Piette eee Sra Con erates Ee ee pcre ets os topiary sie ae bee Sa et zo eens saat Renan ee e ; na . Gorvell University Library Ithaca, Nem York Cdmbeatl wie sete Library. _ Cornell University Library JS341 .W72 enna 1924 030 536 1 olin AN AMERICAN TOWN A Sociological Study BY JAMES M. WILLIAMS, A. B., B. D. SoMETIME FELLOW In SOCIOLOGY IN COLUMBIA, UNIVERSITY ~ SUBMITTED IN PARTIAL FULFILMENT OF THE REQUIREMENTS FOR THE DEGREE OF DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY. IN THE Facu.ty oF Po.itTicaL SCIENCE CoxiumBIA UNIVERSITY Neto York 1906 AN AMERICAN TOWN A Sociological Study BY JAMES M. WILLIAMS, A. B., B. D. SOMETIME FELLOW 1N SocIOLOGY IN COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY SUBMITTED IN PARTIAL FULFILMENT OF THE REQUIREMENTS FOR THE DEGREE OF DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY IN THE FacuLty OF POLITICAL SCIENCE CotumBiA UNIVERSITY New York 1906 » Copyrighted 1906 By James M. Wittiams, A. B., B. D.. New Yorxk The James Kempster Printing Company 1906 PREFACE. It has occurred to many of us that the great pity is, not that we are so ignorant of cosmic forces, but that we know ” so many things that are not so—particularly, disagreeable things about each other. The study of society reveals nothing more clearly than that a fundamental impulse of human nature is the combative or dominating impulse. Out of it springs avarice, prejudice and all kindred evils. This little study of Blanktown has been made with the hope that it may make people more thoughtful and generous in their attitude to one another by making them more intelligent. The purpose *: of sociology is a very practical one. It is to encourage not sympathy merely, but a manly and womanly regard for each others’ interests, arising out of a due sense of the worth of each © others’ goodwill. This has nowhere been more perfectly expressed than in the words of Abraham Lincoln, uttered when he was a young man, twenty-three years of age: “Every man is said to have his peculiar ambition. Whether it be so or not, I can say for one that I have no other so great as that of being truly esteemed of my fellow men by rendering myself worthy of their esteem.”? The study of human motives is, however, by no means a simple matter. The he author does not concur in the popular notion that while other sciences may be permitted the use of expressions and methods which bewilder the uninitiated, yet sociology should speak so plainly that a wayfaring man, though a fool, need not err therein. All serious students of sociology have found that, far from being free from the tech- nicalities which make other sciences difficult, sociology is the most complicated of all the sciences. Accordingly, we must refuse at the outset to simplify matters at the expense of ttuthfulness. For several years the author lived among the people of Blanktown and came to know all of them casually, many of 1 Hapgood, “Abraham Lincoln.” New York, 1903. Page 30. ae 4 AN AMERICAN TOWN them intimately, while some of them are his closest friends. Whatever is said in the following pages, therefore, about their thought and activity may be said about his own, for he lived with them as a fellow-townsman, as in every sense one of them, sharing their work and pleasure. Many of the people of the town assisted directly, and all of them indirectly, in the preparation of the present monograph. Some of them would be pleased with some of the conclusions reached, but none of them with all. Fully sensible of his obligations, therefore, the author has taken such means as may assure his friends that their affairs are not being paraded before the public in what may seen to them an unfavorable light. All significant proper names have been eliminated from the text so that it will be found practically impossible to identify our town. This does not detract from the scientific value of the work any more than the extinction of a people would detract from the value of a study of them made while they still existed. It may occur to the reader to ask in how far the stages of the social evolution of Blanktown are true for other com- munities. Judging from some studies of western communi- ties made by the author, it would seem that those towns are now going through the same stages of development as Blank- town earlier exhibited. So far as known, other eastern towns do not controvert the conclusions reached for Blanktown, so that the Blanktownsman may declare that his town “will com- pare favorably with any other town of its size in the state” without fear of being humbled in his local pride. In conclusion, acknowledgments are due, first, to the many people of Blanktown who helped me; secondly, to Professor Franklin H. Giddings, who started me in the good way and whose counsel and encouragement have been invaluable ; third- ly, to Chancellor E. Benjamin Andrews, to whom I owe my original interest in sociology; and finally to my sister, E. Amelia Williams, instructor in Vassar College, who, with her high ideals of true culture, has been my constant inspiration. J. M. Ww. CONTENTS INTRODUCTION. PART I. THE SOCIAL DEVELOPMENT OF BLANKTOWN FROM ITS SETTLE- MENT UP TO 1875. Cuapter I. PAGE The Sources. & «4 & & «© © @ ¥» # @ & we = F3 CHapter II, The Relation of Blanktown to Surrounding Towns. . 