states, the people of which
had in their earlier days been much given to disputes
with one another. Then began a memorable and
truly American work, one in which we may justly
take. great pride, for the like of it was never before
done. From their failure to meet successfully just
such needs as the founders of our republic dealt with,
Greece fell before the power of Rome, and many a
modern country, such as Germany, Holland, and Italy,
long remained the prey of foreign invaders.

To know how our federal Constitution came to
exist is to understand the ideals of our government.
The whole scheme of that contract is singularly
original; it came from men who had learned prin-
ciples of liberty; particularly, that political freedom
involves a recognition of the rights of men and
demands a very clear and unalterable definition of
those rights. It is most important that the student
should trace the debates that led to the adoption of
the Constitution, for they show him how the shapers
of our government laboured to frame that masterly
piece of statecraft.

The history of this country after the adoption of
the federal Constitution is principally interesting and
important to those who are preparing themselves
for the duties of citizenship from two points of view.
The first of these concerns the foreign policy of the
country, the second the relation between the states
and the federal government, and as an incident to this
56 THE CITIZEN

*
the long, and in the end fatal, debate concerning the
institution of slavery. On these two great questions
every American citizen should be informed, for on
them has depended the greater features in the history
of his country.

The foreign policy of this country was determined
not by any terms of the Constitution or any laws, but
by the common consent of the very able and patriotic
men who guided our affairs in the time when the
principles of our government were being formed.
These statesmen knew the effects to be expected from
a mingling of this country in the contests between
great ‘states of the world for colonial possessions
which lead to war as their usual, indeed, we may say
necessary, result. Thus, when in his farewell address
at the close of his second term as president Wash-
ington advised his countrymen to beware of en-
tangling alliances with foreign powers, he expressed
the convictions of the leaders of his time. In the
term of his successor in the presidency there came
a singular test as to the willingness of our people to
follow the advice of their great leader in the matter
of foreign relations. During our Revolution France,
as the price of the help she gave the revolting colo-
nies, required them to agree to take up arms against
Great Britain on any occasion when she should be
at war with that country. The condition was pre-
posterous, yet it was accepted by our people in the
way in which men in dire need will agree to terms
SHARE OF THE AVERAGE MAN 57

that they cannot morally make binding on those that
are to come after them. When the demand came
that we — then at peace with the mother country —
should attack her, the authorities of the United States
refused to keep the contract. The whole matter was
very humiliating, but it was useful, as it served to
fix the determination of the people not to enter into
the politics and wars of the states on the other side
of the sea. Thus they avoided among other ill
chances the dangers which are brought about by
great standing armies.

Having determined on a policy of peace with its
sister nations, our country has adhered to it in a
tolerably consistent way, having engaged in wars
with foreign peoples only thrice in more than a cen-
tury. More than once it has had to chastise the
barbarians of distant parts of the world, as in the
case of the Algerian pirates who preyed upon our
commerce as they had done with impunity on that of
the ‘European states for centuries. We have like-
wise had many little creditable though inevitable
conflicts with our American Indians, who naturally
resented the western movement of our people. Only
in one case, that of the Mexican War, have we de-
liberately entered on the paths of military conquest.
In this affair we won much territory, including Cali-
fornia, but for all that we lost in honour. The inci-
dent was as discreditable to the nation as all such
preying of stronger states on the weaker is sure to
58 THE CITIZEN

be, and the profit from it in accessions of territory
cannot redeem our action.

The main debate concerning the relations between
the federal government and the several states as to
the measure of the powers belonging, under the Con-
stitution, to the one and the other, began with the
framing of the federal Constitution. The separate
colonies disliked to give up their independence to a
government which was not yet definitely in exist-
ence, to which they could not feel much patriotic
allegiance, and from which they feared some kind
of tyranny. Therefore it was necessary to leave this
matter as to the sharing of powers in a rather in-
definite form; a somewhat ill-defined union of the
colonies seemed then and perhaps was in fact better
than none at all. Time, however, showed the inev-
itable danger of making contracts where the condi-
tions of the most important part of the matters are
left unstated. From the year the Constitution was
ratified by the several states until 1861, there was
an unending strife as to the right of the federal
government to compel a state to obey any of the acts
of Congress, a large party holding that a state could
refuse to accept or nullify any such act at its pleasure.

If the United States had been a really united body
of people, it is likely that the question of state rights
would have been settled by the common consent as
to the advantages of a strong federal authority. But
the institution of African slavery, which originally
SHARE OF THE AVERAGE MAN 59

existed throughout the country, had become practi-
cally limited to the so-called southern states, divided
the people in habits of life and thought, as well as in
business interests, into two naturally hostile camps.
Those of the slaveholding states saw clearly that
their system of labour was threatened by the more
rapid growth of the free commonwealths of the
north, and that the rising sentiment against slavery
would in time lead to an overthrow of the institution
by some form of federal action. Thus the states’
rights question, in itself a matter of grave moment,
one that needed much consideration, became en-
tangled with the fate of an institution which from
the beginning was seen by all right-minded people
to be a curse to the country, one which had eventu-
ally to be cleared away.

The debates concerning the unhappily mixed ques-
tion of states’ rights and slavery constitute what is
perhaps the most interesting chapter in the history
of the nineteenth century. It is well that every citi-
zen should be familiar with them, for in no other
way will he so readily come to understand the quality
of his people, or see how the spirit of the mass of its
citizens expresses itself in deeds. We will see how
the contest against slavery, beginning with a few
plain people outside of politics, mostly Quakers, grad-
ually appealed to the body of the citizens of the non-
slaveholding states, who were in general determined
that the area of slavery should not be extended, and
60 THE CITIZEN

that so far as might be it should be put in the way of
extinction. In no other country has a moral purpose
been so effectively accomplished.

The armed resistance of the greater number of
the slaveholding states after their effort to separate
from the Union, ending in the overthrow of the revo-
lutionists, showed the capacity of our folk to meet
grave internal troubles in a vigorous way; still more,
it indicated the willingness of the people of the whole
country, Northerners and Southerners alike, to pay
with their lives for their convictions as to principles
of government. The men of both sides were ani-
mated by patriotic convictions as to their duty by
their commonwealths. As far as war can be so, the
struggle was honourable alike to victor and van-
quished. The student may, if he please, acquaint
himself with the history of the campaigns of the
Civil War, but except he desires to study the matter
from the point of view of military science, a very
difficult branch of learning, or to obtain an idea of
the valour of his people, they will not repay him for
his trouble; the time and labour had much better
be given to the political history of the period which
contains a great deal that every American needs to
know.!

1J am glad to see reasons for believing that our people are very
properly neglecting the military history of the Civil War. I recently
asked, in succession, one hundred intelligent young people, all of whom

might reasonably be supposed to have a fair knowledge of the history
of their country, for information concerning the battle of Perryville or
SHARE OF THE AVERAGE MAN 61

The most interesting result of the Civil War, next
after the extinction of slavery and of the doctrine of
nullification, is to be found in the fact that the essen-
tial principle of states’ rights came forth from the
conflict unchanged, the states being left with their
old and fit share of power with their partial inde-
pendence as states. In no other instance has a con-
flict such as that of our Civil War so little harmed
or even changed the institutions of a country. In
most cases such struggles result in great alterations
in.the nature of the government and the rights
of the people. It is an admirable proof of the
sagacity and statesmanship of the founders of our
nation that the storms of war left the structure
which they built uninjured. The only evident per-
manent effects of the trial was to free the slaves and
to give an opportunity for new life to the southern
states, which had been sorely hampered by the evils
of the slaveholding system.

American history is so complicated and so full of
details that few citizens can afford the time to be-
come familiar with it; but if the student will make
himself acquainted with the work done in forming
Chaplin Fork. No one of them had ever heard of the place, yet it was
the scene of a remarkable conflict, one in which about eight thousand
men were put out of the fight in less than two hours, and where the
conditions of the action were, from a military point of view, most
extraordinary. The slaughter was so swift that more men were killed
and wounded in a like short time and with like numbers than in any

other battle in modern days. The loss was about as great as it was
during the whole Revolutionary War.
62 THE CITIZEN

the Federal Union, with the attitude of our nation
towards foreign countries, and with the history of
the slavery conflict, including the matter of states’
rights, he will have sufficient clues to the course of
our national affairs. It may be well also for him
to trace the history of the money problems in this
country, and the dealing of our government with the
Indians, whom we were forced to drive out of their
lands in order to win room for our increasing popu-
lation. Neither of these records is pleasant reading
to an American, for they both abound in follies and
disgraces. The first of these unhappy experiences is
over; the Indians have been forced upon the lands
which are allotted for their occupation and compelled
to keep the peace; the long conflict with them is at
an end. The second question, that which relates to
money, is now that which most exercises our people.
Unfortunately, it is, of all the problems which a
government has to face, the most difficult; the
trouble with us is that it has to be dealt with by
a popular vote, while it needs the judgment of the
best-trained financiers, of men who are experts in
the matter, for its proper ordering.

As the student follows the history of this country
he will do well to note the fact that in all matters
relating to the liberty of the individual and to the
development of his powers by education, great suc-
cess has been attained, —a success which is far more
distinguished than that which has been won in
SHARE OF THE AVERAGE MAN 63

any other country except, it may be, in Switzerland,
where the development of free institutions and of
free men has been going on for a much longer time
than with us, and where the results are fairly com-
parable with our own. The failures with us have
been mostly in matters which, though important,
such as the economy of our government, the ap-
pointment of officers, and the management of the
political parties, are less essential than those which
relate to the intelligent freedom of the citizen. Given
true national liberty with its attendant love of right
doing and keen sympathy with the needs of the
fellow-man, we may be sure that the way to better
these ills will be found.

From this glance at the main course of our gov-
ernment — it should be understood that it is rich —
we shall now turn to the second part of the subject
of this book, wherein we may consider the practical
conduct of the citizen in his every-day relations with
his fellow-men, which relate to public affairs. The
examples of duty which we shall have to consider
will often lead us back, to the history of land and
people; few things in politics or statecraft, or, for
that matter, in any field of action, can be understood
without knowing how they came to be as we find
them.
CHAPTER V

THE PRACTICE OF CITIZENSHIP

HE true value of all a man may know or

think concerning the rights and duties of
the citizen consists in the application he

may make of his knowledge and thought to the
work of the state in which he dwells. It is not too
much to say that even as a man cannot become an
athlete by meditating on gymnastics, so he cannot
become an effective patriot by the mere accumula-
tion of information concerning public affairs, or of
his good-will towards his fellow-men. To attain any
valuable result, the man must persistently act for the
good of his people. There is a common and very
harmful notion that in order to do public service a
man must hold some public office. The truth is that
the best work of this nation, that which controls the
quality of its people, is done in their households, in
their local associations, relating to churches, etc.,
and in the lowest — should we not rather say high-
est — stages of governmental work, that of precincts
or towns. In these fields of activity the spirit of
the freeman is made; if the making is there well
done, that which comes from the legislatures may
PRACTICE OF CITIZENSHIP 65

be trusted to have a like quality; if the local life be
not of a high citizenly character, all the constitutions
and congresses in the world will not give the people
true freedom.

To get an idea as to the value of local life of a
people in relation to liberty, the reader will do well
to look into the condition of the so-called republics of
Central and South America, — states which, in their
constitutions and their laws, are almost exactly like
our own. They too were revolting colonies which,
on attaining their independence of Spain, adopted
the system of the government which originated in
the United States, with the idea that the likeness of
constitutions would give them the same good result
that had been won with us. Not having the spirit of
true liberty which makes free states, these Spanish-
American countries have never become true repub-
lics. They are governed by a ruling military class,
the masses of the people having no effective share in
the control of the state. The elections are to a great
extent mere shams. The presidents are usually des-
pots. The power which is not in the hands of the
usurping tyrant is in that of men who form an
oligarchy, or, in other words, a governing aristoc-
racy, the members of which do not come to their
place by inheritance, but because they have gained
wealth or station. These countries are now merely
pretending to be democracised; it may be that in
time they will through education create the freeman

5
66 THE CITIZEN

who may make their constitutions and laws have
real meaning; at present they show that the men
of a republic must exist before a state of that quality
can be made.

As the basis of his understanding of local gov-
ernment the student should consider the household.
That, as has been noted, is the necessary basis of
government; it has ever been the cradle of all the
qualities which make for high citizenship, — the pri-
mary school where the youth acquired the essentials
of thought and action. In the home the youth learns,
if he is ever to acquire it, the habit of kindly and
free understanding with those about him, on which
all true citizenship rests. He then learns the great
lessons of obedience to superior wisdom, to the
authority of those who have to be masters because
it is for the time their duty to manage the little
state beneath the family roof. The consideration
one for another; the daily reward of mutual labour;
the subjection of individual desires to the common
good, —are lessons of the home which are to be
applied to the work of the larger commonwealth.
Therefore the first care of the citizen, a truly states-
manly care, is by the household of which he forms
a part. We may well take note of the important
truth that in all structures of any kind there is some
unit which is the basis of its existence. Thus in all
matter we have the enduring atom with its unchang-
ing characters; in every animated body its cells; in
PRACTICE OF CITIZENSHIP = 67

our frames, as in all the higher animals, these cells
are combined into organs, which by their qualities
afford the higher life.

In the structure of the state the household or
home is the unit of development. So long as it is
strongly united by the ties of affection and inspired
with the motives of duty, education, and religion,
the society which rests upon it is secure. Thus in
the case of the southern states which were brought
to utter political and financial ruin at the end of our
Civil War, — a ruin more disastrous than that which
has overtaken any civilised country in modern times,
for the reason that it involved the complete over-
throw of the labour system of the region, — the
quick recovery of the people from the appalling
disaster was due to the fact that the households were
of a high type and were unbroken by the shock.
They were ready to send forth young men and
women fit to meet the trials of the new life of
labour and self-dependence. Owing to this good-
ness of the homes in the ruined confederacy, a qual-
ity which they shared with the other parts of this
country, and owing to the blessed fact that the home
is the most indestructible of all the institutions of
men, this unhappy portion of our land in greater
part recovered from its losses within twenty years
after the end of the war. It may fairly be said that
any country of which the homes are strong enough
to make it suited for a democratic government could
68 THE CITIZEN

survive the destruction of all its institutions and all
its property beyond the walls of the households, with
the certainty that the people would quickly restore
their losses.

Therefore it may not be said too strongly that the
first duty of the citizen is by the home which brought
him up to his station; his care should be to preserve
and strengthen it in every way he can. Whether he
be the head of the household in which he dwells, or
only a subordinate member of it, he should regard
his life therein as a continued and effective opportu-
nity to support the commonwealth. In the field of
larger politics the most sincere and arduous en-
deavours are likely enough to result in failure, but
in the household every worthy effort bears fruit in
the enlarged quality of its members and their in-
creased fitness for the duties of the citizen. This
field of the home is not only the most profitable for
patriotic labour, but it is by far the easiest in which
to win good results, for the gain depends on simple
and easily attainable things, on sympathetic helpful-
ness, forethought for others, and in care for their

* instruction.

Next above the household, in order not of value
but of magnitude, comes a larger governmental unit
which, in different parts of this country, varies much
in name and nature. In New England it is the
town with its admirable government by parliaments
of the voters, and by their delegates, the selectmen.
PRACTICE OF CITIZENSHIP 69

In other country parts of the United States it is the
town, precinct, parish, hundred, or school district;
where these divisions are lacking or of no account,
the lowest stage of formal government is the county.
In all these governmental arrangements which are
nearest to the people the aim of the machinery is to
perform those services which are of immediate im-
portance to their ordinary needs, — the care of schools
and libraries, of roads and bridges, of paupers, the
police, public halls, burial places, etc. It should in-
clude matters relating to health, water supply, and
the ornamentation, or at least the prevention, of
defacement of the locality.

Only where the New England town system exists
do we find the local governments of this country in
its best shape to do the work which falls to them.
In that system the voters, assembled in town meet-
ing, debate all the projects which are brought before
them for consideration. Of these one is commonly
held each year to determine the general policy of the
town, and for voting taxes, as well as for the elec-
tion (in some states) of town officers. Others to
deal with emergencies may be held on the demand
of a certain number of the citizens. This system is
admirable in many ways: in the first place, for the
reason that it is a government by the parliamentary
method, or, as the word means, by a free discussion
of things proposed to be done; in the second place,
it gives every voter a chance to take an intelligent
70 THE CITIZEN

share in the control of public affairs, not by the
choice of representatives, but by his own direct
action.

So long as the towns are small, having, say, not
more than five hundred voters, the New England
system is by far the best method of local govern-
ment that has ever been contrived; it combines the
advantages of directness and publicity in the manage-
ment of the interests of the people with a training
of the citizens in legislation which is of very great
value to them. Unfortunately this institution is lim-
ited to a small part of this country, the greater
portion having the local governments so organised
that the people merely elect their masters, such as
those having charge of the schools, commissioners
who have to do with roads, etc., or the officers
charged with town government, such as the council-
men or aldermen, leaving to them the decision of
all matters, and with no other control or immediate
criticism of their actions than what is given by the
power to put in new men at the next election. It is
very much to be desired that the town parliament
method should be extended throughout this country.
In the greater number of our states it will require
no considerable attention in the constitutions to bring
this change about. We may, perhaps, look to some
patriotic young man who reads these words to be the
leader in this important reform in the method of
local government, which is so necessary in all parts
PRACTICE OF CITIZENSHIP 71

of this country which lie to the west and south of
the Hudson River.

As before remarked, a democracy founded on well-
conditioned homes can be made to work with almost
any kind of governmental machinery, but that which
has been provided for it in American communities
where the town of the New England type does not
exist is about the worst that could be contrived. It
is the survival of the English parish system, in which
a few important men selected by birth, by appoint-
ment, or by the choice of the church members, were
given authority in such measure that the common
people of the locality had little to do with their own
affairs. Until a reform can be brought about which
will perhaps be difficult to accomplish, there is noth-
ing to do but to make the existing conditions give
the best possible results.

In the cities of this country the methods of local
government are even more defective than in the rural
districts. In these large towns the numbers of people
are so great and they know so little of one another
that it is almost impossible to obtain anything like
a democratic government such as depends upon the
sympathy and mutual understanding of the citizens.
This difficulty in the management of our cities calls
for all the skill of our patriotic men in order to keep
the people who are crowded into them from losing
all the qualities of true freemen.

The statements which have just been made con-
7a THE CITIZEN

cerning the conditions of our local governments
apply with even more force to those of the next
higher stage in the machinery, —that which has
control of the counties. In the counties of the
United States we have a curious survival, in name
and nature, of an English system which dates from
feudal times, when the lands were partitioned among
chieftains. These men ruled much as independent
sovereigns, owing only a certain limited allegiance
to their king. When this system was broken up,
the crown appointed a lord-lieutenant to be the head
man for each of these ancient dominions, which still
remained separated from each other in many im-
portant ways. When, in the time of Elizabeth and
of her immediate successors, the beginnings of the
American colonies were made, there was the influ-
ence of old customs to lead men to make the main
divisions of their states by counties, and to adopt,
so far as might be, the method of governing them
which existed in the mother country.

Very naturally the American county came to have
its officers elected by the people. The court-house
in the shire town, with its place of public records, its
county court offices, its commissioners charged with
the care of public property, were elected; but as the
counties were generally large and the matters in the
hands of its officers not easily to be scrutinised by
the people because they were remote from the seat
of government, and especially as there is little or no
PRACTICE OF CITIZENSHIP 73

opportunity for public debate concerning the admin-
istration, this part of our local government by coun-
ties has not proved successful, and may well be
termed a failure. Where the town system exists, as
in the northeastern states, and the county authorities
have little to do except with such matters as courts
and records, and the charge of the main roads and
the public buildings, this method of government is
not so distinctly bad; but when the local affairs,
save it may be the district schools, are managed from
the shire town, the system often leads to inefficiency
and to the neglect of local needs, evils from which
the county governments in this country very gener-
ally suffer.

In undertaking to do his fit share in that part of
his government which is next his hand, the citizen
should make himself familiar with the ways in which
its work is done. If he has been so fortunate as to
have been born in a region where the parliamentary
town system exists, he is likely to have made the
acquaintance of that method, at least so far as the .
annual meeting goes, for the boys usually have a
chance to hear the debates. If, as is most likely, his
lot has been cast in a part of the country where the
local government is not thus carried on, he will have
to learn the way the machine works at second hand,
by watching how the business is regulated by the
officers elected to care for it.

As soon as the citizen is of age to have a vote, he
74 THE CITIZEN

should at once begin to take his share, not alone as
an observer, but as an active member of the body of
voters. To do his duty by this task, as by any other,
he should proceed to study the ways in which he
can make his work count in the most effective man-
ner. Here comes in the element of judgment in
public affairs which all need to acquire, and which
may best be gained in action. It is not easy to advise
in this matter, but there are certain indications of
value which may be given.

In any community it is easy for any educated,
patriotic citizen to see certain evils which should be
remedied. It may be a road that is in such condition
that it is a burden on the farmers and to others who
have to use it; a school that is not doing the work
it should, or perhaps some “ring” or set of people
who are mismanaging the public affairs. There is

‘

no better task for a young man who would begin his
citizenly duty than for him to set about the reform
of the first evil in public affairs that it may seem in
his power to remedy. In no other manner will he so
quickly learn something of public business, and es-
pecially of the difficulties which beset the efforts of
the reformer. He is likely enough to fail in his first
efforts, but the history of government shows full
well that any earnest, patriotic man may hope so to
impress his fellow-citizens that they will follow his
lead, provided he makes the path of duty plain to
them.
PRACTICE OF CITIZENSHIP 75

Where the citizen essays reforms he will find that
the chance of success depends upon his ability to
convince a number of his fellows that the cause he
has espoused is just, and that it is their duty to devote
themselves to that cause; he must in a sense form
a party. We shall have to consider in a somewhat
detailed way the relation of the citizen to parties in
the common meaning of the word; it need only be
said here that all democratic action in the way of
reform or betterment has to be brought about by the
creation of temporary parties; that is, associations of
persons who work together for a common end. In
fact, the first and most admirable task of the patriot
is to learn the art of persuading his neighbours to
join him in making improvements in the affairs of
his neighbourhood. He not only accomplishes the
particular betterment, but he trains himself and his
associates in the best of political art. There is no
place in this country which does not afford ample
opportunities for the exercise of patriotic duty in
such work. It is well to remember that any demo-
cratic society that is not improving is sure to be going
backwards. It is only where the people are con-
stantly exercised in reforming their society that they ©
have a chance to develop the qualities of patriotism
that serve to keep it alive.

The opportunities of the citizen in relation to the
government of his state, and to the nation of which
the state forms a part, are more limited than are
76 THE CITIZEN

those which come to him from the locality in which
he dwells. In local affairs he sees the needs with
his own eyes, and may act in a direct way; in the
matters relating to the wider field he has to judge
by hearsay and to act with such a number of people
that his personal influence is less than he might hope
for in local affairs. Fortunately the questions which
come before the state and national governments,
though important, are less vitally so than are those
which concern the towns, cities, or other parts of the
political machinery which are in immediate contact
with the people. It is in general true that the
nearer the government to the man, the more it may
affect his honour, his property, or the other condi-
tions of his life. Therefore, while the state and
federal governments suffer most from a lack of
scrutiny by the people who maintain them, the evils
which thus arise are usually less important than
they would be if they befell the local parts of the
system.

In the states of this country the principal duty
of the state government is to maintain the system of
the courts, to care for the prisons and asylums, and
to have general charge of the corporations which do
business within its limits, such as the railways, man-
ufacturing companies, etc. The states have also
more or less to do with the public-school system,
taking general charge of this part of the educational
machinery. In some states their governments under-
PRACTICE OF CITIZENSHIP a

take public improvements, such as building main
roads; where the territory borders on the sea or the
Great Lakes the authorities have charge of such
harbours as are not, because of their importance
in relation to foreign commerce, in the control of
the federal authority; so, too, in matters relating to
public health, the states have of late years generally
come to exercise a certain amount of control, in
order to suppress plagues among cattle and epidemics
among men; for this reason they may have authority
over the sources of water supply, and allot them to
the localities where they are needed. Experience
shows a prevailing tendency in this country for the
states gradually to do more and more of ‘the work
which originally belonged to the local governments,
that is, the towns and counties. In the main, this
change has proved beneficial, yet it has the danger
that the work thus done is kept out of the sight and
mind of the people who pay for it and who should
care for it.

The only way to meet the danger which is incurred
from having a large part of the work of a govern-
ment done at a distance from the people is by exer-
cising a peculiar care as to the character and ability
of the men who are chosen to represent the people;
this care is very necessary as regards all those to
whom authority is delegated, but it is peculiarly so
in those cases where the work is done as it is in
our state and federal legislatures, under conditions
78 THE CITIZEN

which make it wellnigh impossible for the private
citizens to have any real knowledge of what laws
are made, and how they are likely to affect the
people.

The difficulty which exists in a citizenly oversight
of the state governments is even greater in the matter
of federal legislation, for the Congress of the United
States is very remote from the people. The mem-
bers of the Senate are not chosen by direct vote, but
by the state legislators, each for a term of six years.
It is therefore not to be expected that these senators
will be known at all by any considerable number of
the people. The members of the lower federal house
represent on an average about two hundred thousand
citizens. They are about as little known to their
constituents in a personal way as the members of
the Senate. This is to be regretted, for the condition
of an ideal or even a sound democracy is a close,
sympathetic understanding between the plain citizen
and the man he chooses to care for his interests in
places of authority. These evils are in the nature of
things; in a small country it is possible to hold to
the early, simple ways in which each citizen might
know the man to whom he intrusted his rights, his
property, and his share of the national good repute;
with our people, ever increasing in numbers, we have
constantly to trust more and more to such imperfect
control as we may be able to keep over the members
to the state and national legislatures, by turning out
PRACTICE OF CITIZENSHIP 79

men who do wrong rather than by putting in men
who we know will do right.

The most effective control over the conduct of
legislators is to be found in the generally patriotic
motive of American citizens. With comparatively
few exceptions, the men who have the ability which
enables them to attain such stations are naturally
desirous of doing faithful service. Except when
self-interest prompts them overmuch, or when they
have become mere servants of a party, they are likely
to do their duty according to their light. Although
our partisan newspapers are much given to denounc-
ing the representatives who belong to the party they
oppose, it is the opinion of those who are in a position
to form a fair judgment in the matter that these men
are usually trustworthy, and that their errors are
with rare exceptions due to excessive party spirit,
or to an inability to comprehend large matters of
government. Nevertheless, it is evident that our
federal Congress and the state legislatures are not
always competent to deal with the questions which
are presented to them. These questions are in this
day much more varied in their nature and more com-
plicated than they were in the days of our fathers.
The trouble seems to lie in the fact that in our time
the ablest men no longer are willing to devote them-
selves to politics; they prefer the successes of busi-
ness or professional life to the turmoil of elections
and the abuse which every man who enters politics
80 THE CITIZEN

may expect to encounter, however faithful he may
be to his trust.

Each citizen has a chance to take a part in the
nomination of candidates for most offices through
the primary elections or the caucuses. When he
comes to his share in this work he is likely to find
that the machinery of the meetings is in the hands
of some clique who, because of the negligence of
the mass of the voters, has, though it is usually a
small minority of the whole party, gained the power
to nominate their men. In some cases this so-called
“ring” owes its existence merely to the fact that
the people who compose it have an active interest
in political affairs; that they regularly attend the
caucuses, and so, because of the lack of care of the
majority of their political belief, have the power to
“run the party.” It sometimes happens that these
people make a business of managing the elections
for their own profit. Until very recent years it was
possible for the ruling men in each party to reward
those who were diligent in its work by a great
variety of gifts in the way of offices which are well
paid. This has been to a great extent changed by
the extension of the civil-service system to nearly
all the offices which have hitherto been the rewards
that politicians have bestowed upon their followers.
Hereafter we may reckon that the patriot citizen
will find less difficulty in organising his fellows of the
better sort to control the nominations of his party.
PRACTICE OF CITIZENSHIP 81

The success of representation which has to be the
foundation of any but the local government of a
democracy depends upon the skill of the electors in
choosing the right kind of men for the duties which
are to be imposed upon them. It is evident that this
choice should fall not upon men who for lack of
other employment are hungry for the place, but upon
those who have proved their ability to achieve suc-
cess in life in other ways than public service, and
who take office as a duty, and not because they need
it, — persons who have succeeded in business of the
true sort, not in speculation, such as the better class
of lawyers, and other proficient men, intelligent far-
mers, and sometimes schoolmasters. It would seem
that men of inherited fortune, education, and capa-
city should prove in this country, as they have in
England, valuable helpers to their fellow-citizens in
the tasks of government, but for some reason, with
rare though admirable exceptions, this has not proved
to be the case; with us such men do not appear to
have the business training which is even more re-
quired of the American legislator than of those who
sit in the parliaments of the old world.

In general it may be said that no man is fit to be
trusted with the care of the interests of the people
who does not live in an honourable manner. He
should be a man of family and of good repute; he
should be known as trustworthy in money matters.

If he has managed public affairs in any position, his
6
82 THE CITIZEN

record there should be scanned, for it may be as-
sumed that his quality will remain the same in
whatever station he occupies. There are few rules
without exceptions, and so instances could be cited
from our own public men where persons of bad
moral character have been useful officers of the state,
but these exceptions are so rare that they may safely
be neglected. Statecraft is like any other serious
business, in which the employer would show himself
a fool who trusted his affairs to a dissolute or
scampish fellow because he had ability.

There is a common notion that the legislator
should be an orator. Than this there is no greater
error as to the capacities needed by such men. There
was a time when brilliancy in debate was an ele-
ment of strength in a legislator, when he could win
votes for his cause by that means, but that stage
of our public life has passed away. A Webster or
a Clay at his best could not be expected in this
day greatly to influence the action of a legislature.
A capacity to state matters clearly, so that intelli-
gent action on them may be obtained is necessary,
but this may be reckoned on in any man of good
ability.

When an able and honest legislator or other public
officer has been chosen for a place of important re-
sponsibility, he thereby becomes entitled to the sup-
port and confidence of all the people he represents.
Though elected by one party, his duty is by the
PRACTICE OF CITIZENSHIP — 83

whole community, and it is the duty of that com-
munity to support him. He therefore should, while
in office, be upheld by every citizen of every party,
whether they voted for him or no. This course is
not only just and patriotic, but it is from motives of
expediency in a high degree important. No public
officer can be expected to escape the evils of a par-
tisan state of mind who feels that all his fellow-
citizens except those who gave him their votes are
his enemies. Often so bitter is this hatred that his
political opponents will without good cause and from
mere brutal ill-nature defame him in any way they
can. Such a disgraceful course tends to degrade our
politics more than any other influences with which
we have to contend.

When an able man has served his people well in
any place of responsibility, it is the best policy to
keep him in the position as long as he is willing to
fill it. In grave political crises it may be the duty
of the citizen to remove a serviceable legislator in
order that some important measure may be sure of
a majority, but such changes are always to be re-
gretted, and should be made only where necessary
to accomplish large purposes. It is often better to
retain a trustworthy and effective man who differs
from us on certain points of policy than to risk the
chance of finding some other whose belief is nearer
to our own, but whose general capacity as a servant
of the state may be of a much lower grade. Here
84 THE CITIZEN

we find ourselves in face of the most troublesome
questions that the young citizen has to consider, that
is, that of parties and party allegiance; it will there-
fore be well to turn at once to the consideration of
this matter.
CHAPTER VI

CITIZENSHIP AND PARTY ALLEGIANCE

‘ y JE have already noted the fact that when a
man endeavours to accomplish any public

action for the benefit of his neighbour-

hood he has to begin the work by finding other men
who can be brought to a like mind, and who are
willing to combine with him in a common effort to
have the thing done; in other words, he has to form
a party. Each year, then, are thousands of these
temporary political organisations formed and dis-
solved in different parts of the country, each having
accomplished its purpose, or having so clearly failed
to do so that the people who were interested in the
particular matter have lost courage to continue their
efforts. It not infrequently happens that the partic-
ular end which is sought, — as, for instance, the con-
struction of some important work, such as the Erie
Canal, — takes many years, so that the temporary
party endures for the lifetime of a generation. Now
and then it happens that the evil which a party aims
to remedy — as, for instance, the institution of Afri-
can slavery or the enslaving of the government clerks
by the politicians — requires a long time for its aboli-
86 THE CITIZEN

tion, so that the party has to keep up its work for
a half-century or more. In a good democratic soil
the growth of parties is as incessant as that of vege-
tation from the earth: some die in a season after
having borne more or less good seed; others are cen-
tury plants; yet others may endure, like great oaks,
for thousands of years.

When the aim of a party is to bring about some
moral change in the conditions of the people, such
as the suppression of drunkenness or other vice,
because of the difficulty of improving the conduct
of men, the association is sure of a long life; only
in a few cases has it happened that it dissolves be-
cause its work is completely done. The most notable
instance of this was in the case of the antislavery
party, which passed away because its task had been
accomplished in all parts of the civilised world.

‘There is yet another group of parties, the longest-
lived and most characteristic of such organisations,
which relate to the views of the citizens concerning
the principles on which the states or the nation shall
be governed. Those of the lesser sort which con-
cern immediate needs are common among all peoples
which have any measure of freedom or the advance-
ment which goes therewith. The larger truly polit-
ical parties only take on their most perfect form in
really free countries,— such as the United States,
England, or Switzerland. In the United States the
people are by nature or by early training generally
PARTY ALLEGIANCE 87

divided into two groups, which, though in earlier
times they were otherwise named, are at present
known with us as Democrats and Republicans. The
former was originally termed Republicans, or Repub-
lican Democrats; the latter has borne in succession
the title of Federalist, Whig, and finally that of
Republican. In England similar parties have long
existed under other names; the equivalent of our
Democratic organisation has been called Whig, and
is now known as Liberal; that somewhat corre-
sponding to our Republican party was once the Tory
and is now Conservative. Similar divisions are
traceable in other European countries; the nearer
the states of that region approach to freedom, the
more distinctly do these two parties appear, and the
larger their share in the national life.

Looked at from a non-partisan point of view, the
two great parties of a free state are seen to represent
two diverse theories of government. The one which
is represented by our existing Republican organisa-
tion holds to the idea of a strong central power in
the nation which, while fully representing the people,
shall strengthen the government so that it can in
many ways send its influence down to every part of
the country and abroad throughout the world. It
favours legislation that may by tariffs or taxes on
foreign products lead to the development of internal
manufacturing, so that the people shall, so far as may
be, make all the goods which they consume. It seeks
88 THE CITIZEN

to increase the power of the central or federal gov-
ernment, if needs be, at the cost of that which the
separate states may hold; in other words, it starts
with the ideal of the consolidated nation rather than
with that of an aggregation of local governments.

On the other hand, the present Democratic party
in general considers as of first importance the gov-
ernment of the locality, be it town, county, or state,
and regards the federal government as essentially a
means for making these local governments safe from
foreign interference or from strife among them-
selves. It opposes any more control on the part of
the central authority than is necessary to accomplish
these ends. It is against the establishment of tariffs
purely for the sake of protecting internal manufac-
turing, holding that the people should be allowed to
make, buy, and sell in the freest possible manner,
guided only by the natural opportunities of their
realm. As a result of these views the Democratic
party is, at least in theory, opposed to having the
federal government take much share in foreign
affairs.

To the general projects of the two great parties
as above outlined, there are, from time to time, with
the changing drift of public opinion, added a great
variety of temporary purposes and projects relating
to currency, taxes, internal improvements, the au-
thority of the courts, etc. In fact, these incidental
growths are so numerous, and from time to time so
PARTY ALLEGIANCE 89

important, that they are likely to overshadow the
main issues of the parties. Many will therefore
question the accuracy of the descriptions which have
been given of them; but those who have studied the
history of these organisations are likely to agree with
the writer that they rest in two natural divisions in
the ways in which men look upon government: some
looking to the superior state and others to the neigh-
bourhood; some valuing most highly the rights and
freedom of the individual man, next that of the local
governments, and lastly that of the nation; others
giving first value to strong central authority, able to
control the whole country and to give the nation
strength in its own and other lands.

Both these different views concerning the methods
of a free state rest upon noble conceptions of its
place and duties in the affairs of men; each has so
much to commend it that the patriotic citizen may
well be in doubt as to which should command his
allegiance. He may indeed have the experience of
the writer and many another citizen, and find himself
at one time of his life, as during the Civil War, sup-
porting the party of consolidation, — that is, the Re-
publicans, — and again that of local government in
the period following that disturbance; in fact, as
the changing judgment of our people shows, in the
alternations of the elections sometimes one policy
appears to them good and sometimes the other. It
may often happen that some temporary addition to
90 THE CITIZEN

the projects of a party may lead many men to trans-
fer their support to or from that organisation, as
they may object to or approve of the innovations.
For all this drifting to and fro, as experience goes
to show, the two central parties in the long run are
sure to maintain their central ideas; the temporary
changes of platforms do not destroy their essential
quality. The people need them in their natural
shape, and reform them from time to time to meet
the requirements of their inborn political desires.
In other countries less free than our own, as in
Germany or France, where the people have never
had a chance to develop a large measure of liberty,
we find that the two normal parties are not, as with
us, distinct and permanent, but in their place there
are half-a-dozen or more imperfectly divided politi-
cal sects, each seeking some particular end in legis-
lation, with the result that the state work proceeds
without a plan and under conditions of confusion
which are dangerous to good government. A na-
tional life needs plans for its guidance quite as much
as does the life of any of its citizens; the existence
of parties which are no better than factions, none
strong enough to conduct the government, makes a
legislative system very incompetent to do its fit
work. Such is the condition now existing in Ger-
many, France, Italy, and generally in Continental
Europe. Only in the parliaments of the English-
speaking people, because, perhaps, of the essential
PARTY ALLEGIANCE gl

freedom which those people possess, do we find the
plan of two parties usually followed. All the while
in these English countries new political organisa-
tions are recurrently forming; these in time perish,
either because they are merged with the permanent
groups, or because, after various trials, the common
sense of their adherents tells them that it is not
worth while to strive further to win a majority;
in other cases these new organisations capture one
of the leading parties, or are captured by it, in some
of the turns of political manceuvres. So it comes
about that though at times there may in this country
be more than two strongly supported presidential
tickets in the field, such conditions are but tempo-
rary; they usually mark a period of unrest which
is quickly followed by a reconcentration on the old
permanent and natural lines of political campaigns.
Thus, in the national election of 1860, just before
the Civil War, there were, because of the great
division of sentiment, four strong parties in the
field, but at the end of that struggle they were
again reduced to two. In the presidential campaign
of 1896 there were again four such tickets before
the country besides that of the Prohibitionists,
which perhaps is not to be reckoned in the ordinary
sense a political party, but an association of persons
who seek a reform in the personal habits of the
people.

It is characteristic of the great parties in the
92 THE CITIZEN

English-speaking countries that they are in a con-
tinuous state of growth and change; old issues dis-
appear and new ones take their place. With each
of these alterations the quality of the organisation
alters for the better or the worse. Sometimes, in-
deed, we may say very often, a party for a time
departs utterly from the path which it should follow;
it may indeed stupidly turn back in its track. Such
accidents are usually due to the folly of incompetent
leaders, who, to gain a temporary advantage, are
quite willing to part with their principles; but such
accidents are uncommon; they are usually quickly
rectified by the action of the honest-minded members
of the association, who, from the nature of things,
must always constitute the overwhelming majority
of any great political body.

That every true political party must be honest-
minded may seem an unwarranted statement to many
persons who have the unpatriotic habit of regard-
ing their political antagonists as knaves who are
endeavouring to ruin the state. A little knowledge
of history will show any one that while villains have
often been able to form small societies to accomplish
their ends, bodies of people have never acted in the
party manner except with motives which, though
often grievously mistaken, have always rested on
sincere beliefs in the righteousness of their cause.

The foregoing sketch of parties will perhaps serve
to show that the government of a democracy, because
PARTY ALLEGIANCE 93

it is a government so well described by Lincoln as
“by the people and for the people,” must be attained
by the party method. It may also show that these
associations are but instruments by which the citizen
expresses his views as to the policy which he wishes
to see adopted in public affairs. If the particular
affair be a matter of his locality, he may, as has
been suggested, make a party for the purpose of
dealing with it. If the question be one of state or
national importance, he cannot expect to obtain such
an effective following; he can in most instances only
give weight to his views, and help his people to
attain good ends by acting with one of the existing
associations, doing what is in his power to make its
purposes good and true. All this serves to prepare
our minds for a consideration of the claims that
parties have to the allegiance of a man; on their
right to hold him to obey the dictates of their cau-
cuses and conventions, by which they determine and
carry out their policy.