16 Cuapter IIT. Neighborhood Association . . . . . . . . . @i CHAPTER IV. Economic Activity and Social Life of the Neighborhood. 27 CHAPTER V. Early Intellectual and Religious Life. . . . . . 45 Cuarter VI. Early Juristic and Political Activity . . . . . . 57 CHaPter VII. The Rise and Development of Town Association . . 62 PART II. THE SOCIAL DEVELOPMENT OF BLANKTOWN IN 1875-1900. CHAPTER I. . The Economic Development of Blanktown During the Second Period . . . ©. «ee ee ee oO Cuapter II. Development of Communication and Association Within the Town «ow uw ee ew le ll CHAPTER IV. The Demotic Composition . . . . . . . . . Io! CHAPTER V. The Social Mind: Social Pleasure. . . . . «. ~ 107 Cuapter VI. Pleasures of Physical Activity. . . . . . . . 4116 Cuapter VII. Pleasures of Receptive Sensation . . . . . . . 122 Cuapter VIII. Pleasures of Emotional Ideation . . . . . . ) . 139 CHapterR IX. Pleasures of Inductive Ideation . . . . . . . 4162 CHAPTER X. The Social Welfare: Good Government. . . . . 178 CHAPTER XI. The Social Welfare: Morality and Equity. . . . 186 1 CHAPTER XII. The Social Welfare: The Production and Distribution of Wealth. « 2. «© =» # » # «= © © « = 164 Cuapter XIII. The Social Welfare: Culture: Educational Activity . 217 CHAPTER XIV. The Social Welfare: Culture: Religious Activity. . 227 CHAPTER XV. Industrial and Sympathetic Selection. . . . . . 241 INTRODUCTION. rt Some years ago the author began a special study of an Eastern town with the purpose, not of narrating events, but of analyzing the social forces involved in the several phases of a remarkable social development. \, This study has been carried on along the following lines: 1. From written sources and personal testimony, historical facts have been collected and classified. 2. Typical individuals of the population have been studied as survivals of previous stages of culture, their words and activities thus throwing light on historical facts otherwise obscure and perplexing. ie 3. Present events and customs have been used in a com- parative way to elucidate historical events and customs other- wise only obscurely understood in the dim light of a scanty record or uncertain personal testimony. The purpose has been to probe beneath the historical facts and to lay bare the motives which gave rise to them. The results of the study will be given in two volumes. The subject matter does not logically facilitate such a division nor is it likely that further observation will leave unmodified the conclusions thus far attained. The necessity of fulfilling cer- tain academic requirements, has, however, compelled the imme- diate publication of the present volume. The name of the town we are to study is withheld, as are the names of villages and hamlets and of surrounding towns. We shall refer to our town as Blanktown, to its chief village as Blankville and to its two hamlets as Blankwell and The Center, the latter being the local, not the civil, name of that hamlet. The school districts of the town, as represented on Map II, are designated by the first letter of the name by which they are locally known. 8 AN AMERICAN TOWN ee Early in the work an important fact became evident, and acted as an incentive to further study, namely, that a small community, sufficiently remote to render visits to and com- munication with the outside world infrequent, is a most prom- - ising field for the study of social forces. The inhabitants of such a community give rein ‘to their impulses through a few strong habitual reactions instead of through many imitative reactions which are with difficulty traced to their root in one and the same impulse. Frazer has shown this to be true in his study of the religious instinct. As he writes in his preface to the Golden Bough, of the primitive Aryan, so we may say of the early Blanktownsman: “He is amongst us to-day. The great intellectual and moral forces which have revolutionized the educated world have scarcely affected the peasant. In his inmost beliefs, he is what his forefathers were.” It is through a study of such surviving members of past stages of culture that the documentary and archeological remains of those periods are to be interpreted. This view that man is what his forefathers were has been elaborated into a philosophy of history. Gumplowicz writes: “Der Intellekt des Menschen ist immer derselbe. Ein scheinbarer Fortschritt aber entsteht dadurch, dass rilicks und zeitlich der gleiche Intellekt auf einer Summe von Er- rungenschaften seiner Vorganger fusst and dieselben als Aus- gangspunkte weiterer Errungenschaften bentitzt. So arbeiten spatere Generationen nicht etwa mit hdheren. . . . In- tellekten, sondern nur mit grésseren . . . Mitteln, : Ein findiger Greiche Gries: wiirde wenn er der Nachfol- ger Watts ware, die Lokomotive auch erfunden haben—und wenn er die Einrichtung des elektrischen Telegraphen kennen wiirde, kénnte er gewiss auf den Einfall kommen, ein Tele- phon zu konstruieren.”! Gumplowicz maintains that the factors of social evolution are the formal ideas of individuals, the traditions of races which, in the “Rassenkampf,” unite to form the new ideas of a progressive civilization. Le Bon, on 1“Grundriss der Soziologie.” Wein, 1905. Page 353. INTRODUCTION. 9 the other hand, emphasizes the influence of creative and invent- ive genius: “La volonté persistante qu’ils (meneurs) possédent est une faculté infiniment rare et infiniment forte qui fait tout plier . . . rien ne lui résiste, ni la nature, ni les dieux, niles hommes. . . . Le livre qui raconterait la vie de tous ces grands meneurs ne contiendrait pas beaucoup de noms ; mais ces noms ont été a4 la téte des événements les plus importants de la civilization.’ Obviously, the questions raised by these writers never can be solved by historical study. They involve a thorough study of the individual in his or her relation to the total environ- ment, that is, of the individual in the family life, at work, and in the larger social relations. This can be done only by a monographic study of particular families, neighborhoods, villages and towns. After such studies have been carried on through a long period, we may have data for comparative studies which will throw light on the problem of social evo- lution. To begin with, therefore, we must shake off the ‘deductive habit. In raising a great question like the above with its solution at present impossible, those authors may be excused for relying upon deduction. But for the use of deduction on problems inductively solvable, there is no excuse. To one who has spent three years among the people of rural communities with no other business and no other purpose than to know them, the lugging in of principles from other sciences—natural selection, for instance—to explain sociolog- ical facts seems little short of ridiculous, and some of the deductions, to quote Alfred Russell Wallace, “detestable.” There will be no such thing as sociology until we have begun ‘at the A, B, C of method—observation. Sociologists have been coming to this. Tarde suggests the need of it? and Professor Franklin H. Giddings has worked out, in great detail, a scheme of inductive study.* Arguments 1“Psychologie des Foules.” Paris, 1896. Page 110. 2“Studies Scientific and Social.” Vol. I, page 515. 3“Social Laws.” New York, 1899. Page 108. 4“Tnductive Sociology.” New York, 1got. 10 AN AMERICAN TOWN are not wanting, however, to prove that, for sociology, there is a short cut to scientific knowledge. Thus, Durkheim: “Il peut sembler, au premier abord, qu’il n’y ait pas d’autre maniére de procéder que d’etudier chaque société en particulier, d’en faire une monographie aussi exacte et aussi complete que possible, puis de comparer toutes ces monographies . cette méthode. . . . seule est recevable dans une science d’observation. . ‘ “Cependant, sans entrer trés avant dans l’étude des faits, il n’est pas difficile de conjecturer de quel cdté il faut chercher les propriétés caractéristiques des types sociaux. Nous savons, en effet, que les sociétés sont composées de parties ajoutées les unes aux autres. Puisque la nature de toute résultante dépend necessairement de la nature, du nombre des éléments com- posants et de leur mode de combinaison, ces caractéres sont évidemment ceux que nous devons prendre pour base. ot Those who find that such reasoning throws light on the prob- lem of method take a very different view of the subject from that of the author of this monograph. What sociology most needs is field-work. The statistical method can not get far unless used by the skillful feld-worker.. An eminent statistician has pointed out that as great a sta- tistical work as Levasseur’s “La Population Francaise” fails to throw much light on fundamental sociological problems,? whereas a perusal of the works of the critic himself will show them to be scarcely more illuminating at this crucial point,?— leading us to suspect that the statistician is doing the best he can with his scanty data. What we need is statistical data fur- nished by many skillful field workers. Sociological method, therefore, is severely intensive and broadly extensive. The study of our little town seems insig- nificant enough; and, when we note the universal distrust of 1“Les Regles de La Methode Sociologique.” Paris, 1904. Pages 97-100. ' 2R. Mayo-Smith, Levasseur’s “La Population Francaise.” Political Science Quarterly, Vol. VIII, No. 1. 