There can be no question that when a citizen
makes it known to any of his fellow-men that he
means to act with them in any matter, he thereby
becomes honourably pledged to abide with them
until the end is attained, or until it becomes clearly
evident that it cannot be won by any reasonable
sacrifice of time and labour. If he abandons the
project, it must be for some other reason than per-
sonal interest: an honest change of mind as to the
94 THE CITIZEN

propriety of the undertaking, or as to the trust-
worthiness of the men who have charge of the task
may absolve him from all pledges to the association.
Still further, when the party adopts projects which
are new and which seem to the voter to be evil, he
is morally bound to separate himself from it. In
certain cases he may conclude that the leading and
original. objects of the party are so essential to the
good of the country that he must bear with the
dangerous novelties in order to make good its
safety.

If we look over the history of this or any other
democratic country, we see that now one and now
another of the two great parties is in possession of
the government, but the state remains safe in the
hands of either. When the party of consolidation
is in power, the drift of affairs is towards the ends.
they would attain. When that of local government
prevails, the opposite drift is noticeable, but the
changes are never revolutionary. Therefore, when
we clearly see that our party is adopting new and
harmful schemes, we should not regard the shout-
ing of the captains concerning our treason, or
the ruin of the state which our defection will en-
tail, but spoil their schemes by turning them out
of office. Honest men, by voting against their
party, thereby putting it in the minority, have a
means, often the only one at their command, by
which they can clear it of “ rings,” “ bosses,” and
PARTY ALLEGIANCE 95

the other like evils which are likely to infest all
long successful political organisations.

It may be easily seen that so long as party man-
agers— men who make politics a business, and
sometimes a business of a very low kind —are sure
that they can retain the votes and influence of
worthy citizens because of their allegiance to the
old declared principles of the organisation, they will
feel quite safe in their places, whatever they may do;
but if they know that these silent men are likely
to punish any departure from an honest course by
leaving them in a minority, a restraining influence of
a very effective kind is placed upon them. Therefore,
while the citizen clearly owes an allegiance to the
party which represents his ideals of government, he
owes it as a freeman, and can in many cases most
effectively do his duty, as well as help his party, by
refraining to vote for improper candidates, or those
who are nominated on platforms which deny the
principles of sound government.

We often find that ancient motives are in course
of time and change transformed to very different
objects from those to which they originally belonged.
Thus it is with the spirit of loyalty in public affairs.
Of old, men were loyal to their superiors, chiefs,
kings, or other aristocratic or military leaders. This
devotion was an honourable as well as a necessary
thing when the safety of a state in an age of inces-
sant warfare depended on the unquestioned fidelity
96 THE CITIZEN

of the citizens to the commands of those who were
intrusted with its safety. In our time there is a
tendency to transfer this ancient devotion to parties
and to their leaders. Men talk of those who delib-
erate how they shall vote or who criticise the con-
duct of their political leaders as if such persons
were guilty of treason. Against such vain talk any
patriotic citizen should make a firm stand; he may
be sure that one of his first duties is to maintain his
right to think for himself and to act without fear
or favour of any kind. All that is worth having in
our state rests on this principle; if any man fails
to maintain it, he is guilty of the worst kind of
treason, for he assails the very foundations of our
government.

It must not be supposed from what has just been
said that our political parties are to any great extent
or for long left in control of the baser sort of men;
assertions to this effect are often made by those who
bring to political debate the kind of fury that many
men have to work up before they can think or feel
in an energetic manner. The managers of these
organisations above the! lowest grades are usually
men of ability and of patriotic motive. They are
naturally very eager for success, and, after the man-
ner of men in contests, are apt to go too far in
sacrificing principles to immediate profit; they for-
get that their work is for the state, and that a party,
when it ceases to be for the good of the whole
PARTY ALLEGIANCE 97

commonwealth, should cease to exist. Yet it should
be remembered that the evils arising from the leaders
turning the influence of political bodies to their pri-
vate uses is inevitable; it always has to be watched
for and punished in a summary way. The fact that
the independent voter is subjected to much abuse
when he inflicts the punishment may be taken as
evidence that the treatment is effective.

One of the most satisfactory features in the pres-
ent political condition of this country is to be found
in the very marked increase in the independence of
the voters. So many men of ability and of unques-
tioned patriotism have of late shown a willingness
to chastise their parties by all the means in their
power, that in many states there is little influence
left to the would-be “bosses;” thus, in time, we
may hope for a pretty general uprooting of the evil;
already the party whip has ceased to drive men as
it did a few years ago.

The great need of our parties in this day is that
plain citizens shall study the great questions which
are to come before the legislatures; these questions
are now too much debated, so far as they are debated
at all, by politicians who, from their position as
partisans, are led to see but one side of the matter,
—a side to which they naturally feel themselves to
be pledged. The only safe tribunal is the reason
and conscience of the individual voter who considers

the problem from the two points of view of the
7
98 THE CITIZEN

national and personal interests which may be in-
volved therein. It must be acknowledged that the
private person is likely to find it difficult to inform
himself about the financial or other policies of his
government, yet it is by no means impossible for
him to do so. The task is a part of the highly
educative duty which pertains to his citizenship.
One of the best means for developing a sense of
public affairs is to be found in political clubs or
debating societies, such as may easily be established
in any village where there are half-a-dozen men who
may be attracted to the study of statesmanship. If
such a club will gather a few books which treat of
political economy and the history of American poli-
tics; if it will see to it that the different parties
have an even chance in the debates, — the result will
be most effective. The writer well remembers, when
he was a boy of from fifteen to eighteen years of
age, how his active membership in such a society
enabled him to gain some insight into the great
matters of statecraft which were, just before the
beginning of the Civil War, agitating the minds of
the people. Such political clubs, which existed in
great numbers in Kentucky in that period of our
history, did much, when the war came, to keep that
state from seceding. When the period of debate
passed and the time for action came, these clubs
naturally ceased to exist; in fact, one of the inevit-
able evils of the struggle consisted in the general
PARTY ALLEGIANCE 99

abandonment of debate as means of political edu-
cation. If a young man is seeking a chance to do
some effective work for his neighbourhood, it will
be well for him to help in founding a society for
political education. It is not necessary, it is, in fact,
rather undesirable, that it should be large; it may
be effective with but three members; a dozen is
ample for the best work.

Next to the debates of the political clubs as agents
of education in citizenship, we may set those which
in certain parts of the country take place between
the leaders of the political parties on the era of a
general election. If these contests be carried on by
able men, and if they are so arranged that each side
has an even share in the debate, the citizen has an
opportunity to hear the claims of the two parties;
the only difficulty is that the aim of the speakers
commonly is, not to attain to the exact truth as the
inquirer seeks it, but to win the applause of the mass
of his hearers, or, as the ancient phrase has it, to
“captivate the vulgar.” Such debaters usually have
in mind the fact that the greater number of those
who hear them do not seek to be convinced by
arguments, but rather desire to be pleased by smart
sayings or by oratorical flights which flatter their
vanity or move their emotions.

It is unhappily true that the great body of the
people in any community are not and cannot in the
present condition of mankind be expected to attain
100 THE CITIZEN

to any high grade of citizenly accomplishment. They
earnestly desire to do the right, but they have neither
the ability nor the education to see the way; their
course of action must be guided by the leaders of
their neighbourhood, — those to whom they have
learned to look for the hard thinking which is
needed to give sound politics. It should be the aim
of every well-trained young man to fit himself to
take such a place among his people; if he can help
to bring about a condition of affairs where one in
a hundred or even one in a thousand of the voters
is a man who really knows what the needs of the
state are, he will do much to give endurance to the
republic. In such conditions the well-meaning but
ill-informed body of the people will have a chance of
true leadership such as the men who are officially in
politics are not likely to afford them.

To be a leader in political thought it is not neces-
sary that a man should be an orator, or that he
should be in any way much before the people. As
for public speaking, it is most desirable that every
educated person should be able to think on his feet
before an audience; but his deliverance may well be
in a plain-spoken way, for the sole purpose of con-
vincing his neighbours. This is, indeed, the most
effective way of presenting truths. In any crisis,
great or small, if a citizen feels that he has a
thought which may help his fellows, it is his duty,
as it should be his pleasure, to state his views, either
PARTY ALLEGIANCE 101

in public meeting or in print. Our newspapers are
usually hospitable in giving any thinking man a
chance to say his mind in their pages. If he is able
to help them, his fellow-citizens will be glad to read
his statements. Much of the most effective influ-
encing of public opinions is thus done by men who
seldom or never appear in public meetings.

To sum up this matter concerning the relation of
the citizen to political parties, he may say that these
institutions are the indispensable agents of a demo-
cratic government. Every citizen should foster and
respect them; he should regard them as agents which
need continual correction, and be prepared to give
this by the use of his vote whenever it is clear that
punishment for wrong-doing is deserved. It will
be well for him to note that each of the great par-
ties is subjected to peculiar dangers. Thus in the
Democratic party there is always the risk that the
people who desire to break up the social and govern-
mental organisation in the manner of the anarchists,
with the vague hope of bettering their condition
by the change, may seek to obtain control. There
is also a risk that the idea of local government may
be carried so far that the central authority may be
dangerously weakened. In the Republican party,
on the other hand, the chance is that the richer
commercial class may manage the state in its inter-
est, increasing the duties on foreign goods to give
them a profit in their business, or that they will so
102 THE CITIZEN

enlarge the federal power that the states may not
have their fit share in the control of affairs, or
that the nation may be led into plans of conquest.
Against these defects which occur in either of the
great parties, which are indeed the evils which be-
long with their good qualities, the patriotic citizen
has ever to be on his guard. So, too, as regards the
conduct of the political managers, he must remember
that from their position they are naturally inclined
to look rather to party success than to statesmanly
accomplishment; they need the quiet criticism of
the patriot in private life, who, standing aloof from
the thick of the fight, is ready to help, or, if needs
be, control the course of action.
CHAPTER VII

ON THE LIMITS OF FREEDOM

comparatively modern thing, there is, as yet,

much doubt and some confusion of mind as
to what should be the limits of independent speech
and action in a properly regulated democracy. It is
easy to set the measure of it in general terms by
saying that each shall respect the liberty of all others
and not harm the commonwealth in which he dwells;
but when we come to determine on the details of
action and say that particular things may or may
not be done, we find reason for exercising much
care. It is, in fact, impossible to set down rules of
conduct for all the varying conditions of a society;
there are, however, certain limitations which are
clear and of universal application.

The first of these rules to which all citizens may
fairly be held is that their neighbours shall have
the right to think and speak with freedom concern-
ing all public matters. Whatever be their views as
to the course of their government or the official
conduct of its officers, they have a right to their
thought and to its expression in all fit ways. There

B conver the establishment of freedom is a
104 THE CITIZEN

are certain limitations to this right of expression,
but these limitations should themselves be narrowly
limited. In all ages men and, through them, their
governments have suffered most sorely from restric-
tions on the freedom of speech. It is, therefore,
-better to bear with the affliction which comes from
hearing opinions we do not share, however prepos-
terous or even disgusting they may seem, rather
than to endanger that freedom by any restrictions
of law. So far we have lived and, on the whole,
prospered under this dispensation. We have for
generations allowed all creeds, political as well as
religious, to be preached. Even in the Civil War
men who held that the secessionists were right were
permitted to state their arguments and cast their
votes for their convictions. Some really vile be-
liefs are thus allowed a hearing, but at the same
time others, which to the overwhelming majority
at first seemed vile, have, through this freedom,
in the end won the nation to right ways. This
is conspicuously the case with the opposition to
slavery.

Of late, with the doubt which many of our people
have come to hold as to the safety of our democ-
racy, there has arisen a cry for the limitation of free
speech; this has been oftenest heard since the assas-
sination of President McKinley by a man who seems
to have been moved to the crime by the public teach-
ings of the anarchists. It has been proposed to pass
THE LIMITS OF FREEDOM 105

laws that shall make the members of this association
criminals, their crime being that they hold the belief
that all governments are illegal, and that their rulers
should be slain. There could be no better test case
on which to try the question as to the right of free
speech than this affords. If ever we should set
bounds to that freedom, we should do it where men
teach murder as a duty. We may, therefore, ex-
amine it with care.

It is clear that the anarchists are no common
murderers, for they do not slay for gain or for
personal revenge. They have the notion that all
the most grievous ills from which the masses of
men suffer come from a system in which a few rich
and strong are able to oppress the many who are
poor and weak; that if this ruling class could be
deprived of its power the distribution of wealth
would be such that all would be prosperous. So
far as we have learned, these misguided people are
not, except in their main purpose, criminals. They
are not thieves, nor do they neglect their children;
they are to be reckoned as fanatics, — that is, men
with what seems to themselves a moral purpose, but
without the sense to see the criminal nature of the
means they take to attain it. Practically all of them
are foreigners, born under governments of a more
or less arbitrary nature, or they are the children of
such people who have not become Americanised. In
no sense are they the product of this country.
106 THE CITIZEN

Looking more closely at the cases of assassina-
tion of officers of our government, we find but one
that can be attributed to this strange political sect.
Lincoln was slain by a man who probably had never
heard of the anarchists, and who was moved by an
insane idea of revenging the overthrow of a cause
for which he had not the heart to fight; Garfield
by a man who appears to have been crazed by the
fierce partisan disputes of his time. So that there
has been but one instance in this country where
anarchism has been responsible for such a murder,
and in this instance the culprit dees not appear to
have been a member of the association, and his
action is denounced by persons who seem to have
leadership in it. Therefore the evidence that our
commonwealth is in great danger from that evil is
not clear.

It may fairly be said that while our institutions
do not breed anarchists nor our own people lend
themselves to it, other countries have suffered greatly
from such fanatics. They have, within a few years,
murdered a Russian tsar, an Italian king, an empress
of Austria, and a president of the French republic;
they have assailed the life of the present King of
Great Britain and other chiefs of state; therefore
it is urged we should take part in a general effort
of all civilised peoples to stamp out the iniquity.

Putting aside the debatable question of whether
we are reasonably bound to help countries to sup-
THE LIMITS OF FREEDOM - 107

press evils that have grown out of their bad sys-
tems of government, let us see what we could do to
overthrow the anarchists by any process of law. It
is evident that we should have to begin by suppress-
ing all public teaching of doctrines such as these
people hold, making it a crime to say that all rulers
are the natural enemies of mankind, and as such
should be slain. By so doing we might somewhat
limit the number of persons who heard of the doc-
trine, but we should certainly not destroy the sect,
as is shown by the experience of Russia, where exile
to Siberia, in effect death, awaits all such offenders.
The certain result would be to harm the funda-
mental principle of our political system, — that of
free speech. We could go further and make it a
penal offence for men to associate themselves, how-
ever privately, for the purpose of supporting an-
archistic views. By so doing we would drive the
members of this sect into hiding, when the only
chance of finding them would be by a system of
police and spies, such as would be utterly repugnant
to our national spirit. How successful this would
be we may again judge by the result in Russia,
where they do these things much better than we can
hope to, yet there are doubtless more and abler
anarchists in that country than in any other. In
fact, in the Tsar’s dominions this sect originated,
and there alone it has found support in the educated
classes.
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Thus, while any effort to suppress the anarchists
in this country would be quite certain to fail, the
steps we should have to take in order to attain this
failure would overthrow the principle that men shall
in our commonwealth have the right to think and
speak with perfect freedom; that their responsibil-
ity to the law is for their deeds alone. If to-day
we bid the anarchists be still, we shall have reason
to fear that to-morrow some other political sect that
holds the germs of good, as that does of evil, may
in turn be silenced. It is well to think what would
have been the fate of the abolitionists who, a hun-
dred years ago, were, by an overwhelming majority
of our people, deemed to be even more dangerous
to our state than the anarchists now are.

It has been proposed to exclude the resident an-
archists from this country and to prevent immigrants
holding that belief from entering it. As for banish-
ing American citizens, or even those of other coun-
tries, because of their opinions, it may be said that
such a course is at once dangerous and impracticable.
Many countries in the past have tried the plan, but
none with profit; so that for purposes of punish-
ment or protection it has been disused by most en-
lightened governments. It has never been used by
any English people and is utterly foreign to our
ways. If we are to begin it, where is it to end?
This is a question ever to be asked when we are
called on to limit our ancient liberties. As for
THE LIMITS OF FREEDOM J tog

excluding immigrants who may be inclined to an-
archism, to what officers of our custom-houses shall
be given the supernatural power of discerning the
hidden political tendencies of incoming foreigners?
While there may be good reasons why we should
exclude all ignorant, diseased, or pauper immigrants,
or if we please all foreigners who intend to reside
in our country, such action should not be taken on
account of their opinions. To do so would be to
deny the freedom of belief to which we must hold
so long as we hope to remain a true democracy.

As for the supposition that assassination of rulers
is likely to be a considerable evil in this country, it
may be said that while we have grievously suffered
in the loss of three men dear to our people, there is
no reason to think that any such spirit will ever
debase our folk. No one of the three assassins of
our Presidents was a characteristic American, in
any true measure representing our natures. Except
in certain small communities, we find nowhere in
this country the cowardly instincts that lead to that
form of crime. It thus appears to be better for us
to leave this problem with this list of objections
to all projects for suppressing the teachings of the
anarchists; it is, however, evident that we are not
yet, nor are ever likely to be, in the position where
we are compelled to pull down the central pillar of
our commonwealth in order to save some part of
the value of the edifice.
110 THE CITIZEN

What is evidently needed to make an end of
anarchism is first a certain and speedy punishment
of all the members of the sect who act on their
theories. It may be well with them or with all
other assassins to punish their attempts at murder
as if they had been successful, for the measure of
criminality is not really affected by the results of
the culprit’s endeavours. It is evident that the de-
terrent effect of all punishments depends upon the
swiftness with which they, by due process of law,
follow on the offence for which they are inflicted.
In our care for the criminal we have fallen into the
bad habit of prolonging the work of the courts, so
that when an offender meets his doom his crime is
half forgotten; usually the result is that the law,
rather than the law-breaker, appears to be on trial.
With fit care the process of the courts should be
completed with such celerity that even the dull-
witted may feel the evident connection of the crime
and its penalty. In the tangle of influences which
are now leading our people to the evils of mob
violence, we must reckon the law’s unconscionable
delay as not the least, for there is a natural desire
to see the murderer, or the assailer of women,
brought to swift judgment. There is a rude sense
in our common folk that justice to be effective needs
follow close on crime.

Next to the swift service of the law, we need a
better instruction of ourselves as well as of the
THE LIMITS OF FREEDOM 111

people we are adopting from other lands in the
principles of our government. Our schools are now
doing something in the way of formal teaching in
the principle of government, but this is as yet not
of a nature to awaken in the youth a sense of the
meaning of the commonwealth. If he be sensitive
to the life about him, he may of himself win’ to
some idea of what our nation is or should be to its
citizens; but such teaching is not easy to be had
from books; it is of a kind that needs come directly
from a teacher. Every school-teacher should know
himself or herself to be by position the fittest per-
son to do this great work of awakening youth to a
sense of citizenly opportunity and duty. Properly
given, such instruction would be worth more for
the enlargement of the pupil than anything else
taught in our schools, except, perhaps, our own
tongue and its literature, and the elements of arith-
metic. For the needs of the commonwealth it is of
the very first importance.

If we are to continue our practice of freely admit-
ting foreigners to this country, it may fairly be
demanded that those who hereafter come to us be
received on probation, and that with certain excep-
tions, which need not here be considered, they be
required within, say, three years, to prove that they
can use our language understandingly, and show
that they have a knowledge of the principles of our
government sufficient to make them fit to dwell with
112 THE CITIZEN

us. If they fail to meet these requirements, they
shouid be returned to their native country. To many
such a demand will seem unreasonable; it will ap-
pear otherwise when we consider that we have a
school system which purposes to give to all those
born in this country several years of training which
is primarily designed to fit them for our citizenship.
The result of this and of the other influences brought
to bear on those who are born here is a training
which tolerably well adapts them for the needs of
the commonwealth. Why, then, should we open our
gates to all sorts and conditions of men, who, after
the manner of the anarchists, bring into our society
the pestilential notions they have come by in for-
eign countries? Or if an excessive idea of hospi-
tality, or a desire for the wealth in the way of
labour they bring us, leads us to receive them, why
should we not take steps to bring them to an under-
standing of the conditions in which they have to
dwell?

There can be no question that the admission of all
foreigners on probation for a term of years would
better the quality of the immigrants who come to
us, and lead them to some understanding as to the
serious nature of their duty by their adopted state.
As regards the anarchists, it would force them to
learn that there is another view than their own as
to the nature of government, or at least the govern-
ment of a true democracy. There can be no ques-
THE LIMITS OF FREEDOM 113

tion that these folk are no ordinary criminals. The
fact that they are willing to die for what they as-
sume -to be the good of their fellow-men shows
clearly that they have in them certain of the most
important qualities of the citizen. As a class, they
have been born and reared under conditions which
have made it impossible for them to form any suf-
ficient idea as to the nature and purposes of our
commonwealth. Coming to us, they remain for the
rest of their lives in the slums of our great cities,
in that mass of ignorant discontent, as far parted
from our wholesome American ways as they were
in their native misery. If they could be forced to
hear the truth of our institutions and ideals, there
would be a chance to turn the value which their self-
devotions proves to good account.

There is another aspect of the question as to the
freedom of speech which should be of even greater
concern to our citizens than that relating to the
anarchists’ teachings. Since the beginning of the
Spanish War many misguided persons, animated by
that frothy patriotism which wars, along with their
other evils, are apt to breed, have undertaken to
crush out all opposition to the policy of the govern-
ment by a system of fierce denunciation of certain
eminent citizens who have expressed their disap-
proval of that policy. These pretended patriots ap-
pear in all crises; they were one of the curses of

the Civil War, greatly hindering Lincoln and other
8
114 THE CITIZEN

patriots who were endeavouring to keep the best
part of our commonwealth, its liberty of speech,
from the ruin which the strife threatened to bring
about. Then, as now, these enemies of free speech
were characteristically non-combatants; for men who
are willing to do the unhappy duty of the citizen in
arms are commonly generous-minded to those who
oppose them. Since we set about our war with
Spain, though the contest was, so far as the military
danger went, of a trifling nature, these uncitizenly
people have been more rancorous than ever before
in their opposition to the freedom of speech. Their
despotic motive has led them to advocate the sup-
pression of certain newspapers that criticise the gov-
ernment; and one of the abler of their spokesmen, a
well-known clergyman, has arraigned by name some
of the most admirable of our citizens who have vigor-
ously opposed the present administration as moral
abettors of President McKinley’s assassination.
The state of mind of these people, who thus en-
deavour by denunciation to suppress the right of
men to state their beliefs, is far more dangerous
than that of the anarchist. That sect is made up
of ignorant foreigners who are in no sense the
product of our institutions. But these who would
make an end of debate are Americans of our best
social class. They have had a chance to gain the
spirit of our commonwealth. That they have not
done this, that they retain the despotic motive, is
THE LIMITS OF FREEDOM 115

unhappily proof that a considerable remnant of our
folk have not been brought up to the plane where
they understand the nature of liberty.

Along with his insistence that he shall have the
right to speak his mind on all public affairs, the
citizen is bound to demand the same right for his
opponent. In fact, these rights are bound together ;
for if it belongs to the man of only one side in
the debate, it is a privilege, and not a right at all.
And there is a mighty difference between the two.
A despotism gives political privileges; a democracy
confers rights.

It might well go without saying that there are
certain limitations and decencies in debate and criti-
cism which, if they be not observed, may fairly deny
those who fail to observe them a hearing. As a
man is not allowed to offend his neighbours with
profanity or ribald talk, so those who use public
speech so as to provoke men to crimes, or for no
other evident purpose except to insult their fellows,
may fairly come into the hands of the police. Yet
it is well to be more than careful in all steps which
shut men’s mouths or stop their pens. It is well to
remember the habit of the Mussulmans, who, when
they see a bit of paper beneath their feet, will care-
fully lift it to see that perchance they may not tread
on the name of God.

As a result of the assassination of President
McKinley, it has been proposed to make yet other
116 THE CITIZEN

startling departures from our established customs, —
changes which would introduce a new spirit into
the relations of our people to their magistrates. The
first of these is that the President of the United
States should be protected by a special body of
guards, who would see to it that he was not ap-
proached by unknown people, so that he might be
saved from assaults such as have cost the lives of
three out of the twenty-four men who have held
that office. Such protection, though at first sight it
may appear to be reasonable, would be very hurtful
to the best interests of the country. It would estab-
lish the new principle that our magistrates are to
be set apart from our people, and are not their
fellow-citizens to whom certain duties are for a time
delegated. That they are in danger is, though re-
grettable, a matter of no great moment. Their risk
is no greater than that of soldiers in time of war,
or sailors at all times. It is like that of the railway
engineer or the policeman. Moreover, if our presi-
dents are to be guarded by armed men, we may
soon expect a demand for like protection from the
secretaries of departments, from the governors of
our states, and others in high authority. We may be
sure that such a system, even in its beginning, would
be a serious blow to the spirit of our democracy.
In this question of protecting our magistrate, we
may well take a lesson from Queen Elizabeth, —
that valiant woman who, more than any other Eng-
THE LIMITS OF FREEDOM 117

lish sovereign, except, perhaps, Alfred the Great,
shaped the temper of our people. Owing to the
troubled conditions of her reign, her conflict with
the Roman Church, and with the Scottish queen,
Elizabeth, through nearly half a century, was in
constant danger of assassination. Many attempts,
indeed, were made upon her life, but she met them
all with an admirable equanimity. On one occa-
sion, when in her barge upon the Thames, she was
fired at, the ball passing through the arm of the
rower in front of her. _ She took off her scarf,
bound up the man’s wound, and bade him go on
with his work. To the frightened ambassador of
France, who was by her side, she said that it was
an accident, and that she would not think worse of
her people than a mother of her children. She set
the culprit free. Again, when a servant-woman of
Queen Mary, who was half insane with grief for
her dead mistress, tried to kill Elizabeth, the queen
refused to have the offender punished, but sent her
to her friends in France. Against the protests of
her ministers, during all her reign she kept in her
‘-household many Roman Catholics, — people who,
as a class, were her enemies, and from whom she
must have expected danger. She, a woman of three
hundred years ago, in a realm that was little better
than a despotism, bore herself thus valiantly, in order
to establish the principle that the head of the state
should trust to its people for protection.
118 THE CITIZEN

Again, it is proposed to have the punishments
awarded to those who conspire against or attempt
to kill the President of the United States other and
severer than when the assault is on ordinary citi-
zens. The objection to this course is like that men-
tioned in the case of the proposed presidential guard.
It would tend to set our magistrates apart from the
body of the people; to make their lives seem more
sacred than those of common men. Thus guarded,
the man would at once be distinguished from the
body of our citizens; his title would not be changed,
but in so far he would be by his exceptional position
a king.

It would hardly be worth while to discuss these
propositions to change the spirit of our relations to
magistrates, save for the fact that they throw much
light on the dangers which in all crises beset a
democratic government, — dangers due to the fact
that many persons, when moved by some grave
accident, are disposed to abandon the calm judicial
state of mind which the control of such a govern-
ment requires. They at once jump at the conclusion
that violent and revolutionary remedies are required,
and are prepared to go straight away to despotism
for the sake of temporary safety. These people are
a menace to democratic institutions; the true citizen
must be prepared to oppose them. We can best do
so by showing how our commonwealth withstood
the stress of the Civil War, living through the
THE LIMITS OF FREEDOM . 11g

greatest storm that has ever beset a modern state,
coming out with all its institutions unharmed, and
this because a host of true patriots had built it well
and cared for it faithfully. It has to be confessed
that a large part of the folk who dwell with us and
have the semblance of citizens cannot be trusted to
maintain the state. So it has been since the begin-
ning, but. the strong men have always had the
strength to maintain our liberties, putting the weak
aside. These makers and holders of the common-
wealth are accustomed to count their lives as of
small account when compared with that of their
people.
CHAPTER VIII

THE CITIZEN AND THE LAW

which, through the state and federal legisla-
tures, the laws are made, and means provided
to carry them into effect. We now have to con-
sider the attitude of the citizen to these laws as
they control or limit his actions. These two sides
of citizenly life—that of the law-making and the
law-abiding man — are most intimately related.
Law began long before men had a name for it.
In its original form it was nothing more than cus-
tom or usage, — in a word, what a man had a right
to expect from his fellows: traces of it indeed are
seen in the creatures below man, —as in the dogs,
which know their own food and learn to keep their
jaws away from that of their masters. In the next
human step law is traditional; it rests on the sense
of justice, and is shaped by the memory of what
has been done before in like circumstances. The
chief, the ancient king, or the cadi of the “ Arabian
Nights’ Entertainment,” were originally the judges;
any man in power gave judgment as occasion de-
manded, because such work belonged with author-

le political parties we see the instruments by
THE CITIZEN AND THE LAW 121

ity. Gradually, as the states grew larger, — became,
indeed, true states,— the kings had men to help
them, and these associate judges gradually came to
do the whole of the task. Thus, in England, one
of the upper courts, the most ancient of them all,
is called the “Court of King’s Bench,” though the
king for centuries has had nothing to do with it.
In that country, as in many others, justice still is
in theory supposed to come from the sovereign.

For a long time in the history of our legal sys-
tem, which is derived from the English, the laws
were in part those which existed in tradition, and
in part those which were put forth by the sovereign,
or by the parliaments with the sovereign’s consent.
When our American Revolution began, the crown
still had the right, with the consent of the council,
to grant charters and various kinds of patents, the
action resting on the assumption that the sovereign
was the source of all authority, the individual em-
bodiment of the national life and strength. The
ancient traditional regulations were termed common
or customary law, the others statutes. At present
this division has little more than historical value.
In the United States, generally with slight excep-
tions, all the law, however it has come to us, is now
laid down in statutes which have been voted by our
legislators or by the federal Congress.

In considering the matter of law, it is well to
begin by noting that the greater part of the rules
122 THE CITIZEN

which guide the decent, well-behaved man in his
relations to his fellows are not, and never have
been, laws. As he goes about the ordinary business
of life, such a man shows a consideration for his
neighbours: he treats them with becoming respect ;
he is charitable to them in their need; he will help
or defend them if they are in danger. If a house
is on fire, he will, as a matter of course, do what he
can to save it; if his neighbour is drowning, even
though he be his enemy, he will rescue him at the
risk of his own life. Such things are done not only
by the better men, but even by many of those who
have been, or deserve to be, in the penitentiary;
they are done because to do them is an essential
part of the human quality. Moreover, the nobler
class of citizens — those who are the foundations of
society — will not lie to help themselves; they will
take care, so far as they can, that the gratification
of their personal desires do not harm or even offend
their neighbours.

It is the unwritten law of every realm that makes
human society possible; it was that body of sympa-
thetic usage which laid the foundations of civilisa-
tion. So complete and effective is it that men may
live their lives through without knowing by ex-
perience that there is any other method by which
actions are controlled. It is from a sense of the
strength of this natural law that the better kind of
the nihilists conclude that there is no need of any
THE CITIZEN AND THE LAW 123

other regulations than the simple, unwritten rules
which guide conduct; they therefore propose to
abolish all formal laws and all punishments for
offences. The question is why are they wrong in
this opinion. The answer is easily made: it rests
upon the long and bitter experience of all peoples;
the question, indeed, could only be seriously asked
by those who are ignorant of the history of man.

The greater number of men, probably, in our
ordinary American communities, at least nine out
of ten, possibly ninety-nine in a hundred, need no
other check on their conduct than is afforded by
their natural and noble desire to stand well with
themselves or their fellows. Unfortunately, the
damaging remnant, the tenth or the hundredth man,
is, as the people of old would say, possessed of
the devil, or, as we now understand it, has been
retarded or turned back to the place of the primi-
tive savage, or, at least, so far back on that way
that he cannot be trusted to the guidance of his
desires or to the opinion of his neighbours. He is
likely to murder, steal, or otherwise outrage the
rights and peace of his society. It is for these
unhappy exceptions among men that the machinery
of the criminal law has to be maintained.

The aim of the criminal law of old was to
punish, and this with such severity that the man who
was tempted to become an offender might be with-
held from crime by the sight or knowledge of the
124, THE CITIZEN

torments to which criminals were subjected. The
most dreadful chapters in the history of our race
are those which set forth the story of the tortures
which were inflicted on men for slight offences.
Only two centuries ago men were hanged for steal-
ing to the value of a few dollars; cut into bits for
treason, which might have been some petty attack
upon the ruler; burned for differences of religion,
or for the mummery called witchcraft, or tortured
to make them confess what their jailers desired to
have them say. In our time the tendency is to look
upon the criminal as an enemy of society, but also
as a miserable unfortunate, who, even in his pun-
ishment, should be dealt with in as kindly a way
as may be consistent with the object of deterring
others who may incline to repeat his crime. This
lenient course has evidently not tended to increase
the proportion of criminals to the population, but
rather to lessen it, so that it is justified not only by
humanity, but by expediency as well.

In another regard our modern, and particularly
our American, treatment of criminals has been much
less successful. This concerns the speed and effi-
ciency with which offenders are brought to justice.
_ In this regard our system is in most of the states
in a very bad way. There is an old and eminently
just rule that every care must be taken that the
innocent may not be adjudged guilty. With the
gain in mercy which has gone on with the centuries,
THE CITIZEN AND THE LAW 125

new protections have been thrown about the accused,
until in this country, at least, it is often very hard
to secure the punishment of criminals charged with
grave offences, provided they have the money to
spend in having their cases taken from court to
court, through all the complicated paths of the law.
The result is that the people, with a rude sense’ of
justice, along with a remnant of savage brutality
which marks the newly settled portions of all lands,
are apt to resort to what is termed lynching, — that
is, the summary execution of the offender without
any trial. :

Every citizen should do all that he can to help
to bring offenders to justice, and this as speedily
and surely as possible. He should use his influence
to have the punishments so ordered that they may
not be unduly severe, to the end that the judges
may not hesitate, as they sometimes do, to apply
them. Here we come upon the question of the fit-
ness of the death penalty as the price of murder,
treason, and a few other grave crimes. Is it proper
for the law to take life in order to deter men from
these acts? This is a question which the young
citizen is pretty sure to have forced on his considera-
tion; one to which it is hard to give a well-judged
answer, but for which he may prepare himself by
the following considerations.

It is easy to see that the death penalty for murder
is the last survival of a system in which almost all
126 THE CITIZEN

offences above the grade of small thieving were thus
punished. In succession the minor offences have
been brought into the list of those which were met
with fine and imprisonment; even treason no longer
with us brings men to the gallows; not a man was
hanged at the end of our Civil War for this offence.
The result of this mercy has been no increase of
crime. Where the death penalty for murder has
been abolished, as has been the case in certain states,
it is doubtful if it has led to any greater insecurity
of life.

There is another reason why the citizen may well
set himself against the slaying of men by the law
which has for its first purpose the protection of life.
This is the uncertainty which often exists as to the
guilt of persons who are accused of murder. At the
present time the writer knows of two men who are
charged with a most fiendish murder of a woman;
have been found guilty, and are sentenced to be
hanged. A careful review of the evidence leads to
a grave doubt as to their guilt; yet the natural
indignation of the people where the offence was
committed has led to the swift and willing convic-
tion of the accused. If these men are executed, it
is quite possible, as has occurred in many other
instances, it will turn out, by the confession of some
man who is about to die, that they were innocent
of the crime. In this case the law and the people
who carry it out will have been guilty of the very
THE CITIZEN AND THE LAW 127

offence they are seeking to punish. A sentence to
imprisonment for life, though itself a grievous thing
to impose on a man who is innocent, affords a
chance for correcting mistakes such as are due to
strange accidents of evidence or the passions of the
jurymen.

Much importance is by some attached to the argu-
ment that the state, being no more than the as-
sembled people, can have no right to take life, for
the reason that it can have no rightful powers which
the individuals have not. This view seems to be
mistaken, for the reason that the individual has no
more right to fine or imprison people than he has
to slay his fellow-man; yet some punishment must
be inflicted by the government on the evil-doer.
This argument would lead to the quicksands of
nihilism; we should be brought back to the savage
state where each man did vengeance on those who
wronged him or his kindred. Moreover, it is clear
that the preservation of society is a more precious
matter than the life of any of its members. If the
citizen is of the opinion that the safety of the people
demands the death of criminals, he may well assume
that the government has the right to take the lives
of those who are adjudged guilty of offences against
it, as he must assume that it has the right to require
good citizens to give and take death on the battlefield.
There can be no question, however, that the aboli-
tion of the death penalty, if it can be safely done,
128 THE CITIZEN

would make our criminal law much more reasonable
than it is at present. Of old, the theory was that
the penalties applied to prisoners were for punish-
ment; in our better day we look to the treatment
of malefactors as a means of reforming the unhappy
men. Capital punishment is thus an inconsistency
in our legal system,—a place of all others where
we need to have a logical order of action.

The citizen should do all that he can to try to
bring a better order into our methods of dealing
with crime; he should reflect upon the nobility of
the modern view, that the criminal is likewise an
unhappy man, who, by his nature, is cut off from
the best that life has to give him, —the sympathy
and respect of his fellows, —and that along with
the effect to deter others from crime should go the
endeavour to help the unfortunate to a better way
of life. The problem is, on many accounts, the
most serious of all those the citizen has to face; he
may be sure that in it lies opportunities for much
improvement.

The criminal law, though in certain ways the most
important part of the justice which rules mankind,
is not that which most immediately affects society,
for the reason that it touches only on the lower and
defective members of the great brotherhood of man.
Akin to it are two other branches of the law with
which, in one way or another, all men have some
contact; these are the public charities and the law
THE CITIZEN AND THE LAW) 129

of property. The first-named of these, charity law,
is a relatively modern element in our states; the
second, property law, is as ancient as that concern-
ing criminals, and is peculiarly the product and sup-
port of civilisation.

Charity law arises from the recognition of the
people that a large part of mankind is weak, and
thus incompetent to provide for its daily needs; that
all are born with the need of incessant care in their
youth; that nearly all, even in their time of strength,
are liable to disabling illness, and that those who live
to old age return, as it were, to infancy. Moreover,
that along with the criminals and those closely re-
lated to that class in the need of peculiar care, are
found idiots, and those crippled in mind or body,
the natural paupers, and the insane. These unhappy
folk were in early times conceived as having no
rightful claim on the state; such protection as they
might receive came from the charity of the abler
citizens, to whom alone the state was supposed to
owe any protection. The very great extension of
sympathy which has come about in the last two
hundred years has led to the sense that the people
as a whole owe a decent protection to all who fall
by the wayside. Private charity still has its place,
but the insane are no longer chained in jails or the
-paupers compelled to beg their bread from door to
door; the law provides them a safe, though it be
too often a rather stern, refuge. \ ‘

9
130 THE CITIZEN

This system of legal charities may be said to have
its most general form in the laws concerning chil-
dren. Though the youth of the land are intrusted
to the affectionate care of their parents, or, in their
stead, their other kindred or guardians, the law re-
mains watchful over them; it requires that they be
schooled, and usually limits the age at which they
can be employed in mills and at other hard labour.
In cases where children prove criminals at an early
age, there are in many communities officers ap-
pointed to see that courts do not sentence them to
prisons, but send them to reform schools, where they
may have a chance to recover from their tendency
to return to the savage or brutal state. In this way
the law acknowledges that crimes may be, as they
doubtless often are, only the result of the diseased
or undeveloped state of the offender.

In all well-regulated societies, unfortunately as yet
in only a part of this country, the idiots, as well as
those who are defective because they are deaf and
dumb or blind, are provided with sufficient asylums,
where they may be cared for and trained so that
they may have the best chance of comfort and hap-
piness. Still further, those who, because of their
defects, cannot earn their bread, are provided with
simple homes, where, either in country households
or in public barracks, they are properly looked after.
There is in general a rule that the cost of supporting
any of these incompetent people, wherever they may
THE CITIZEN AND THE LAW 131

be found, shall be laid on the community where they
were born, or where they lived as ordinary citizens
before they became unable to care for themselves.
The justice of this regulation is manifest; it is the
more important, as experience shows that the chil-
dren of defective persons are likewise apt to be
public burdens. Until recent enactments foreign
countries were in the habit of sending their paupers
in large numbers to this country, to its great dam-
age; even with these laws hosts of these people
find their way to us.

It has been supposed that the development of
public charities would lead to a decrease in the
efforts of the people to help those who needed aid.
If such were the case, it would be most unfortunate,
for the reason that the exercise of a wise and na-
tional charity is the best of all possible ways for
developing the sympathetic motives in which spirit-
ual culture depends. The facts do not bear out this
anticipation, for wherever we find the laws of a
community making the best provision for the needy,
we find also that private charity is most vigorously
at work in its efforts to keep lowly people from
falling to the level where they will need public help,
and where they may lose their self-respect by receiv-
ing it. Thus private charity, which is so guided as
to prevent pauperism, insanity, or crime, is a precious
gift to the needs of suffering man, — one that can
come but from the fellow-man, and not from the
impersonal power of the law.
132 THE CITIZEN

It is the duty of the citizen to do all he can to
develop the above-noted relation between official and
private charity; he should interest himself in both
these branches of help-giving, with especial care to
the need of protecting the unfortunates from the
great and inevitable degradation which comes upon
them when they abandon the desire to support them-
selves; when they give up this ideal of independent
life they necessarily cease to have the qualities of
free men; therefore, to save them from becoming
paupers is to spare the state a double loss, — that
arising from the expense of their keeping, and that
due to the loss of the spirit of freedom.

We come now to property law, — that branch of
justice which relates to the business and possessions
of men. Here we find a vast and complicated
machinery designed to insure fair play in a field
where the greeds are intense, and where there is the
most difficulty in keeping these passions in order. :
Owing to the fact that property rights are easily
defined, this branch of law, except for some of its
smaller and more modern parts, is in such excellent
shape that the citizen need not feel himself called
on to do more than to accept the conditions as they
are, leaving it to the jurists to better them as the
need may arise. These exceptional parts of our legal
system relate to certain rather modern forms of prop-
erty, or to peculiar ways of holding it. Thus the
plan of having stock companies which possess great
THE CITIZEN AND THE LAW 133

properties — such as mines, mills, railways, etc. —
is very modern, and the law of limited responsibility
on the part of each shareholder of such a corpora-
tion, instead of the complete liability of each for the
debts and actions of the other, as in. the ordinary
partnerships, has greatly changed the business rela-
tions of men. So, too, the combination of great
financiers, or usually of several corporations, to con-
trol a particular kind of business, has introduced
a new and perplexing set of questions in our
government.

Although we hear a great deal about the ills which
arise from trusts, syndicates, and “ combines,” evil-
doing by them has not very often been found; when
it occurs, it is probably sufficiently met by laws. All
corporations should be compelled to make sworn
returns of their business, which should be open to
public inspection. This publicity would of itself go
far to bring the remedy for any ill-doing. The
observer may well note that modern business is rap-
idly tending to methods in which one very large
establishment does the work which before was done
by many small concerns. The result of this is that
there are fewer independent men of business and a
larger number of employees for a given amount of
trade. There are fewer managing men, but the busi-
ness is done at less cost, and on the whole encounters
fewer losses, for the reason that the men fitted to
manage enterprises are rare.
134 THE CITIZEN

Experience in many lands and times shows that
the government cannot safely undertake to meddle
with business methods so long as these methods are
honest, and that any effort so to do is likely to result
in varied disasters; the most it can do is to compel
corporations to which it has given certain privileges,
such as limited liability of their stockholders for
debts, to make their doings public. If any citizen
finds that he is captivated by the widespread notions
that the government should undertake a large part
of the business which is now on the hands of cor-
porations or partnerships, — such matters as the con-
trol of railways and the sale of farm products, — he
should learn of the experience in France, whereby
a people who have a system of administration which
is much more perfect than our own, and a rare talent
for administering it, the experiment of state owner-
ship was thoroughly tried, and resulted in utter and
disastrous failure. Such a relation of state to busi-
ness may in some far off time come about, but it is
evident that no government in the world commands
the skill which is necessary for its accomplishment
at the present time.

The relation of the citizen to the laws under which
he lives should be that of perfect respect and obedi-
ence to their commands. His only safe course is to
assume that they represent the judgment of the
majority of his fellow-voters, and that they were
intended to be just. If there is a doubt whether
THE CITIZEN AND THE LAW 135

they are in accordance with the federal or the state
constitutions, he should personally, or in co-operation
with other citizens, try the issue in the courts; in
the mean time he should support the statute. If the
decision is against him, he has the further appeal
to the law-makers, — his fellow-citizens; if he fails,
then the presumption is that he is in error in his
opinion as to the injustice from which he thinks he
suffers. Even if he still be convinced that wrong
is done him, his best course is to contend for a
change of opinion among the people, remembering
always that while the democratic system, with its
decision by majorities under the protection of con-
stitutions, may give rise to wrongs, there is none
other in which men are as a whole so safe as to
their rights.

It is not to be denied that when by some rare
chance a people is oppressed in a serious and perma-
nent way, where they are denied the right of “ life,
liberty, and the pursuit of happiness,” and can ob-
tain no other redress, they may honourably revolt
against their oppressors; it may be, indeed, their
duty to make this final protest against unendurable
ills. In the United States there have been certain
of these appeals to arms, all, save one, of no more
dignity than belongs to ordinary riots. That of the
Civil War was a revolution made, not because of
any such oppression as justified the Revolution of
1776, but because the leaders of the slave states saw
136 THE CITIZEN

that they could not long maintain their local insti-
tution of slavery in face of the growing desire for
its abolition in the Northern states. It was a political
secession, and not in any proper sense an uprising
of the people against tyranny. It may be assumed
that whenever, if ever, a justifiable revolution occurs
in a republic such as our own, its occurrence proves
that the character of the government has changed;
whatever it may be in appearance, it has ceased
to be a government “by the people and for the
people.”

As a citizen owes respect to the laws, so he is
bound to support the officers charged with their
enforcement in every possible way. Thus, in case
of a riot, his duty is to lend his services to the
officers of the peace; in such times of need he will
obey orders in the manner of a soldier. On ordi-
nary occasions, if told by a policeman to go to his
home, he would not be under any obligation to obey
him; but if he happens by accident to be in a riot-
ous throng, he should obey the command at once.

It is well for every youth to gain a knowledge of
the processes of the courts of justice, as well as of
the principles of the law. The first of these ends
he can attain by watching a few cases tried in courts
of various grade, — from that of the magistrate to
that of the highest court of appeal. The spectacle
he will see should, notwithstanding its simplicity,
be to him very impressive, for he then beholds the
THE CITIZEN AND THE LAW 137

greatest work of his race in the ordering of the
relations between men. Unless he be engaged in
some profession or calling which exempts him there-
from, —as, for instance, that of a teacher or physi-
cian, — he will from time to time be called on to
serve the court by acting as a juryman. Many shirk
this dignified task, but the dutiful citizen willingly
makes the sacrifice. It is one of the menacing evils
of our time that, especially in the great cities, so
many of the citizens of capacity and education man-
age on various pretexts to avoid all jury duty. Thus,
in this country, there is a certain military organi-
sation not designed for the duty of the soldier;“and
never called on in times of need;-faembership of
which is greatly valued, for the reason that it secures
those who have it from serving on juries.

In the greater number of American states all the
judges of the courts are chosen by popular election;
in a few the judges are appointed by the governors,
being subjected to confirmation by the state senate,
or by acouncil. The election of judges has not been
an entirely successful method of obtaining such offi-
cers; the result has been that commonly the ablest
lawyers are not willing to give up their practice in
order to take the office, which brings them much less
money, and from which they may be ejected at any
election. Men who are to give justice should not be
exposed to the risks of popular clamour; it is their
especial duty to protect people against ‘“ lynchings,”
138 THE CITIZEN

whether the attack be on lives, property, or positions.
It is unreasonable to have the criminals, or those who
fall naturally into that class, and who, in certain
great towns, constitute a considerable part of the
voters, electing the judges who are to try them.

That our American system of electing underpaid
judges has not brought greater evils than can be
attributed to it, is due to the amount of latent
patriotism in our citizens, and the ennobling influ-
ence of the trust which is confided to those who are
chosen to give justice. There is something in the
duty of deciding on the rights of people which tends
greatly to uplift the character of the men to whom
it is intrusted. Yet the time has come when, par-
ticularly in our cities, it is necessary that good citi-
zens should seek to bring about a change in our
methods which will take the selection of judges out
of politics. The only ways of doing this are either
by having the judges elected by the members of the
Bar, or appointed by the governors. The latter seems
to be the most practicable plan; it has, moreover,
proved eminently successful in the few states where
it has been maintained.

Occasionally it happens that a decision of the
supreme courts of the states, as of the nation, goes
against a tide of popular desire in such a manner
as to defeat the will of the people. Instances of this
kind are seen in the judgments in what is called the
Dred Scott Case, which involved the right of the
THE CITIZEN AND THE LAW 1339

slaveholder to claim a runaway slave in a Northern
state; or, more recently, in the judgment of the
supreme federal court in the matter of the income
tax. These unpopular opinions at once lead many
injudicious people to propose some action that, if
carried out, would weaken or cripple the power of
the court to protect the citizens against the evils that
come from hasty legislative action. It was because
they justly feared occasional mob-like excesses of
the people, which all history shows to be the menace
of democracies, that the founders of our government
gave us constitutions and courts to confine them.
Every good citizen who knows how his government
works, recognises the efficiency of this system of
protection; he sees that in the end it does not
hinder the sober judgment of the people, but only
its hasty action. If the people, as the result of sound
judgment, desire to go by the decision of the court,
all they have to do is to change their constitution.
In fact, they rarely do this, because, before they have
taken the many and slow steps that are required to
make the alteration, they have usually come to the
conclusion that their first humour was folly.

Owing to the complications of public and private
business, much of the work which of old went to the
courts is now intrusted to other bodies for action.
Thus, in the states and the federal government, rail-
way, harbour, land, and other commissioners have
the authority to act in a judicial way. These com-
140 THE CITIZEN

missioners are ancient instruments of government;
they are derived from the Royal Commissions of
England, but they have in recent years had a re-
markable extension in this country. They are effec-
tive; and as their action can be reviewed by the courts
of justice, they are not likely to prove agents of
oppression.

The citizen should see how the judicial system of
his country embodies the results of the long-continued '
efforts of men to protect themselves from injustice.
To see just what the value of success is, he should
read the history of his ancestors, — say, in the time
of the last Tudor sovereigns of England; he will
thus perceive what it means to live among a people
such as our own, with strong passions, without the
safeguards that well-framed constitutions and unas-
sailable judges can give to a state. For all our gain
in civilisation we, but for the majesty and power of
the law, might in a day fall back into that sink of
iniquity from which we have so happily escaped.
When these facts are well understood, the citizen
will see how absolute is his duty to strengthen and
protect our constitutions, laws, and courts. He
should see that changes such as are needed are
slowly made and with sufficient deliberation.

It should be noted that the enemies of the social
order — such as the anarchists, who seek the free-
dom of savages, or other dangerous men, who, while
they profess to support our system, desire to replace
THE CITIZEN AND THE LAW 141

liberty by a method of control which shall be so
slight that they may have complete license — always
propose to begin their revolutions by sudden and
grave changes in the constitutions and laws of the
republic. When people advocate such action they
need be closely watched, for the reason that, through
their ignorance of the protective value of these in-
stitutions, they may endanger their safety. These
prophets of violence are not newly come on the
earth; it has been by watching them vigilantly and,
when it was necessary, smiting them hard, that
patriotic freemen have been able, through centuries
of faithful labour, to build up the fortress of human
rights which the law affords. Every important part
of the great structure has cost the lives of thousands
of patriots given on the battlefield and scaffold. It
is the duty of educated citizens to make head against
these dangerous people; they may be expected to
appear in every party and with all kinds of projects
for the good of man. The greater number of their
schemes are well meant; the political schemer most
often is seeking the millennium, but they are all likely
to have the common stamp of ignorance as to the
history and meaning of our laws. The test of the
sanity of any proposed revolution in our method of
government is to be made by asking whether the
proposers show a due sense as to the seriousness of
the task which they would undertake. It cannot be
assumed that our government is perfect; it is clear
142 THE CITIZEN

that from time to time it will have to be modified
to meet the needs of changed conditions, but it must
be held that any such change should be made delib-
erately, and with the full sense that there is ever
danger to be apprehended from such action.

Although it is eyident enough that every common-
wealth is provided with laws, and without the support
they give would perish, their true meaning is not
readily seen. To perceive this clearly, we have to con-
sider certain other conditions of human action. First
among these, is the fact that no man, however wise
and deliberate he may be, is at all times in a state to
make rules for his own conduct. If he have even a
little wisdom, he knows that he must be in a law-
making humour when he determines on them. He
cannot do this work while he is contending with his
fellow-men; when he is controlled by his greed or
rage, he needs to care for it deliberately, while he
has a chance to reckon what the Lord would have
him do. A man who does not so frame and fix the
laws which are to guide his individual action re-
mains a savage. He is of the dangerous class, and
if he does not become a criminal, it will be because
those who are considerate manage to keep him
straight.

The need of guiding rules is quite as great for
societies as it is for individuals. This is indeed one
of the first lessons that our ancestors learned. Even
with the most savage peoples we find that the neces-
THE CITIZEN AND THE LAW 143

sity of having laws begins to be recognised. At first
these rules are very simple: they say that no man
shall slay a member of his tribe or steal his property.
The chiefs strive to enforce these judgments of the
people, and by so doing lay the foundations of order.
With the advance from the savage to the civilised
condition of society, from the little tribe, where
every person knew all the others and felt them to
be his kinsmen, to the larger state, where each had
to deal with hosts of unknown people, it became
more and more difficult to control the passions of
men. Toward these strangers there was no feeling
of kinship or of neighbourly regard, so that there
was no protection for them against the rage and
bloodthirstiness of their enemies. It needs a care-
ful study of the history of mankind to see how very
slowly and with what difficulty civilised men have
managed to frame and enforce laws which would
give citizens protection from evil-doers. Only a few
tribes out of the thousands that exist or have passed
away attained to this stage of order, and so entered
on the way of civilisation. The greater number
perished mainly for the reason that they did not
have the citizenly motive which was needed to shape
laws and make them efficient.

In our own Germanic race, including the English
and the Germans, and other related peoples, we see
that it has required about three thousand years to
build the system of laws which protect the rights of
144 THE CITIZEN

men in their lives and property. The growth has
been very slow and often interrupted by wars, which
always set back the good work. That we have won
so far is due to the fact that in every generation
there have been men who saw that law was the very
breath of the national life, and were willing to devote
themselves to its preservation. It is to these myriads
of true patriots that we owe our laws and the com-
monwealths they have made.

Ages of experience have shown that there are two
classes of evil-doers, lawless people from whom the
commonwealth has to fear. The one is made up of
the natural criminals, — those persons who, because
they have not advanced beyond the savage state of
mind, or have become degraded, cannot be trusted
to respect the persons or the property of other men.
This group is easily dealt with by punishments. In
the old days, up to within about two hundred years,
such malefactors were generally executed. This
method, though it has the advantage that it tends
to root out evil by destroying the stock that pro-
duced it, was, as before noted, too cruel to be con-
tinued; so we now, save in very exceptional cases,
endeavour to reform the criminal, or at least allow
him to live. The other evil of lawlessness is found
where people, on the whole decent citizens, who gen-
erally may be trusted as individuals not to harm
their fellow-men, when excited by the lawless acts
of some malefactor, become seized with the mob
THE CITIZEN AND THE LAW 145

spirit and proceed to slay him, often with hideous
cruelty. This form of crime has always been found
much more difficult to control than the other, for
the reason that it is due to a certain kind of insanity
that for a time turns reputable men, and even women,
into brutes, so that thousands may engage in the in-
iquity. There can be no doubt that this form of
murder by a mob is far more dangerous to our
society than all the offences of ordinary villains. For
it leads people by nature citizenly to lose all respect
for the law.

That respect for the law which exists in our race
has a somewhat curious origin. In the old days the
king was supposed to be the fountain of justice, and
all laws of his making. His right in this, as in
other matters, rested on the idea that he was ap-
pointed by the Lord for such work. Thus it came
about that the law with our ancestors had an evident
sanctity, in that it was sent down to them from
their respected rulers, and with the stamp of over-
ruling providence upon it. Thus our people came
of old to look upon law and justice as sacred, not
so much because of what they gave in the way of
safety, but for the reason that they seemed to be sent
down from a high place. When, from the idea of
laws being made by superior beings, we came to the
democratic view of the matter, — which is that they
represent the will of the people,—it was to be

expected that the ancient reverence for these insti-
1o
146 THE CITIZEN

tutions would, in part at least, be lost. For if these
rules of conduct are but the expression of the judg-
ment of folk as to what should be done in particular
conditions, it seems natural enough that they should
put them aside when they have a mind to. Those
who doubt the success of democratic governments
such as our own find just here the basis of their
criticism. They do not believe that a people will
have a clear enough sense of right to submit in
times of excitement to laws which they have made
themselves, and to maintain these laws as sacred.
These disbelievers in popular government find proof
of their judgment in the extent to which mobs do
their work in this country. It is for the true citizen
to disprove this by showing that the people of a
commonwealth such as we have may reverence and
guard the law even better than those of an imperial
state.

When a citizen finds himself in a position where
he has to contend against the mob spirit in himself
or others, he should see plainly what the law means.
He should remember that it embodies not only the
deliberate sense of justice of his people, but it also
affords the sole means, as centuries of experience
have proved, by which this justice carr be made good.
He should see that every man is in danger of being
falsely accused; few persons, indeed, who live a long
and active life are likely to escape from false charges
due to misunderstandings or enmity. The only way
THE CITIZEN AND THE LAW 147

that any man can be certain of having justice done
him is by being sure of a fair trial. The first aim
of the law is to secure this; and not until our
ancestors devised the system of judge and jury,
pledged to do justice, did men escape from the
danger of the gravest wrong this world can inflict,
—that of being punished for crimes of which they
were innocent.

When facing the evils of the mob spirit, the citizen
should also set clearly before him the fact that what-
ever be the crime the person has committed, those
who illegally slay him are murderers. It does not
help their position to say that they detest the sin
and therefore smite the sinner. To see the delusion
of this plea let us consider a case that illustrates it.
Let us suppose that a criminal is on trial before a
court and in a way to have justice done him. If
hatred of him or his crime justifies mob violence,
the right thing to do would be to seize him and
hang him at once; as-yet, those who would excuse
mob law have not gone so far as to invade the
court-rooms and slay men who are on trial. But
there is no moral difference between such action and
taking a prisoner from jail, or from the constable,
in order to lynch him. As soon as a man charged
with crime is arrested, he is in the hands of the
law; this is true whether he be taken by officers
or by plain citizens, and it is the duty of every man
to see that the accused is protected until he has
justice done him.
148 THE CITIZEN

It is well also to see what are the consequences
that come upon a people when they have been
accustomed to take the law into their own hands.
There is a good instance of this in certain parts of
eastern Kentucky and West Virginia. The inhab-
itants of this district are of old American stock,
whose ancestors were from England, Scotland, and
the north of Ireland. In origin they were excellent
folk, and they still retain very admirable qualities.
For two generations they were small farmers and
lumbermen, living much in the manner of our ances-
tors of centuries ago. Owing to the disturbances of
the Civil War and the years after it, the laws were
not enforced, and men formed the habit of each for
himself doing what seemed to him to be justice on
his enemies. The result is that for forty years these
people have been under a reign of terror. Efforts
to re-establish the courts have failed, for the judges
were assailed and even slain, and the juries, for
fear of their lives, have not dared to convict crimi-
nals whose guilt was perfectly evident. In a word,
this people has fallen back to a state of sayagery
from which there seems to be no way of lifting
them. Such instances show how not only civilisa-
tion, but the safety which enables men to do their
simplest tasks, depends upon a faithful adherence to
the law.

Those who have watched men possessed by the
mob spirit have seen a quality of human nature
THE CITIZEN AND THE LAW 149

which is hidden in their civilised life. At such times
they no longer act as rational beings, but as a herd
of animals when they are moved by some contagious
impulse. They are no longer rational beings, but
wild beasts. When men are crowded together and
any of them become influenced by rage, the fire is
apt to spread to the throng, destroying all that makes
the citizen the calm, judicious man who looks before
and after the moment of his action. At all times
we have to be on the watch for dangers that abide
in the depths of men’s souls, especially for the cruelty
and bloodthirstiness of the savage, which lives on,
though it be hidden by the habits of civilisation;
but the danger is greatest in the crowd, for there,
as is well proved, the old demons find it easiest to
regain their ancient rights.

When the citizen finds himself called on to resist
a mob, he should hear such a call afar off; his duty
is plain, —it is to support the law of which he is
by birthright an officer. He should straightway offer
his services to the constituted authorities who are
seeking to maintain justice, and take with him to
this task all of his neighbours whom he can move
to citizenly duty. When his services are accepted
by these officers he becomes a soldier, and takes his
orders from those chiefs. If he is called on to fire
on the mob, he may do so with the conviction, sup-
ported by endless experience, that persuasion is vain,
that death alone will break its purpose and save the
150 THE CITIZEN

law. He has no more right to flinch in this duty
than in a line of battle. It is a bitter thing to slay
one’s fellow-men, but it is the part of the true man so
to do when he is protecting his commonwealth. It
is far better that they be slain than all the hard-won
gains of law be lost.

In order that the citizen should be ready to sup-
port the law as a soldier, he should, in the manner
of his ancestors, provide himself with suitable arms,
—best a rifle of the kind used by the organised
militia of his state. He should keep his gun and
ammunition in order for immediate service. It is
his right and duty to make him thus ready for that
soldier’s part of citizenship which is in every able-
bodied man. Except he goes as an armed man to
support the officer of the law, he should carefully
avoid all throngs which are likely to become mobs;
for all who swell those crowds add to the danger
of the insanity that leads to those outbreaks. The
leaders feel that those who are behind them are
with them. Moreover, the defenders of justice are
apt to shrink from firing on the crowd because they
fear to kill innocent people. On such occasions the
only place for the true citizen is under the orders
of the sheriff or other officers of the law.

Many persons who are at heart willing enough
to risk their lives in supporting the law, have an idea
that, except they be members of the organised militia,
they have no right to take on the duties of the sol-
THE CITIZEN AND THE LAW 151

dier. This is a very grave mistake; for one of the
fundamental principles of our government is that
every able-bodied, honest man is a member of the
militia, whether or no he be enrolled in some
company. In most instances of mob outbreaks the
would-be murderers know that it will take hours
or days to bring an organised military force to resist
them. They feel that they can easily deal with the
sheriff and his few helpers, but if they saw armed
citizens gathering in great numbers to his support,
the effect would be mightily deterring. What we
need above all in this peril is the moral effect of
plain un-uniformed patriots going straight forth from
their homes, if needs be, to die for the sake of
justice, knowing well that if they so die it will be
as nobly as those who fell at Concord Bridge or
Gettysburg. ©
CHAPTER IX

WEALTH —ITS ORIGIN AND DISTRIBUTION

HE citizen who considers the state of affairs
[ about him is quickly brought to dwell upon
the question of wealth, its origin and dis-
tribution, and the ways in which it may be made to
serve the interests of man in the most effective
manner. To fit himself to understand these prob-
lems so far as they need be understood by those
who care only to have the share of such learning
which the voter needs in order to use his franchise
wisely, it is not necessary to read many books. Even
better than the use of very many books, though they
aid in the task, is a little reflection on the nature of
wealth, which every one can make for himself with
a little help from watching what is going on in the
business world about them.

We readily see that by far the greater number
of the labourers in any community are paid wages
for doing work which is contrived by those who give
them employment. Where they are engaged ina
profitable way their labour produces something that
sells for more than it costs; the difference in gen-
eral is usually not very great, for a large part of
WEALTH 153

the investments that are made result in loss of money.
The gain that is made in the successful ventures is
an addition to wealth; it is represented in the hands
of the winner, either by so much cash in hand, or
by a credit with bankers, which at will can be turned
into money. The loss diminishes the wealth of the
world.

The above statement gives the simplest case of
. business profit. There are many variations in the
nature of the transactions, as where a person does
his own work and sells its product. In this case
any gain beyond his expenses of living and keeping
up his place of business is a gain in wealth. Let
us suppose that a number of people build a railway.
If they operate it at a profit above the cost of main-
taining it, including, of course, the ordinary interest
on the investment which they have made, they accu-
mulate a share of wealth which they would not other-
wise have obtained. A man or an association of
them may send a ship to sea; the chances of the
deep may give them something of profit after the
expense of charges and insurance are paid; this,
too, is wealth gained. Yet, again, the inventor or
the writer may produce a machine or a_ book
which, by the laws, is his property for a number of
years, and may give large returns; this is perhaps
the most direct form in which wealth may be ac-
quired, unless: it is where a man, by his good for-
tune or skill, discovers a valuable mine and wins
money from it.
154 THE CITIZEN

The essential quality of wealth is that it gives
the holder of it the power to call on others for
labour or goods, or rather to tempt them to do his
bidding. This attitude of the employer is held by
all who have money to spend, whether it be but a
dollar or a hundred millions. The normal and usual
way in which a man comes to have a large share
of this profit that may be had out of labour, is by
his ability to see how labour can be employed in
a way that will yield an unusual profit. This kind
of foresight, when combined with the willingness
and the capacity for labour, makes the able business
man. We are so accustomed to see successful men
of affairs about us that it is easy to overlook their
value or their importance to the state. They are,
however, the characteristic product of civilisation as
well as one of the principal agents in the develop-
ment of that complication of actions. To them and
to their predecessors we owe the accumulation of
all the wealth which serves to give employment to
labour, and to enrich our societies. This they have
done by their skill in managing enterprises so that
they may win a profit from their operation.

If, as is evidently the case, there would be no
large amount of accumulated wealth, except for the
work of the men who have the skill necessary to
create it, it is further evident that we must take
care to develop these people and apply their powers.
To do this they must have some effective induce-
WEALTH 155

ment to devote their lives to their toil which is
required to effect the result,—to win profit. We
have only to look about us to see that no man does
this work without reward; it is indeed characteristic
of men that they will not often labour without some
evident chance of gain. We may wish it were other-
wise, but we have to take human nature as we find
it. The only way which has been found, or which
is likely to be discovered, to tempt able men to do
business, is to give them the usual reward for such
doing, — the profit that comes from the transaction;
or, what amounts to the same thing, to have them
at salaries proportionate to the skill which they put
into the care of business. This wage, if a man have
a talent for managing railways or other great enter-
prises, may amount to as much as fifty thousand
dollars a year. This in very brief is the story of
wealth as regards the conditions of production; while
any industrious and able-bodied men can do a little
of wealth-getting, not one in ten thousand is by
nature able to do the work of creating or preserving
wealth in a large way.

Very often would-be reformers come before the
public with schemes whereby they claim that the
uneven distribution of wealth may be avoided and
all made alike rich in worldly goods. On examina-
tion we find that these schemes, if carried out, would
result very quickly in making all men alike poor.
In practically all cases these people who propose to
156 THE CITIZEN

recast the government are those who are born with
incompetence for business, as is shown by the fact
that they have been unable to win their way to suc-
cess. It is therefore reasonable to believe that they
would fail in an attempt to do the colossal business
required to set the affairs of men on a new footing.
They are, moreover, ignorant of the experiments of
this kind which were made during the socialistic
revolutions of France and elsewhere, all of which
have resulted in failure. They do not know the
history of business and are therefore as incompetent
to deal with the mass of it which makes the state as
a physician would be to practise medicine who knew
nothing about the human body. They are also igno-
rant of statistics, and thus fail to see that a perfect
distribution of all the wealth in this country would
only for a very brief time diminish the needs of the
poor; at the most it would give each person a few
hundred dollars which, in the case of the greater
number of them, would be quickly wasted because
of their lack of economy and their ignorance as to
the kind of care which their capital requires for its
preservation. Let us suppose that to-morrow an
absolutely even distribution of all our wealth, lands,
houses, and other kinds of goods could be made,
and that some omnipotent, benevolent despot presid-
ing over the work kept this action from disorganis-
ing society, as it certainly would do except for almost
superhuman control, and that thereafter things went
WEALTH 157

their way as before. It is easy to see that in a few
years the natural business men — those who have
the ability to care for money — would gather this
wealth, or what of it had not been wasted in
unprofitable work, again into their hands. If by
some rule they were forbidden to do this, the result
would be to impoverish the whole country, reducing
the people, so far as wealth is concerned, to the level
of barbarians, constantly exposed to want by the
failure to have a store of earnings for their times
of need.

The most plausible scheme for getting rid of
individual wealth, and thereby enriching the whole
people, is that by which the government should own
all the property, and that it should employ every
one at a like wage, guaranteeing that all should
have enough to live on. The objection to this
project is simple; it is that government work cannot
be done in a way sufficiently economical to make
money. It has never been so done, and with human
nature as it is, we may be sure that it never will be
thus done. The man whose pay is to be the same,
whether he succeeds or fails, will not and cannot
work as though success or failure depended on the
toil and care which he gave to his task. Done by
the government, work is often excellent in quality,
but it is never economically performed. If all the
business of the people were carried on in the manner
in which our national administrative tasks are exe-
158 THE CITIZEN

cuted, the result would be that no saving would
accrue; the wealth now existing — that is, the re-
mainder after the labourers are paid — would soon
be eaten up, and general impoverishment would
ensue. In other words, very soon after a check was
placed on the vigilance, foresight, and labour of the
business men, we would, so far as wealth is con-
cerned, return to the essential positions of savages;
nothing would be laid by; there would thus be no
provision for all the vast and costly work of gov-
ernment and education and charity.

If these views are correct, and they seem self-
evident, one of the first cares of the citizen should
be to preserve and develop the business motives of
the people. He may regret, as the writer does, the
unequal distribution of wealth, but he will recognise
that in trying to better this he must take care not to
shock, much less to destroy, the peculiar conditions
that have led to the accumulation of wealth, for on
them depends the greater part of the good we have
won in our advance above the savage state. Better-
ment in the distribution of wealth is not only pos-
sible, but it is rapidly going on. The labourer of
to-day has more comforts and securities than had
the wealthy merchant or even the prince of three
centuries ago. His wage in purchasing power, is
worth at least twice what it was fifty years ago.
Every improvement in machinery, every gain in
any kind of well-administered wealth, tends to
WEALTH 159

cheapen the cost of living without reducing the
labourer’s wage. The greater the amount of capital,
which is that form of wealth that employs labour,
the more desire there is to start enterprises which
call for labour, and the greater the demand there is
for that labour, and the higher the wage of the
artisans.

It is desirable that the student should get a clear
notion as to the effects which arise from the watch-
fulness that business men have to keep over their
wealth, particularly as to that which they invest for
profit. Every one may notice the difference between
good and bad times. In seasons of prosperity every
one is employed; many new undertakings are set
about; there is a plentiful demand for labour, and
all men who are fit to work have their chance to
earn good wages. Suddenly there comes a change,
and in a month or two— often more quickly — we
will be in ‘“‘ bad times,’ where there is an arrest of
business. These changes are due to a loss of con-
fidence on the part of business men; they know that
it is easier to lose money than to make it, so when
there is any sign of financial trouble, they at once
begin to withdraw their capital, so far as possible,
from risk; they turn it into safe banks or send it
to some country where it is likely to be secure.
They do not begin to use it again until they feel
that the danger they apprehended has gone by. Such
panics are extremely harmful to the trade of a coun-
160 THE CITIZEN

try. The citizen should see how they are brought
about, and do what he can to prevent them from
coming.

The commonest cause of panics, that which has
produced nearly all of these disturbances that we
have had in this country, is fear as to the soundness
or value of the money with which debts are to be
paid. It is in the nature of the business man’s
occupation that people should owe him money. It
is essential to his safety that he should be sure as to
the value of this money; if he has reason to fear
that he will be paid in dollars of less value than
those he sold his goods for, he will prefer to keep
the goods; or if he is a manufacturer he will quit
making goods until he is again certain of what he
is to receive for them. Such a prudent man of
business hoards his capital in times of panic, and,
if possible, keeps it in the kind of money which will
be good in all countries, — that is, in gold, or notes
that are certain to be paid in coins of that metal.

A familiar instance of the effect of panics is seen
in the use of foreign capital in this country. For
the reason that we have many resources in mines,
fields, and railways of prospective profit in our
undeveloped regions, foreigners are in the habit of
lending much money —in the aggregate hundreds
of millions of dollars —to American men of enter-
prise. As soon as these people of abroad begin to
doubt as to the kind of money they are likely to
WEALTH 161

receive, and fear that they may have back less value
than they loaned, they cease to be willing to loan
further, and try to get back that which they have
sent to us.

All those who desire to increase the share of wealth
which falls to the labourer should endeavour to pre-
vent the occurrence of panics. In those times the
wage-earner is likely to use up his savings and fall
towards pauperism. The man of wealth suffers also,
but rarely does he encounter penury. The care and
skill he brings to his business commonly enables him
to save the most of his fortune; his trouble is slight
compared with that of the men who depend on their
daily wages. Their only chance in life is to earn
steadily, put aside all they can, and so rise towards
the level of the capitalist, when they will be in the
safe position of men who, while they labour with
their hands, have some share in the wealth that earns
money.

The question of the value of the money used in
trade is like other questions of political economy of
a complicated nature; the different sides of it cannot
be discussed here. There are, however, certain very
plain facts of well-recorded history that should be
understood by any citizen, and which, well under-
stood, will enable him in this matter to do his duty.
The first of these facts is that money is an invention
of business men, to enable them to do their trading.

In primitive times one article was exchanged for
Ir
162 THE CITIZEN

another, — so many bushels of corn for so many
cattle, so many cattle for so much cloth, and so
through the round of affairs. Very early certain
articles, by preference those which everybody de-
sired, which were compact, and which could be con-
veniently cut into bits of definite weight and marked
with a stamp, came to be used as the standards of
value. The only materials which met their require-
ments were the metals, — such as gold, silver, copper,
and iron, or the mixtures of tin and copper; all these
in time came to be used more or less as coins.
Gradually, as the world gained experience, the
coined metals became limited to three, — copper,
silver, and gold. Further on copper became used
only for small change, there being no effort made
to keep the coins at any particular value in relation
to the selling price of the metal they contained.
Thus gold and silver became the twin measures of
value. From time to time, as the amounts of these
metals which were mined varied, they have differed
greatly in their relative value, so that the coins on
their face of the same stamp would not exchange
equally with each other if they were not of the same
metal. Again and again adjustments have been made
by changing the amount of metal used in one or the .
other kinds of coins. These changes of ratios have
always been very hard to make, but it has been
necessary to make them for the reason that people
would seek to pay their debts in the cheaper money,
WEALTH 163

while that which was the dearer would be worth
inore if smelted into bullion — that is, bars or in-
gots — than it would be on its face value as coin.

The business world is now in much trouble con-
cerning the measures of value, for the reason that
recent discoveries of silver lodes, and the extensive
mining of lead and zinc ores which yield some silver,
have made the cost of producing that metal so low
that an amount equal to that which is contained in
the bit that is stamped with the mark of a dollar
can be bought in the market for about fifty cents,
while the weight of gold required to make a coin
of that metal costs quite as much as the face value
of the piece. To recoin the silver dollars so that
they may have enough silver in them to be worth
as much as the gold dollar, would give us a piece
too bulky for convenience: they are indeed already
too large for commercial purposes, —it takes a
wagon-load of them to pay a debt of thirty thou-
sand dollars. Moreover, the price of the silver in
the markets of the world is so changeable that a
recoinage that would fit the price of to-day would
be likely to be out of adjustment a year hence. In
fact, silver, so far as the civilised world is concerned,
has become an article of commerce, which varies
much in value, —as much, indeed, as other impor-
tant metals.

In face of these difficulties the leading nations of
Europe who control the business of the world have
164 THE CITIZEN

of late taken steps to disuse silver as the measure of
value, trusting altogether to gold for that service.
The fall in the market price of silver bullion has
been in some part due to the fact that no civilised
country now permits the owner of the metal to bring
it to their mints for coinage, as they do in the case
of gold. So far as they can they are demonetising
the metal; that is, they are forcing it out of use as
a measure of value in trade.

In the opinion of many students of the money
question, this step in demonetisation of silver has
been ‘taken without due sense of the consequences,
and is likely to bring for a time a considerable
amount of trouble to the business world. It will
be especially hard on the people of many countries,
such as India and China, as well as all others except
those about the North Atlantic, that cannot, for vari-
ous reasons, be expected to provide themselves with
gold money which they have never known, and have
not the means to obtain. It will tend to cut these
poorer nations off from the business of the civilised
world if their silver money is brought to have no
value. It is therefore a question how far this gov-
ernment should continue in the process of demonetis-
ing silver in accordance with the dictates of the
European states, —a question of the utmost impor-
tance to our people.

If this country had attained the financial strength
which it is likely to have in fifty years from the
WEALTH 165

present time, it might possibly force the Old World
states to follow its lead in such matters as the coin-
age of silver; but at present, strong as we are in
many ways, we have not the power to dictate action
for the world. If we alone take to the free coinage
of silver, we risk finding ourselves with a currency
which does not rest on a firm foundation of value,
and which may leave us in an unhappy position to
do business with our principal customers. It is cer-
tain that if our mints are freely opened to the coin-
age of silver, one of the immediate effects would be
that gold would disappear from use in this country;
it would be shipped away to Europe, for the reason
that it would be worth more as bullion than to pay
debts. We would then be left with only one metal
with which to do our exchanges, and that least
valued in the great business centres of the world.
All the disused silver of Europe would be poured
into this country to pass through the mints, for the
owners would by our action be provided with what
they much desire, —a market for the commodity.
The immediate effect of this would be what is called
an inflation of currency, such as occurred during our
Civil War when the government issued paper money
in large amounts in order to pay its expenses, with-
out providing any means to redeem these notes in
coin. It certainly would bring about an increase of
prices. If this increase were alike and proportional
to the previous value of all things that are sold, the
166 THE CITIZEN

effect would be simply to give speculators a chance
to make money; the condition of the people in gen-
eral would not be changed. But such disturbances
of values never take place in this way. The change
occurs in a manner to hurt the people who work for
definite pay,—the day labourers, and those who
receive a salary, such as clerks, schoolmasters, and
all public officers. |

The effect of a rise in prices on all labouring
people is that their wages rise much more slowly
than does the cost of all other things for which
money is paid. This is clearly shown by the records
of prices in all times when the buying value of cur-
rencies has fallen; it was conspicuous during and
after our Civil War. In that time, though flour
was ten to twenty dollars a barrel, the day labourer
was seldom paid more than he is at present, when
flour is worth about five dollars a barrel. The reason
for this is that labour is something which has to be
used at the moment; it cannot be speculated in
because it cannot be stored; it cannot be “ ware-
housed ;’’ money cannot be borrowed on it; it must
be used at the moment. The result is that the price
of labour is the last of values to rise in times of
inflation.

On the other hand, in the times when the reduc-
tion in the prices of goods takes place, the price of
labour is the last thing to fall. Thus, the general
decline of values which has occurred in recent years
WEALTH 167

has not carried with it that of wages; all the people
of this day are receiving substantially the wages
which came to them when the paper dollar was
worth only fifty cents of its face value in gold coin.
The reason for this is that there are many things
that tend to make people dislike to lower the wages’
they are accustomed to pay; not only is there great
risk of strikes and a corresponding disturbance of
business, but the employers find it very unpleasant
to lower the wages of their employees. They know
that it will give those who work for them pain, and
this is something that decent men hesitate to inflict;
they know also that it may bring trouble, therefore
they strive to increase the productiveness of the
labour they employ by skilful contrivances in the
way of machinery or methods, and so avoid a reduc-
tion of wages.

It results from the conditions above noted that
periods when prices rise are particularly harmful to
labouring men, and through the harm which they
thus inflict, to society at large. The poorer classes
are then least able to save money and thereby ad-
vance to the stage of the small capitalist, where,
though the man still has to work, he has money for
the comforts and pleasures of life; to educate his
children; to provide for old age and against calam-
ity. To such is granted the prayer, “ Give me neither
poverty nor riches;” they have that which may be
termed truly democratic wealth. To bring our people
168 THE CITIZEN

to this state of social development should be the
object of every true citizen. He should therefore
oppose all measures which tend to bring about those
periods of inflation which are profitable only to that
most profitless of all classes, the speculators, and
which are very harmful to the body of the people
on whom the strength of the state depends.

It would be out of place in this book to undertake
a study of the problem of money, or to discuss the
many aspects of the question as to the relative merits
of silver and gold as agents of trade. It may be
said, however, that this matter is not fairly a politi-
cal question, but one which has been unfortunately
brought into politics. From the nature of the case,
its. discussion and determination should belong to
people who make a business of dealing with the very
intricate problems connected with money. To bring
these questions into politics is like bringing those
which relate to the methods of commerce or to the
systems of medical practice into the platforms of
parties. It is often enough said that the bankers
and other moneyed men are endeavouring to harm
the people; demagogues call them evil names and
charge to them many troubles which the state has
to meet. But, in fact, the people who are trained
in making money by dealing in it after the manner
of bankers are most deeply interested in the pros-
perity of those who labour, for their only chance
to obtain wealth is through that prosperity. Their
WEALTH 169

trade is to advance money for sound business enter-
prises which can only repay them by success; this
success means a share of the gain to all those who
have to do with the enterprises. In fact, the only
people who have anything to do with business affairs,
who can make any money from the business mis-
chances of anybody, are the speculators or gamblers,
who arrange their plans in such a fashion that money
may come to their pockets as well by a fall as by a
rise in the values of stocks or other marketable
things. These people have no real relation to the
business of banking.