3R. Mayo-Smith, “Statistics and Sociology.” New York, 1896. INTRODUCTION II the inductive method for sociology and reflect upon the great difference of opinion as to how to begin, among those few bold thinkers who advocate induction, the task seems hopeless. But the fact of “Our Need of It” remains. The rural districts have not yet been heard from on “frenzied finance,” but they are smouldering over it, and the sooner sociology becomes able to speak positively and convincingly to the popular mind, the less will be the danger of the moral chaos in high places spreading throughout the masses. This would mean a mighty appeal to the power of the state on the part of the great, economically unorganized, rural population of our country, a struggle for socialism such as we have never dreamed of, with all the danger this implies to our republican institutions. The thing for us to do then, is to go into the field and set to work. Let us have studies of strategic communities from all parts of the country which will open up problems for dis- cussion and eventually give us data for a sociology which min- isters can preach, teachers teach, and the people talk about and believe in. Part [ The Social Development ot Blanktown from Its Settlement up to 1875. CHAPTER I. THE SOURCES. The sources for the study of the social evolution of Blank- town are, first, the records, documents and personal testimony from which the history of the town may be formulated, and, secondly, those individuals from a study of whose conversa- tion and conduct the social forces underlying the history of the town are to be understood. The written sources are as follows: I. For the situation and aggregation of the social popula- tion as given in Map II: 1845: 1. The census returns of Blanktown for the state census of 1845. 2. The assessment roll of Blanktown for 1845. 3. The testimony of several old residents which has made it possible to fix, with certainty, the location of about ninety- five per cent, and, with probability, that of the remaining five per cent, of the families recorded in the assessment roll and the census records. 1875: An atlas published by D. G. Beers & Company, Phila- ’ delphia, 1874, containing a map of Blanktown, which indicates the location of the homesteads of the town in 1874. This, with the testimony of old residents, has made it possible to fix the location of the families recorded in the assessment roll of 1874, as well as of most of those families not owning taxable property. 14 AN AMERICAN TOWN 1900: A census of Blanktown taken by the author in June, 1900. For the earlier periods there are also minor sources, such as epitaphs on tombstones, poll-lists and records of church membership. II. Other written sources are: 1. Pamphlets and documents of the late A O——, who resided in Blankville during his entire life (1809-1891), and devoted a large part of his time to scientific pursuits. He was a member of various national societies for scientific research. 2. Town-meeting records for 1796-1900. 3. Records of the Board of Trustees of Blankville for 1873-1900. 4. Files of the Blanktown Intelligencer, a weekly paper published in P. Valley, for 1825-35. 5. Files of the Blankville Times for 1859, 1861-68, 1870- 1900. 6. More or less complete records of the Baptist, Episcopal and Presbyterian churches during their entire history, and of the Methodist Episcopal Church since 1874. 7. Records of district school meetings as follows: The Center, 1852-1900; Blankwell, 1844-1900 ; Cc Corners, 1845-1900; P. Valley, 1844-19003 S Hollow, 1850- 1900; C—— Road, 1895-1900; L Road, 1845-60, 1889- 1900; W. Hill, 1845-1885; Five Corners, 1875-1900. In M. Road and E—— Hill the record book was filled and lost about 1890 and no new one provided. 8. Assessment rolls for most of the years of the period 1825-1900. g. Census records of Blankville for 1874, 1877-1882, 1885- 1900. One of the most valuable sources has been the testimony of old residents. Among these are two old residents of The Center, three of the hill neighborhoods, one of P Valley, one of C Corners and one of Blankwell. All of these resided in their respective neighborhoods from before 1825 SOCIAL EVOLUTION OF BLANKTOWN. 15 until after 1855, and have furnished much valuable informa- tion about the history of their neighborhoods during this period. Though from eighty-two to ninety-two years of age, they all are in full possession of their faculties and have remarkably clear memories for events which transpired in the days of their youth and early manhood or womanhood. In every neighborhood, also, there are one or more old resi- dents who in 1845 were children or young people, and have been able to give more or less information about each family living in their neighborhoods in 1845, and to recall many significant events in the history of the town since 1845. Finally, in each neighborhood, there are several persons who have resided there since 1875 and can furnish information concern- ing events during the last twenty-five years. Evidently, our sources are fullest for the years 1845, 1875 and 1900. The censuses of 1845 and 1900 furnish detailed cross-sections of the town, as do the various sources for 1875. It is clear, also, that our sources for 1875-1900 are much fuller than for the preceding period, enabling us, in our study of the later period, to use the statistical method. Not only on account of the nature of the sources, but also because funda- mental social and economic changes begin to be evident about the beginning of the last quarter century, we shall take the year 1875 as dividing two periods of social development, the first extending from 1792 to 1875, the second from 1875 to 1900. In fact, as well in facilities for and in method of study, we shall find the second period of the social development of Blanktown very different from the first. CHAPTER II. THE RELATION OF BLANKTOWN TO SURROUNDING TOWNS. In the relation of Blanktown to surrounding towns, topog- raphy has played an important part. The physical features of the town are represented in Map I, the heavily dotted sec- tions indicating swamps, the undotted sections valleys, the lightly dotted sections hill country, the crooked lines streams, and the dark spots ponds. It will be seen that the natural entrance to Blanktown is the northern end of the valley, which extends through the town from northeast to southwest. It was through this gateway that the first settlers entered, and a very large part of the immigration since then has entered at this point and streamed southward, eastward and westward. The physical map shows, also, that the eastern and southern parts of the town are, almost wholly, hill country, which acts as a natural obstacle to communication between the valley districts and the country east and south of the town. Evidently, so far as topography is concerned, we should expect Blanktown to be more intimately acquainted with the population to the north than with that to the south and east.1. The early political activity of Blanktown points to this as the fact. When settled in 1792, it included considerable territory lying to the east and south of its present limits. Soon after the settlement a movement was started by which the town was to be divided into two towns, and a petition to this effect was addressed to the State Legislature. This petition, which may be found 1 With the town to the west, communication is easier than with those east and south, owing to the valley which opens from the western part of Blanktown into the region beyond, and which is reached from the central valley by crossing the low and narrow range of intervening hills. It is owing, partly, to its greater accessibility that this region has been more intimately associated with Blanktown than has the region east and south. MAP I RELATION TO SURROUNDING TOWNS 17 18 AN AMERICAN TOWN among the documents of Mr. O——, reads as follows: “The petition of the inhabitants of the town of respectfully showeth that the said town . . is . . extremely long from east to west . . . with a range of high hills running across the centre from north to south, which are very difficult to be traveled. . . . Your petitioners beg leave to state . . . that on each side of said hills is a flourishing settlement locally disunited from each other by said ranges of hills, which, if separated into two towns, would greatly accom- modate the inhabitants.” This petition was granted in 1797, and the eastern boundary was then fixed as it now stands. “Thus, difficulties of communication have, from the first, pre- vented intimate association between Blanktown and the region to the east. The inhabitants of each town have had their own business centre and rarely have invaded the territory of the other. Topographical obstacles to communication were, also, a cause of the early separation from the region to the south. From the time Blanktown was made a town by act of legislature, March, 1795, the inhabitants endeavored to have their town cut out of the county, of which it was a part, and annexed to the county to the north. Petitions to this effect were presented to the State Legislature in 1802, 1803 and 1804, when the petition was granted. The avowed cause of this action was, as in the previous case, the difficulty of crossing the steep hills which separated the two populations. ‘The largest hamlet of A. , the town to the south, lies six miles to the east of the valley, which extends northeast and southwest through both towns. This hamlet is reached, from Blanktown, either by going southeast eight miles over the hills from the central valley, or by driving down the valley over the southern boundary and then six miles over the hills to the east. The chief hamlet of B , the town to the north, on the other hand, is very easily reached from Blanktown, for it lies five miles distant down the stage-road which connected Blanktown with