In general, where we hear the men of any business
calling denounced as unpatriotic or as pursuing a
course which is injurious to the country, it is safe
to believe that he who makes the charges is in error,
for the very good reason that people are usually
honest and desire their country’s good; were it other-
wise, successful countries would not exist; one and
all, they are the product of devotion to honest labour
of the larger part of their people. In a democracy
such idle talk is particularly injurious; such govern-
ments rest upon mutual confidence, which should not
be brought lightly into question. Thus, there are
good reasons why we should trust in a large meas-
ure in questions of finance to those whose lives have
been given to the study of the very abstruse matters
connected with money, especially as to the effects
which are likely to arise from hasty changes in laws

concerning it.
170 THE CITIZEN

It may well be said just here that the citizen of
the greatest ability, industry, and leisure cannot
expect, even at the end of a long life, to know
enough concerning the extremely complicated affairs
of his commonwealth to be able to found his opin-
ions on his individual knowledge; he has largely
to trust to men who have a right to an opinion
because they are experts, — persons who have had a
long and intimate experience in the particular busi-
ness. He trusts to physicians in all that regards his
own or the public health; to lawyers as regards the
effect of proposed laws; to engineers in matters of
public works. In fact, a man or a state that does
not trust to expert advice in all serious problems is
sure soon to be in a bad way. When a man begins
to suspect that our doctors are poisoning their pills,
that our soldiers are planning to deliver this country
to a foreign government, or our bankers contriving
to bring ruin to the people of any district or occu-
pation, he shows that he is not in a condition to do
his duty as a citizen. He may not be insane, but
he clearly lacks the plain common-sense that teaches
a man to trust his fellows to do their share in the
good work of the state.

Therefore, in the matter of finance, as well as in
many other questions of a complicated sort, — such
as those of public education, the management of
armies and navies, national engineering projects, as
the proposed canal across the Isthmus of Darien, —
WEALTH 171

the citizen must see that he does not act on his
whims, but on the basis of expert advice. He should
not, in most instances, take the judgment of one
man as sufficient; in many cases he should see what
is the general opinion of the experts in the particu-
lar field. If he finds it very strongly in favour of
a certain view or course of action, his duty is, unless
he has complete proof of a great conspiracy, or is
himself so well informed as to the matter that he
feels justified in placing his judgment above that of
the majority of these experts, to assent to that
opinion. This, indeed, is the system on which a
democracy has to be administered, for all such gov-
ernments rest on the well-founded principle that the
joint opinions of many well-informed and just per-
sons is likely to be better than that of any one man,
however great and able he may be.

It is easy to see that as the organisation of our
commonwealths becomes more and more complicated,
the need of trusting to the advice of experts in diffi-
cult matters becomes constantly greater; in fact,
one of the present dangers our republic has to face
arises from the risk that the voters, of whom by far
the greater part are busy and uneducated men, may
try to decide out. of their own ignorance concerning
matters, when the only safety consists in relying on
the judgment of expert advisers. There is no reason
to fear that this trusting to the knowledge and good
intentions of his neighbours will in any way weaken
172 THE CITIZEN

the independence of the citizen. Freedom does not
consist in an arbitrary determination not to be influ-
enced by others; such a position is indeed a kind
of slavery to one’s self. Freedom includes as its
most important part the ability to make a judgment
as to the value of the opinions of our neighbours,
and the ways in which they may be made the basis
of our actions. The man who trusts altogether to
himself puts his trust in folly.
CHAPTER X

EDUCATION, PUBLIC HEALTH, AND OTHER
QUESTIONS

\ ' J HAT has already been said concerning the
place and duties of the citizen may have

made it plain that his fitness for the trust

the state imposes on him depends to a great extent
on the education he has received. In truth, no man
is by birth entitled to be a voter any more than he is
to be a president; the right, like most other rights,
is really and honestly acquired by a process of prepa-
ration which we term education. In large part this
fitting of the youth for the duties of citizenship goes
on in the simple training of the household. If the
life there be well shaped, he learns to be truthful,
dutiful, considerate of and trusting in those about
him; he gains, in a word, the development of his
moral qualities, which make him ready to stand by
his fellows in all the trials of life, be they great or
small; but this family culture, the necessary founda-
tion of all else that goes to the making of a man,
cannot serve in an adequate way unless to it is added
a fit share of the learning that the schools may give.
On this account the educational system of the country
174 THE CITIZEN

is next after the state of its households the fit object
of the greatest care on the part of all patriotic
people.

The first aim of our schools — that which gives
them the name of common schools — is to give to
the mass of the people a training which will serve
the needs of citizenship. Long ago, at the begin-
ning of our democracy in England, the leaders of
freedom saw that popular education was as neces-
sary to the true freeman as arms are to the soldier
or tools to the mechanic. This aim of popular
schooling is some centuries old, but the first place
in which it found a chance to be definitely estab-
lished in the plan of a commonwealth was in this
country; later on the same spirit was awakened in
the Old World, and in some of the states of Europe
the system has been carried to greater perfection than
with us. In fact, there is now danger that the value
of the training which the schools in this country
afford may fall much behind that of the Old World;
it is in many of our states already somewhat behind
Germany and Switzerland.

The essential object of a school system is to give
to all youths a sufficient amount of training to enable
them to read and write and use the arithmetic which
is required in common life, and as a supplement to
these simple things a clear idea of geography and of
general history, with a special knowledge of that of
his own country. To this it is desirable to add some
EDUCATION 175

acquaintance with the elements of natural science, as
well as some training in singing. With this founda-
tion the citizen is ready to continue his education by
reading and observation, as he needs do for all his
life.

Above the primary and grammar schools, which
are intended for all children, comes the high school,
which meets the needs of those who are in a position
to receive a larger education, either because of their
greater ability, or for the reason that their parents
are able to support them for a longer time in their
schooling. In this grade the aim is to give the
pupils a wider range of knowledge. This may well
include a sound schooling in English and one foreign
language in those branches of mathematics which,
though they have little use in common life, are ser-
viceable in training the mind, as well as an effective
training in one or more branches of natural science.
Yet above these high schools come the colleges and
professional schools, which are intended for the edu-
cation of that abler small minority of the people, —
scarcely one in a hundred of our youths can be ex-
pected to enter them. These higher institutions are
designed to carry the student to the point of extended
knowledge of matters which pertain to general learn-
ing, or to some high-grade occupation, such as law,
medicine, engineering, or divinity. Concerning these
schools there are many large problems which interest
those only who make a specialty of education; there
176 THE CITIZEN

are other educational questions in which every citizen
should be deeply informed. To these we will now
turn.

The principal risks which our American schools
incur arise from the freedom of our institutions,
and are inseparable from it. The first of these is
found in the fact that the goodness of the teaching
in any community must in large measure depend
upon the quality of the people in the neighbourhood.
In a country such as France, where all things are
controlled from a central point, it is possible for a
minister of education to order what is to be done in
each class in any school in the realm at a certain
hour; by regulating the system of appointments he
can manage to have all the teachers somewhere near
equally well fitted to their duties. In our republic,
however, the method of local government puts the
control of nearly all the details concerning the
schools in the hands of committees chosen from
the citizens by popular vote.

For a citizen to take his fit share in developing
and maintaining the school system, he should be
well educated; if possible, he should have had an
extended education, such as a college can afford.
Even more necessary, however, than such training
is a sense of the value of the work which the
schools have to do, and a sympathy with those who
are devoting their lives to the task of teaching; he
should recognise that it is their part to discover the
EDUCATION 177

natural capacities of the youth, and to give these
capacities a chance to perfect themselves. He should
see that the strength of the state, next after its
dependence on the homes of the land, depends upon
its schools, and that the service he may render to
this cause is in a high measure patriotic.

In many parts of our country the public schools
are in a lamentable condition. The buildings are
mean and very ill fitted for their uses; the teachers
are poorly paid, so that the work does not command
the talent or the education which it requires in its
officers. The terms are so short — sometimes not
over four months in the year —that the children
have too little time for an education. Commonly
only the primary branches of knowledge are taught,
so that the abler youths have no chance to prepare
themselves for academies or colleges, and are thus
deprived of the chance of obtaining a higher educa-
tion. As the advancement of any state depends upon
the extent to which the talents of its youths are
developed and brought into use in the work of life,
these defects in our system of education are of the
utmost importance to the commonwealth and deserve
the attention of all good citizens.

The first aim of the citizen in his care for
the schools should be to secure sufficient pay for
the teachers. These servants of the state deserve the
same recompense that is given to those who are

employed in the other professions; their rewards
Iz
178 THE CITIZEN

should be as great as those received by the lawyers,
physicians, engineers, and other men of affairs; if
they are less, we may be sure that in the end we
shall have for this work of first importance less able
persons than go to those other occupations which,
though of great value, are not so necessary to the
good of the commonwealth. The next important
matter is the grading of the schools. These should,
if possible, be so arranged that those who are fit for
the higher education should be able to go up a well-
made ladder of learning until they can enter those
institutions which represent the highest culture, —
the universities of the country; until these main
ends are attained our school system must be regarded
as imperfect.

The young citizen, even while but a school boy or
girl, can do something to aid the noble cause of
education. He can help in teaching the slower of
those who are at work with him; he or she can take
a share in keeping the rooms clean, seemly, and
adorned as with flowers, with the result that the
place, however plain it may be, if indeed it be but
a loghouse, may be gracious and elevating to those
who spend their days there. There is, in fact, no
other place except the home where the youth can
so well begin to practise the art of helping his fel-
lows in a common cause as in the school.

Next after the school, if it be not a part of it, as
an object of citizenly care, should be the local library.
EDUCATION 179

All homes should have some books, but the number
in most households is necessarily small. There is
thus always need of some public store of them
whence those who read may have what they require.
In every village or rural neighbourhood there should
be such a public library; it will be of great value,
even though it have no more than one hundred vol-
umes, provided these be well selected. As there are
in our own language a million or more of useful
books, the selection needs care; but there are good
lists prepared by skilful men which will serve as
guides in such matters. Several instances are known
to the writer where young people have associated
themselves together so effectually that they have laid
the foundations of libraries of great value to the
communities in which they are placed.

The most important question connected with edu-
cation is that of the training the individual man so
that he may attain to his maximum of usefulness to
himself and to others. The greatest loss from which
mankind suffers is from this waste of talent. The
writer has had a good deal of experience with men,
not only with young people, as a teacher, but with
grown men in armies, workshops, and mines. The
clearest understanding which comes from his acquaint-
ance with men is that men have rarely attained to
anything like the measure of their capacities. The
impression made on him is that perhaps not one-
hundredth part of the talent which is offered by
180 THE CITIZEN

nature is ever brought to bear its fruit; by far
the greater part of this ability lives and dies unno-
ticed, unknown even by those who have it. The
shortest way to a new heaven and a new earth is by
so contriving our methods of educating people that
the work may fit its name, and result in a real bring-
ing out of their capacities.

Properly organised, a democratic society should be
much the best place among all associations of men
thus to bring out the abilities of individuals. The
sense of freedom, the feeling that he is able to go
into any walk of life, and that his neighbours wish
him success in his efforts to do what he can for
himself and for the commonwealth, should serve to
inspire a youth to develop the talent which is given
to his keeping. It is a part of good citizenship for
every young person to search with care into himself
in order to find out his powers. The plain question,
what am I good for? should be asked by every one
as soon as he comes to discern the nobility and
beauty of this world he is to work in and for;
the answer is not easily to be found. Yet every one
who has in him the quality to ask it seriously and
persistently is fit for good service to himself and
his time.

No man, young or old, can clearly see himself;
to find his powers he needs the help of his school-
masters and his abler neighbours. In general, phy-
sicians and lawyers are the best judges as to the
EDUCATION 181

capacities of young people, for they are, by their
occupation, better trained to look into human quality
than other classes of men; they have also a better
knowledge of human occupations than other people.
A broad-minded schoolmaster may aid a youth to
know himself, but usually teachers lack acquaintance
with the work of the world which is needful in
order to make a man a judge as to the place he is
suited to fill. The best indication of peculiar capac-
ity is a strong desire to do a certain kind of work.
If a youth finds a pleasure in helping sick people or
wounded animals, it may be presumed that he is
fitted for the life of a medical man. If mechanical
contrivances attract him, and at the same time he
has a capacity for mathematics, it is likely that he
will do well as an engineer. So with the other
occupations, if they distinctly attract the youth there
is a presumption that his talents lie in the path of
his desires.

There is to be noted that there is a certain danger
that the youth may be deceived by his tendency to
go with the crowd. Thus, in the recent public
interest in electricity many a boy, because he has
taken a fancy for making the little machines which
relate to the art of that science, has got the notion
that he is fitted to be an electrical engineer, and
pushes towards that profession. If he enters it, he
soon finds, however, that to rise above the level of
the labourer he needs a very long training in mathe-
182 THE CITIZEN

matics and mechanics; and as he cannot well attain
this education, he is likely to find that he is fixed
in a low grade of mechanical employment. It must
not be supposed that because these places of the
labourer in an art have to be termed low that they
are by any means contemptible, but they are for
those who do not have the natural ability for more
important work. If a man of superior powers finds
himself in such a position, he is pretty sure to become
discontented; he should indeed become so, for he is
out of his fit place in the work of life. It is there-
fore most important to avdid the risk of being led
to choose a calling because at the moment it is
fashionable or much in the minds of men.

If men or women are conscious of a peculiar
capacity, he or she should not suppose that they
ought straightway set about the cultivation of it to
the exclusion of all other training. The greater this
capacity the more important it is that those into
whose keeping it is given should have what is well
called an “all-around education.” Their peculiar
power should be continually cultivated; its devel-
opment should indeed be the first and main aim of
their training, but their minds should be broadened
on every side. If a gardener have a precious seed,
he does not haphazardly commit it to the earth, there
to take its small chances of prospering. He takes
abundant care to select the right soil and exposure
by which to give the germ the best chance of
EDUCATION 183

developing its latent qualities; he spares no pains
in the culture of the valued object.

On the principle of the more the value of the seed
the greater should be the care in dealing with it,
those who have in them the germs of value to
themselves and the state should, by their care or
by the fostering of others, be given a chance fully
to develop. Thus, if a youth have a talent for
invention, he should have it assiduously cultivated,
and the main line of his education should be devoted
to this end; he should be made strong in mathe-
matics, mechanics, and the history of the art for
which he has a taste, but at the same time he should
be enlarged by general knowledge, so that his mind
may not become onesided.

Intellectual training is very nearly comparable to
that of the body in which the mind finds its lodge-
ment. It is well known that our body cannot be
well developed by the exercise of some of its par-
ticular parts. Thus, sailors and ranchmen, not being
accustomed to walk, are likely to have weak legs;
blacksmiths are strong in their right arms; even
soldiers with much marching with a stiff uniform
movement become in time in a way deformed. A
proper growth cannot be attained by one kind of
movement, —it needs a full gymnastic system to
give the limbs a symmetrical development. So with
the mind, which has more parts needing exercise
than the body, the gymnastics for growth have to be
184 THE CITIZEN

carefully contrived. Unless this is done, the result
is a onesidedness which is painful to the man and.
lessens his value to the commonwealth, which needs
to have its citizens in their perfection.

THE CITIZEN AND MILITARY DUTY

By the laws of this country any man who is
fit for the task is liable to be called on to serve
as a soldier; he is, in fact, a soldier because he
is a citizen. This requirement has not to any
great extent been brought home to our people. In
European countries, such as Germany and Switzer-
land, every youth has to take his turn in the army
unless he has been by defects of his body exempted
from such duties, or has entered into the priesthood.
This obligation of military service is the last remain-
ing of the ancient customs which placed the man —
his life and fortune — absolutely in the hands of his
sovereign or chief. It is easy to see that this power
of the state to demand the life of its citizens for its
service is sharply in contrast with other modern in-
stitutions. No state can legally take the land or
other property of any person without paying him the
full value therefor, yet it can at any moment demand,
if needs be, his life in the support of the law or for
the protection of the commonwealth. This power is
not limited to times of war; any sheriff can, if he
needs help in preserving the peace or capturing
offenders, require at his discretion citizens to go
MILITARY DUTY 185

with him on his dangerous errand. If they refuse
to obey him, they are liable to heavy punishments.

The law that places the whole military strength
of a state at the command of the officers of the law
— of the sheriffs and their deputies, or of the mili-
tary authorities, the governors and president, or
those they appoint as commanders — is necessary to
the safety of the commonwealth. People within the
state may revolt, or other nations may invade its
territory, — either of these calamities may bring such
ruin that it is justified in requiring those to whom
it gives shelter to give in their turn their lives for
the preservation of their country. So, too, the people
are justified in esteeming as most honourable this
willingness of their fellow-citizens to devote them-
selves utterly to the commonwealth.

So long as a nation is at peace, if the people be
well educated and enterprising, each year sees a gain
in their spirit and their substantial goods. They
accumulate wealth, their homes become more com-
fortable and more cultivating, the sense of personal
freedom grows; all the conditions of a genuine |
democracy have a chance to develop. When a great
war comes all these influences which favour the nur-
ture of cultivated freemen at once disappear; a large
part of the population is withdrawn from productive
labour and set about the tasks of destruction. A
battlefield of ordinary magnitude sees in the loss of
life and of valuable materials a ruin which may
186 THE CITIZEN

well, measured in money value alone, aggregate as
large as that of the great Chicago fire. It is a
very ordinary fight which does not entail a like ruin
which is greater, measured in money alone, than
that caused by the tornado which swept over St.
Louis. It is safe to estimate the value to the state
of the average American citizen who dies in battle
or is permanently disabled by wounds at not less
than five thousand dollars. Therefore in such a fight
as Gettysburg, where about thirty thousand men
were killed or crippled, the immediate destruction,
so far as it can be measured in money, indeed, the
least of the cost, was one hundred and fifty million
dollars. But this reckoning takes no account of the
homes made desolate, or of the widows, children,
and aged who are left unprotected by the taking
away of those who should have cared for them.
Great as is the commercial ruin of war, it is
perhaps in importance exceeded by the moral evils
which it entails. It is impossible to withdraw men
from the civilising effects of decent social life and
to set them about the work of war without to a
greater or less extent harming them. They are for
a time detached from the habits of obedience to the
laws of civilisation; what control they know is the
rude kind of military discipline. When, as in our
Civil War, citizens of both sides entered the army
with high moral purposes, their motives may save
them from the worst effects of their life as soldiers,
MILITARY DUTY 187

as it did our good men in that time of trial; but
there were tens of thousands who were so greatly
harmed by that conflict that they were afterwards
unfitted for their duties as citizens. Those who
know best what civilisation and the true citizenship
on which it rests really is, see clearly that in all
men, however well established, there is still the
remnant of the ancient cruel, lawless, savage mo-
tives. It needs all the good influences of family
and social life to keep down these vile tendencies
of men; war inevitably turns men towards the level
of the beast.

It is a remarkable fact that with all these hideous
evils of war many of the people of our time have a
strange admiration for it and look to it as a source
of national blessings. The reason for this doubtless
is that they do not see that the patriotism which
may be made evident by the summons to arms is
really developed in the plain doing of duty for the
good of one’s people; that the self-devotion which
leads a man to die on the battlefield is not developed
in the fight, but is due to the faithful devotion to
the duty of fathers and sons in the household, to
the zeal and labour of the youths in school, and
to the endurance of toil by which men earn their
daily bread. Battles give a fine chance for the display
of these qualities, but they are no more made on its
fields than are the weapons which are used there.
It has been the writer’s unhappy chance to see some-
188 THE CITIZEN

thing of war; it is his firm conviction that all
armed struggles are monstrous ills which perma-
nently weaken and degrade the states that wage
them; that they are not necessary to train men to
valour, for all men of quality meet such trials
bravely, and that the first duty of the citizen is to
guard against their occurrence as he would against
outbreaks of pestilence.

It is easily seen that this view of war differs from
that which the reader will find expressed in most
books, where battles and sieges are reckoned as
amongst the noblest deeds of men. The reason for
this is that in the early stages of civilisation the
primitive tribes and small states were engaged in
almost continual war, so that the people thought of
little else. The safety of their lives and property
depended on the valour and skill of their men in
combat; they naturally came to look upon a warlike
humour as the one most important quality of the
citizen; it was indeed such in that state of society.
Nearly all the early literature is largely given up
to praises of bravery; it is the leading motive in
the most of the great classic masterpieces of song
and story. This endless idealisation of warfare has
led to the worship of the art. Moreover, in the
olden days, when men fought their battles hand to
hand, when each action was made up of a set of
combats between individual heroes, war was very
dramatic and had a certain effect of stimulating men
to heroism,
MILITARY DUTY 189

In our modern warfare personal valour has rela-
tively little place; the soldier is a part of a great
machine, which acts best where it is most mechanical
in its working. There is hardly any chance of indi-
vidual fighting; it is rarely, indeed, that the sol-
dier looks into his opponent’s eyes, —he may go
through a long and bloody campaign without seeing
the enemy, unless it be the dead or prisoners, near
enough to tell whether they were white or black. In
these conditions war has lost the picturesque features
which of old gave it a certain charm, and which
served to stimulate some of the lower yet valuable
qualities of men. Moreover, in modern times, when
commercial and business life is much more important
to prosperity than in the earlier ages, war has become
vastly more destructive to the property of the people.
A year of the calamity may ruin the trade of a
nation for the lifetime of a generation.

Although war should be reckoned as the greatest
evil, save degradation, that can befall a state, and
as a misfortune which is to be guarded against in
every honourable way, it is necessary for a common-
wealth to be prepared to undertake it when it has to
be met. It may happen that some foreign state not
civilised to the point where it detests fighting forces
war upon us, or that misguided people take up arms
to resist the legal authorities; for such chances the
citizen should be prepared alike in mind and body.
This is particularly necessary, for the reason that
190 THE CITIZEN

our country is not provided with a large standing
army. The existing national ‘land forces amount
to about sixty thousand men, or perhaps the twen-
tieth part of the troops which would be required
in case we had to defend the border of the United
States from the danger of invasion such as would
exist in case we were at war with any foreign
power.

To prepare himself for the duties of a soldier, the
young citizen should acquire so much of the art as
he may well learn from a year or two of service in
a well-drilled militia company. This service will not
make him entirely fit for duty in war, but if he
knows how to use a rifle or a cannon with reason-
able skill, and acquires the habit of obeying orders
as well as the tactics of the company and regiment,
he can, in the course of a few months of active work,
become a sufficiently skilled soldier.

In seeking a military training, it is well to make
the most of the time and thought which it calls for.
It is therefore worth while for one to study the art
of war, so that, in case of need, the service rendered
may be valuable. The greatest necessity in time of
war is of officers who have some understanding as
to the ways in which troops should be cared for, and
the manner in which bodies of them may be handled
to advantage. Ifa youth has a taste for this, a wide
field of study is open to him.

In dealing with the question of war, the citizen
PUBLIC HEALTH 1g

can be most effective on the side of sane action by
reproving those politicians who think to gain the
votes of thoughtless people by clamouring for trouble
with foreign nations. He should bid them see that
no false notions of national honour are to be allowed
to lead the people into warfare any more than they
lead the well-behaved man to street brawls. There
is such a thing as national honour, as there is of
personal self-respect. In case of need a man will
resist an assault as best he may, but in no case does
the decent, law-abiding citizen go about seeking for
some excuse for fighting. When he finds a legislator
looking for occasions which may be the basis for
foreign quarrels, he may be sure that he is not fit
for his office.

THE CITIZEN AND PUBLIC HEALTH

One of the most important modern gains of civi-
lisation is found in the care which the more enlight-
ened commonwealths take to keep the people from
the inflictions of disease. Science has taught us the
ways in which most maladies originate and spread.
One by one the various plagues, as well as small-
pox, diphtheria, cholera, yellow fever, and a number
of other pests which once destroyed the larger por-
tion of the population, have been so far brought
under such control that they are either no longer
known in well-regulated lands, or, if they appear,
they are, by the use of proper safeguards, stamped
192 THE CITIZEN

out. Great as has been the gain, the effect of these
advances in the science and art of medicine, there
is still need for a large amount of patriotic en-
deavour in order to bring the benefits of this knowl-
edge to the people.

It would be a low estimate to reckon the number
of persons who die from maladies due to bad drain-
age, poisonous water, and other preventable diseases,
within the limits of the United States, at a quarter
of a million each year. This fearful loss of life does
not fully measure the magnitude of the infliction;
to it we must add the expenditure of time and money
involved in caring for sick people, and the damage
done by their more or less long separation from
their occupations. There is no means of obtaining
an accurate measure of the gravity of this burden
on the commonwealth, but it doubtless exceeds in
money value alone all the other avoidable expenses
that are imposed upon us.

We have noted that it is the citizen’s duty to make
himself ready to meet the evils of war, although that
infliction is one that rarely comes upon a state, and
then usually because it is chosen. How much more
obligatory it is for him to make ready to meet these
enemies of disease which are always at his gates
when not actually within them! To make himself
useful for this most honourable battle, men should
know something of the laws of the human body, and
those of our domesticated animals, as well as of
PUBLIC HEALTH 193

those methods of preventing disease included under
the term “hygiene.” If he cannot gain this knowl-
edge so that he may act independently, he can see to
it that his community has some guidance from experts
who know how diseases may be avoided. Physicians
of sound training are good advisers in such matters;
in many states there are boards of health which will
give information and guidance in such work.

The struggle against disease needs begin in each
household, where the drains, the water supply, the
access of light and air, are all features which affect
the life and health of the occupants. So, too, the
nature of the food-and the way in which it is pre-
pared for the table has much influence on health.
All these matters are well treated in many books, so
that knowledge concerning them is easily acquired.
If each citizen who has a chance to control the con-
ditions of a house will attend to these matters of
health, he may be assured that the work he does
is in essence true patriotism, which has no higher
task than that of safeguarding the households of the
land.

In general, the best method of obtaining fit sani-
tary condition in a town, as well as for making many
other improvements, is to do the work of diffusing
interest and information through a society modelled
on those which are being founded in many of the
communities of the eastern part of this country and
core portions of the west, known as village improve-

13
194 THE CITIZEN

ment associations. The aim of these clubs is to
study into the needs of the place in which they are
located, and to meet these needs as best it may be
done. The most immediate interest of the members
may well be a matter of health; but the schools, the
public library, the better care of the poor, the adorn-
ment of the neighbourhood, may well command atten-
tion. Such societies enable the citizens who are alive
to the needs of progress, usually but a handful in
any town, to direct the action of their ignorant
neighbours and prevail over their indifference to
the public good.

It hardly needs be said that a care for the
health of a community should begin by fit atten-
tion to one’s own bodily vigour. Every person is,
by his obligations to those with whom he is associ-
ated, held to take care, if possible, not only-that he
avoids being a burden upon them, but that all his
powers of body and of mind are in the sound and
serviceable state. To attain this end, he needs to
know enough of the principles of right living to pre-
serve his health and augment his strength. Even if
he be born weak, he may, as the writer knows by
personal experience, so manage himself that he can
do the work of a man steadily up to the demands
that busy life may make upon him, even to old
age. A sober way of living, with due care to bodily
exercise, bathing, rest, and food, will enable almost
every one who survives the trials of childhood to do
POVERTY AND CRIME 195

citizenly work that will give him the satisfaction of
duty well done, and bring him the rewards of a
well-spent life.

THE CITIZEN IN RELATION TO POVERTY
AND CRIME

However well managed a commonwealth may be,
a certain portion of its population, smaller in pro-
portion to the goodness of the management, is cer-
tain to fall into the defective class, and prove for
one reason or another unable to make a success of
life. In part, these unsuccessful persons are so for
the reason that their bodies or their minds, or both
together, are so defective that they cannot earn a
living, and they thus become innocent burdens upon
the state; in part, because of defects in their moral
qualities, or in the training which these qualities
need, they break the laws, and, so doing, become a
burden on their fellows. Both these classes of people
are a load upon the state, —a load which it is diffi-
cult for the good and effective citizens to carry.

In considering his relation to the defective people,
the citizen should remember that he has two duties
to perform, — the one to his own better nature, the
other to the public. From his individual duty he
owes to all these unfortunates a keen and effective
sympathy: he must help them in any way he well
can; he must seek to keep them from falling, and
lift them up when they have fallen. There is no
196 THE CITIZEN

distinct limit to which this exercise of Christian
kindness and forbearance should be carried except
that the giver must take account of the duties he
owes to those who are most nearly dependent upon
him, or that which impels him to save his time and
means to carry out more important plans of labour
for other ends which may be profitable to his
fellow-men.

It is otherwise with the relations of the common-
wealth to poverty and crime. Long experience has
shown that the poor, if they be helped by public
charity, or private, which is not directly given, are
thereby debased, and are quickly fixed in their habit
of looking to others or to the law for relief; that
the criminal classes, though they may be treated with
all possible kindness, have to be vigorously and
inevitably punished, and that they have to expect
no pardon except where they have earned it by good
conduct while undergoing suitable punishment. The
difference in quality between private charity and
public is much to be regretted, but it does not seem
possible to avoid it in the present condition of human
nature.

In helping poor people, the true kindness is shown
by those who seek to aid sufferers to help themselves,
by finding work for them to do which is fitted to
their needs, and by inciting them to the industry
which they so often lack. In this way they may in
most instances be kept from becoming dependent on
POVERTY AND CRIME 197

the hard provisions which the law makes for them.
This and other charity best be given, not through
any societies, but directly from the giver. Thus
offered, it comes to the poor as a Christian human
deed and has thereby a human quality that can never
belong to the mechanically rendered aid of the law.
So far as he can afford it, the citizen will see that
the dependent people about him never lose touch with
the hearts and hands of their neighbours, as they
inevitably do when they are sent to the poorhouse.

As regards criminals who have endured the penalty
for their offences, the duty of the citizen is not so
clear as it is in relation to the poor, where all his
motives should be charitable. The felon who has
been discharged from prison needs aid even more
than the pauper, but it is often very hard to give
it to him. If his offence was of the character which
is brought about by some moment of great tempta-
tion, it is clearly our duty to receive him back into
society, and to do all we can to help him to live a
righteous life. If, on the other hand, the crime was
of a base character, we may often be sure that the
man is a permanently dangerous person, who is not
fitted to live among decent people; in these cases,
though charity should not fail, the man should be
watched for the rest of his days. The citizen needs
to remember that he is an upholder of the state, and
that it is to him, because of his strength, that the
weak of mind, of morals, or of body have to look
198 THE CITIZEN

for their chance to be helped through life. He
should therefore approach these problems of dealing
with the deficient people as the strong man goes to
the weak and suffering, tenderly, and with the sense
that his strength belongs to all who are in need.
He is to remember, however, that the safety of the
commonwealth demands a course which will, so far
as possible, deter the criminal from offending, and
enforce on the poor an earnest striving to keep them-
selves in a self-supporting condition.

It is most desirable that all these persons who
have to be supported by the public should be kept in
a Christian manner. It is therefore better that the
paupers should be placed in decent families rather
than in poorhouses or in poorfarms, where the
worthy and the unworthy — those who have fallen
by accident and those who have sunk by lack of will
or from vice — are herded together in a way which
is calculated to bring pain to the sensitive inmates
of such asylums.

For those to whom after an honest and laborious
life there comes an old age of poverty, the proper
means of support is, in the opinion of some persons,
a carefully bestowed pension. The trouble with this
system will doubtless be to separate those cases in
which the kindred of the old are able to support
them from those in which this help cannot be reason-
ably expected. Every argument, however, which can
be brought to justify the pensioning of needy men
POVERTY AND CRIME 199

who have worthily served the state in war applies
likewise to the cases of those who have in their
prime done their best for the commonwealth in the
labours of peace. To take any other ground is to
give to the work of war a dignity, as compared
with the duties of ordinary life, which it does not
deserve.
CHAPTER XI

IMMIGRATION, UNIVERSAL SUFFRAGE, AND
THE NEGRO QUESTION

[ve success of a democracy depends alto-
gether on the quality of the people who
compose it; if they be of a common mind
as to the main purposes of the state, sufficiently
educated, mutually helpful and considerate, seeking
good government, in a word, truly patriotic, the
commonwealth will be strong; if there be an ad-
mixture of people who do not have these qualities
in direct proportion to the amount of the uncitizenly
element, the political life will be weakened, and at
a certain stage in the degradation the state will
cease to have the characteristics of a government
for and by its true people. It is this general truth
that makes the question of immigration of great
interest to all Americans, for into their country there
is now pouring a great tide of folk gathered from
nearly all the states of the civilised world, and some
that are not, in one sense of the word, civilised
at all.

At first sight there is much to please us in this
spectacle of folk who have suffered from the political
oppression which other lands inflict upon them, seek-
IMMIGRATION 201

ing a refuge in the ample room of our national
domain; to them and their children this country is
a land of promise and often of ample fulfilment. It
is indeed a noble thing for a state to be, as our own
is, a place of safety to millions of shipwrecked per-
sons. There is, however, another and very practical
side to the question which every citizen must con-
sider. These foreign people are principally from
countries whose speech, customs, and ideas of gov-
ernment are very different from our own. This
difference is not a matter of the moment; it has
existed for the centuries during the time in which
our ideas of democracy have been slowly forming
and working into the life-blood of our folk. The
greater part of the people whence our immigrants
come have been blindly submissive to the will of
others and are thus’ without any experience in self-
government. Coming to us, they are not only for-
eign, but in a way permanently so. Except so far
as we can make them over, — as it were, melt them
down and recoin them with the stamp of our
country, — they will remain aliens for generations
to come.

In certain of the great cities of this country which
have been to a great extent occupied by foreigners,
the politically debasing effects of these immigrants
is seen in the degradation of this government, —a
degradation which seems likely to resist all the efforts
of the American population to remedy. It does not
ape THE CITIZEN

follow that because foreigners lower the quality of
an American commonwealth that the action is due
to their vices; much the same effect would occur
if they were in their natures even better as men
than ourselves. The effect is mainly caused by the
fact that they do not fit into our system. They do
not understand our state, and all their previous
experience keeps them from doing so. They cannot
as a rule fall into our ways; they tend in almost
all cases to form societies of their own, — little bits
of alien countries which remain imbedded but not
mingled in American life.

It must not be supposed that all peoples of alien
birth, even when they speak foreign languages, are
strangers to the purposes of our democracy. There
have been many thousands of those who have come
to us who were, when they came, as good American
citizens as any who have been born and bred upon
our soil. It would be easy to name many score
who, in our own and earlier times, have so well
served us that it is difficult to see how the republic
could have done its work without them. But these
are but exceptions; the rule is that foreigners are
not at the time of their coming of a quality to meet
the duties of the American citizen, and cannot be
made of that quality by any process that has been
as yet discovered.

The argument may be made that these people
bring so much strength, skill, and general value,
IMMIGRATION 203

other than that which makes for sound government,
that we should take them for their good qualities
and neglect the bad. In this view of the matter we
are apt to be misled by the tendency to admire big-
ness without regard to the nature of the mass. We
are charmed by the mere growth in numbers of our
population and forget that the true greatness of the
commonwealth is not to be thus measured. It would
be better for us if we could halve the total number
and double the goodness of our citizens. We should
thus grow faster in all that gives value to the state,
— in intelligence, patriotism, and all else that makes
for the dignity and greatness of a commonwealth.

It seems clear that to preserve the safety of our
institutions, our citizens need be watchful as to this
incoming of aliens from European and other lands.
This cannot well be done by any general law against
immigration; such a law would be inhuman, for the
reason that men of the better sort, educated and
high-minded, are citizens of the world. No state
suffers from their presence; they therefore have a
right to go about as they please. If such persons
desire to cast in their lot with us, they have a just
claim to a hospitable reception.

It is otherwise with the ignorant and undeveloped
folk who form the peasant class in many European
states. These people have not, and rarely are able
to acquire, an adequate conception of the motives of
this republic; its advantages to them consists in an
204 THE CITIZEN

easier chance to make a living and a certain free-
dom from oppressive laws. Where the incomers are
from any one of a number of countries in southern
Europe, they may. have notions concerning govern-
ment which are utterly hostile to our democracy.
Thus, the Sicilians, though in many ways an admi-
rable people, have, owing to the long-continued op-
pression from which they have suffered, acquired
the habit of looking not to the law for protec-
tion, but rather to a secret society known as the
Mafia, which guards its members from danger and
from punishment. For many years the Italian gov-
ernment has been trying to stamp out this per-
nicious society, but it seems impossible to do so.
Even among the Sicilian immigrants in this country
this association continues in a way to give the police
much trouble. It needs no argument to show that
such folk are not fit material out of which to make
American citizens. We cannot give them the idea
of the majesty of the law on which our citizenship
rests.

The best way in which to limit the coming of
foreigners to our country — a way which gives prom-
ise of keeping the immigrants to something like the
quality of those who have made our commonwealth
—is to provide in the first place that criminals,
paupers, and other defective persons shall not be
allowed on any terms to enter; next, that none
shall be allowed to come who are not able to read
IMMIGRATION 205

and write in our language or their own. This test
of education is not the best that can be imagined,
but it is the best that can be applied. It insures a
certain better quality of people when we prove that
they have a chance to know something of matters
beyond the limit of mere gossip. Such a test would
not to any extent hinder the coming of folk from the
northern states of Europe, whence we obtain the
more valuable of our immigrants, — those who have,
or may quickly acquire, at least a part of our mo-
tives. It would tend to keep out the lower peasant
class from such countries as Russia, Hungary, and
Italy, from which we have little to expect in the
way of a rough material from which to make
American citizens. Such a law would do much to
protect us from a very grave danger.

When the foreigner comes to this country, he
should be, if possible, induced not to settle with
those of his kind, but rather to enter at once into
close relations with the native folk, and this in order
that he may in the full meaning of that word quickly
be naturalised. It has been the custom, more in the
past than at present, for large bodies of aliens to
colonise on unoccupied land, so that they might keep
their modes of life and thought as they were in their
mother country; the effect of this has been to retain
them in some instances for many generations in an
alien state. An example of this is seen in the
Pennsylvania Germans who came to this land about
206 THE CITIZEN

two hundred years ago. Although these settlers are
admirable people, closely akin to us in blood and
quality, and of good ability, the fact that they have
retained their old language and modes of thinking
has withheld the greater number of them from the
stream of American life. It is true that many of the
abler persons of this interesting colony have gone
forth from it and taken a full and important part
as citizens, but the greater number have kept by
themselves; they are faithful and excellent members
of society in all but an understanding of what the
country is striving for and should attain to.

When the citizen has foreigners about him, he
should endeavour to do what he can to give them
their full place in political life and understandings;
he should give up his national prejudices against
them, for such feelings serve to add to the difficulty
of bringing the stranger into a proper helpful rela-
tion to the state. It is only when they gain a sense
of fellowship with those about them that they begin
to put off their alien state of mind. Democracy, as
often before said, — it cannot well be said too often,
—rests upon friendly understanding between men
who share its blessings. No man can ever be intro-
duced to it who is not welcomed thereto.

UNIVERSAL SUFFRAGE

In the beginnings of our American system of
government the suffrage — that is, the right to vote
UNIVERSAL SUFFRAGE 207

— was limited to those citizens who had a certain
amount of property, the amount varying in different
parts of the country. It was the theory of the
founders of the republic that no man had an inher-
ent right to vote, but rather that the commonwealth
appointed him to vote because it supposed that he
would do so in a wise manner. Gradually, as the
democratic experiment has been carried on and
the spirit of it extended, it has come to pass that the
property qualification has practically disappeared, at
present the only limitation being in general that the
citizen shall be twenty-one years old, self-supporting,
not convicted of any serious offence against the law,
and of sound mind. In some states, with a manifest
tendency to extend the restriction, the voter must
also show that he can read and write the English
language. This is sometimes called the Massachu-
setts limitation, for the reason that it originated in
that commonwealth, where it has worked well in
sifting out those who, if allowed to vote, would not
be likely to make a wise use of the franchise.

The property qualification of the voter seems at
first sight a very reasonable limitation, for the reason
that almost all persons whose judgments in political
matters are likely to prove of value have some in-
come or capital sufficient to qualify them to vote
under a reasonable limitation, — one that would not
fix the amount of the possessions too high. But this
method of limiting the suffrage has not met with
208 THE CITIZEN

favour among our people because they feel that it is
the money and not the man that does the voting.
The fact that it was originally in and has gone out
of use is enough to show that it does not at present
meet the desires of our people. It is not unlikely,
however, that men may be called on to prove that
they either have some wealth or earn a fair wage
before they are allowed the franchise.

It is clear that the objections to universal suffrage
are strong. It is evidently unreasonable to leave the
decision of grave matters of public policy which may
by their decision endanger the safety of the republic
to people who are unable to read or write. Probably
not one-half the voters of this country would be
acceptable as jurymen in a case in which the trial
concerned a matter where the men had to have clear
and well-trained minds. What right, then, have we to
expect these ignorant and untrained men to act wisely
when the case is as large and difficult to understand
as are most national problems? Looking at it in
this way, the student is apt to feel that universal
suffrage is an evil in our constitutions which needs
to be cleared away in order to save the state from
grave dangers.