the city of X , twenty-two miles north- RELATION TO SURROUNDING TOWNS 19 east of the town. This city was, later, the nearest shipping port on the railroad. The stage road was, until 1867, when Blanktown was connected with X by railroad, the chief means of communication with the outside world. Throughout its history Blanktown has more readily co- operated with the population of B than with that of A ‘ With the former, it has united in several important enterprises. The Blanktown and B Agricultural Society was instituted in 1857 and, for over thirty years, held an annual town fair in Blanktown. At a meeting of the citizens of Blanktown, in 1902, to discuss the question of holding an Old Home Week celebration, it was voted that, as Blanktown and B had worked together amicably in the agricultural society, and as the interests of B centered in Blankville, B should be asked to unite with Blanktown in an Old Home Week celebration. The interests of the former town referred to as centering in Blankville are both social and industrial. Oc- casionally, the towns have cooperated in political activity, as is evident from the following manifesto in the Blankville Times of 1879: “This paper will fight desperately for the ° nomination of a Blanktown or B man for surrogate.” With the town to the south, Blanktown has not been accus- tomed to cooperate. More than this, a feeling of positive dislike has obtained, from the first, between the two towns. This is evident in Blanktown’s traditional contempt for A—— and A ’s half apologetic, half defiant attitude toward Blank- town. The Blanktownsman regards it as a mild disgrace to have been born in A. If a boy wishes to humiliate his playmate, he calls him an A er. The reasons assigned for this dislike are that the man from A is a “backwoodsman” —uncouth in appearance, of a boastful disposition and with a “dauwn in Maine” dialect. Whether or not this is true, a more important reason for the reproach in which he is held is the readiness with which the A man is wrought into a religious frenzy, follows after preachers of strange doctrines, and “swallows” stories of local miracles, all of which seem to a 20 AN AMERICAN TOWN > the more practical Blanktownsman “all stuff and nonsense.’ The fundamental cause of the difference between the two towns will be explained in Part II, Chapter XV. The pur- ‘pose of the present chapter is simply to point out Blanktown’s ' greater intimacy with the region to the north than with that to the south, and to indicate the physical basis of the different relationship. CHAPTER III. NEIGHBORHOOD ASSOCIATION. Having described the relation of Blanktown to its environs, _ we turn, now, to the town itself. Blanktown is divided into. twelve school districts, each of which has long been known to the inhabitants of the town by a traditional name. This name is used as designating not a civil division, but a distinct and self-conscious community. Thus, a community is referred to not as the P. Valley school district, but as P Valley, without regard to the civil division with which the natural society happens to coincide. Map II represents the division of Blanktown into its twelve natural societies or neighborhoods, each of which is indicated by its traditional name. The parallel lines indicate public highways, and the heavy cross-sectional line the railroad. The map shows, also, the location of every home- stead? in the town, Blankville excepted,’ in the years 1845, 1874 and 1900. At the base of the map is explained the meaning of the symbols used. For instance, the symbol o indicates that, at the point where it is found, a homestead was situated in 1845, but not in 1875 nor in 1900. The symbol + indicates a homestead in 1845 and 1875, but none in 1900. A compari- son of Map II with Map I will show that the five easternmost neighborhoods lie almost wholly in the hill country. These will be referred to as the hill neighborhoods, and the other six rural neighborhoods as the valley neighborhoods, for the hills in the latter are only slight elevations as compared with those of the former. The village of Blankville is the commercial centre of the town. It always has been a commercial and manufacturing 1 Giddings, “Elements of Sociology.” Page 6. 2 A homestead may shelter one or more families. 