The citizen has to learn that in all political affairs
experience has much more value than theory; he
therefore turns to see what are the evils that have
been met in our long trial of a system of voting by
which nearly eyery adult man has had the right to
UNIVERSAL SUFFRAGE 209

a share in public affairs. It is often enough said
by those who regard universal suffrage as a great
evil that the poor quality of our representatives in
legislative assemblies, the defective government of
our cities, the reckless expenditure of public money,
and other ills of the commonwealth are due to this
system of voting. The ills are indeed evident enough,
but their cause is by no means so plain. We find
like troubles in European states, where the suffrage
is limited; they have existed in American states
before they gave up the property qualification for
the franchise.

Against the evil of having a large, perhaps the
larger, number of our voters incompetent to reason
about matters of statecraft, we may set the evident
ills that would come about if the suffrage were
limited to the relatively small number of people who
are fit to give judgment in such matters. In this
case the larger part of our citizens would at once
feel that they were uprepresented in the govern-
ment; they would inevitably become discontented ;
there would be no outlet to their dissatisfaction ex-
cept in revolts, which would be pretty sure to take
place. At least a moderate degree of contentment
on the part of the great majority of those who live
within it is a condition of the perpetuation of a
republic like our own; no such society can survive
with the larger or even a very large part of its
citizens convinced that they are oppressed. Call it

14
210 THE CITIZEN

what you will, a government with a limited suffrage
becomes in a way an oligarchy, or, as the word
means, the rule of the few who attain political con-
trol, —a form of control which, though not bad in
theory, has everywhere led straight away to oppres-
sion. It has proved worse than the method where
the control is in the hands of an aristocracy, — that
is, where the few inherited their rights to govern
from ancestors who won it by some kind of excel-
lence. Therefore if the suffrage is limited by re-
quiring education, property, or both, the limitation
should not exclude a large part of the citizens.

If every man who voted undertook to determine
on the way in which his ballot should be cast by a
judgment as to the matter in dispute; if the issue
depended on the goodness of such opinions, it would
be difficult to manage a state such as our own on the
basis of universal suffrage; but the work is not done
this way. What really happens is this: the untrained
voter has a general impression as to the quality of
the two or more parties which seek his support.
This impression is usually in the main tolerably cor-
rect; the inclination of the man to one or the other
of these associations is mainly determined by his
feelings; they do not rest to any great extent upon
his judgment as to particular actions. When it
comes to advocating this or that measure, — as, for
instance, a protective tariff, or silver at 16 to 1,—
the man usually, to the great advantage of good
UNIVERSAL SUFFRAGE ati

government, follows the lead of some public man
for whose ability he has respect. He thinks that he
is acting independently, but, in fact, he is doing
what is in most cases a much better thing, —he is
acting on expert advice. Thus it comes about that
the decisions concerning the most important matters
with which the state had to deal are in all impor-
tant regards for the masses determined by a few
hundred or a few thousand men to whom the people
have learned to look for guidance. It is, therefore,
to the quality of these leaders quite as much as to the
reasoning of the greater number of the voters that
we have to look for the safe conduct of the state.
Much as intelligence and education are to be de-
sired, what is even more needed in the voter is
moral rather than intellectual qualities; if he is
patriotic, — desires the good of the commonwealth
above his personal advantage, —if he has a fair
judgment as to the ability and honesty of men, the
country will be safe in his hands; it will certainly
not go forward in the higher work of statesmanship
as rapidly as it would if all the men on whom the
state rests were able to understand just what they
were about. Yet under the conditions which we can
foresee, the management of the country has to be left
to leaders, — in other words, in every democracy the
spirit and quality of motives must come from the
body of the people, while the details of action are car-
tied out by those to whom they intrust their affairs.
212 THE CITIZEN

On the whole, the safest ground for the citizen to
take with reference to the question of universal suf-
frage seems to be that, if possible, the only qualifi-
cations should be those of education and honesty.
. All efforts to better the system should be directed
to the schooling of the people, and especially tow-
ards awakening those qualities which make for
patriotism.

The question of extending the suffrage to women
on the same conditions on which it is held by men
is now distinctly before our people. It has already
been thus extended in some of the western states of
this Union. There seem to be no good reasons, if
the suffrage be regarded as a right, why women are
not entitled to it as well as men. The question
really is, however, whether the safest and most
reasonable view is not that the vote is given to but
a part of the citizens for the reason that the public
good can better be attained in that way than by
calling on all to render this service. As the most
of the voters are men of families, the method used
at present is in effect a system of household suffrage,
so that each home commonly has a share in political
affairs. Women are represented by their influence
with the voters to whom they are related.

The main objection to allowing women to vote
is that it would greatly increase the number of per-
sons in our commonwealth who have to be educated
in political matters. At present this body is exces-
UNIVERSAL SUFFRAGE 213

sively large, being about twenty million. To add
another twenty million of persons who, from their
necessarily secluded lives, are not well placed to
obtain knowledge of political matters, will be to
incur certain danger. Men gather their information
on political matters from their contact with the outer
world; it comes to them in their affairs; in their
dealings with others there usually enters much of
politics; their away-from-home life, — in a word, fits
them to receive much political education to which
women cannot well have access.

If it should come about that a majority of the
women in this country very much desire to have
the right to vote, and feel themselves oppressed by
the denial of this right, it will probably be best to
give them the franchise; and this for the reason that
it is most undesirable, as before remarked, to have
any considerable body of our people in a discontented
state. A democracy is primarily to insure the hap-
piness of people; if it fails to attain this end, it
fails altogether.

One of the evils of universal suffrage —an evil
which would doubtless be augmented by allowing
women to vote—is that in ordinary elections the
greater number of those who should go to the polls
fail to do so; they cast their votes only on those
rare occasions when there is some exciting matter
up for discussion. People who vote in this way
usually do the task with very little discretion. They
214 THE CITIZEN

act under excitement, which is the one thing the
voter should not do. So far as he can, the patriotic
citizen should endeavour to avoid this evil of neglect
of his franchise by being himself faithful to the
obligation, and by inciting others to a like sense of
duty by the great trust. It is a question whether a
continued neglect of this duty should not disqualify
a man from voting; it is clear that those who care
so little for the privilege to use it with regularity
are not worthy of the trust which has been placed
in their hands.

In considering the matter of voting, the citizen
should see that the motive which guides the vote is
the corner-stone of the system of government in
which he lives. So long as men act honestly and
patriotically in this part of the state work, though
their action may lead to grave errors, the evils thus
entailed will quickly be repaired. Thus, in the ques-
tion concerning the change in our monetary system
which was recently under debate and still is contended
for by some people, if the majority should decide to
make silver the basis of our business, and it should
turn out that the consequences are highly injurious
to the affairs of the country, the people, if their aim
in making the change were patriotic, would quickly
undo the action and return to the gold basis. The
money loss from the mistake might be great, but the
people would have had a lesson in government which
might serve them well hereafter. If, on the other
RELIGION AND THE STATE 15

hand, the object of the masses is, as some believe
(the writer is not among them), to defraud those
who have loaned money, with the expectation that
it would be paid back in a currency of equal value
to that which was lent, the state would be in a bad
way, for there would be need of a moral reform
which it would be hard to bring about. We thus
see that the well-intentioned blunders of patriotic
people, due to ignorance, though they may be costly,
are not, save when they lead to war, overwhelmingly
so; they are usually retrieved very quickly, and the
results are highly educative.

RELIGION AND THE STATE

The most noteworthy feature in this nation is an
entire separation of matters concerning religion from
the affairs of the federal and the local governments.
The Constitution of the United States does not even
mention the name of the Almighty. All documents
of this nature in this country limit their mention of
religion to statements that men shall be free to
believe as they please, and to worship or not to
worship as they may elect. In a few states a man
is by law not allowed to give evidence before a
court unless he has some religious belief; but this
is a mere matter of administration, the ground for
the action being doubt whether a man who does not
believe in punishment for his sins after death will
be bound by his oath to tell the truth.
216 THE CITIZEN

The failure to recognise the Creator in our Consti-
tution offends some people who do not know the
history of this action. The fathers of our govern-
ment lived in a time when the civilised people of
the world were just escaping from many centuries
of sore trials due to the union of church and state.
In the two hundred years before the American
Revolution many of the best of the English people
were cruelly executed because of their religious be-
lief. To depart from the state religion meant not
only to become a heretic, but to commit treason.
Even in the American colonies, though they were
in good part founded to escape from this system of
religious persecution which was made possible by
the union of church and state, many were imprisoned
because of their apostasy from the legally established
church. The most prominent and important feature
of our great charter, the Constitution, — one that
separates it from all similar documents, —is that
in it, for the first time, a nation assumed that gov-
ernment and religion were separate matters, and
that neither should control the other. With this
separation the establishment of democratic govern-
ment effectively began, for the complete freedom of
the man could not be obtained until it was impos-
sible for any one to dictate his beliefs.

At this time there seems in this country little
reason to fear a return to the ancient union of
church and state. There remains, however, among
RELIGION AND THE STATE 217

some of our people an apprehension lest the Roman
Catholic Church, a body which is supposed to hold
to the old ideas concerning that union, should in
some way contrive to obtain possession of the gov-
ernment and renew the ancient oppression. Against
this supposition we may set the fact that since the
foundation of this government Roman Catholics have
constituted a considerable part of the population,
and in no case have they proved less patriotic than
those of other Christian faiths. Among the early
settlers there were considerable bodies of folk who
never adopted the Protestant belief. These people
rendered distinguished service in the Revolutionary
War. A large number of our best citizens are of
the same persuasion; several of the famous generals
who commanded Union armies during the Civil War
were of this ancient faith. It is true that our nation
is characteristically Protestant; it is probable, indeed,
that the United States would not have originated
among people of other belief; but there appears to
be nothing in our system of government that makes
it in any way difficult for those of the Roman Church
to render it true and patriotic service.

It is urged by those who oppose the Roman
Church that it holds to the doctrine that the author-
ity of the Pope is supreme; that his commands are
superior to those of any and all other persons. It
is not easy for a Protestant to find out just what
this means, but so far as the writer has been able
218 THE CITIZEN

to ascertain, it means that among the Roman Catho-
lics in the matters of faith, as distinguished from
matters of government, the Church is the supreme
authority.

The only grave political dispute between the
Protestants and Catholics concerns the management
of the public schools. The older church desires that
the children of its people receive religious instruc-
tion along with their general education. They there-
fore wish to have a portion of the public-school
money set aside to pay, in part at least, the costs
of such schools. The body of the Protestants object
to this arrangement, for the reason that these schools
should not be used for the propagation of any par-
ticular religious belief. If such a division were made
it would inevitably weaken the system, which would
doubtless be in turn still further endangered by like
arrangements with other divisions of Christians.
There is no reason to believe that any such sepa-
ration can ever be established: our people are de-
voted to their system of public education and are
not likely to allow changes which will weaken it.

But while some friction may naturally arise from
this desire of the Catholics to make essential changes
in our educational system, it is very desirable that
it should not lead to any effort to exclude members
of this body of Christians from a full share in our
national life. Any such action would be in effect
a reintroduction by the Protestants of that system
RELIGION AND THE STATE 219

of religious persecution from which our forefathers,
who knew its evils so well, undertook to protect us
by the separation of church and state. Granting
that there may be a certain element of danger to
our institutions from the claims and endeavours of
a church which is managed from abroad, this is no
reason why we should seek the evident dangers which
would come from introducing once again religious
tests in our political system.

If at any time it should appear that the followers
of a church were undertaking to get possession of
our government, or any part of it, we may be sure
that the patriotism of our people would at once and
effectively deal with those misguided people by the
simple and effectual method of outvoting them. In
the mean time each citizen will do best to proceed
on the assumption that his comrades of the state,
upheld by their religious belief, sincerely desire to
maintain it in its integrity, and that anything they
may endeavour to accomplish is not meant to injure
the commonwealth. To hold an attitude of suspicion
and hostility to a body of people who have never
failed to support our government is to bring back
into our society something of the intolerance which
for so many centuries was the curse of mankind.

From the point of view of the citizen, it is in
the highest measure desirable that Christianity should
prosper and that it should profoundly affect the con-
duct of every person in the state. Experience shows
280) THE CITIZEN

that the soundness of a government such as our
own depends upon the existence of religious motives
among the people. It is clearly the main source of
patriotism, for it leads to those relations between
men, and to that sense of duty, which are the foun-
dations of true democracy. It is at the same time
clear that churches must be left to do their work in
their own way without any aid from or control of
the government; they need freedom for their life
as much as do the people of the commonwealth for
their political existence.

THE NEGRO QUESTION

Among the most serious of the many questions
which American citizens have to face is that which
arises from the fact that a large part of our people
are Africans of a race very unlike our own, whose
ancestors were brought here as slaves. At present
these strangers, for such they still are for all their
long residence in this land, number about one-seventh
of the whole population; in the extreme southern
states of this Union they are nearly half as numerous
as those of European parentage. They are a whole-
some people, and their gain in numbers appears to
be quite as great as that of the white population.
They are by nature laborious, and to their toil we
owe the greater part of the agriculture of ten states,
and somewhere near one-sixth of all the tillage of
this country.
NEGRO QUESTION 221

For many years there was the fallacious hope that
these negroes would in some way disappear; by re-
turning to Africa as colonists or by fading away
before the competition of the whites in the manner
of other primitive races, or through the effects of
the northern climate which was supposed to be deadly
to all tropical folk. Experience shows that these
blacks are unwilling to return to the land whence
our forefathers brought them. We could not afford
to compel them to go there, for we could not spare
their services. To send them forth against their
will would be an iniquity which no civilised people
could perpetuate. They are to abide in this common-
wealth; to help it or to harm it as the whites, who
are still the masters of their destiny, may in large
part determine. It is therefore the duty of every
true citizen to see what should be done to help this
people, so that they may be set upon the way of
advancement to the dignity of citizenship.

To understand the negro question in its relations to
our society and government we need to look over the
history of the coming of the Africans to the New
World and the place they have held since their ad-
vent. This may be briefly stated as follows: When
the first colonists settled in this country near three
hundred years ago, they at once found themselves
in grave need of labourers. They were themselves
few in number and had to win a wilderness to their
needs. At that time the mother country was still
222 THE CITIZEN

scantily peopled; its population being less than the
fourth part of what it is at present. It had recently
been lessened by a succession of pestilences. If these
feeble colonies were to maintain themselves, they had
to find access to some class of labourers. Efforts were
made to obtain such a supply by sentencing English
minor criminals to be sold for a period for service
in America, but these folk proved of little value to
those who bought their time. There was also much
effort to induce the Indians to work for wages or to
force the prisoners of this race taken in war to labour,
but neither reward nor punishment had ever served
to make an effective labourer of the red man. He
will work but little for himself, and if forced to
do so for another, he quickly dies. At this stage
of the difficulty it was discovered, at first by the
Spaniards, who began the colonisation of America
nearly a century before the English, that at the price
of a few strings of beads or a gallon of rum a man
could be bought in Africa who was fairly docile and
an excellent, enduring labourer. The average cost
of purchasing these people of their chief or masters,
and of transporting them to the American coast,
was but a few dollars, —scarcely more than the
expense of bringing cattle across the sea. As soon
as this African source of labour became well known,
it was availed of in a very rapid manner; a con-
siderable fleet of slavers became engaged in the
business, so that for more than a hundred years
NEGRO QUESTION an9

there was a plentiful supply of slaves in the Amer-
ican markets.

In considering the moral as well as the economic
side of the slave trade, the man of to-day must take
care not to judge of it as he would if the business
were done in his own time. All our ideas as to the
evils of this institution when the sufferers are of an
alien and lowly race are very modern, — hardly more
than a century old. They are a part of the later
gains in the field of morals. To our ancestors
of the seventeenth century the process of enslaving
savages was about as much a matter of course as
the capturing of wild beasts. It is well also to note
that these enslaved negroes were not debased by the
change from their native countries to America. On
the contrary, they gained in opportunities of life, for
they came into contact with a superior race; they
were thus trained out of barbarism and into a Chris-
tian civilisation. So that they and their descendants
had a chance of rising to a plane of life which has
never come and most likely never will come to others
of their kind. Moreover, the help which the negroes
gave as labourers in the colonies south of the Hudson,
and in a less degree to the more northern settlements
as well, was of the utmost value to the development
of the English power on this continent. There is,
indeed, grave doubt whether our people could have
maintained their place against the Indians, the French,
and the Spaniards without the good help they had
224 THE CITIZEN

from these gentle and laborious folk from Africa.
The political conditions of the time were such that
they needed quickly to become strong, and the needed
strength could not have been won by their own hands.
Thus while we of to-day see that there was an im-
moral quality in the slave trade, it for a time proved
exceedingly helpful to a good cause.

After the Revolutionary War, slavery, never hav-
ing had much importance in the region north of
Maryland, gradually became restricted to what is
called the South, being maintained in five of the thir-
teen original states and in time extended to eight others
organised after the federal government was founded,
so that the slaveholding section of this country be-
came considerably larger than the original colonies.
As a result of much controversy, slaveholding was
restricted to that part of the United States where
tobacco or cotton was the staple product of agri-
culture, — crops which can be advantageously reared
on large plantations and for which slave labour is
well suited. Although white men can work in the
fertile lowlands of the South, the summers are so
long and hot that the region must be regarded as
near the southern limit to which our race can go.
It is doubtful if this region could have been developed
if it had depended on white labour, or if it could
now go forward with a people derived from the stocks
of northern Europe. The negroes have given us the
share of success it has attained, and on their labour
its further progress clearly depends,
NEGRO QUESTION 205

The system of slavery in this country in the more
than two centuries during which it existed was, on
the whole, as little iniquitous as an institution of its
essentially evil nature could well be. The masters
were generally merciful. Their close relations with
their servants broke down the instinctive dislike which
is so effective a bar for sympathy where white men
are casually brought in contact with black people.
In fact, in the best condition of the institution the
slave had a chance to form good, human, affectionate
relations with our race such as freedom generally
denies him. Where he was a household servant or
a labourer on a small plantation looked after by his
master, he generally had a precious opportunity such
as has never been given to any other primitive man,
to be rid of savagery and to learn the most important
lessons of a Christian civilisation. That he has been
lifted in less than six generations to where we now
find him, to an average station that no savages have
ever acquired, is due to the instruction which was
forced upon him as a slave, and could not have come
to him under other conditions.

Good as slavery was as a school for the negro,
it held in it the foundations of great evils, at first
for the whites and in time for the blacks as well.
The system is one that is evidently impossible in a
democracy which rests absolutely on the freedom of
the men in its commonwealth. A slave-owner, though
he be of the highest type and may have a certain

15
226 THE CITIZEN

nobility, cannot be a democrat, — he must be an aris-
tocrat in spirit; thus slavery inevitably separated the
whites of the South from their brethren of the North
by all the differences that a social system can create.
Moreover, with the tendency to massed industries
which we see so clearly in this day, but which began
to be operative near a century ago, slavery, at first and
for long of the household and farm type, tended more
and more to the methods of large plantations where
the blacks were gathered by hundreds or even thou-
sands to be driven to their work by taskmasters and
ruled by the commonly despicable hired overseers.
So rapid had been this change in the period from
about 1820 to 1860 that the educational value of
slavery to the black was in good part lost and the
effect on the owners and administrators of those great
estates far more evil than before.

So far as the historic record shows, the political
contest between the north and the south began with
the question as to the extension of slavery to the new
states of the region west of the Mississippi River,
which were to be carved out of the national do-
main acquired by the purchase of Louisiana from
France in 1803. The Civil War began with the
election of Lincoln as president, the Southerners
claiming that as they could not have protection under
the federal Constitution they would withdraw from
the Union. It is not difficult to see that the reason
assigned for secession, though honestly advanced,
NEGRO QUESTION 227

was not the true foundation for that action. This
is to be,sought in the state of mind developed by the
system of slavery which had parted the southern
ruling class from the men of the North. What the
secessionists instinctively strove for was a formal
separation from the democratic motive which still
controlled the larger part of the country. The result
of the war was to break down what had become the
most characteristic aristocracy of modern times, and
to give a chance for the democratic spirit which had
long been developed in the North to control the whole
country.

It is well that we should look upon the wonderful
incidents of the Civil War without the prejudices
which moved the contestants on either side; that we
should see in it, as historians will in time come to see,
the actions of men as they are controlled by their
institutions, even when they have no idea that they
are thus controlled. The writer, a native of a slave-
holding state, was by circumstances near to the men
of both North and South. He knows that they
were alike moved by the sincerest patriotism, yet
neither recognised that the controversies of the mo-
ment concerned were those diverse ideals of govern-
ment for which our race is ever willing to battle.
The southern people honestly believed that they were
not fighting for slavery, but for a rather shadowy
thing called state rights; the northern at first that
they were not in arms to free the slaves, but to save
228 THE CITIZEN

the Federal Union, yet it is clear that the combat was
between two ideals of government: the ancient aris-
tocratic ideal, which had been restored in this country
by the system of slavery, and that of democracy of
the American type.

The results of the Civil War were twofold: firstly,
it affirmed the democratic character of this nation;
secondly, it made an end of slavery on this continent,
and we may say throughout the civilised world, —
for such remnants of the institution as existed else-
where were soon swept away by the great movement
which our action brought about. The consequences
of the extension of the democratic motive to the
whole of this country have been very great. At first
it is true they were destructive, for it brought about
a great change in southern society. In the end it
will doubtless be helpful to the whole of the United
States.

Whoever looks over the history of the contest that
led to the overthrow of slavery, with some sense of
the history of men, will see how their actions are
shaped by the institutions which they have inherited.
He will behold in slavery an evil, though at first
profitable, —a system of human relations which in
time came to warp near half our people from
their true ideals, destroying the precious ideal of
human liberty and the love of the government on
which the preservation of that liberty depends. It
will be clear to him that if the Confederacy had been
NEGRO QUESTION 229

established the result would have been the develop-
ment on this continent of two strong, consolidated
nations, each armed against the other and animated
by hatreds that would have led to endless war.
State rights, the nominal object of the southern
contention, would have vanished before the need of
consolidated power. The military state of mind, such
as debases the peoples of continental Europe, would
have replaced the peaceful motive which belongs of
right to our union of commonwealths. The consid-
erate observer will further see, what our countrymen
have admirably recognised, that the inevitable war
fitly ended with the surrender of the Confederates;
that there was left no question as to the good faith
of the men of both sides who by ill fortune had been
driven to take part in the great debate which deter-
mined the future of this land.

The only part of the ancient trouble that survives
the Civil War is the negro element of our population.
There can be no question as to the seriousness of
the trouble which the presence of these people entails
on us. As before noted, they were when they came
to us as completely foreign to the purposes of our
society and government as were the aborigines of this
country. They were commonly and in most regards
of much lower quality than the American Indian.
Their training as slaves developed their innate fit-
ness for toiling and forced them to conform to our
habits of life; it had moreover taught them to use
230 THE CITIZEN

our language in an effective manner. It had, how-
ever, taught them nothing in the way of that self-
reliance which is the foundation of the citizen’s value;
nor anything of the sense of property on which success
in free life so intimately depends.

This huge mass of undeveloped folk, greater in
number than the inhabitants of England when the
American colonies were founded, more numerous
than the population of the Federal Union when it was
formed, were by the issue of the war made nominally
free and in a like nominal way given the right to
share in the government of the country. It is diffi-
cult to see, in the then state of the public mind, what
else could have been done with the blacks; but this
sudden and totally unprepared change was a great
injustice to them. They were forced at once to
undertake a work for which their masters, an abler
folk, trained by centuries of citizenly experience, are
not yet completely fitted. The most hopeful feature
of the situation is that the blacks have not made far
worse use of these dangerous gifts of freedom and
the franchise than they have done. Except for a few
months of disturbance, with scarce a trace of vio-
lence, immediately following the end of the war, the
greater part of this people have held to their tasks.
They are now even as laborious as they were when
slaves, as is well shown by the fact that the crops
they till yield quite as much to each negro employed
in their tillage as in the time of their slavery.

 
NEGRO QUESTION 231

Where they have not been deprived of the right to
vote by state laws, they have, in the South at least,
generally ceased to make use of that right, in which
the mass of them have little or no citizenly interest.
If the only question concerning the negro’s place
with us were that of willingness to work and sub-
mission to the laws, there would be no great reason
for apprehension as to their future. They could be
left to lie where they now are, at the bottom of our
society, where, indeed, lie a large part of our foreign-
born nominal citizens. It is, however, evident that
if they are thus left they will in time form a peasant
class about as effectively slaves as of old. Their
presence will discredit hand labour in the eyes of the
poorer whites. We shall have in a slightly changed
form the same problem that the war for a time
swept away. It may be that this result is inevitable;
it certainly is so unless the blacks, or considerable
part of them, can be lifted to the plane of true citi-
zenship. That this good end may, by due effort, be
attained is indicated by the facts set forth below.
The first point to note in considering the future
of the negro and the ways in which he may be
advanced, is that admirable endurance to toil, which
gave him his great value as a slave. A capacity for
labour is seldom found among savages. More than
any other part of man it shows a capacity for civili-
sation, for by it alone all the material basis of ad-
vancement can be won. Next in order of value is
232 THE CITIZEN

the fact that this African people is not of one stock,
but an admixture of very diverse races. There is,
indeed, in these Africans, under the effective mark
of a common colour and character of hair, a far
greater variety of stocks than are blended in our
white population. Such differences in quality were
naturally to a great extent hidden during slavery,
which tends to keep a subjected folk in a uniform
condition; they have had no chance to develop their
capacities. Those who have had the chance and the
desire to study our American negroes, have learned
something of their wide differences of ability and
character; how, while a large number of them, per-
haps over one-third, are still in mind a very lowly
people with scant intelligence and rude passions, the
greater part of the folk are fairly quick-witted, and
many have a true manliness that we may hope to
see ripen into a high grade citizenly quality. Some-
times, though rarely, we find a man of capacity fit
to be compared with that of the abler whites. It is
likely that these differences are due to the exceeding
variety of the stock whence the ancestors of these
people came: the range being from the lowly, rather
timid, savage of the Guinea coast, from which the
lowliest seem to have been derived, to the brave and
intelligent Zulus of the southern part of Africa and
the vigorous, manly Basutos of the regions about the
upper waters of the Nile.

It is in the evidently great variety of the negroes
NEGRO QUESTION 233

that we find the best chance of dealing with the
problem of fitting them to our commonwealth; for
from this range of nature we may hope to develop
men who will fit well in various stations, and in time
to bring a large part of the people above the peasant
grade. The first need is to provide as well as we
can for their training in the simpler arts, so that
they may be made good carpenters, masons, metal-
workers, etc. It was by this education of the trades
that our own people won the most important of their
schooling and in the course of centuries gained their
development. It must be on this same slow, hard
road, and not to any extent by a literary education,
that the negro is to find his way to the full station
of the citizen. Of late, after a generation of blun-
dering, our people, the blacks, as well as the whites,
under the leadership of General Armstrong and
Booker Washington, have come to see the need and
value of training for the various higher industries,
and are providing the means of giving it to the
negro youth of both sexes.

It will be a difficult task to obtain the means
for the training which Mr. Washington seeks to
give his people. The task has to be done in
states which are still poor from the losses of the
war, and where the whites cannot afford like oppor-
tunities for their own children. No community in
the world has as yet been able to establish such a
system of industrial education. Yet, as it appears
234 THE CITIZEN

to provide the only way of escape from the immedi-
ate dangers of the situation, it should have the sup-
port of every earnest citizen.

The obstacle which is likely to prove the most
permanent bar to the complete reconciliation of the
negro to our American commonwealth, is the preju-
dice of race the whites feel to peoples very unlike
themselves. As before remarked, this prejudice is
a natural animal motive, such as causes dogs to-be
at perpetual enmity with their kinsmen, the foxes or
the wolves. It has been of some service to mankind
in the lower stages of development, as it has led
tribes to keep to themselves and to take a pride in
their good qualities. It has served well in limiting
those mixtures of the blood of diverse races of men
which commonly give rise to “ half-breed ” offspring.
But when two diverse races are associated as are the
blacks and whites in this country, the effect of this
prejudice is in many regards most unhappy. It pre-
vents that exchange of sympathies and understand-
ing on which the success of the society intimately
depends. No truly democratic commonwealth is pos-
sible where the folk are divided into two bodies,
sharply and permanently separated from each other.
Differences of ranks based on education or wealth
may exist without serious consequences, for they are
not permanent: they rest on values that may be
gained or lost. Thus it comes about that the Eng-
lish aristocracy is tolerated and even admired in a s0-
NEGRO QUESTION 235

ciety that is, in most regards, essentially democratic ;
the reason being that an untitled youth of ability
may, if he be fortunate, find his way into it. But
a caste system, where the division rests upon abid-
ing dislikes, would destroy our existing society more
completely than could any tyrant.

It thus appears that the part of the helpful citizen in
dealing with the negro problem may well be found
in an effort to advance the education of that people
in ways that will serve to fit them for the simpler
yet honourable positions of trained workmen, leav-
ing the ordinary means of the higher education open
to the abler youth, as they should be to all who are
fit for such schooling. At the same time he should
protest against that dislike of the negroes as a race,
which all Americans, except those who have been
brought into intimate relations with them in their
youth, appear to feel. That this prejudice, though
strong, is not ineradicable, is shown by the close,
sympathetic relations which were often developed
between the masters and servants in the old days
of slavery, and which were the redeeming features
of that evil. We should make our people see that
this blind dislike of any man is more than unworthy
of them; it is, in fact, disgraceful that, large-minded
folk as they in general are, they should be influenced
by a motive that is essentially brutal,— one from
which the cultivated peoples of the Old World have
long ago escaped.
236 THE CITIZEN

It should be understood that it is not necessary
that the social recognition of the negroes should go so
far as to insure their admission to the homes of the
whites on the same basis as determines the entrance
of persons of our own race. It is, indeed, very
undesirable that the two peoples should ever be
linked by marriage, for the offsprings of such mar-
riages are almost always weak and _ short-lived.
Whenever they have formed a mixed race, it has
proved much less good than either of the parent
stocks. We thus have to accept this limitation
on the intercourse, yet it is one that need not
bear hardly on either race, for it is for the best in-
terests of both. It is common enough in our best
and most democratic communities for a part of the
families to dwell quite apart from the others without
in any way contemning those whom they would not
for various reasons welcome to their homes. So
much of caste distinction is necessary in any devel-
oped society, yet these limitations on intercourse need
not seriously lessen the sympathy which men need
have with one another in the social life that is beyond
the household, — in matters of public policy and util-
ity, wherein lies the life of the commonwealth. What
is imperatively wanted is that the negroes be ad-
mitted there and that their welcome be in the meas-
ure of their citizenly quality, undiminished by any
reference to their race.

It is not to be denied that the task of developing
NEGRO QUESTION 297

the latent powers, which, in the opinion of the writer,
are far greater than is generally believed, is very
serious. Nothing like it has ever before been under-
taken. It may before completed demand for its ac-
complishment something like as large a share of the
national wealth as was expended by the federal gov-
ernment during the Civil War. It means a certain
amount of technical education of a very great number
of the children of ten million people, say to not less
than one hundred thousand for years to come. As
it is not likely that the white people will allow
schools of this quality to exist for negroes alone,
it may mean that a like education will have to be
opened to both races, —a result certainly not to be
deplored. Yet this cost need not affright us, for
we may be sure that this, like all other well-directed
education, will be a very good investment of public
money, for it will bear fruit in money as well as
other values. Every black man otherwise to be a
mere plodding labourer, who by such training is
lifted to the grade of a skilled artisan, will have his
value to the state increased several fold. His annual
earnings as a “field hand” will not exceed one hun-
dred and fifty dollars; as a skilled blacksmith, car-
penter, or machinist, they should be at least four
hundred dollars; and in something like this measure
his value will be advanced by his training.

Good as the financial result of training the ne-
groes as artisans is likely to be, that to be had
238 THE CITIZEN

from the improvement of their station is yet better.
So long as these folk lie at the bottom of our eco-
nomic system and are reckoned as mere labourers,
who accumulate no property and gain none of the
station which property gives, the contempt for their
lowliness will add to that which comes to them on
account of their race. As soon, however, as they
begin to gain wealth and have a place in the higher
grades of employment, they will have a certainty of
recognition as citizens. A few score negroes who
had acquired fortunes in honest industry would go
far towards breaking down the barriers that now
debar their people from a fair chance of becoming
citizens of high grade.
CHAPTER XII

FOREIGN POSSESSIONS

4 eae EXT in importance to the great problem of
N dealing with the negroes of this country
is that brought about by the conquests of

the Spanish War, — what may be termed the ques-
tion of foreign possessions, not colonies, as they
are generally misnamed, but conquests of land and
peoples in regions remote from our country. This
question, like many another our people have had to
face, has at once a moral and an economic side. It
concerns at once the matter of right doing and of
profit to the material interests of the commonwealth.
We should at first note that the question is not
of acquiring new territory for national use, that we
have done many times before, by buying it from Spain
and France, or the Indians, nor even of winning such
territory by force of arms, that we did in the Mex-
ican War, with no credit to our national honour,
but without more shame than commonly lies in the
way of conquests. The question is whether we
should definitely enter on the ancient way followed
by other countries, of subduing foreign peoples for
our profit,—a way which this nation deliberately
240 THE CITIZEN

avoided in the first century of its history. Although
we have entered on this way, and have forcibly taken
possession of Porto Rico and of the Philippines, the
action was suddenly taken, without any reference of
it, by an election, to the judgment of the citizens of
the republic. Therefore, the action is to be regarded
as tentative, and the policy it represents as one still
to be determined by debate.

In debating with himself and others the question
whether this nation should hold subjugated countries
without reference to the will of their peoples, the
true citizen will turn first to the matter of right and
wrong involved in the action. He will remember
that he holds his citizenship in a commonwealth that
claimed and won its place among states by contend-
ing for certain plain rights of man, not rights that
were peculiarly their own, but the common property
of all men. It will not be amiss for him to read
again the Declaration of Independence, which is in
many ways the noblest of the many “ bills of right”
by which men of our race, from Runnymede to
Philadelphia, have set forth their idea of what lib-
erty means. If he reads this part of the lesson as
the writer does, he cannot escape the conclusion that
to conquer and hold any people on any pretence
whatever is to deny the very basis of our govern-
ment, and to turn against the motives that have
guided our commonwealth to all the moral dignity
and greatness it has won.
FOREIGN POSSESSIONS 241

Although it seems to be impossible to reconcile
the conquest of foreign countries and their subjuga-
tion to our purposes with the Declaration of Inde-
pendence, or the rules which have piloted our nation
for more than a century, it may be urged, and this
with some fair show of reason, that we have out-
lived the early conditions of our national life, and
are now by circuimstances driven to do as others do
in the rude scramble for national success; that the
question before us is not to be decided by what our
ancestors said or did, but by the needs of our time.

It may be granted that there come times in the
history of a people when they have to turn their
backs upon their past, when they may have to aban-
don their ancient ideals of life and duty for new
motives which changes in conditions force them to
adopt. It may further be granted that it is a part
of patriotism to make such changes boldly, and with
a full understanding that men cannot do their duty
by their generation if they give themselves to a blind
worship of what other generations have done. Our
English ancestors in their rebellion against the Stuart
kings, our colonies in the Revolution of 1776, did just
this; they were right, and those who held to ancient
traditions of loyalty were wrong. The question is
under what circumstances a people are justified in
putting aside the principles which the experience of
their commonwealth has proved to be honest and

safe rules of previous action, to adopt new ways of
16
242 THE CITIZEN

dealing with their fellow-men. Clearly the reasons
for the change need be weighty; they should, in-
deed, be in their nature compelling. They must
concern the safety of the state, the chance of its
people to win their bread, or to do their just part
by their fellow-men.

As regards the conduct of a state in those crises
where there is a temptation to enter on a new mode
of life that contradicts its accepted bases of action,
we may compare it with that of an individual man
who has lived and prospered by shaping his deeds
on certain rules which have always seemed to him
right. There comes a crisis in his affairs when he
sees the way to profit by giving up his high ideals
for those he has heretofore considered as base. If
he gives way to the temptation, we judge him de-
graded. If he robs his neighbours to help his
business, we send him to the penitentiary; or if he
does the wrong on so large a scale that the law
cannot check him, we judge him a tyrant to be
overcome by arms. Yet when we look at the matter
critically, we see that the acts of a state are subject
to the judgments which fit the people as a whole
quite as closely as they fit any individual citizen.
It is, indeed, to this way of looking at the respon-
sibility of the individual citizen for what the state
does or leaves undone that we owe the development
of our democracy, — the efficient patriotism that makes
it valuable. Of old, there was a notion that a state
FOREIGN POSSESSIONS 243

was something else than an association of people
where each had all the responsibility of a sovereign.
It was supposed to be established by heaven through
the divine right given to its rulers, so that its citi-
zens, or rather subjects, had no other duty than to
submit to their sacred rule. To get rid of this idea
as to the relation of the state to those who dwell in
it has cost the lives of a multitude of men whom we
properly regard as our heroes; whose memories we
keep sacred, and on whom we call for help in trouble;
we bless them for the reason that they made us free
to judge the actions of the state as our own. It is
from considerations such as these that we should
approach the question as to the wisdom and justice
of establishing by conquest a system of foreign
possessions.

In considering the right and policy of gaining con-
trol of foreign lands and peoples by war, it will be
well first to note the arguments for so doing.
These, in brief, are as follows: In the first place,
it is maintained that the United States has now
come to a stage of development, commercial and
industrial, where it imperatively needs to have a
fair share in the markets of the world, and that as
the great states of Europe are rapidly grasping the
lands of all peoples who are not strong enough to
maintain their independence, we should do our share
of the grabbing, lest we soon find that our trade is
narrowed by the tariffs of those states. This argu-
244 THE CITIZEN

ment has a certain brutal force, but, tested by the
right of an individual to despoil his neighbour for
his own profit, it is seen to have a distinct criminal
quality. Moreover, if there were no objections to
the scheme from a moral point of view, there would
remain others very serious from that of policy. It
is a well-known fact that none of the newly won
possessions of France or Germany have begun to
pay their costs to those governments; they are all
maintained at a very serious loss of money and the
lives of the garrisons needed to hold them in sub-
jection. Probably the only really profitable foreign
possession held by a European power is Java, which
yields a large return to the Dutch government, for
the reason that it is exceptionally fruitful, and its
people are forced to labour practically as slaves.
There is another argument akin to that just con-
sidered, which is to the effect that we need these
so-called colonies in order that the youth of our
commonwealth may have a wider chance to win for-
tune and station than our country can afford them.
The example of England is pointed to as showing
how these holdings serve to give her youth a chance
to rise. Whatever may be the need of outside pos-
sessions in the case of a small country like Great
Britain, such need clearly does not exist with us.
It is our good fortune that our home place is so
large that our children do not need to seek their
chance in life in foreign parts; moreover, except
FOREIGN POSSESSIONS 445

as regards a relatively few government offices, the
chance of an American in the British colonies is
just as good as those of a subject of its crown.
Granting that this need is great, the question is
whether we should satisfy it by taking what does
not belong to us, or, after the manner of honest
men, let the need go unsatisfied.

Probably the strongest argument for foreign pos-
sessions is that by holding them we may be able
in time greatly to benefit their peoples. Although,
as experience, that of our own and all other nations,
clearly shows, we must begin such benefaction with
war, it is held that we may, after due subjugation,
establish in those conquered lands schools, savings
banks, legislatures, manhood, suffrage, and the other
institutions we have proved good with us; so, in
time, we may lift them to our own plane of liberty.
It is said that in the administration of these foreign
possessions we should find reward for the temporary
ills of war, pestilence, famine, and enduring hatreds
that all armed conquests entail. It is a fine dream,
this fancy of far-away lands mercifully compelled
to give over their ancient rule and to submit them-
selves to that of a great free commonwealth which
desires only their good. Those who know some-
thing of conquests since the beginnings of history
know that they are rarely undertaken for mere
plunder, but most commonly for some seeming lofty
purpose, — to spread the gospel of peace; to thwart
246 THE CITIZEN

the desires of some base exploiter of the earth; or
to help an unhappy people to better ways of living.

It is here with the many men of the state as it
is with the individual man, — stealing is rarely mere
barefaced stealing to the thief; it is rather a process
of appropriation by which the goods in question may
be made to yield a larger return in the way of true
values in the hands of the new holder.

If we look a moment at the matter of the benefits
we may give to conquered aliens, we see yet other
and very strong reasons why our benevolent purpose
cannot be attained; for we shall see that a system
of government and social institutions which serves
well the people who in the course of centuries have
developed them may prove entirely unsuited to a
folk of another history. We see this near at hand
when we consider the fate of the Indians in this
country. It is the custom absolutely to condemn the
conduct of our folk towards the people they found
in this land. There is, it is true, much in that con-
duct that is reprehensible, but when we take the
whole history of these relations, we see that the root
of the trouble lay in the utter incapacity of the
Indian to fit himself to our institutions. At. the out-
set there were many and faithful efforts to bring
him into our social system; many schools, including
Harvard College, in part or in whole, were founded
for his education, and many devoted men gave
their lives to the vain effort to domesticate the
FOREIGN POSSESSIONS 247

wild man under our English roof. It was not until
the red man proved unalterably wild that the alter-
native process of extermination began. To our fore-
fathers the obdurate wildness of the Indian was an
evidence of original ineradicable sin that justified
them in slaying him. To our better knowledge it
is clear that the Indian, by his nature and history,
was debarred from living under our institutions;
good as they were to us, they were death to him.
He had his fitting institutions as old and as elabo-
rated as our own; they came forth from his nature,
and were thus suited to his needs as no others
could be.

A larger and more telling instance of the difficulty
encountered in forcing alien peoples prosperously in
the ways that we tread is found in our experience
with the Africans, who have been near two hundred
years with us. Although they form but a small
minority of our population, and have been for gen-
erations in close contact with our society, the gravest
problem our country has to face is as to the means
by which they may be brought into the state of
American citizens. As elsewhere noted, the task is
one likely to tax our resources of money and devo-
tion to public good to the uttermost. Yet these
people are here with us and not beyond the seas.
They speak our language, share our religion, and
are pathetically anxious to be like ourselves; there
were, indeed, never more willing pupils of a state
248 THE CITIZEN

than they are, but the result of the mutual endeavour
for a common citizenship remains uncertain.

Some further light is thrown on the probable
results of an effort to bring the folk of our foreign
possessions by the experience of other countries.
France and Spain long held the island that is now
occupied by the so-called republics of Hayti and
San Domingo. The negroes there were apparently
as civilisable as those of the United States; at the
time of their revolt from European control their
state of culture gave promise of a fair future. The
heroic Toussaint L’Ouverture and many of his fol-
lowers appeared to indicate a safe quality in the
people. Yet since their emancipation these people
have steadily gone downward, and are now, from all
accounts, about where they were when they were
brought from Africa. St. John, for twenty-five
years the British minister to Hayti, asserts that in
some parts of that country the people have reverted
to cannibalism, connecting the practice with their
revered heathen rites, and that he has known mem-
bers of the government to take part in this degrada-
tion. It is fair to say that these grave charges have
been denied by several honest though apparently
less competent observers, but the fact remains that
an evidently truthful man of high position and long
experience in the country thus judged its folk.

Looking the world over, we fail to discover a
clear instance in which subjugated peoples of alien
FOREIGN POSSESSIONS 249

races have been led to look up to their conquerors,
to adopt their institutions, and regard them as their
friends, and few in which their armed masters have
been able to do them any real service. The most
notable of those exceptions, those often adduced in
this argument, are in their nature exceptional, —
that of the British rule in India, where the strong
nation managed to make an end to wars and oppres-
sions among the various states of the peninsula, and
thus gave the people a better chance in life; and that
where a like rule in Egypt has dispersed an ancient
tyranny that ground the people to the earth. In
such instances a folk may welcome a new and better
tyrant, but so far as we can see they never adopt
his methods of thought and action, however great
the inducement to do so may be, and this for the
simple yet excellent reason that men cannot change
their natures at their will.

' The facts seem to make it clear that there is no
possibility that we may bring the people of the
Philippines, or other like folk we may conquer or
purchase, into even a useful semblance of American
citizens; that at best we can subdue them and keep
them subjected at great cost; we can force on them
a rule they dislike and bring them to conform to
certain usages they detest; we can more or less
effectively break up the social and political condi-
tions which they have shaped for themselves, and |
which, however imperfect, fit them better than our
260 THE. CIFTIZEN

own, but we cannot expect to bring them to our
ways. To keep them at all will demand a greater
annual expenditure than would apparently be re-
quired to train all our youths, both black and white, ©
who need such training in the various artisan crafts.
It is reckoned by expert military men that the per-
manent garrison of those islands would have to be
at least ten thousand soldiers. The cost of this
force, including its transportation, etc., -will prob-
ably be about twenty million dollars per annum, and
this without reckoning the value of the men who
die prematurely because of their exposure to a trop-
ical climate. We may fairly reckon this added death
rate at an average of not less than thirty per thou-
sand each year, and the money value of these lost
men at five thousand dollars each. In the best pos-
sible conditions of commerce with the Philippines
it is improbable that our people win back in trade
as much as one-tenth of this vast expenditure.
Some of those who contend for the change of our
policy that may give us permanent control of for-
eign lands, speak as if they look forward to a time
when these territories will become the seat of true
colonies of our people, offshoots of our national life,
such as were the English colonies in America in the
old days, or as Canada and Australia are now. They
forget that all the lands available for such settlement
outside of the tropics are now possessed by strong
peoples, that there remain only the tropical countries,
FOREIGN POSSESSIONS BET

so defenceless that they may be easily obtained.
They are defenceless because the native government
of the tropics is always weak. Now there is over-
whelming evidence that the regions within the tropics
— all those, indeed, which lie at less distances than
thirty degrees of latitude from the equator — are,
except in their mountainous parts, unfit to be the
seat of colonies of our northern folk. All the
northern European people who have tried to estab-
lish themselves in these permanently hot regions
have proved that even when the original settlers
survive the trials of the climate their children are
weak, and in a few generations the race becomes
distinctly enfeebled; where it survives, it does so
by becoming mixed with the native blood. Even
the southern Spanish from their semi-tropical coun-
try become evidently lowered in quality if they
remain for generations near the sea-level in the
equatorial realm. It is evident that the men of our
race are not fit for any land where the palms flourish;
they do well only where snow rests on their house-
tops for a part of the year.

If, after considering the question of foreign pos-
sessions, the citizen determines that this country
should go forward on the path upon which we were
set by the events of the Spanish War, that we should
follow the example of other states and bring under
our rule peoples who do not desire to be ruled by
us, we may have the consolation of knowing that
ac THE CITIZEN

the change in policy will not bring about any sudden
or marked change in the conditions of our nation.
There may, indeed, for a time be a certain gain in
our self-esteem, from the sense that we are visibly
a great power, with our “ drum-beat heard around
the world.” As a man may outwardly prosper,
though by his actions he has given the lie to his
true purposes, so may a nation; but the degradation
inevitably tells on the man or upon the concourse
of them that makes a nation. As before remarked,
a despotic government can do base deeds without
harming the moral state of its subjects, for the reason
that they have no power to determine whether such
deeds are to be done or no; but in a democracy, be-
catise every man has a share in the action of the state,
the shame is his to share. If he is overborne by a
majority, he may clear his conscience by a vigorous
protest; *yet, as in a family, he cannot thereby quit
himself of the disgrace that has been brought upon
his house.

If it be asked, as it often is, how we are to be rid
of our new possessions which came to us through
the Spanish War, it may be answered that the process
is easy, that we have already gone far in the task
in bringing the Philippine Islands to the state of
order in which they will be able to start govern-
ments of their own. That they are fit for this task
of self-government is plain enough, for they have
much patriotism and not a little capacity for organi-
FOREIGN POSSESSIONS 253

sation, as the trouble they have given us shows.
When they are organised as a state, we should with-
draw, keeping at most a protectorate over the coun-
try in order that it may not be assailed by other
powers. But, say the advocates of our new policy,
these people, with their seven or seventy different
tribes, will fly at one another’s throats, so our with-
drawal will mean civil war. This is, indeed, very
likely; but because a people may decide their dif-
ferences in this brutal manner is no reason why we
should hold them in subjection. Out of their strife
there is likely to come some system of government
that fits their need and desires far better than any
we impose upon them. There can be no doubt that,
if given the chance to be free, nearly all of our new
subjects would choose freedom, were the risks many
times as great as those they face.

There is only one basis on which the subjugation
of foreign peoples can be defended on grounds that
have any tincture of moral quality. This is by
holding that their present state as subjects is only
temporary, — is, in effect, an apprenticeship to their
full dignity as citizens. In our republic, on this
ground it might be urged that these primitive folk
are in effect children whom we may coerce in order
that they may come to a sound maturity. This
argument is specious, for we know that we are, in
fact, dealing with men, and no reasonable person
expects to make these peoples full sharers with our-
254 THE CITIZEN

selves in the government of this nation. To bring
a multitude of such folk from the ends of the earth
into our federal legislatures would entail the swift
ruin of our commonwealth. It is clear that if held
under our rule, they must be held as subjects in
conditions substantially like those under which we
hold our Indians, with no expectation that they can
ever rise to the dignity of free citizens. Our ex-
perience with this kind of rule in a century of rela-
tions with our subjected red men should make us
most unwilling to go further in such experiments.
So far as the writer can find, there has been but
one instance in which a primitive folk has been
brought voluntarily to adopt the usages of our race
and to a fair semblance of our motives. This ex-
ceptional case is that of the Polynesians, especially
those of the Sandwich Islands. Here the mission-
aries, by persuasion alone, have accomplished a won-
derful change in the manners of the originally gentle
savages. They have, in effect, reduced them to civi-
lisation. It is an unhappy fact that the Sandwich
Islanders, once prosperous, have become greatly
shrunken in the civilising process, and that the rem-
nant appears to be in a way to ‘disappear before
the end of this century. This experiment, like all
the others of a ruder sort, seems to indicate that
primitive peoples cannot endure the conditions that
suit the cultivated races; that civilisation, with its
complexities, is not for them; they are, like the
FOREIGN POSSESSIONS ans

bison and the Indian, essentially untamable. They
find what we call freedom a fatal slavery; the only
good we can do them is to leave them politically
alone. Such instances are but extreme examples of
the general truth that each race and kind of man is
so far peculiar that it cannot profitably have its
government shaped by any other race, however
strong and well-meaning that race may be.
Although it is the privilege and duty of the
American citizen to decide this large question as
stich questions have not been decided by other
peoples, on the basis of right-doing, it is not amiss
that they look to the eventual results which may be
expected, on the one hand, from adhering to our
ancient democratic policy of having only free men
in a free state, and on the other from the new
project of holding foreign people as subjects. Let
us essay this reckoning as to the probable future
of our commonwealth in these diverse conditions.
If we hold to the old well-tried method, it is easy
to foresee that by the end of this century the terri-
tory of the United States, excluding the new-won
islands, may have a population of about three hun-
dred millions. Except so far as the quality of this
folk may become debased by immigration of the
lower grade people from southern and eastern
Europe, or from our failure to lift the negroes, this
folk should be in character superior to any other.
We have a rich soil and a great body of mineral
256 THE CITIZEN

resources from which wealth may be earned. Our
strength and separation from the contentions of other
nations should keep us clear of impoverishing wars,
and make us free to devote a larger share of our
earnings to education and other means of advance-
ment than any other people. All that Providence
has given us may thus be profitably devoted to
helping ourselves. We may thus expect that our
children. will see this nation strong, peaceful, and
dominating the world for peace; a state that holds
to the ideals of humanity, as does an honest man,
which shall be a realm that in all its motives and
actions helps to right living.

On the other hand, let us suppose we go forward
in the way of imperialism. So doing, we shall doubt-
less have to be much engaged in war. We shall find
our own Boers, Afghans, Ashantees, and other odds
and ends of people who prefer freedom to the rule we
would force on them. Now and then we shall have
to fight one or another of the strong states of the Old
World who are engaged in like marauding. Each
new province will need its garrison; to the ten thou-
sand required in the Philippines and other thousands
in the Sandwich Islands, Porto Rico, etc., already in
numbers near to twice the total of our army before
the Spanish War, there will have to be added new
hosts with each addition of subjugated territory.
Then there will be need of a vast system of fortifica-
tions to make these possessions safe in time of war
FOREIGN POSSESSIONS 257

with other nations, and a fleet strong enough to en-
able us to cope with any one of them, or with any
probable combination of two or more in alliance
against us. This clearly means that we shall become
a military nation; that we shall waste the strength
which, husbanded by fairly enduring peace, has en-
abled us to spend on wages, education, and other
means of bettering the state of men, in an effort to
gain what is clearly not worth winning. The result
of this expenditure of the earnings and the blood
of our commonwealth must inevitably be that our
folk will be ground down by the burdens of arma-
ments and war as are the nations of continental
Europe.

There is yet another group of considerations bear-
ing on this question that deserves some notice. It is
easy to see that the gravest danger to our government
arises from the fact that our busy citizens cannot find
the time to take a fit share in it. Their employments
or their distractions are so engrossing that the com-
monwealth is of little interest to them; even now our
citizens on the average probably do not devote more

‘than the hundredth part of their time to an active
care for their government. This inattention to the
affairs of the state is a growing evil, — one that may
well give all patriots concern, — for to it we may
directly trace the degradation of our politics. In the
absence of the true citizen the ordinary gain-seeking
politician finds his chance. The danger, as is evident,
17
258 THE CITIZEN

even now with only our internal affairs to occupy our
citizens’ attention, is that the business of our federal
government may pass into the hands of men who
seek to make politics a lucrative occupation. If we
gain possessions the world about, and so add a great
body of foreign affairs to our federal business, we
increase the risk of having it all pass into the hands
of a governing class. Such, in effect, is the case in
Great Britain, where the colonies are governed by a
few men, Parliament taking but a very slight interest
in what is done with them.

While we can well afford to have professional
statesmen, for the work of statecraft demands the
whole time of the few men who are fit for it, the
professional politicians, men of the sort who seek in
government business the chance for gain, are a curse.
We have seen much of them in connection with our
Indian affairs. Some of these agents have been ex-
cellent men, but from the foundations of our govern-
ment they have as a group been a disgrace to this
country. Men in such positions, dealing with folk
who are not citizens, cannot be efficiently supervised
when the temptations to wrong-doing are great. It
is said that we shall organise a corps of officers for
the administration of our foreign provinces, — men
of character as high as those who do like work for
Great Britain, — and that all will thus be well with
our subjects who have to depend on these men as rep-
resentatives of their far-off masters. But these ex-
FOREIGN POSSESSIONS 259

cellent men will have to be paid not only for their
arduous service, but for the years of expatriation in
unwholesome countries. The English wage for such
duty is high, — far higher than we pay, or are likely
ever to pay, such servants of our government. How-
ever, and this is the main inducement that enables
Great Britain to command her best talent for colonial
administration, highly prized official honours are
always the reward of success in such work. The
coveted Star of India, knighthood, or even a peerage,
may by British officers be looked forward to as a
crown at the end of a life spent in the faithful dis-
charge of duty. With us the pay for capacity has to
be in money, or if that is not given we have to put
up with agents of more or less distinguished inca-
pacity with a disposition to seek dishonest gains.
Putting aside the fictitious sense of wealth which
the thought of great possessions beyond the sea
inspires, looking at the matter in the light of duty
and expediency, it clearly appears that we should con-
demn the policy which leads us on that dangerous
way. So far as we need coaling stations for our
ships in the far seas, we can easily obtain them under
conditions that will not make us rulers of any alien
people. If needs be, these harbours may be defended
by fortifications, so that in case of war they shall be
safe refuges for our ships. Where, as in the Sand-
wich Islands or Porto Rico, it appears that the coun-
tries might be a source of danger to us if they were
260 THE CITIZEN

to fall into the hands of any great military or naval
power, it might be well to guarantee their independ-
ence, which, so long as we were unassailable as we
were five years ago in our continental fortress, would
deter any European state from assailing them. As
guarantors of their freedom, we would have a help-
ful influence over such weaker states, that no con-
quest with arms can possibly give.
CHAPTER XIII

THE CITIZEN AND CITY GOVERNMENT

P AHE plan of the democratic government rests,
as has more than once been said, on the sym-
pathetic understanding of man with man

as to those things which should be done in common.

Such a government can best be had in a community so

small that every one in it has some acquaintance with

every other. It is, however, practicable for men to
associate themselves in a real democracy when the
members of the association are not thus known to
one another, provided they all are confident of mutual
understandings and purposes,—of the patriotic
motives and objects of their unseen fellow-citizens.

Thus for a man to be a true citizen of this republic,

it is well that he should spend the years in which he

acquires his political habits in the country or in a

small town where he may become acquainted with

many men, and thus have a chance to learn how gov-
ernment arises, and from intercourse gain the con-
fidence in the citizenly integrity of others whom he
cannot know. ;

In the conditions of a great city it is wellnigh im-
possible for a youth to acquire that unrecognised,
262 THE CITIZEN

almost instinctive confidence in and understanding of
his fellow-men that is the foundation of our American
political life. He then comes in contact with a num-
ber of persons who have the true citizenly quality:
but he sees that they are surrounded, in a way over-
whelmed, by a throng of folk who, though they may
be voters, are in all citizenly quality entirely foreign
to our people, with motives that have been acquired
in centuries of despotism, and with no chance of ever
acquiring the spirit of our country. He is likely to
find the control of the place in the hands of its per-
manently foreign residents or of their essentially un-
naturalised descendants. The true American ideals
of a “government of the people, by the people,
for the people”’ were replaced by the ancient aristo-
cratic plan of control by a chief, and for plunder, —
in effect, a return to iniquities which our forefathers
swept away. Painful as these eonditions are to every
true citizen, he will not be led by them to despair of
our methods of government. He will scrutinise these
evils, and assail them as it is his business to do in all
like crises.

In examining into the conditions of our ill-gov-
erned cities, the first point to notice is that their ill
condition does not indicate anything like a breakdown
of our plan of governing, but in most instances has
been brought about by people who have not been edu-
cated in the motives and understanding of democracy.
In the case of only a few ring-ridden towns the mis-
CITY GOVERNMENT 263

rule has to be laid to the charge of native-born Ameri-
cans, who appear never to have acquired the better
motives of their country. It is, moreover, evident
that while the existence of misgovernment in a city
is a disgrace to the commonwealth in which it lies,
the iniquity does not often extend to the country about
it. The diseased state is evidently promoted by the
conditions which exist in these crowded places, where
the better men have little chance to affect the actions
of the poorer sort.

No one can examine into the conditions of our mis-
governed cities without coming to see that a part of
the trouble arises from the fact that the political
business of the place is done,in the name of one or
the other of the national parties. The candidates are
nominated by Democratic or Republican conventions,
and the control of the town is in the hands of the local
managers of these parties. This may seem at first
sight to be a natural and advantageous arrangement,
as it saves the expense and trouble of having separate
organisations especially devoted to local questions;
it might also be supposed that the managers of these
national organisations would be careful so to conduct
the affairs of the town that they would win credit
for their parties. Much costly experience, however,
shows us that whichever party is in power, it uses the
offices of the city to help its dependants, and in that
way to add to its strength in state or national affairs.
Every such association naturally gathers about itself
264 THE CITIZEN

many greedy men who see no other object in politics
save personal profit, if not mere plunder. The leaders,
who may be above the baser work, feel that they must
have the support of these scoundrels: they therefore
maintain them, and thus share in their villanies.

It might at first sight be thought that citizens’
parties; organised without reference to national pol-
itics, would have the same evils arising from the
presence of the “workers” that have been encoun-
tered in those which are permanent. That this is not
the case is shown by much experience. The writer
has in mind an instance personally known to me,
where, after years of serious trouble with the admin-
istration of one or the other of the political parties, an
association of citizens determined to establish a non-
partisan party, having for its object the maintenance
of an honest and effective administration. Twenty
years of experience with this system has shown that
it is eminently successful. It may be expected that
the worse elements of both of the national organisa-
tions will to the utmost oppose the institution of non-
partisan government in our cities; but it clearly is
one of the means by which the government of our
great cities may be brought out of shame.

It is not to be supposed that the government of our
cities can be bettered by at once seeking a non-par-
tisan system of electing their officers. This and other
good political work depends on an awakening of their
worthy people to a sense of citizenly duty. In part
CITY GOVERNMENT 265

because the people of our great towns are much
busier than are the dwellers in less crowded places,
in part because they do not know one another as the
folk of the country do, they are, in general, much less
citizenly. Ina way, they all tend to become undemo-
cratic in that they accept without question the iniqui-
ties of any government that is imposed upon them.
If they had a fair share of patriotic motives, they
would revolt against such oppression. So far has this
abandonment of the citizenly spirit gone that a large
proportion of those native-born persons whose names
are on the voting list in our largest towns are in effect
foreigners and should be denied the franchise. Some
inquiry has led the writer to the opinion that not more
than one out of five of the educated and so-called
well-to-do men in our great cities have a wholesome
interest in their welfare. While they may vote in
municipal elections, relatively few of them are dis-
posed to make any kind of sacrifice to do their duty
effectively. Therefore the first task of the young
citizen is to see how he can help to awaken these inert
people to a sense of their duty by their fellows, and
by those who are to come after them.

It is well to recognise the fact that the way of the
reformer is not easy. He has no longer to fear for
life or liberty, but he has to meet the opposition of
inattention or the mild contempt with which “ prac-
tical” people visit the endeavours of those who are
fighting the evils about them. He will be asked why
266 THE CITIZEN

he is not about his business — as if there were busi-
ness in the world better fitted to command a man
than that of helping to preserve his government!
It may be assumed that a young man working alone
cannot do much to help better the conditions of a city.
If he be rich, well placed, and able, he may prove an
effective leader, — one who can draw the well dis-
posed to him. But if he has to make his way, he
needs to act with others. He will, it is evident, have
to do his work outside of the political parties. He
may find that there is some citizens’ association
wherewith he can work. If there is no such organi-
sation, let him begin one by gathering about him
those of his friends who are willing to join in the
labour. However few its numbers, if the society
goes vigorously to work it will assuredly prosper.
As for the methods of such a society, these will
have to be fitted somewhat to local needs; but as the
first object of the association is to develop the spirit
of citizenship, the immediate aim will have to be
educative. The way of beginning is by a study of
the actual conditions of the town: not only or mainly
in those features which are representable by statis-
tics, but rather concerning the way in which the
administrative machinery works or fails to work;
and especially the condition of the poorer and more
helpless people as affected by the city government.
The foremost aim should be to seek out and educate
for citizenship all the abler men of the so-called
CITY GOVERNMENT 267

labouring classes, particularly those who are young;
for an oldish man of the lower ranks rarely can be
helped in this regard. It is always to be remembered
that foreigners, at least those of our own race, are apt
to have in them the making of good Americans. If
the capable men of foreign blood could be really awak-
ened to a sense of their citizenly duty and instructed
as to the methods of performing it, there would be
better ground for hope as to the future of our cities
than we now find. It is well to beware of the common
notion that much good can be done in political educa-
tion by means of instructive lectures given to the
people who need help in such matters. The only
valuable resources are personal labour with the in-
dividual, — so directed as to establish the beginnings
of friendly relations, which are the basis of political
action, and debate as to the methods by which
betterments may be obtained.

The greatest obstacle to be encountered in an effort
to break up the control which the so-called rings have
established in our cities arises from the fact that these
organisations are very helpful to their members, not
only in giving them places and a chance to win
money, but through the kindly mutual interest which
they develop among their members. It is a mistake
to suppose that sympathetic motives are limited to
high-minded people; they are often more active and
efficient among societies of thieves than they are in
those that gather under church roofs. Thus the
268 THE CITIZEN

foreigner who enters Tammany Hall finds himself
in a hospitable place, where he is under strong and
helpful men who protect him from the ills of hunger
and loneliness. He does just what his ancestors
have done through the ages: he finds a strong man
who has gathered strength about him, and swears
allegiance to him, fights his battles, and feeds on
what he helped his master to capture. All this is
very natural to the primitive man; it is what our
ancestors did for ages, while they were the servants
of nobles of various degrees. It is the ancient state
from which it was the happy fortune of our people
to escape, — the state to which we ever tend to return
as soon as we relax our efforts to go forward. The
only way to maintain this advance in our cities, where
foreign immigration is continually introducing these
undemocratic folk, is to develop the American motive
in the abler men by all the means that make for an
education in citizenship. We may trust the public
schools for some small part of this work. If those
schools brought about any considerable mingling of
the native children with those of foreign parentage,
we could trust them for much; but in these schools
the foreign element is almost always herded together,
so that, except for the personal contact with the
teachers and a little formal instruction, there is
nothing to bring about a naturalising process. While
these influences are good, they are entirely insufficient
to prevail against the ancient traditions that lead these
CITY GOVERNMENT 269

foreigners to revere and obey “ the boss,” who is to
them what the baron, the prince, or other feudal
lord was to their ancestors.

So far as the young citizen aids the young men of
foreign stock to become truly naturalised by attaching
himself to them and leading them into sympathetic
relations with the citizenly folk, he will effectively
aid in bettering the government of his city. On
this basis of friendly relations it will be possible to
bring the abler foreigners to conditions where they
may have a chance to acquire our method of look-
ing at the problems of government. To further this
education. there is nothing like debate concerning
‘the plans and methods of administration, such as our
cities present. Any society that essays such debate
will of course have some trouble from the Socialists
and Nihilists, — people who will bring to it their plans
for the reform of government through its destruction.
It should be remembered, however, that, while the
schemes of these people are undemocratic and often
abominable, they all show a spirit of revolt against
oppression, that lacks only knowledge to become
sound patriotism. Even a bomb-throwing Nihilist,
who is willing to sacrifice himself for his convictions,
is in a fairer way of becoming a good citizen than
those respectable traitors who do not bother them-
selves even to vote, and contemn the work of the
reformer. The only American way of setting these
people aside is by debate.
270 THE CITIZEN

It cannot be too strongly impressed on the young
citizen, to whom his city has to look for salvation,
that he should not expect to make his career in
politics. If he be a man of independent means, he
may fitly give his life to the good work. If he has
his bread to earn, he should win it outside of politics.
It may come about that it is his duty to take office,
but he should bear in mind the fact that as soon as
he becomes a salaried public servant his influence as
a champion of reform will be greatly diminished.
When by long service as a plain citizen he has estab-
lished his position as an independent helper of his
people, when his acceptance of a place clearly means
to him not profit but loss, then only can he fitly
become a public official.

A young man is likely to hear that it will not be
possible for him properly to attend to a business by
which he is to win his bread and at the same time
to do any helpful work in politics. It is true that he
cannot serve his people as effectively as he might, were
he a man of leisure, but, as the experience of many
shows, without any harm to his professional duties
can he accomplish much good. The work of any
dutifully followed calling teaches a man how to save
time and to effect results with a minimum of effort.
Moreover, most young men of business have a con-
siderable part of their time at their disposal. That
which commonly. goes to the idle life of clubs, or
the like, is ample for political work such as his
THE HAPPINESS OF MAN $271

city in her need has him do. Moreover, the busi-
ness man, whatever his vocation, will find in such
helpful life among his neighbours, with the large
outlooks and friendly relations it establishes, a re-
freshment from his daily labour.

GOVERNMENT AND THE HAPPINESS OF MAN

The aim of all government is to insure the happi-
ness of the people it controls. The goodness of its
methods may fairly be judged by the success with
which this end is attained. It is easy to see that the
direct effect of government in making people happy
cannot be great; it is rather in the things it prevents
than in those it brings about that a state contributes
to the happiness of society.

The first of all political aims is to give ‘fie people
a sense of freedom, for no man of spirit can be happy
if he feels himself oppressed. If he cannot do the
things he is strongly moved to do, and which he
knows to be right, he is miserable: however well
he may be fed and lodged, he feels that he cannot
make his career, that he is in effect a slave. There-
fore the first duty of a state is to see that men are
as far as possible left free to do as they will. The
great art of government is to control people as
little as may be. :

The next duty of government is to guard people
against the dangers of violence. Life at best is
troubled with many dangers,—those of poverty, sick-
272 THE CITIZEN

ness, and of certain death. The aim of government
should be to abolish all dangers of violence, whether
from acts of criminals, thieves, and murderers, as
well as those due to carelessness. War, as the most
extended form of violence, it should be one of the
first objects of decent governments to avoid. A gov-
ernment that allows wars to occur, except when they
are to protect against worse evils, fails of its duty.

Viewed in this way, we find that the state has for
its most important functions those which may be
termed protective. These functions resemble those
of a police or a fire department in a well-organised
town. They do not make people happy, but they
enable them to seek happiness for themselves, each
according to his or her liking and opportunities.

If we follow out the other features of government
work, we find that they all come to the same end:
they allow people to go their own way in safety and
to find their satisfaction according to their desires.
In certain countries the state provides in the large
cities a part of the expense of great theatres; in our
own the various city governments often maintain
museums and public parks. But these exceptional
acts, good as they are, affect but few of the citizens;
they are not of much influence on the total happiness
of the people.

There are, unhappily, many miserable persons in
every state who, lacking the pleasure which they feel
to be their due, think that the wrong is in the gov-:
THE HAPPINESS OF MAN 273

ernment which is over them; that if it were managed
better, they would be richer and happier. Such folk
make of the state an idol, which they are disposed,
after the manner of savages, to beat whenever the
world goes ill with them. They need to learn that
the government can do no more than to leave a man
free to go his way and to give him certain chances of
education which may help him on the course which
he has to choose and follow for himself. The state
may mar his fate; it cannot do much to make it
fortunate.

There are, however, certain ways in which citizens,
apart from the government work, can help by their
associated action to improve the lot of men, and thus
to increase the measure of happiness. As we study
society we see that a great deal of the best work —
that which contributes the most to the happiness of
men—jis performed in associations that grow up
among them. Some of these societies, like the mutual
insurance companies or the savings banks, have only
a business purpose; others, like the social clubs, pro-
pose merely to add to the comfort of their members;
yet others, such as the reading and dramatic associ-
ations, seek intellectual pleasure and culture as their
ends.. Although these various guilds and clubs have
some disadvantage in that they do not include all
the citizens of a neighbourhood, and so give rise to
a certain amount of hard feeling, they are as a whole

productive of much good, for the reason that, like
18
274 THE CITIZEN

the churches, they bring people together and teach
them to labour for a common cause.

The habit of forming societies or guilds is very
ancient; such exist among almost all savages and
barbarian states. In this primitive form they are
commonly secret, for the reason that uneducated
peoples have a great fancy for mystery. This secret
quality characterises the greater number of the so-
cieties which have come down to us from antiquity.
It has been supposed by some people that these as-
sociations are a danger to liberty, for the reason that
the members are in a way bound to support and
protect one another, but there is no evidence that
there is any foundation for this view. There have
been efforts to found political associations on this
secret system. One of them, the so-called: ‘ Know
Nothings,” about forty years ago had a certain brief
prominence in its efforts to oppose the Roman
Catholic Church; but the people of this country,
imbued with the modern spirit of open dealing, soon
discarded that party. In any period of intense polit-
ical excitement these secret political societies are
certain to spring up, but experience shows that they
are equally certain to pass away under the influences
which wisely lead our people to desire publicity in
all that relates to the state.

At the point where the state ceases to act for the
protection of its members, the individual citizen can
in his private capacity continue the good work; he
THE HAPPINESS OF MAN 275

may well take a large part in fostering those asso-
ciations for various kinds of mutual benefit. There
is great room for choice as to what kinds of asso-
ciations a man may well devote himself; there are
certain evident rules which may serve to guide our
action in this matter. It is clear that those associa-
tions which, like ordinary clubs, have no higher aim
than to enable their members to obtain a larger share
of comfort and luxury than they would have at
home, are of no great use to the people, — they
have, indeed, no moral value whatever, and, owing
to the fact that they draw men away from their
firesides, are often injurious to their members and
to the society in which they exist. Those associa-
tions which have intellectual culture for their aim
are on a far higher level than the merely social
clubs; they are in their influence like the schools, —
they elevate the life of a community. It is when
the societies propose to do some manner of good
to people who are not of its fraternity that these
institutions attain the highest grade, and this for the
simple reason that the best work we do is done for
others.

It may be hoped that already the reader will have
asked himself the question as to what any man in
his quality of a citizen has to do with those matters
which are beyond the province of the government.
The question is pertinent and the answer important.
This is that the citizen is, first of all, a caretaker
276 THE CITIZEN

of the society in which he dwells; he acts with the
_ state in this task, for the reason that the state is the
most important contrivance for protecting and help-
ing the people, for giving them a fair chance to live
as they have a mind to. This primary duty accom-
plished, he turns to the other ways of helping men,
— to all, indeed, in which they may be aided in their
pursuit of true happiness; the state can give no
more than an opportunity for this search for the
good of life. We thus see that the work of the
citizen is but begun when he has done the political
part of his duties.

The current of the society in which he lives will
generally lead an active-minded citizen to do the
non-political part of his work in a good way. If
he is to be a leader of his people, it will, however,
be necessary for him to look ahead to see among
the things that are not done what it is best to
undertake. In the greater part of this country the
most evident need is of effective societies which shall
aim at bettering the intellectual condition of the
people, so that they may not, as many do, lose all
interest in matters of culture as soon as they leave
school, assuming, indeed, that they have gained such
interests in their schooling. If this intellectual cul-
ture can be increased it is patriotism to bring patriot-
ism and other good qualities with it.

Next after the societies of culture, if they should
not be placed first, are the charitable associations.
THE HAPPINESS OF MAN 274

Their possible second place is due to the fact that
charity is often most effective without the aid of
societies. Third in order of value we may put a
peculiar kind of society, such as is beginning to
be formed in this country, having for a purpose the
preservation and enhancement of the natural beauty
of the country. Few of us recognise how great is
the value of this beauty which nature offers us; those
who have been educated as all should be to appre-
ciate this charm, find in it a source of enduring joy;
it may be indeed a very large element in happiness
and in that culture which adds dignity and peace
to life.

Although the world is beautiful in its wilderness
state, its charm is greatly enhanced by the hand of
man, if his work of changing its natural aspect is
properly done. Good roads, clean, well-tilled fields,
houses of a simple yet attractive character, not offen-
sively staring in colour or decoration, bits of wood-
land so left as to preserve the native quality of
streams and cliffs, may give to the people of a coun-
try landscapes the beholding of which will serve to
develop a sense of the beautiful without which life,
however good in other regards, is sadly incomplete.
It should be the aim of the citizen to help to secure
these simple means of adding to the happiness of
men.

Although the American people are richly endowed
with the greater part of the qualities which go to
278 THE CITIZEN

make men happy, they distinctly lack those which
relate to the appreciation of beauty. This defect is
due in the main to the fact that they have been com-
pelled to look to the practical side of affairs. As -
pioneers in a new world they have turned to the
earth for food and raiment rather than for the per-
ceptions and understandings which should elevate
men when they contemplate the beauty and majesty
of a landscape. Now that they have won their fruit-
ful land to use and have attained an enviable pros-
perity, they should seek the elements of happiness
which a sympathetic relation to the nature about
them can give. The best way to this is through a
care for the scenery in which they live; as they come
to guard it they will perceive its beauty and have
the pleasure which it can lend with the care they
bestow.

We cannot expect for a long time to come to
possess the art galleries or the great architecture of
Europe. It is not in the spirit of a democracy to
spend much public money on these attractive things,
and private gifts from rich people tend, as they should
do, rather to purposes of charity and education than
to monumental buildings or to great collections of
art objects. But in the beautiful nature of our coun-
try we have resources which, if properly used, may
become precious means for cultivating the spirit of
man. If we properly use these opportunities; if our
people come to feel that every marring of natural
MANNERS OF THE CITIZEN 279

beauty is a wrong done to them and to those who are
to come after them, — we may develop a fitter and
more profitable artistic sense than any other nation
has acquired. Therefore we may urge as patriotic
the endeavour of every citizen to preserve and en-
hance the charm which belongs to the land about him.
In the trees and brooks of this country, to take no
account of the larger elements of its scenery, there
is a wealth of beauty which, if it could be brought
home to the people, would enrich their lives in a way
that mere wealth can never do.

THE MANNERS OF THE CITIZEN

It is commonly charged by those who set aristo-
cratic society above democratic that the manners or
ways of intercourse of the peoples in republics are
bad; that they are lacking in those qualities of re-
spect of one man for another and of the tokens of such
respect even where it is felt, which not only give an
outward charm to life, but serve to stimulate the sym-
pathies of men. It cannot be denied that there is a
certain justice in this criticism. Our people, like the
Swiss and to a certain extent the English, usually
have a way of meeting their fellow-men which does
not truly indicate the state of their feeling towards
them. As the aim of men should be to show them-
selves truthfully to those about them, this rudeness
in appearance when they are at heart considerate,
this boorish manner when they are really gentle, is
280 THE CITIZEN

wrong; it is a kind of lying for an American, who
is really, as the writer knows full well, the gentlest
of men to put on the manners of a churlish person.

The general giving up of all attention to good
manners by our people, though they had in such
leaders as Washington men of most admirable ad-
dress, was doubtless due to the fact that the ancient
modes of intercourse were framed on the customs
of an aristocratic society where men were taught to
show a false, because purely formal, respect to those
who were above them in social station. As the
democratic feeling increased, and with it the desire
to be honest, men gave up to a great extent the habit
of polite and complimentary address. It became the

£G 8 oF

rule of certain sects not to use such words as “ sir,
“madam,” or even “ mister,” lest they should seem
to say more than they meant.

To most people who are in the first stages of demo-
cratic culture, and very generally to those who have
just escaped from the state where they had to show
a certain rather servile civility to superiors, the
strongest feeling of their new-found liberty is that
“Tam as good as you.” The later and higher stage
of the moral station of the free man, that in which
he has the freedom of the Christian gentleman, is
that “you are as good as me.” There is a vast
progress in the passage from the one to the other
of these two states of mind: in the first the man
still feels the bruises of the chains he has worn; in
MANNERS OF THE CITIZEN 281

the latter he is emancipated even from the memories
of his ancient subjection. Among our people there
is still enough of the old revolt against formal respect
to those above them to bring about a presentation of
themselves to their neighbours which is in its way as
untrue as the ancient excess of seeming courtesy.
In striving to avoid being false in one way, they have
become false in another.

A little consideration of the subject of manners
will show that the matter is of sufficient importance
to lift it to the level of citizenly duty and accomplish-
ment. When two human beings come to deal with
each other in any way, the first thing to be done is
for them to find their common mind. If they have
citizenly — we may as well say Christian — motives
they will approach each other in a friendly, sym-
pathetic humour. It is a common law among the
higher animals as well as among men that this good-
natured state of mind should, when it exists, be indi-
cated by some forms of action or speech. Even a
dog salutes you with certain indications of courtesy
if, though you be a stranger, he wishes you well.
Often indeed a man’s dog shows more of this primi-
tive politeness than his master.

The aim of manners is to afford a kind of bridge
over the gulf which separates man from man, so that
people may, at their need, pass over it to deal with
their neighbours. We each live in ourselves as in a
kind of castle. When the other person approaches,
282 THE CITIZEN

if he finds the drawbridge up, the portcullis down,
and the warder silent at the gate, he is likely to turn
aside; or if he be of a quarrelsome humour he may
attack the defences if only to show his displeasure
at the cold and unmannerly reception. If he finds
welcome at the portal, he enters, or it may be, remains
outside, as a friend. In a democracy where so much
depends upon a good understanding between men,
when every important act requires that they come
quickly each to see what the other means, it is pecu-
liarly important that ways of passage be kept open
between those who have to work together. Thus
though manners may have been mere ceremony in
an aristocracy, they are substantial things in a society
such as our own.

While formal salutations should not be excessive
and thereby untrue, they should take a distinct shape
and be clearly understood by those who use them.
Thus the phrase “ good-morning,” the simplest of
the old greetings that survive, did not really mean,
as some suppose, that the day was in itself good, but
a natural wish that it might prove so to the person
who was saluted. It served to open or close the inter-
course in a human way. The habit of lifting the hat
to women or to other respected people is a familiar
token of esteem, once full of meaning, for it indicated
the removal of the helmet or other armour from the
head; the grasping of hands, which deprived both of
the chance to use the sword, is another token of an
MANNERS OF THE CITIZEN 283

ancient state of man. All these forms, when sensibly
used, not only signify our good humour to others, but
they serve as signals to our own minds, rousing them
to a friendly state. Every one has had a chance to see
how easy it is to bring about a certain way of think-
ing or feeling by putting on the manner which belongs
to that state of mind. Prince Henry in his speech
to his troops recognises that soldiers may help to
make themselves brave by behaving as though they
were so. In his exhortations before the battle Shake-
spere makes him say, —

“, . . Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood,
Now lend the eye a terrible aspect.”

Manners at their best indicate the benevolence of
the mind and-help to insure that admirable quality
in our relations with our fellow-men. They are the
best of all passports for the man who would go forth
to his neighbours, the truest test of that large quality
which is indicated by the word “gentleman.”” There-
fore every citizen should have good manners even as
he should be able to talk, read, and write as a part
of his fitting for the ordinary duties of life. The
fact that the citizen of a true democracy has no station
but that which he has made for himself, and is con-
tinually renewing, renders it more necessary that he
should have the nature and manners of a gentleman
than it does for the aristocrat to have those qualities;
for the nobleman has his station determined by his
284 THE CITIZEN

birth, while we of the new order have it as the gift
of each person with whom we come in contact.