3 These facts could not be ascertained for Blankville. AN AMERICAN TOWN 22 oo061 © 0061 pue czel f $281 © II dVN ‘ap1UI ay] 01 sayoUT %1 apeos 0061, pue g2e1 pue syeL® S281 pur opel + gral o NEIGHBORHOOD ASSOCIATION 23 district, while the rest of the town has been largely agricultural. Blankville is the centre of all town interests, political, juristic, economic, social and religious. Here are the meeting places of the various societies and clubs, the churches, the theatre, the court and the town clerk’s office. Here the farmers sell their products and purchase their supplies. In short, Blank- town is a natural society made up of twelve distinct, self- conscious neighborhoods. The important difference between, the social population of to-day and that of 1825 is that the neighborhoods of the latter were largely independent, while, to-day, neighborhood lines scarcely can be distinguished. Furthermore, the families of the neighborhood were very closely associated with each other, their relations being intimate to a degree unknown to-day. The purpose of the present chapter is to ascertain in how far previous conditions of acquaintanceship and kinship deter- mined the segregation of the population into these independent closely knit neighborhoods. The question first arises as to the previous relationship of the inhabitants: in how far were the settlers, in each neighborhood, kinsmen? ‘Table I, con- structed from Mr. O kinship of each neighborhood about 1825. In nine of them at least one-half the families about which we have informa- tion as to kinship were related to some other family in the same neighborhood. —~+— ’s statistics, shows the degree of | AN AMERICAN TOWN 24 TABLE I. Number of , Number of pNumber of | Families Who | Families Who Whole Which We | Were Related | Were Related Neighborhood. Number of {fave Informa-|t0 One or More|to One or More Families. tion as to | amilies in the} Families in Kinship. ,_ Same Another Neighborhood. | Neighborhood. Blankville......,..... 58 8 4 oo The Center.......... 35 14 10 4 Blankwells........... 13 8 4 ° M Road........ 17 10 6 ° P Valley...... 12 12 5 I C- Corners..... 7 7 7 Q E—— Hill........ 3 3 2 ° Ss Hollow 5 5 5 3 Cc Road....... 5 ° Es PRE CONE ccc ansmmncas st adamndane 60 Blank Welle ic.6s. car pace casio are 50 M RGA iis sn accrcrasieiecs ciscarus aaretetne 63 P Valley icici crate aieasieiies setae 50 Cc Core rs) ected esis veces 66- E—— Hill............... cen ele 57 Ss Hollow lulnlOlOl/Z/42/Qs/AlS) Ale |e lela aap ldaslens 1882..{ 55 | 58 | 60 | 66 | go {x00 |rz0 |100 | 23 | 20 | 18 | 20 | 2 | 20 I 77 1r.6r 1883..| 26 | 2x | 20 | 2x | 25 | 24 | 17 | 17 | go | go | go | go | 88 | 88 ° 73 7-23, 1877..) 8 {1zr | 10] 7§| 61; 10] 6] 6427] 25] 10 | 14 | 10] 10 ° 1s 7.00 18g0..} 45 | 42 | 40 | 40 | 40 | go | 35 | 35 | xx | 24 | 15 | 159] 18 | 18 ° 24 3.15 1879..| 25 | 25 | 30 | 30 | go | go | go] go] roy 9] 9 | 74 5] 5} © | 30 | 3.07 1875..| 12 | 12 | 12 | 12 | 12 | 12 | 12 | x2 7 go | qo | 4o | 4o | 35 | 35 ° 28 2653 1885..| 10 | 6] 8] 10] 10] z0}] 8] 6 | 16] x6] 17] 17 | 18] 10 ° Io 2.46 1889..} 14 | r1 ] ro} 1x | 8 | 8 | 13] z0 | 20 | x6 | 18] 19 | 19 | 19 ° Io 2.53 r8gr..] 15 | 14 | 12 | 12 | rq | 16 | 17 | 18 | 34 | 33 | 32 |} 30 | 30 | 25 oO 16 2.61 1899..| 14 | 14 | 12 | rr | x0 | ro | ro | zo | r7 {| 13 | 18 | 15 | x5 | 12 ° 7 2.00 1896.. 10 | 7| 7} 88) 9 | ro] xx | rod} 52] gh} 4a] 6] 68] 5 ° 6% | 1.53 1892...) 20 | 2x | 2x | az | 22 | 23 | 23 | ax | 18] x5 | 22 | az | 22 | 22 ° 7 1.46 1893..] 20 | 20 | 2x | 20 | 20 | 163] 16 | 18 | 20 | 20 | 22 | 22 | 22 | 20 o | 365 1.07 1895--| 7] 7] 7| 7] 68] 6] 6] 58] 7] 7| 71 58] 5s | 43} © | m5 “57 mon salutation on the Blanktown highways; and, on the vil- lage street, one of the most common groups is a circle of far- mers discussing the hop market. The chief result of this change was the differentiation of the farming population into two classes, a “reckless” class and a “conservative” class. The latter is the one 'which adhered to the old customs of persist- ence and frugality. The reckless class, including the more reckless and the less reckless or ordinarily shrewd farmers, were more interested in speculation’ than in persistent physical labor. Reckless farmers often have been descendants of men who were proverbially fond of horse-trading. Horse-trading, in the early days, seems to have been a sort of relaxation from the serious work of life. It was an affair of reckless ad- venture as much as of shrewd calculation, its fascination being due to the fact that “a horse is deceitful above all things.” Horse-trading was more prevalent in some districts than in 1The love of speculation in its incipient form is seen in the uni- versal custom of guessing at things and wagering over disputed points. Thus the company guess at the time of day before the farmer takes out his watch; they wager over the weight of a calf before it is placed on the scales. / 200 AN AMERICAN TOWN others, according to the comparative strength in the popula- tion, of the traits of persistence and recklessness. Thus, “the horse-traders of T- town” (now M road) have been proverbial since the early days; and, later, when hop specula- tion was at its height, the “T tribe” were pre-eminent as reckless speculators. With the growing importance of the hop industry, the reck- less and conservative farmers became more and more clearly differentiated. Their reaction to the new conditions of the world economy developed distinctive methods of economic ac- tivity. These distinctive methods are evident, in the first