If a person seeing the noble and useful quality of
good manners desires to acquire the art and habit of
them, let him begin by taking care that he approaches
his neighbour in a truly friendly spirit, — not greedily
or with a desire to command him, but in a disin-
terested, sympathetic spirit with a perfect willingness
to hear him first and to consider what he has to say.
The mere forms of civility have little importance
except so far as they are accepted tokens which have
the convenience that everybody understands them
alike, so that they have become signs of a state of
mind, a kind of shorthand of human intercourse, but
as signals of our state of mind they serve as words
do to help us to understand our neighbour. There-
fore we should so seek to shape our manners that
they may enable us graciously to approach those who
share the world with us. A man should be ashamed
to find he cannot come near to others of his kind or
even to a dog in a way to disarm suspicion.

A failure to have a good-mannered state of mind,
and to express that state in a way that the neighbour
understands it and feels it to be sincere, is, in the
experience of the writer, who has had a long experi-
ence with young men at a large school, the common-
est source of ill success in life. Men of distinguished
quality remain shut up as in a prison whose walls
they cannot see and hardly feel except when they
MANNERS OF THE CITIZEN 285

‘wonder what ails them in their relations with their
fellows. Yet that institution has the well-deserved
reputation of being among other things a good school
of manners; we may thereby judge how great is the
need of reform in this most important of all charac-
teristics of our citizens.

The consideration of the other being, on which
foundation rests good manners, cannot be forced
into existence at the moment of social contact; it
must come as the result of habit that has shaped
the man. A man who would effectively mend his
mode of contact with persons has most commonly
to mend his ways of considering them; he must
be habitually in a mannerly humour.

The development of the sympathetic spirit, which
affords the basis of good manners, is, or should be,
the duty, the very first duty, of teachers of religion,
but there are certain simple forms of the training
which are closely related to citizenly conduct which
may be noted here. A man who lets no occasion
go by in which he can mend or avoid marring the
conditions which make for the well-being of his
neighbours will be in constant training in the great
school of manners. This beneficial work may be of
a very simple nature; he may merely take the stones
from the road which trouble those that pass that
way, or avoid throwing waste paper on the street,
or in public grounds where it fouls the place and
offends those who value its fitness and beauty, or if
286 THE CITIZEN

the chance offers, the deed, though of the same qual-.
ity, may be larger. The point is that he should con-

stantly and instinctively have in mind the helping

of the unseen man. When that spirit is developed,

he may be sure that when he appears he is ready for

dealings with him.

From the point of view of citizenship the question
of manners may be thus briefly stated. It is all-
important in the interests of the commonwealth that
people should be able to come in easy, friendly contact
one with another. This end cannot be attained except
by the way of good manners. Such manners are in
the main part the expression of a kindly state of
mind which will not grow up of itself, but needs
devoted culture; all the means of securing this end,
in which the goodness of the commonwealth so far
depends, deserves the very close attention of every
true citizen.
CHAPTER XIV

THE CITIZEN AND HIS FELLOW-MAN

( eae related to the manner in which the
citizen meets his fellows of the commonwealth
is the larger question concerning the idea he

may have as to what an individual man really is and
how he is related to the world about him, especially to
his fellow-man. At first sight this question seems too
large for understanding. It is really very large, — so
great, indeed, that most persons do not even see that
it exists, yet it is of much importance to every one
who would have a right idea of himself and his rela-
tions with those who share life with him. To under-
stand something of what a man is we need to look at
the processes by which his kind has come to be. This,
for our purpose, may be briefly told.

The most important lesson of modern science is
that mankind came into this world not by immediate
shaping from the dust, but out of the experiences of
ancient life; that if we could trace his ancestry back-
wards through the ages we should find his qualities
of mind and body had been developed in the slow but
steadfast ascent of life, through perhaps a hundred
thousand distinct species of living beings and im-
288 THE CITIZEN

measurably numerous individuals, from the begin-
ning of animal life to the present day. Thus, what is
before us in the individual man is not what appears
to our eyes, but a record of processes which began
probably more than a hundred million years ago,
which through an endless process of life and death,
of preservation of what was good and destruction of
what was bad, has brought the creature to the state
of to-day. It is well for us to hold this majestic
truth as well as we may in mind, for it will help us
to clear away the cheap commonplace idea of our-
selves and our fellows, which more than anything
else harms our life.

The next point to be noted is that in order to make
it possible for living creatures to advance by a process
of improvement based on experience in living, it was
necessary to have the life of each individual brief;
otherwise the earth would soon have been cumbered
with lowly forms, and the advance of life towards its
higher station, and eventually to man, would have
been impossible. So the method of getting rid of
the individuals by death as soon as they have had a
chance to do their fit part was instituted. It may be
asked why the first-made creatures were not kept
alive for the ages, and gradually so improved by
experience that they could themselves attain the ad-
vancement that comes to their successors. We see
perhaps a sufficient answer to this question in the
way in which we have to deal with our own inven-
HIS FELLOW-MAN 289

tions. We cannot so contrive it that a clock or a
steam-engine shall do its appointed work, and at the
same time be continuously built over to make it better.
The only practical way is to have each do its work,
and then be replaced by another which has been im-
proved by experience.

Whatever may have been the need that led to the
institution of death, and there may have been many
inventions of it, it was clearly required, as we see
by the fact that while the first-made lower kinds of
life have no fixed duration, but may live on until by
some accident they are destroyed, a definite length of
life is established in all the species in all the higher
classes of animals, so that apart from mischances
the individual must die after it has lived for what
seems to us a relatively brief time. Thus while the
life of a man may endure at the most for about a
hundred years, the life of the world, of which it forms
a part, has doubtless been in existence for a hundred
million years or more; so at most we have for our
individual selves the millionth part of the time in
which the life of this earth has existed. For our
immediate purpose the lesson of this is that the indi-
vidual man is the noble, though momentary, embodi-
ment of the successes which have been won through
the experience of many million ancestors, through
which it has found its profitable course from the
lowest stage of existence. To those who comprehend
this truth the fellow-being appears clothed in a dig-

19
290 THE CITIZEN

nity such as was never discovered before science
made this clear.

We need also to consider how the process which,
through the succession of generations in the life
below men, and in the lower men, has given to
each individual a share of the qualities, bodily and
mental, of all the creatures through which the life
was derived. A familiar and often noted instance of
this fact, that a man is but a host of inheritances
presided over by his higher self, is seen in the survival
in the human body of many parts once necessary to
the animals through which man came, but now not
only useless, but, as in the case of the appendix to
the intestines, which may become the seat of disease.
These unserviceable parts are all in the way of dis-
appearing; the death they bring about probably helps
them out by removing those who have them still in
a considerable development. But this survival of
unnecessary and now injurious parts and organs,
though it indicates something of what inheritance
may do to harm, gives no idea of what it has done
to help. We need the exercise of the imagination
in the light of our knowledge of anatomy and phy-
siology to aid us to this conception. Perhaps the
best way to do this is as follows: —

Taking the smallest possible part of the human
body we find under the microscope that it is not a
mere mass of matter, but is even more completely
organised than the whole body appears to be to
HIS FELLOW-MAN 291

the naked eye. It is a wonderful complication of
structures of cells, fibres, fluids of very complicated
chemical nature, each part guarded by impulses which
determine its action much as the will guides the
movements of the whole body. Whatever be the
nature of this control that sends these infinitesimally
small parts on their appointed ways of life, it is per-
fectly evident that the perfection of this work is due
to the experience of the lower life through which
mancame. In a word, this man whom habit leads us
to look upon as a commonplace object has gathered
in him the profitable lessons that the innumerable
host of ancestors learned in their brief lives and
handed on to their descendants through the ages.
What we behold in the body of man and its func-
tions that make up his life is repeated in his mind.
His senses, by which he learns what he may con-
cerning the world about him, — eyes, ears, the instru-
ments of touch and taste,—are all animal parts,
shaped geological ages ago and in creatures below
his present station. So, too, the simple desires and
emotions that are related to these instruments, —
his rages, fears, hungers, and simple pleasures, —
are likewise ancient, for they appear, as we see, in
many of the higher animals. In part only is man’s
intelligence peculiarly his own, for in many of the
beasts we find traces of the affections, the sympathies,
and even the reason such as he possesses. Thus,
while there is a part of his spiritual and rational
292 THE CITIZEN

nature which is essentially unlike anything in the
brute, the great body of man’s intellectual life was
shaped before the earth knew him as man. We
thus see that in this supreme individual we have
no simple thing, as we are inclined to take him,
but a vast complex in which a host of ancient pre-
human forms have combined their experience in
a tangle that must ever defy the imagination to
picture.

Here we should note the fact that in the advance
of life from the lower to the higher stages of being
the upgoing is not steadfast and certain, but with
many halts and stumblings, and often with returns
to the lower stage in the ascent. Thus it comes about
that only the best of any generation or of any species,
a few elected by the fates, attain to the highest or
most perfect grade, while others are denied the chance
of full development. These reversions, as they are
called by naturalists, better termed partial successes
in advancement, are common in all living species,
but most marked in man. Sometimes they lead to
only slight bodily defects, as that of harelip, with the
cleft palate that goes with it, or the presence of an
additional finger or toe; or it may be of very grave
character, as when the growth of the brain goes no
further than in the ape, with the result that the human
side of the mind does not fully develop; and conse-
quently the share of the lower passions and greeds
is so excessive that the weak intelligence and sympa-
HIS FELLOW-MAN 293

thies cannot control the creature to a true humanity.
We then have the possible criminal, the so-called de-
generate, who may be a little better than a beast,
masked in the semblance of a man. Experience
shows it is usually possible for his more fortunate
brethren to help such a defective to win his rightful
inheritance by appropriate treatment, much as the
surgeon helps those who have too many fingers or
harelips. It is, indeed, in this reparation of such de-
fects of body and mind that much of the best work
of civilisation may be done.

While our knowledge that the vice and crime of
the world is due mainly to the excessive amount of
the ancestral brute that is in the criminal folk may
fairly awaken our pity for them, it does not justify
us in deeming them irresponsible. These ancient
impulses to brutality are, though in varying degrees,
present in every human being. We may, if we please,
term them as they are generally termed, the original
sin of man. The naturalist is in perfect agreement
with the moralist in believing that every person has
to contend against his innate brutalities, for it is by
such efforts that man has come to the best of his
human quality. He who fails to make the fight must
be adjudged a sinner, though in some instances the
evil inheritances are so strong that he is hardly to
be blamed for not conquering them; in this event he
may rightly be considered as irresponsible or insane.

Perhaps the most important truth for us to keep
294 THE CITIZEN

in mind in our dealings with our fellow-men is the
singular nature of their individuality. Each of them
is set apart in this world. By the process of develop-
ment each has inherited an inconceivably great and
wonderful store of capacities and qualities of mind
and body,—a store which for the moment of its
existence represents all the beings through which
its life came. Over this marvellous association rules
the conscious individual we call the self, receiving
through its senses from the outer world what it can,
and sending what tokens of itself it may to its neigh-
bours. Yet, for all it can do, it remains strangely
apart and lonely in this great universe. In the lower
life we see many evidences that the creatures appre-
ciate the loneliness of their individuality for all that
are nearly akin to man,-—the mammals and birds
especially, — and, in less measure, the lower reptiles,
amphibians, and fishes seek the society of their kind.
Many of the nobler brutes will, if deprived of contact
with their kindred, often adopt companions of other
species; but this need of friendship, this struggle
against the supreme evil of isolation, is most evident
in man, for he alone by his consciousness of him-
self is in a position in adequate measure to feel how
lonely he is.

The only way in which this solitary state of the
individual can be lessened is by that wonderful pro-
cess termed sympathy, by which the creature learns
that his kinsman feels as he does. In its simplest state
HIS FELLOW-MAN 295

we note this sympathy in the flocks and herds of
animals where each has comfort in union with his
neighbours. We see it also in the mother with her
young, which are felt to be a part of herself. We
may observe the same motive in children playing
with their dolls, which they by their fancy endow
with their own motives, or in our treatment of our
dogs, on whom we bestow our own qualities. Yet,
further, we find it in all our instructive interpretation
of nature in which we personify or conceive as
human the earth and sky, even the realm of nature
itself.

Although the ways in which the loneliness of the
individual is lessened are exceedingly varied, the
only way in which he can be brought to the station of
happiness is by society, — that system of customs or
institutions each and all the result of efforts to attain
a sympathetic understanding of man with man, so
that the otherwise solitary lives may be passed in
mutual understandings. The simplest, and in all
regards the most important, of the many institutions
of society, for it is the foundation of them all, is the
family. In it the sense of companionship is the surest,
and so the relief of the solitariness is the most com-
plete. So far as the primitive yearning for associa-
tion goes, that of simple not necessary intellectual
companionship, it suffices. But in the great hunger
for sympathy there comes a demand for larger asso-
ciations that are related to the intellectual desires,
296 THE CITIZEN

to the accomplishment of purposes relating to the
fate of the fellow-men. Out of this more strictly
human group of impulses develop our societies to
their fulness in a commonwealth. But while the
purposeful rational quality of men gives shape to
these institutions, the sympathetic element is, or needs
to be, interwoven with the rational to make them in
the highest measure helpful to those who dwell under
their protection.

The most essential difference between an aristo-
cratic or despotic society and a democracy is to be
found in the extent to which they respectively lead
to sympathetic relations between the people who com-
pose them. In a pure despotism there can be little
of this, for his subjects know only the tyrant’s will
and their own fears. In an aristocracy the few high-
placed folk have this free interchange of motives,
but people who form the mass of the society are
limited to their family affairs. In a democracy of
an ideal kind, such as is never perfectly attained, but
is the goal of the true patriot, the sympathies of all
citizens go forth to every part of the work of their
society and their state. In this way they become most
completely united to one another in affections and
understandings, and have the largest share of happi-
ness that may come from such union. The association
in which they belong is shaped by the impression that
every noble life makes on it, and the enduring struc-
ture remains the fittest monument of those who have
lived and died within it.
HIS FELLOW-MAN 297

It is by such considerations as to the nature and
place of the individual man that we may be prepared
to do our part by ourselves and our fellows. From
them we learn that our societies are more than they
at first sight seem. That all of them — the family
circle, the neighbourhood, the town, or the state which
includes them — are in effect contrivances whereby
this solitary being, man, may have his life united
with others of his kind, and be thereby given happi-
ness as well as a chance to grow to his full intellec-
tual and moral stature, and be able to leave more of
himself with his kind when he passes away. We see
that every action that lessens the value of these ele-
ments of our social system is a wrong to mankind.

Not only does a right understanding of the con-
ditions of the individual man help us the better to
plan for him, it serves as well to guide us in dealing
with various evils which are due to the crude state
in which the sympathies have been inherited by man
from his brutal ancestors. It is thus easily seen that
in all human societies there is a tendency for men to
act by a kind of contagion of example much as does
a herd of beasts. This is seen in panics, where men
commonly rational will suddenly lose their human
quality to be possessed by senseless fear, or in mobs
where a body of men acting as a pack of wolves will
be guilty of cruelties which, if alone, no one of them
could do. In fact, in all actions where a number of
persons are associated, those who see clearly may dis-
298 THE CITIZEN

cern this ancient lowly form of the sympathies against
which he needs to guard himself and others. Our
aim should be to help in every way we can to bring
about a union of this animal instinct for doing as the
fellow-being does with the rational qualities of man.
The development of a true commonwealth can only
be attained through such a union of the inherited
sympathies, and the understanding which gives man
his exalted place in the world.

The most important result of our modern learning
as to the nature of the individual is, or should be,
to give to every one a noble conception of himself
and of his relations to his fellow-men. It should
at the same time afford him a sound basis of judg-
ment as to the value of our institutions. He will
see that all forms of associations are finally to be
judged by the measure in which they help the sym-
pathetic relations of men and thereby bring them the
happiness such relations may afford, — the only true
and enduring happiness they can know. He should
see that by this test we may determine the success
of every commonwealth, or of its several parts; that
the homes, the local and general governments, the
churches, the shops, are one and all to be weighed
in the balance against the happiness which is the
destiny of mankind.

Whoever takes this view of human relations with
him into his daily contact with men will be likely
to avoid the common mistake of looking upon him-
HIS FELLOW-MAN 299

self and his fellows as matters of small account. So
far as he recognises the true nature of the individual,
he will find himself moved to deal with him sympa-
thetically and helpfully. He will see that real citi-
zenship consists in the application of the motives of
Christianity to human relations. That religion far
more than any other belief has for its foundation the
idea of the brotherhood of men, and of the need of
their living in affectionate relations with one an-
other. Here at least science and enlightened faith
are at one. All that learning, religious or scien-
tific, gives us leads to the same conclusion, which
is that the aim of life is to bring men to love one
another.

It is easy to see that this understanding of a
Christian commonwealth is quite other than that of
the’ ancient state, — that strong brutal power which
was conceived, not as exemplifying and embodying
the right-doing of its true citizens, but as a might
to be imposed on its subjects or used to destroy its
rivals. In place of that old hideous view of govern-
ments, we are now to regard them as embodiments
of the better motives of the men, dead and living,
who have given them their character.

It is not sufficient that the citizen merely under-
stands the large basis of his relations with his fel-
lows, for he cannot, under the conditions of his trust,
be a mere looker-on in his commonwealth. His part
is to force his understandings on his associates, for
300 THE CITIZEN

in that way commonwealths are built and maintained.
If he needs to hearten himself for the struggle, let
him turn to any of the true heroes of his race, to
find that their heroism consisted in a perfect wiiling-
ness to sacrifice themselves for their convictions.
CHAPTER XV

THE VALUE OF GREAT MEN TO THE CITIZEN

P “AHE citizen who would develop high ideals
of his duty and action should make himself
familiar with the lives of certain of the

great men and women who have shaped his state,

his race, or mankind. The choice of these heroes
should be made according to one’s interest. If
this be general, there is no better first book than

“ Plutarch’s Lives” of the famous men of antiquity,

which book has been a very fountain of honour for

near a hundred generations. If the reader be in-
terested in military men, the biographies of the great

captains, such as the admirable series by Col. T. A.

Dodge, will serve him well, though, like all other

military histories, they tend to give one an exag-

gerated impression of the place and dignity of war.

If the interest is in statesmen, or in the lives of

scholarly men, our English literature, which is very

rich in biographies, will afford in each field an
abundant choice.

Where a person has access to a large library, it is
well for him to glance at the lives of many men, so
that he may have some idea of their deeds and
302 THE CITIZEN

characters; he can then select a few to be his mas-
ters, and of these seek to know all that is known.
To do this, he should read, if possible, several dif-
ferent accounts of each life, so-that he may have a
chance to compare opinions of the men and form his
own views.

Properly studied biographies give one by far the
best knowledge of history that any but a professional
student of the matter is likely to obtain. Thus, any
one who knows the lives of Washington, Jefferson,
Madison, Jackson, Lincoln, and the other presidents
who have been of more than mere political impor-
tance, will have unfolded to him all the large affairs of
" our national life. It is in the quality of a great man
to enter into the life of his day in such a manner
that his story is, in a way, that of his time. When
Dante, in his marvellous poem, tells of his passage
through Hell, he describes himself as conducted by
the spirit of the poet Virgil; his literary skill taught
him that no such strange journey could be imagined
as taken without a guide. So, too, when we seek to
enter into the realm of the past, we need a guide
such as we may select from the great men of each
age. .

In the course of an ordinary life it is possible, as
the writer personally knows, even for one who is
much occupied, to gain from books a tolerably good
knowledge of some fifty or more great men. The
most fortunate of us rarely have a chance to be-
VALUE OF GREAT MEN 303

hold from near by any man of real greatness. It is
true that there is something about a man in the flesh
that there is not in the man in the book, but the
difference is not really as great as it seems at first
sight to be. Our chance to know the truth about
the heroic person after he has passed into history
is commonly much better than it was while he is
living.

From among those men, some hundred in number,
who are the well and widely remembered benefac-
tors of our kind, it is best to select a certain few
whose lives seem to fit our needs and to afford a
pattern of what we would make our own. We
should make these men the companions and examples
of our doing in such a manner that they become in
a way our friends. We cannot expect to copy them,
for each life is peculiar; its problems are individual
and of its own time; but our heroes serve us as
counsellors and guides along many ways which other-
wise we have to pass in loneliness. Of all the vast
store of good help which human records afford, none
other are more precious than the accounts of noble
lives.

Where the greatness of men is embodied in their
writings, as is the case of the larger number of those
who give us much help, the reader will do well to
form the habit of committing those parts of their
works which seem to him most uplifting, or other-
wise helpful, to memory, or, as a more expressive
304 THE CITIZEN

phrase has it, learning them by heart. This custom
of storing the mind with selections of great poetry
or prose, very common in the last generation, has-
been unhappily much disused in the present day.
The gentleman of half a century ago was, if he
aspired to culture, expected to memorise many thou-
sand lines of poetry, English and Latin, as well as
some of the great orations in those tongues. These
treasures he was expected to keep, not in the lumber-
rooms of his mind, but so near to his ordinary
thought that he would be apt to quote them or
shape his thought on them. It is to the effort to
give youths too much variety of instruction that we
owe the loss of the habit of using the classics of
our own and other languages in lifting and lighting
our ordinary life.

Those who will provide themselves with clear
memories of the noble men to whom we owe the
world of affairs as we find it, and will fix their
words or deeds in memory, will soon discover that
in the many occasions where they need help their
hero is there to supply it, — with word of counsel or
example. The one way in which a man may most
effectively enlarge and ennoble his citizenly quality
is by taking to himself the strength which the illus-
trious dead can give him. Dead though they be,
they are often safer guides than the ablest of the
living; for, until the work of men is done, we can-
not truly gauge its value. If we could weigh the
THE AMERICAN SPIRIT 305

actions of those who make or save our states, we
should most likely find that their success in life and
their fame has been due mainly to the fact that into
their lives has entered the strength of the great who
had gone before them. In other words, success as
a citizen depends in large measure on the capacity
to gain power from the example of others.

Along with the consideration of our heroes — those
blessed individuals who, by their faithful deeds, have
helped all men to faith — should go a certain amount
of attention to those other men who, by their lack
of citizenly motive, have for all their prowess of
nature or station been harmful to the state. Fortu-
nately, in our own country we have not many such
to set against the masterful helpers we have named
as the host of lesser who deserve a place in our list
of heroic men. Many have been in some measure
harmful to the commonwealth because they lack the
ability to see the path of duty, or because they al-
lowed their unreasoning greeds to rule them where
reason was called for. In a word, that our shining
heroes should appear in all their value, we need for
contrast to set against them the men of darkness, —
those who allowed their brutal motives to guide them
and to harm the commonwealth.

THE AMERICAN SPIRIT

In every people which has made for itself an

important place in the world there exists, or has
20
306 THE CITIZEN

existed, a certain combination of motives in the mass
of its people which has served to determine its gen-
eral character. Thus, while it is not easy to define
the difference of motive between the Athenians and
Spartans or the Greeks and the Romans, every stu-
dent of classic times recognises that they are essen-
tially different, as are the English and the French
or the Hollander and the German in our own day.
These peculiarities of human quality which charac-
terise people are the more distinct in proportion to
the importance of the folk in the great association
of mankind. It would, indeed, not be difficult to
show that to these peculiarities of spirit has in the
main been due the share of action which states,
ancient and modern, have had for good or evil in
the world’s affairs. We see this clearly when we
note that the intense and high religious motive of
the Jews has given to that wonderful folk, which
never attained any considerable station in war, com-
merce, or the arts, a strange dominance over all
Western civilisation. It has, moreover, endowed
their scattered remnants with a power which abides,
after two thousand years of oppression, such as
would have utterly crushed a spiritually weaker
people.

When we thus recognise the importance of the
qualities of peoples, we naturally desire to find what
is that of our own, and how far is it likely to
affect its future. There are certain reasons why it
THE AMERICAN SPIRIT 307

is difficult to answer this question as regards the
United States. In the first place, history appears to
show that it commonly requires five hundred years
or more of life under like conditions of climate,
food, and custom for a folk to develop its qualities.
Some such period elapsed before any of the other
great nations of ancient or modern times attained
to its characteristics, to those qualities which most
distinctly separated it from its neighbours. It
has been but two hundred and fifty years since the
English colonies in America were founded and began
to adapt themselves to life in the new land. It is,
indeed, not more than two centuries that this life
has begun to develop a distinctive American quality.
Therefore, though events including those of the spirit
have marched rapidly in the New World, it may be
doubted whether there has been time for our national
spirit to take its final shape.

We have also to consider the fact that most, if
not all, the other peoples that have attained to great-
ness by their quality have been essentially of the
same race or stock; that is, they have been com-
posed of folk that came from one part of the world
and were originally much alike. This fact, we may
reasonably suppose, made it easier for their descend-
ants to come to the common way of thinking, which
forms a rational spirit out of that of a host of indi-
viduals which dwell together; for, after all, such
spirit is no more than what is common to the sepa-
308 THE CITIZEN

rate persons. It is easy to see that in this country
we have no such uniformity in the people as existed
among the Greeks, Jews, or other folk that have
attained a distinct national spirit. On the contrary,
while the first colonies founded in this country were
of tolerably pure English blood, or that of the
closely related Hollanders, we have since taken in a
strange mixture of folk, — French, Italians, Spanish,
and Africans, — so that quite half our people are of
other than English origin. The question arises how
far this mixture of diverse kinds of men may pre-
vent or delay growth of a distinct American quality.

The best answer to such doubts as to the develop-
ment of a definite American quality is to be had by
a little observation as to what we now find to be
features in our national spirit which differ from
those of other countries. It is easy to see that dif-
ferences, and those of importance, exist; some of
them are, indeed, recognised by all careful observers
who have studied our people. First among these
characteristics of our American folk as regards its
distinction and importance, though it has not been
recognised by foreigners, is the unexampled confi-
dence which Americans have in their fellow-citizens
of the same race and speech, — as between the white
men of Maine and Florida, and those of Massachu-
setts and California, there exists an instinctive sense
of fellowship which is practically unhampered, by
the fact that they know no more of each other than
THE AMERICAN SPIRIT 309

that they are all Americans together. In effect, the
American of European stock has acquired the habit
of looking upon all his fellow-citizens as essentially
like himself; in all the ordinary actions of life he
expects them to behave as he would under similar
conditions. He has, in a word, generally attained
to a state of mind concerning his neighbours which
is Christian and democratic.

How different is the American belief in the un-
seen neighbour, as like himself from the state of
mind in the Old World, can only be judged by
those who know the peoples on both sides of the
Atlantic. In the Old World we find, even in Eng-
land, where the folk are most akin to our own, a
more evident lack of sympathetic understanding or
even distinct distrust between neighbouring countries

_than can be found among the most widely separated
parts of this country. On the continent of Europe
this disbelief in the fellow-man is much more evi-
dent than in Great Britain. Nowhere do men trust
their unseen fellow-citizens as we of America do;
and when we come to the region bordering the Medi-
terranean Sea, the folk of one valley appear gener-
ally to believe that their neighbours on the other side
of the divide, with whom they have no acquaintance,
are really dangerous people.

It is easy to see that the American’s confidence
in others of his kind is in large measure due to the
fact that they never have harmed him, while the lack
310 THE CITIZEN

of it in the Old World is to be accounted for by the
fact that there in past ages, indeed, until modern
times, the usual condition was that of war between
neighbouring communities. Separated from this an-
cient evil of contention, the people of English-
America have been left free to develop a sound
human confidence in their fellow-citizens such as
never before existed among widely separated men.
It is also evident that this state of mind is most
important to the future of our nation, as it assures
a degree of unity which no laws or customs could
possibly bring about. When we look for the basis
of our national success, and for the foundation of
the greatness to come, we find it most assuredly in
this mutual understanding and belief in our kin-
ship of character. A striking instance of its value
is presented by the history of our Civil War; as
this is the best of all the great lessons of that mem-
orable conflict, we should see it clearly.

In the years before the war between the states
there grew up a body of doubts and hatred which
promised to separate the people of the North and
South in the manner in which the nations of the
Old World are parted. For a time, indeed, this
difference was distinct: the people of one section
distrusting the motives of the other, each believing
the other to be different in kind from their own.
When war came the folk of these opposed sections
of the country were thrown into a rude yet effective
THE AMERICAN SPIRIT Bil

contact. Each learned that the other was brave and
devoted to duty. In the innumerable chances of
friendly meetings which this war gave, the men of
both sides had the good chance to find that they
were, after all, not far apart in their essential quali-
ties. It was perhaps the only great conflict which
helped the combatants to a mutual understanding.
At the end of the Civil War the old animosities
between the people of the two sections had to a great
extent been cleared away, so that, but for the plans
of certain political leaders and the trouble that lurked
in the questions as to the future relations of the
whites with the freed negroes, a true reunion be-
tween the sections would have at once come about.
Unhappily, the action of Congress and of a host of
scoundrels who were given authority over the south-
ern people by that action led to a period of tyranny
and plunder in the seceding states which will ever
be a shame to our nation. The only redeeming
feature of this dark time in our history is to be
found in the confidence of the southern folk —a
trust that proved to be well placed —that their
northern brethren, their conquerors, would make an
end of these evils as soon as they had a chance to
do so. They were, in fact, thus ended as soon as
the people of the north were able to take their
measure. Thus, although the iniquities of the so-
called work of reconstruction had been.in many ways
greater than those of the war, the path was soon

7
312 THE CITIZEN

opened for a true reconstruction of the Union on
the sound American basis of mutual understanding
and respect.

As it has been before said, the Civil War, as a
matter of fighting, has, to those who would under-
stand our American people, only a secondary im-
portance; but the debates concerning the question
of slavery and state rights which preceded the con-
flict tell much of the spirit of our people, and even
more is revealed by the wonderful swiftness with
which a mutual understanding was attained by the
combatants after the work of arms was done. Never
before in the history of man has such a conflict been
waged to end in a firmly established peace. The
steps that led to this reconciliation shows the spirit-
ual bond which unites our people in mutual confi-
dence, — a bond that the fiercest struggle of modern
times only served to reaffirm. This contest also
shows another quality which is distinctively Amer-
ican; that is, a willingness to fight for ideals of
society and government such as have rarely, if ever,
entered into the conflicts of the Old World. Else-
where and in all times men have fought for chief-
tains, for dynasties, for national power, for religious
beliefs, or, oftenest, because of mere hatreds; but
this characteristically American conflict was mainly
for ideals as to social and political organisations, —
whether the supreme authority of our Union should
lie in the national or the state government, and
THE AMERICAN SPIRIT — 333

whether the people of the alien African race should
be held as slaves or as ordinary work people, are
held by their employers. The fact that the Civil
War was fought to determine such large citizenly
questions in a way serves to mitigate the disgrace
that it should have been fought at all, and in some
measure to reconcile us to the vast and irreparable
losses which it entailed.

The way in which our people dealt with the
questions which led to and followed the Civil War
shows that there exists in them another quality be-
sides the confidence in their fellow-men and the high
ideals of society and government which we have just
noted. This is a certain confidence in and willing-
ness to accept the result of a popular judgment on
any matter which has been well debated. If we look
over the history of other peoples, we find that about
the worst, or at least the commonest, of their mis-
fortunes arose from the unwillingness of large
minorities to accept the judgments of courts, elec-
tions, or battles as decisive and as fully making an
end of debate in the matter’in hand. These minori-
ties commonly hold to their purposes, and after the
manner of the followers of the exiled Stuart of
England or the Bonapartists in France, prove a long-
continued danger to their states. But with us, as the
results of the Civil War showed, the people have
accepted the most important point of democratic
government, which is that the decisions of a debate
314 THE CITIZEN

are to be accepted, that idle fighting is not to be
tolerated.

This prompt acceptance of judgments, such as
those of their supreme court, of their important
elections, and of the great contest of the Civil War,
clearly indicate that the masses of men in this coun-
try have a measure of discernment which elsewhere
is found only in people trained in diplomacy. It
marks a distinct advance in the state of the public
mind beyond what has been attained in earlier ages
or concerning other peoples of our time. Its effects
are not only to be found in matters of large politics,
but in lesser affairs as well. They are to be noted
in the methods of business, where men quickly aban-
don old methods or machines as soon as they have
been found less useful than the new, or change from
one religious faith to another, as the claims of the
several churches impress them. In a word, Ameri-
can men have evidently come to a state of mind
where their actions are singularly little controlled by
traditions and prejudices, where they are, as no other
body of folk ever has been, free to act swiftly and
together.

Along with his independence of judgment, and
closely related therewith, the American in general
exhibits a gentleness towards men he regards as of
his own kind, and whom he instinctively considers
as closely akin to himself. This was well shown
during the Civil War by thousands of instances in
THE AMERICAN SPIRIT 315

which the soldiers of all grades exhibited a human
interest in their official enemies. The result was that
with few exceptions the campaigns of that war were
marked by an absence of the unnecessary cruelty
which has so often disgraced the work of soldiers.
We find the same absence of brutality in the treat-
ment of the surrendered Confederate armies and
their statesmen as well. From the point of view of
the law, all these people were guilty of treason, and
were liable to pay the penalty for it with their lives;
yet by common consent, and practically without de-
bate, all idea of legal process against them was
abandoned. Not a single man was brought to trial
for treason; and the imprisonment of Jefferson Davis,
the sometime president of the Confederate states, met
with such general condemnation in the north that he
was quickly set free, — to spend the remainder of
his life in publicly abusing his conquerors. The most
of the other leaders of the Confederacy promptly
found honoured places in Congress, in the federal
courts, or in the executive government. When they
were not too aged for service, they were given fit
stations in the armies of the Spanish War, and
this by the party which had held power during the
war of secession. In a word, the treatment of the
southern people, except for the miserable political
blunders and their train of woes of the reconstruc-
tion period, for which the body of the northern
people were not blameworthy, show that our folk
316 THE CITIZEN

have in them an essential gentleness of spirit in all
that regards their own people, the like of which has
not existed elsewhere among men.

Although the people of this country are in a way
peculiarly merciful to those they feel to be their
neighbours, and carry the idea of neighbourliness
very far, this motive has a singular limitation, for
it does not extend beyond certain arbitrary and curi-
ous bounds. While he is easily and spontaneously
moved to sympathy with all those whom he regards
as of his own people, as of himself in other form,
the American in general is, by his instinctive dislike
of all other races, curiously incapable of anything
like generous treatment of them. Unlike the Spanish
and French, and even the English, he never in any
general way entered on friendly relations with the
aborigines of this country. In fact, our treatment
of the Indians, if taken alone, would stamp our folk
as one of the most brutal of modern times. Some-
thing of the same incapacity to feel for or with
people of alien race.is seen in the attacks that have
been made on the Chinese of the far West, — out-
breaks of a fiendish nature not paralleled elsewhere
among civilised people for a hundred years or more.
Again, in the lynchings of murderers which are so
disgracefully common in the West and the South,
we find characteristic men of our race for the mo-
ment acting as demons, denying, as it were, all kin-
ship with the gentle quality which is so well shown
THE AMERICAN SPIRIT 317

in the history of our Civil War. The fact seems
to be that the American’s good-nature is due to an
instinctive belief in the likeness of the men about
him to himself. When this idea of kinship is lack-
ing for the reason that the fellow-man has a peculiar
colour, or has done something that a decent man
cannot conceive a human being guilty of doing, all
sense of common humanity may be at once lost, and
the American becomes the most brutal of civilised
men.

It has often been remarked that the British folk,
for all their wonderful successes in governing other
races, have achieved their results, not by understand-
ing or sympathising with the aliens they rule, but
solely by their honesty and strength. Unlike the
French and Spaniards, who readily come to friendly
relations with savages, the British always remain
essentially their conquerors. This feature of the
Anglo-Saxon character, if we may judge by the
behaviour of the American with the folk of other
races with whom they have come in contact, has in
some way been intensified in our people.

We find the best evidence as to the narrowness of
American sympathies not in the way in which our
people have dealt with the Indians, but in our con-
duct towards the negroes. In the case of the Indians,
there has always been difficulty in associating with
them because of the difference in language; few, if
any, pure-blooded aborigines have ever spoken Eng-
318 THE CITIZEN

lish well, and probably not a thousand white men
of our race have ever been able to speak an Indian
tongue with ease. The difference of customs and
traditions was in itself a serious barrier to friendly
relations. Moreover, our people were compelled to
deprive the Indians of their birthright in the country,
and thus to become their enemies. Thus much of
the unhappy history of the relations between our folk
and the aborigines was inevitable. It is otherwise
in our relations with the negroes; all these people,
though they belonged to many different races and
tribes, have proved to be remarkably docile; they
quickly and effectively acquired our language and in
a singularly complete way became separated from
their primitive customs and traditions; so that, ex-
cept for some inborn natural qualities of mind, they
have become very perfect imitations of ourselves.
So far as the treatment of the Africans while they
were slaves is concerned, there is not very much to
be said in the way of condemnation. Slavery is in-
evitably evil, but it is evident that a people of an
alien race has never fared better in such a station.
Their masters were generally humane and careful
of their welfare. In general, those of our folk who
had the responsibility of the master learned to have
a real affection for the negro and to feel for him as
aman. It has been and still is quite otherwise with
those of our people who have never been thrown
into close personal relations with the blacks. To
THE AMERICAN SPIRIT 319

them this African race is absolutely alien; they have
no instinctive sympathy with its people; they are,
indeed, commonly repelled by the differences of
colour and face. In general, the white people of
this country desire that the black man shall have all
the legal rights of the citizen, but with that they wish
their relations with him to end. In brief, we may
say that for near three hundred years our American-
English have lived in close contact with the Ameri-
can-African, maintaining towards them an attitude
of distinct hostility which is evidently based on a
native prejudice against other races than our own.
That even when a sense of right-doing has led com-
munities to advocate the advancement of the blacks,
it has had no effect in overcoming the deep-seated
dislike which is felt towards them.

It must not be supposed that this intense natural
repugnance of our people to other shapes and colours
of man than their own is entirely base or altogether
evil in its effects. It is only a very notable instance
of race prejudice such as commonly exists among men
and the lower animals towards other varieties of their
kind. The Chinese who have suffered from this
motive in our country have it themselves in quite as
strong a form. Among animals and primitive men
this dislike of aliens has a certain advantage in that
it keeps the kinds apart, preventing mixtures of blood
that lead to degradations. It is, however, unfit that
an educated people, such as we suppose ourselves to
320 THE CITIZEN

be, should not have escaped from the evils that arise
from their instinctive hatred of other sorts of men.
While it is altogether fit and desirable that these
aliens should not become united with us in blood,
there is every reason that they should be adopted into
our society in as large a measure as may be con-
sistent with its preservation.

The most important conclusion that is to be drawn
from the peculiar and intense dislike that the English-
speaking people, especially the American branch of
it, have to alien races, concerns their relations to pos-
sessions in foreign countries. Seeing as we do how
complete has been our failure to do justice to the
Indians, the Chinese, and the negroes who abide
with us, we are led to doubt whether we shall prove
to be sympathetic or even merciful rulers of other
alien folk in remote lands. We may reasonably be-
lieve that good as is our quality in dealing with our
own kind, we cannot expect to be more successful
in caring for distant aliens than we have been with
those who dwell with us.

There are yet other qualities which are perhaps
as characteristic of our American people as those
already noted, though they may be of less importance
to the future of the commonwealth. Among these
we may mention their inventiveness, their desire for
education, and their generous giving for public needs.
As for the first of these qualities, it appears to
be due to the peculiar conditions of American life.
THE AMERICAN SPIRIT SOL

rather than to any special gift. All men of our Aryan
race are given to seeking for new and better ways of
doing things, but their efficiency in this work depends
upon the stimulus that comes to them from their
surroundings. Thus in the fifteenth and sixteenth
centuries Italy, then intellectually as active as our
own country is now, produced great inventors, one
of whom, Lionardo da Vinci, commonly known as
one of the foremost painters of all time, was the
father of modern engineering, and perhaps the most
original and fertile of all inventors. Yet in the sub-
sequent centuries of intellectual stagnation little in
the way of mechanical contrivances has been pro-
duced in that country. Our American spirit of inven-
tion is to be regarded as a continuation of that of
England, but in the results it has gone beyond the
mother country or any other.

The value of the inventive motive which so charac-
terises our people is not to be measured by the results
in the way of new machines, however important these
may be, but is to be found in the manner in which
our people deal with all sorts of difficulties. Among
uninventive folk the trials that come in their daily
round of duty are met in a routine way: they are
content to do what their fathers have done under like
conditions; any effort to better the conditions is apt
to be considered sacrilegious. After a while this
form of conservatism may be so fixed that a race once

very inventive, as the Chinese certainly were in
aI
322 THE CITIZEN

ancient times, may become apparently incapable of
originating anything new, or even of adopting the
useful inventions of other folk. Thus the mechanical
inventiveness of our people may be taken as a sign
of a certain readiness to adapt their institutions and
themselves to the varying needs of life, — of a quick
adjustment to those changing needs which enables
them rapidly to go forward on any path that may be
opened to them. It is this quality which, as much as
any other, concerns the future of our commonwealth;
combined with a desire for the good of his fellows,
it should make the American man ready to meet the
evils of society and government with a swift effi-
ciency that will clear them away.

In all societies, even in the herds of wild beasts,
the safety of the association depends in some degree
on the willingness of its members to make some
sacrifices for others. In proportion as states gain in
true civilisation this willingness to help the common
interests increases; in fact, all social advancement
depends upon and may be measured by this devotion
to the common good. There are many ways in which
such work may be done. In ancient times the bene-
factor commonly gave public buildings, baths, or
aqueducts, or strengthened the walls of his city.
Later on, in the early Christian ages, much of this
effort to help went in founding or establishing mon-
asteries or churches. About five hundred years ago,
among the English people, there came a change in
THE AMERICAN SPIRIT 3074

the direction of such gifts, which then began to be
devoted to education, to founding public schools and
colleges. On the continent of Europe this motive
never became general; for a time, indeed, it almost
died out in Great Britain; but the colonists of
English America brought this motive with them,
and have never ceased to be guided by it. In nearly
all the thirteen colonies which were joined to form
our union of states, the first public work of the people
after caring for their churches was to found schools,
often those to which they gave the ambitious name
of colleges. This same motive has continued at
every stage of their advance in the occupation of this
continent. Thus when the first Virginian colonists
found their way to Kentucky, even before they built
their cabins, they provided by law for founding a
college.

Not always wisely, but with great wisdom and
goodness of purpose, this large giving to the cause of
education has continued in this country, and in-
creased from the early days of struggle for existence
to our own prosperous age. This mode of giving is,
indeed, one of the most characteristic features of -
American society. It clearly shows that very many
of our people feel the responsibility that wealth brings
to them, and that they see the clearest opportunity of
benefiting their people by helping the youth to a better
preparation for the duties of life. This same interest
in the generations to come, which is so well shown in
324 THE CITIZEN

many of the exceptionally rich by large gifts to found
colleges and academies, exists as well among the
masses of our people. This is indicated by their will-
ingness to tax themselves, often heavily, to maintain
their schools, not as in most foreign countries,
through laws passed by legislatures, but by the action
of each school district, where the voters individu-
ally feel the burden they willingly assume. Although
the proportion of the earnings of our people which
is devoted to education varies widely in different
states, and much in different parts of most states, it
is always large; it indeed much exceeds that which
is given to such work in any other country. There
are others, as, for instance. Germany, where the work
is, on the whole, more effectively done because the
control of it is not, as with us, to a great extent in
the hands of the people of each school district, but in
the central government; yet nowhere else are the ob-
jects of education so near to the hearts of men. In
no other feature of American life can we find a better
augury for the future of our commonwealth than this
devotion to the interests of education affords.

The foregoing sketch of the moral and intellectual
qualities of the American people needs to be supple-
mented by a like account of their bodily state. Ex-
perience has shown that the folk of northern Europe,
whence most Americans are derived, do not do well
in all parts of the earth; they have never been suc-
cessful within the tropics, for in those lands their chil-
THE AMERICAN SPIRIT 325

dren are feeble; and the race, except when it is mixed
with the natives, soon dies out or becomes much en-
feebled in body and mind. In fact, we now know
well that the English, Germans, Dutch, and Scandi-
navians are by nature unfit to dwell in all except the
very high parts of the countries lying within about
thirty degrees of latitude of either side of the equa-
tor, —a realm that contains about half the fruitful
lands of the earth; and that something of the same
disability, though perhaps in a less measure, affects
the peoples of southern Europe. It is, however,
now well proved that all the tillable area of North
America, from the Gulf of Mexico and the Rio
Grande River northwards, is as well fitted for the uses
of our race as are any of the countries of the Old
World. This is shown by certain facts which are
set forth below.

The first settlers of this country came almost al-
together from Great Britain, northern Ireland, and
Holland. These were followed by considerable num-
bers of Rhineland Germans, who catne here in about
1700, and by some Protestant French. Both these
last-named peoples, having been driven from their
native lands on account of their religion, were helped
to America by England, who at that time was the
mainstay of the Protestant Church. The result was
that, up to the beginning of the last century, the folk
of this country had been drawn from the most vigo-
rous stocks that man has yet produced, so that our
326 THE CITIZEN

nation began its development on a better foundation
of human quality than any other has ever built upon.
In the first half of the last century, or from 1800 to
the time of the Civil War, there was a large immi-
gration to the United States, much of it from Ireland,
which brought us able-bodied men. Though much of
this immigration was not good material for citizen-
ship, many were of excellent quality, and the children
of all have proved to be of good capacity, so that
no reduction in the bodily or mental vigour of the
folk came from that addition to the original stock.
In the same period there came to us an even greater
number of Germans, — people so closely akin to the
original British stock that for all the difference of
speech they have become effectively a part of our
folk.

Since the Civil War there has been a great and
unhappy change in the sources from which the immi-
grants entering this country have been derived.
Partly because the Civil War led the English- and
German-speaking people to doubt the future of the
United States, and to fear that they or their sons
would be required to serve as soldiers, they have
sought new homes elsewhere. The result has been
that the immigrants, though more numerous since
that war than in any other like period, have brought
us much weaker folk, those less able-bodied and able-
minded, less fit material out of which to make citizens,
those who have come to us in great numbers from
THE AMERICAN SPIRIT 327

Russia, Poland, Hungary, and southern Italy. It
should be said that some of these immigrants are of
excellent quality: they promise to be helpful to the
commonwealth and to give us children fit to share
with our best in the work of the generations to come;
but the mass of these very alien peoples is of a char-
acter to make all patriots anxious for the future.
However it may be hereafter, if we continue to
permit the lowest-grade folk of the Old World to
throng to us, the structure of our American life at
present rests firmly on its old foundations of English
and other allied folk of northern Europe. These foun-
dations having been laid on a selected body of men
and women,—vigorous people, such as alone have the
courage and the strength that goes herewith, which
was needed to lead them on the difficult ways of the
immigrant, — it would naturally be expected that the
result of this selection would be a very able-bodied
and efficient folk. In many ways this expectation
is amply verified. The measurements of the men
enlisted in the federal army during the Civil War
show that the soldiers drawn from the states, which
had received the least number of foreigners since the
original settlement in the eighteenth century, were
stronger-bodied than the selected troops of northern
European states. In the rude tests of war they
proved remarkably efficient men. They marched and
fought as well as any soldiers of whom we have
records. Their endurance to wounds was better than
328 THE CITIZEN

has ever been known in any campaigns. This severe
test clearly proves that the American man, born of
families that have been in the soil for two hundred
years or more, is as strong and enduring as any of
his kind have ever been.

To the evidence as to the condition of the body
of our American people, which the strenuous tests
of the Civil War afforded, we may add that yet
better derived from the wholesome work of peace.
Our manufacturing industries show that our white
labourers in many different employments, probably
in all, work more rapidly and effectively and with
greater steadiness than those of European countries.
They are evidently better adapted to the use of
machinery, they appear to be nimbler in the work
of hand and mind, than their kinsmen of the Old
World. In fact, the present commercial success of
this country, a condition in which, with an average
wage rate about twice as high as that of other nations,
we are able to compete in the world’s markets, is
evidently in the main due to the fact that our work-
men are stronger and swifter than those of other
lands.

The fact that our people have gained and are
still gaining in vigour, as compared with those of
the countries whence their ancestors came, is well
shown by the relatively low death rate of the popu-
lation and the rapid decrease of that rate in the last
census, which shows that in a period of ten years the
THE AMERICAN SPIRIT 329

average length of life has increased by about five
years. Much of this gain is due of course to the
lessened mortality among children and old people;
yet it is certain that in this ten years the labouring
man of all occupations has won some years more of
activity than would in the average have been his in
the preceding decade. When we count the costs of
the sickness that usually precedes death, it is evident
that this gain is worth in money more than all the
annual taxes our people have to bear.

There appear to be yet other reasons why the part
of North America in which lies the United States
should be considered a very wholesome country for
our race. Its ancient inhabitants, the Indians, were
an able-bodied people who, before the coming of the
whites, were remarkably exempt from contagious
diseases. So far as can be learned of all the various
epidemic diseases, such as the plague, cholera, typhoid,
and other contagious fevers, diphtheria, small-pox, etc.,
which have killed perhaps more than half the people
of Europe in the last thousand years, none originated
in North America or were known there until imported
from the Old World. Moreover, the climate, though
in places unwholesome, is on the whole very like that
of northern Europe, where our race came to the
strength that has enabled it to dominate the world.
It affords that combination of summer’s heat and
winter’s cold which insures at once good harvests
and a fireside life. There is, in a word, every reason
330 THE CITIZEN

to believe that, so far as the gifts of nature go, our
folk have an assured future.

It is well for the dutiful citizen to see that the
most certain way to the improvement of the quality
of his people is by bettering their physical condition.
It is now well recognised that a large part of the
drunkenness that curses our society is due to the lack
of nutritious food and good breathable air. Certainly
a great part of the bodily defects which deform so
many persons are owing to insufficient care of chil-
dren. In a word, the shortest and surest way to
a certain gain in the condition of the commonwealth
is by improving the ways of living. There is not
much chance of uplifting the moral and intellectual
quality of the people, except a gain in the condition
of their bodies be attained. We see that evident
gains, perhaps the greater part of the recent great
improvements, come from the instruction which is
now given in the public schools concerning the care
of the human body. Local boards of health also do
much, and should do yet more, to bring people to see
what needs be done that they may have health and
their rightful share of days. What we have gained
in these regards should be but an incentive to push
forward in the good work.
CHAPTER XVI

THE FUTURE OF THE COMMONWEALTH

often, of how the commonwealth in which

he belongs is in the course of rapid decay,
which will soon end in the loss of its liberties, its
good qualities, and its place in the world. Such
cries should not vex or make him afraid; they are
what have been heard since states began to be. It
is said that the oldest-known piece of writing in
Egyptian hieroglyphics, set down some five thousand
years ago, consists in a lament over the passing of the
good old days. It is in the nature of states, as of
all else, to die; but this death rarely comes from ac-
cident, but rather from the decay of its people, —a
disbelief that there is anything in their commonwealth
that is worth fighting for. It is the duty of the citizen
to believe in the future of the state, and at the same
time to strive to make that future what he would have
it. It is well for him to remember the excellent story
of the men of Rome, who when they were penned
within the walls of their city by their arch-enemy,
Hannibal, who had overwhelmed their armies in the
field, contended at an auction for a piece of land on

| ee citizen must expect to hear, and that
342 THE CITIZEN

which the enemy was encamped, bidding for it a
higher price than it had brought in times of peace.

Those who decry the strength of the state have
their use, as they serve to call the attention of the
over-hopeful to the dangers that beset it. It is in the
quality of a democracy such as ours that it never in
any fixed and permanent way is safe. Other kinds
of government may be so formed that they will stand
for a long time of their own strength. Not so with
our own. It lives with the daily life of the people.
When it disappears, it will not pass by slow long-
observed decline, or by the assault of some foreign
nation, but by a quick change which, while it will
leave the edifice appearing to be sound, will yet bring
ruin. When the patriotic motive in a majority of
our citizens becomes so weak that the state is used
for private gain; when the call of duty ceases to
move the hearts as it did in 1861, and as it will need
to do in many another crisis, — then at once the re-
public will have fallen: its fragments, even if they
be not shared among factions, will not be likely ever
to regain its original noble type. Let us understand
this sensitive nature of our government and be vigi-
lant in caring for its safety.

The dangers which, in caring for our republic, we
have to guard against, may now be briefly considered.
The one which naturally comes first to mind is that
of invasion by some foreign army. This mischance
is most unlikely. Though we are not a military, we
FUTURE OF COMMONWEALTH © 333

are an eminently soldierly, people. It would be ex-
tremely difficult for the combined states of Europe
to subjugate us. Moreover, they could find no profit
in so doing. There is, however, some danger that
an uprising of a war spirit might involve us in suc-
cessive European conflicts which would result in our
having to maintain a large standing army as well as
a great naval force. The effect of this would be
to increase the importance of military men in the
state with as a possible result such conditions as
exist in the so-called republics of Central and South
America, which, as before remarked, are in fact
military oligarchies.

There was a time when there was a grave risk
that the country would be. divided into two nations
on the basis of slavery, and of the climate and crops
that made that institution profitable. The issue of the
Civil War settled for all foreseeable time the unity of
this country. Moreover, the land is now so bound
together by railways that the people of the different
sections each year come into a better understanding
with one another.

There is another class of dangers, the nature of
which we just begin to see; their gravity we cannot:
as yet clearly apprehend, though we know that in
other lands and times they have proved serious.
These arise from the division of the people into
classes, — the rich and the poor, labourers and capi-
talists, farmers and manufacturers, residents of city
ek

334 THE CITIZEN

and country. In a simple democracy such as existed
when this country was founded, the employment and
resources of the citizens were so far alike that there
was no chance for these class distinctions based on
various modes of life to arise; but with the increase
in numbers and in wealth each day sees them more
sharply drawn, and this in a way that appears to
many observers to threaten trouble.

If danger comes to us from class distinctions, it
probably will arise in some such manner as this:
nearly all our people are greatly influenced by the
desire for wealth; they judge their government to be
good when they are making money, and bad when
they are not doing so. They overlook the fact that
good times or bad times are generally due to actions
over which government has no more control than has
religion. They fail to see that about the only way
in which the authorities can harm business is by
bringing about wars by excessive taxation, or by caus-
ing doubt concerning the goodness of the currency.
The only way in which they can help it is by leaving
men to do their business as they like. Seeing in a
blind way that they are not successful in business, the
natural tendency of a particular body of folk is to
demand what is termed class legislation; that is, laws
which will help them at the expense of another group
of citizens. If they attain their object they usually
find that they are more harmed than helped by the
new statutes, but they think that some further addi-
FUTURE OF COMMONWEALTH 335

tion to their privileges will effect the end. In this
spirit we already see the workingmen, as they are
called, — the day-labourers of the several trades, the
farmers, and other groups of citizens, —organised into
guilds which, in form and purpose, are just like those
which grew up in aristocratic countries during the
Middle Ages; but in a peculiarly unfortunate manner
these modern trades’ unions tend to set themselves
against capitalists with the notion that their ill-
success in life is due to the action of those who have
succeeded.

It may be granted that the effect of our compli-
cated laws concerning tariffs and taxation has been
in a measure to injure men of certain occupations,
nor can it be questioned that these men do well to
form societies which are to care for their interests.
The grave and menacing part of the business begins
when one of these groups of people, moved by envy
and hatred, sets itself against another in a violent and
irrational way. It has several times happened of late
that this rage of one class against another has led to
armed conflicts which were, in effect, small civil wars;
but in each case the commotion has been quickly
arrested by the good sense of the other classes of
citizens. Yet it seems possible that if the class spirit
continues to increase as it has done of late, these
accidents may soon be serious.

The only cure for the dangers of the class spirit
is to be found in the dissemination of the larger
336 THE CITIZEN

motive of enlightened patriotism. It is inevitable
that the interests of particular groups of men should
often seem to be opposed one to another, and in
some cases really be so. The varying tides of em-
ployment and commerce often bring about great and
startling changes in the success of various eccupa-
tions. Thus our farmers recently suffered from a
decline of prices which halved the sum they formerly
obtained from their grain. This was due to the fact
that swift and cheap transportation by railways and
steamships brought the crops from realms of fertile
land in Manitoba, Argentine and elsewhere, to the
markets of Europe. Our iron-makers for the same
reason had of late to accept one-half the sum which
thirty years ago they received for a ton of iron, and
so through the list of earth products. At the same

time the progress of invention has cheapened nearly...

all the products of the factory. In certain ways these
changes are to be regretted; they upset trade and
lower the rates of payment for labour, but the gov-
ernment can no more cure them than it can droughts.

If the discontented people of this country who
have turned to the government for help against the
capitalist class have their way, the result of their
action can be readily foreseen: they will no sooner
begin to receive the help of the state than a struggle
will originate in which each group of citizens that
is strong enough to influence legislation will have
its particular scheme of profit which it will endeavour
FUTURE OF COMMONWEALTH = 337

to set in operation by joining hands with other guilds
so as to obtain enough votes for success. Under
this system the state will become a mere instrument
for creating separated classes, — the kind of govern-
ment which it was the object of our democracy to
avoid. So far as these efforts to obtain such privi-
leges are successfully directed against capital, the
result will be destruction in another way: the people
who have the capital which keeps the wheels of our
great industries moving, and the skill to direct their
operations, will begin to fold their tents and slip
away to other countries where they may hope to
have the equal rights which has been the motto of
this republic.

The rapid development of the man of capital in
the United States; the process by which hundreds
of thousands of able, industrious business men have
learned to gather and keep money, — has been the
foundation of our prosperity. As soon as these men
begin to feel that this is not a safe land for their
ventures, they will hesitate to take charge of new
enterprises and seek to withdraw from those in which
they are engaged. With this state of things the con-
trol of commercial affairs will pass into the hands
of the weaker men, — men who have not the ability
needed to insure commercial success. The results
of such action are easy to imagine, but they may be
illustrated by examples. Three centuries ago the
Spaniards, finding that the Jews were very successful

22
338 THE CITIZEN

in business, and hating them because of their success
even more than for their faith, drove all of that race
from the country, stripping them of their goods as
they went forth. In consequence of this action Spain
quickly lost the control of the commerce of the world
and has never regained its place in affairs. In a
similar way France forced the Huguenots to leave
their country: the exiles bore with them much of
the ability of that land to enrich others with their
capacity for commerce. It is improbable that the
class of men who are or who may become capitalists
will be actually driven, in the manner of the Jews
from Spain, from this country, but they may easily
be led to seek their ventures in other parts of
the world where the conditions are more favour-
able to them. In proportion as this talent for the
larger work of industry was withdrawn, the commer-
cial success of the country would be endangered.

The citizen who would preserve the commonwealth
from these dangers of class divisions among our
people should in the first place strive to increase
their appreciation of the unpatriotic nature of the
effort to use the government as a tool for private
or class advantage. We should urge on them the
fact that the only way to maintain the essential free-
dom of the country is by upholding the principle of
equal rights; when that principle is abandoned, the
republic is lost.

While it is the duty of the citizen to strive against
FUTURE OF COMMONWEALTH = 339

the dangers of class legislation, as against all those
which menace the state, it is not for him to fear over-
much as to the magnitude of the risks which they
are likely to bring upon us. He has the admirable
consolation of every American citizen that, arrayed
with him in the effort to maintain the common-
wealth, there is a host of brethren who bring to the
service a firm devotion to the principles of true gov-
ernment, and that even those who for the moment are
led into evil ways will be ready when the results of
their actions are made clear to them to abandon
their mistaken course and join with the defenders
of the state.

It is characteristic of a democracy where each
man’s speech is perfectly free that the people express
themselves loudly. They often appear fanatical, but
all the while there is with them an under-current
of sound reason which prepares them in the end to
act in a very judicious way. It is this quality that
has made the formation and preservation of our
nation possible, and it is that on which every patriot
may safely rely in his efforts to turn his neighbours
to the right way.
INDEX

ABILITY, training of individual,
179 ff.

Abolitionists, 108.

Address, modes of, 17, 18.

Aged, care of the, 198.

American colonies, growth of lib-
erty in, 29 ff.

American history, study of, 51 ff.

American spirit, the, 305-330; fel-
lowship, 309 f£.; pliability, 313 ff. ;
race prejudice, 316-320; invent-
iveness, 320; giving toward edu-
cation, 323.

Americans, bodily condition of,
324 ff.; original stock, 325.

Anarchists, fanaticism of, 105;
methods of suppressing, 107 ff.;
punishment of, rro.

Anti-imperialism, 255.

Antislavery party, dissolution of,

Aristocracy developed in slave-
holders, 225,

Arithmetic, 174.

Arms, citizen’s use of, 150.

Armstrong, General, 233.

Assassination of rulers, 106, 109,
117.

Associations for mutual benefit or
education, 273 ff.

BANISHMENT as a punishment,
108.

Bankers, 168.

Bible, on creation of man, 6.

 

Biography is the best method of
studying history, 302.
Brute inheritance, 10, 11, 293.

CAPITAL punishment, 125 ff.; state
right of, 127.

Capitalist, the, 337.

Catholics as American citizens,
217 fff.

Caucus, the, 80.

Central America, republics of, 65.

Charity law, 129 ff.; and private
charities, 131, 195.

Children, the law’s provision for,
130.

Church and state, separation of,
216.

Citizenship, the private citizen,
44-63; the practice of, 64-84;
party allegiance, 85-102; the law,
120-151; resistance to mobs, 149
ff.; attitude toward complicated
questions, 170, 212; distribution
of wealth, 152-172; education,
173-184; military duty, 184-191 ;
public health, 191-195; poverty
and crime, 195-199 ; immigration,
200-206 ; universal suffrage, 206—
215; religion, 215-220; negro
question, 220-238; foreign pos-
sessions, 239-260; city govern-
ment, 261-271; happiness, 271-
2793; manners, 279-286; fellow-
man, 287-300; study of great
men, 303-305.
342

City government, and the citizen,
71, 261-271; party politics in,
263; non-partisan party in, 264;
lack of interest in, 265; the re-
former in, 266 ff.-

Civilisation, first steps toward,
16 ff. .

Civil-service system, advantages of,
80.

Civil war, political history of, 60;
character of the revolt, 135;
cause of, 226; results of, 228;
fellowship engendered in, 310 ff.;
questions preceding and follow-
ing, 312 ff.; effect on character
of immigration, 326.

Class distinctions, 333.

Clubs, 98, 273 ff.

Coinage, 162 ff.

College education, 175.

Commissioners, railway, harbour,
and land, 139.

Common law, 121.
Commonwealth, future of the, 331-
339; class distinctions in, 333.

Conservative party, 87.

Constitution, alteration of the, 139,
141; its separation of church and
state, 216.

Constitutional history, study of,55.

Cordiality, 281.

Corporations, 133.

County government, 72.

“Court of King’s Bench,” 121.

Courts of law, 136 ff.; unpopular
decisions of, 138.

Criminals and punishment of, 110,
123 ff.; the discharged felon, 197.

DANGERS in republican govern-
ment, 48.

Dante degli Alighieri, 302.

Darwin, Charles, 3.

Davis, Jefferson, 315.

Death in the animal world, 288.

 

INDEX

Death penalty, 125.

Debating societies, 98, 269.

Declaration of Independence, 32;
its effect in foreign countries, 33;
and foreign possessions, 240.

Defective persons, the law’s pro-
vision for, 129, 130; individual
duty toward, 195.

Degenerate, the, 293.

Democracy, character of a true, 296.

Democratic party, main issues of,
88.

Demonetising of silver, 164.

Discontent in a republic, 209, 213.

Dodge, Col. T. A., 301.

Dred Scott Decision, 138.

EDUCATION, 173-184; through the
public schools, 174 ff.; the pub-
lic library, 179; individual train-
ing, 179 ff.; an all-around, 182;
through the study of great men,
38, 301-305.

Egypt, foreign rule in, mentioned,
249.

Election debates, 99.

Elizabeth, Queen, attempted assas-
sinations of, 117.

England, colonies of, 53; political
parties, 87; administration of
foreign affairs, 258.

Evil spirits, 20.

FAMILY, the foundation of society,
17, 66, 295.

Federal government, 78 ff.

Federalism, 87.

Fellow-man, the citizen and his,
287-300; American fellowship,
3009 ff.

Flint instruments, 16.

Foreign capital, 160.

Foreign countries, political parties
in, 90.

Foreign languages in schools, 175.
INDEX

Foreign policy, 56ff.

Foreign possessions, 239-260; ar-
guments against, 240, 250, 258;
arguments for, 243 ff.; need of,
243; Civilising of, 245-249, 254,
320; cost of maintaining, 250;
colonisation of, 250ff.; disposal
of, 252.

Fossils, 5.

France, state control in, 134; for-
eign possessions, 244.

Freedom of speech, 103ff.; and
anarchy, 105, 107; enemies of,
113; limitations in, 115.

Freedom, the limits of, 103-119.

French explorers of America, 52.

GARFIELD, James A., assassination
of, 106.

Geography, 174.

George IIL, 31.

Germans in Pennsylvania, 205. ,

Germany, foreign possessions, 244.

Gold coinage, 162 ff.

Government, beginnings of, 15-25 ;
local, 65-72; ownership of prop-
erty, 134, 157; how far it secures
happiness to man, 271-279.

Great men, the citizen’s study of,
38, 301-305.

Guilds, 273, 333-

Happiness of man and the gov-
ernment, 271-279.

Hayti, republic of, 248.

Health, public, 191-195; care of
bodily, 194.

Heroes, study of, 38, 303 ff.

High schools, 175.

History, study of, by the citizen,

st.
Home, the, 66 ff.
Human relations of men, 295-300.
“ Hygiene,” 193.

 

343

IMMIGRANTS, exclusion of certain,
109; probation of, 111; assimi-
lation of, 201; citizenly spirit
in, 267 ff.; character before and
after the Civil War, 326.

Immigration, 200-206; restrictions
on, 204.

Imperialism, 256.

Imprisonment for life, 127.

Income tax decision, cited, 139.

Independence of voters, 97.

India, British rule in, mentioned,
249.

Indians, our relations with, 317;
our attempt to civilise, 246.
Individual, development of the, 9,
287 ff.; growth of the idea of, 26,
27; in American colonies, 30;
training of individual talent, 179 ;

loneliness of, 294.

Infectious diseases, 191.

Innocent, punishment of the, 124,
146.

Insane, the, 129.

Instruction in principles of govern-
ment, I10, III.

Intelligence, origin and develop-
ment of, 7.

Inventiveness, of man, 16; of Amer-
icans, 320.

JAVA, 244.
Jews, religious spirit of the, 306.
Judges, election of, 137.

Jury duty, 137.

KENTUCKY, political clubs in, 98;
lawlessness in, 148.

Kings as judges, 121, 145.

“Know Nothings,” 274.

LanpscaPE, beautifying of, 277.

Law, beginnings of, 24; swift ser-
vice of the, rro, 124; the citizen
and, 120-151; origin and develop-
344

ment of, 120, 143; common law
and statutes, 121; criminal law,
123-129; charity law, 129-132;
property law, 132-134; support
of, 134, 145, 150; revolt against,
135; hasty alteration of, 141;
law-making, 142; mob violence
and, 146 ff.

Leaders in politics, 211.

Liability of stockholders, 133.

Liberals, 87.

Liberty, what it is, 26-43; its
growth in American colonies,
29 ff.; able discussion of, 34.

Libraries, public, 179.

Limits of freedom, 103-119.

Lincoln, Abraham, quoted, 93;
assassination of, 106.

Local government, 65-72; com-
pared with state and national,
76.

Lynching, 125, 147.

McKINLEY, William, assassina-
tion of, 104, 115.

Mafia, the, 204.

Magistrates, setting apart of, 118.

Man, physical origin of, 2-5, 13,
287 ff.; spiritual, 7-11, 14, 291;
social, 11, 16; his brute inher-
itance, 11, 293; loneliness of,
294.

Manners of the citizen, 279-286.

Massachusetts limitation of suffrage,
207.

Memorising, 304.

Mexican war, 57, 239.

Military duty, 184-191.

Militia service, 190.

Mob violence, 110, 144-151; sav-
agery of, 145, 149; and the law,
146f.; as murder, 147; armed
resistance of citizens, 149 ff.

Money question, 62, 161-168.

Murder, penalty for, 125 ff.

INDEX

NAPOLEON BoNAPARTE, compared
with Washington, 39.

Natural science, study of, 175.

Nature, savages’ idea of, 19.

Negroes, their advent in America,
221; capacity for labour, 224,
231; as slaves, 225, 318; as
citizens, 229 ff., 247; advance-
ment of, 231-238; variety of
original stock, 232; training as
artisans, 233, 237; race preju-
dice, 234, 318; social recogni-
tion of, 236.

New England town government, 69.

Newspapers, Tol.

Nihilists, 122, 123, 269.

Non-partisan party, 264.

OccupaTION, choosing of, 180-
183.

Office-seekers, 80.

Orator and legislator, 82, 100.

Original sin, 293.

Panics, financial, 160 ff.

Parkman, Francis, 52.

Parties, the formation and disso-
lution of, 75, 85, 91; the two
great, 87 ff.; in city government,
263.

Partisanship, 49, 89, 93-96.

Party leaders, 96, 102.

Patriotism and war, 187.

Paupers, 129, 131, 198.

Pensioning of citizens, 198, 199.

Personal responsibility, 44.

Philippines, 240.

“Plutarch’s Lives,” 301.

Political clubs, 98.

Political leaders, 211; rearing of,
49, 100.

Politicians, professional, 258.

Politics, avoided by ablest men,
79.; and bread-winning, 270.

 

| Polynesians, civilising: of, 254.
INDEX

Porto Rico, 240.

Poverty and crime, 195-199.

Presidential bodyguard, 116.

Presidential campaigns of 1860 and
1896, mentioned, 91.

Prices, rise and fall of, 166.

Primitive man, 2, 15-25.

Prisons, 76.

Private charities, 131, 195.

Private citizen, the, 44-63.

Profit and loss, 153.

Prohibitionists, 91.

Property, institution of, 16, 22;
government ownership of, 134,
157.

Property law, 132-134.

Property qualification of suffrage,
207.

RACE prejudice, 234, 316-320.

Reforms, 74, 266 ff.

Religion, and science, 6; an attri-
bute of man alone, 7; beginnings
of, 19; and patriotism, 42; and
the state, 215-220.

Republican Democrats, 87.

Republican government, dangers
in, 48.

Republican party, main issues of,
87 ff.; dangers in, rot.

Reversions, 292.

“Ring,” the, 80.

Roman Catholics as American citi-
zens, 217 ff.

Royal Commissioners of England,
140.

Russia, anarchists in, 107.

ST. JouN, Spenser, cited, 248.

Sandwich Islanders, civilising of,
254.

San Domingo, republic of, 248.

Schools, public, training for citi-
zenship, 174; essential studies,

 

345

174; school committees, 176;
improvement of, 177; and Ro-
man Catholics, 218.

Science and religion, 6.

Shakespeare, William, quoted, 283.

Sicilian immigrants, 204.

Silver, coinage, 162 ff.; demonetis-
ing of, 164.

Slave trade, 223.

Slavery, 59, 225.

Socialist, 269.

Society, origin and development
of, 15 ff.; is a natural outgrowth
of man’s development, 35, 295.

Soldier and citizen compared, 45;
military duty, 184-1091.

South America, republics of, 34,
65.

Southern states, the homes of, 67;
secession of, 226ff.; reconstruc-
tion period, 311.

Spanish colonies of America, 33.

Species, origin of, 4.

Speculators, 169.

State government, duties of, 76.

State, share of the average man in
the, 44-63.

States’ rights, 58 ff.

Statute law, r2r.

Stock companies, 132.

Struggle for existence, 3.

Suffrage, universal, 206-215.

Superstition, 20-22.

Survival of the fittest, 3, 9.

Switzerland, republic of, 51, 63.

Sympathy, the basis of true citi-
zenship, 36, 296; development
of, 37 ; need for, 294; crude and
harmful form of, 297.

TARIFF, 87.

Teachers, pay of, 177.
Tories, 87.

Toussaint L’Ouverture, 248.
Town government, 68 ff.
346

Trades’ unions, 335.
Tribal stage of society, 17.
Trusts, 133.

UNIVERSAL suffrage, 206-215.
Unwritten law, 122.

VILLAGE improvement societies,
193.

Voter, independence of, 97; quali-
fications of the, 207, 211, 212;
neglect of duty, 214; motives of,
214.

WaAGE-EARNER, I61, 166.
War, in primitive period, 18, 188;
in Middle Ages, 28; financial

 

INDEX

loss in, 185; moral evils of, 186;

idealisation of, 187 ff.; modern,

189; discouragement of, 191.
War policy, mentioned, 113.
Washington, Booker, 233.

Washington, George, compared
with Napoleon, 39; foreign pol-
icy of, 56.

Wealth, its origin and distribution,
152-172; acquisition of, 153 ff. ;
government ownership, 157 ;
panics, 159; money question,
161-168.

West Virginia, lawlessness in, 148.

Whigs, 87.

Witchcraft, 21.

Woman suffrage, 212.
=e

 

Y. MARCH 5, 1904.

Kh

NS, renee

 

“THE CITIZEN,”

Prof. N. S. Shaler’s Study of the Indi+
vidual’s Relation to the Government.*

ROF. SHALER’S book pelorgs
to the same family with his
earlier book, ‘‘ The Individ-
ual,” and Lecky’s ‘‘ Map of
Life.”’ It is philosophicalin the
good, old-fashioned sense; not
metaphysical. It is sweet and
mellow, as if the writer had attained “ the
years that bring the philosophic mind,”
and the condition wherein—

Old experience doth attain
To something like prophetic strain.

For all its general resemblance to ‘‘ The
Individual ”’ it makes a less serious demand

than that on the reader’s powers of appre-

‘hension. Indeed, it is primarily addressed

_ to young men and young women, but there
is no ‘talking down” to them. If they
cannot be reached Ly perfect clearness of
statement they must go unfed. But the
subject matter of this book is in no part
so recondite as some parts of ‘‘The In-
dividual.” :

Primarily intended for young people, there
is nothing here that is foreign to the taste
and interest of the mature person. The
book is thoroughly delightful from begin-
ning to end, not without much heightening
of the interest at particular points. It is
written in a singularly persuasive and en-
gaging manner and the steady fiow of the
pellucida. style is unbroken by any but tlre
most infrequent references to other writers,
especially in the way of criticism on opin-
ions differing from Prof. Shaler’s own.
There are a good many opinions here that
will provoke lively opposition, for the book
runs strongly counter to the current 1.0-
tions of the time; but the writer’s com-
mon sense is so pervasive and his good na-
ture so unfailing that those who take most
exception to the opinions will find them-
selves strongly attracted to the man who
utters them.

While Prof. Shaler’s introductory chap-
ters on ‘‘The Origin of Mankind,” ‘‘ The
Beginnings of Government,” and ‘‘ The Na-
ture of Liberty’ are not of any dubious
quality, his readers generally will, we im-
agine, be more interested when, further on,
he becomes more concrete. The ease of his
expression tends in some places to loose-
ness and inaccuracy. For example, hardly
could anything be wider of the mark than
to say that ‘‘It was the sense of personal
government by the well meaning but very
dull King, George III., that exasperated
the colonies even more than the errors and
oppressions of the British Parliament.’
The truth is that the colonists were very
slow to admit that the King was in any
degree responsible for their wrongs. A
more palpable mistake is the twice-over
misquotation of the Declaration of Inde-
pendence, thus: ‘‘ All men are born free
and of equal rights.’’ But such motes as
these must not get into our eyes and blind
us to the excellence of such chapters as
that on ‘‘ The Share of the Average Man
in the State,” in which the helps to good
citizenship are made plain, and that on
“The Practice of Citizenship.” In the lat-
ter the town system of New England is con-
trasted with the parish system of the South,
which is condemned as ‘‘the worst that
could be contrived.” Prof. Shaler’s South-
ern birth never makes him a partisan of
Southern faults, though his treatment of
‘slavery, when he comes to that, is a gen-
erous appreciation of that institution’s bet-
ter side, without any failure to perceive
the worse.

A chapter on ‘‘ Party Allegiance” is a
fair account of the two leading parties in
America, but here and elsewhere it is not
difficult to read Prof. Shaler’s Democratic

 

preferences between the lines. Yet during |

the civil war he found himself on the Re-

publican side, in arms against the local- .

government party.
of the Bryan monomania. Hence the recog-
nition that the fundamental character of
parties may be overshadowed by special
issues. Prof. Shaler Js not averse to “a
good party man,” but draws the line of al-
legiance at defects of character or projects
felt to be widely injurious. He is cheer-
fully optimistic in his contidence that there
are good men in either party and that “ the
margin of safety” is wide through which
either can be trusted to conduct our Na-
tional] affairs.

Probably his seventh chapter, ‘‘ The Lim-
its of Freedom,”’ will engage as much inter-
est and opposition as any other in his book.
It frankly traverses the views that have
been widely prevalent since President Mc-
Kinley’s death. There is a good word for
Anarchists as ‘no ordinary criminals,”
and. reprobation for special measures that
have been advocated to meet their case,
auch as punishments of special severity for
those threatening or destroying the lives
of great officials. In this connection there
is a fine rebuke administered to those who
- nand the suppression of free criticism.

eir state of mind is characterized a6
__rse than that of the Anarchist, anda
well-known clergyman” who ‘bis ar-
raigned by name some of the mgst admir-
able of our citizens as mora¥ abettors of
the assassination of President McKinley ”
fs very specially contemned. Queen Eliza-
peth is held up to our President as an ex-
ample of wise courage in refusing special
protections in times when her danger was
much greater’than that of any modern
ruler. There is, however, a certain injus-
tice to Prof. Shaler in referring to these
points without giving’ the arguments by

 

*THE CITIZEN. A Study of the Individual
and the Government, By” Nathaniel South-
gate Shaler, Professor of Geology in Harvard
University and Dean of Lawrence Scientific
Schoo).. Pp. x.-346, Cloth., 12mo, New York:
A. 8S. Barnes & Co,

So again in the period ;

 

which his opinions are supported. Those

who do not find them convincing will be
obliged to recognize their force.

Sos Chapter VIIL, ‘‘The Citizen and the
aw, _We have, with other matter, Prof.
Shaler’s contribution to the problem. of

mob violence, lynch law, &c. It is wholty
favorable to the law-abiding spirit as our

“best defense, and inimical to lynch law as

far more dangerous to society than ordi-
nary crimes. ‘‘ What we need above all in
this peril is the moral effect of plain, un-
uniformed patriots going straight forth
from their homes, if need be to die for the
sake of justice.’ It follows that every
law-abiding citizen should have a rifle of
his own which he is ready to place at the
service of the representatives of law and
order.

A chapter on wealth is too good to be
subjected to such abstraction as would be
fatal to the ‘‘ sweet reasonableness ’”’ of its
form and matter. Quite as good is one on
“Education, Public Health, and Other
Questions,’”’ in which Prof. Shaler’s eager
individualism stops far short of Herbert
Spencer’s distrust of public education. But
the culminating interest of this exposition
is in the eleventh and twelfth chapters,
“Immigration, Universal Suffrage, and the
Negro Question,” and ‘' Foreign Posses-
sions.” The treatment of universal suf-
frage leans to the persuasion that its evils
are less than those of a body of people
unassimilated by the body politic. Arriving
at ‘‘the negro question ’’ we have the ad-
vantage of a Kentuckian’s appreciation of.
toth the master and the slave, the latter
much more liberal than that of people
whose acquaintance with the negro is pure~
ly theoretic. Left uninstructed at the bot-
tom of society, his position will become
that of a sert and little better than that of
the slave before the war. The South’s need °
of ‘these gentle and laborious folk’’ is
considered” absolute, ‘‘The negroes have
given us the share of success it has at-
tained, and on their labor its further prog-
ress clearly depends.” It is argued that we
cannot depend on such individual effort as
that of Mr. Washington for their educa-
tion: that for this there must be National
provision.

A chapter on ‘“‘ The American Spirit’? em-
phasizes the American friendliness to peo-
ple of one’s kind and dislike of others. Even
the English inability to enter into sympa-
thetic relations with un-English peopie is
intensified with us. Fortunately this can
be remedied by long acquaintance, as with
the blacks on the part of the white masters,
But has not the negro’s passage from
slavery to freedom materially modified the
white man’s feeling? Was not his kindness
for the negro under the old régime that of
the master for his dog? Those cherishing
race hatreds will not be flattered by Prof.
Shaler’s assurance that they are cherishing
survivals of their prehuman dispositions.
Whether convincing or merely suggestive
in its various particular, Prof. Shaler’s book
is one deserving the attention of a great
body of thoughtful men and women, while
to the young people, for whom it is special- ,
ly intended, it is a generous compliment,
and should be a very real help.
 

r the town system of New Englana is con.
asted with the parish system of the South,

hich is condemned’ as “the worst that |

uld be contrived.” Prof, Shaler’s South-

nm birth never makes him a partisan of
uthern faults, though his treatment of
avery, when he comes to that, is a gen
ous appreciation of that institutien’s bet-
r side, without any failure to perceive
e worse. 4
4 chapter on ae ‘Party Allegiance a _ is a

 
 

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KF 3700 §52
Author Vol.
Shaler, Nathaniel Southgate
Title Copy

The citizen
1