place, in the different ways of determining the acreage of various crops. The conservative farmer clings to the old ideal of independence. “What I raise I shan’t have to pay for. If I raise all I need, there’s no money going out and I am making a living beholden to no man.” This is the customary argu- ment advanced against the proposition that, by increasing his hop acreage at certain seasons and buying a part of his grain, the farmer may increase his productive power. The conserva- tive farmer does not desire, however, to make money, but sim- ply to “make a living.” The reckless farmer, however, upon the advent of prosperity, turned all his available land to the cultivation of hops and bought his grain, preferring the chance of a large profit or heavy loss to the certainty of a small profit. Certain farmers not only put all their land under hops, but also purchased more land at a wildly extravagant price and went deeply into debt therefor. More shrewd farmers avoided such extreme recklessness, but took bigger chances than the conservative farmer. When depression succeeded prosperity in 1895-96, the reck- less farmer grew desperate, declared there was no more money in hops, and, either greatly reduced his acreage or went out of the business entirely. The depression, was, however, not severe as compared with similar periods in other agricultural industries. In only four of the nineteen years of 1875-94 were the profits from an acre of hops less than the average PRODUCTION OF WEALTH 201 profit from an acre of wheat during that period, and the average yearly profit from an acre of hops was very much greater than that from an acre of wheat. The fact is, the farmers of Blanktown had become so used to large profits, every year, that two successive years of slight loss seemed to them a tremendous loss, while the wheat farmer of the West, with his moderate expectation of profit, is not reduced to de- spair by a year or two of no-profit prices. The reckless farmer saw his mistake in abandoning hop raising for dairy or truck- farming, when, after the fair profits of the years 1898-1900, hops brought a profit of one to two hundred per cent in 1902- 04. The conservative farmer did not decrease his acreage during the time of depression, but “stuck her through” along the customary lines, so that, when high prices unexpectedly recurred, he had his customary crop ready for market. There- upon, he congratulated himself on his “good luck,” as com- pared with his neighbor who had “plowed up” his hops and must wait a year and a half before his new acreage would bear fruit. The phase of productive activity in which the conservative is most clearly distinguished from the reckless farmer is in the selling of the hop crop. The former is known to the broker as the hog-headed farmer. Pitted against the broker, both types have displayed a fatal lack of shrewdness. The characteristic attitude of the hog-headed farmer to the broker is one of suspicion and contempt, contempt for him as a man displaying little or no power of persistence in his productive activity, suspicion of him as possessing some obscure money- making power. For several months preceding, during and after the hop harvest, the agricultural district is canvassed by hop brokers, and the farmer has frequent “offers” for his crop. The hog-headed farmer responds to offers in some such way as this: “No sir, you don’t get my hops for no such price; Pll take or nothing!” usually naming a trifle more a pound than he has been offered. Brokers often have visited a farmer several times and offered what the latter had said he 202 AN AMERICAN TOWN would take on the previous occasion, only to be met with the rebuff: “No, you don’t get my hops for that price.” Finally, the broker has ceased to strive with him, and, when the price has begun to fall, the farmer, only after being urged by his family and friends, has “let his crop go.”” This experience has been repeated, very likely, year after year, until the farmer has won the title of a “chronic holder.” A chronic holder “al- ways sells on a falling market.”’ In the chronic holder, it is the domineering and not the reckless spirit which is uppermost. He is, usually, a man who “goes at things hammer and tongs,” and he trys to “bring the broker to time” as he would cudgel a balky horse. More than one farmer, after having held his crop, in this spirit, until the price has fallen “away down,” has been known to “bed his horses” with his hops rather than “knuckle down” to the broker; that is, he has “cut off his nose to spite his face.” The reckless farmer is the one who, when it comes to selling his hops, is “always going to do something great.” Unlike the straightforward attack of the chronic holder, his attempt to “get the best” of the broker is roundabout. Despising the consistent holding policy of the conservative farmer, he “switches around,” holding, one year, and selling the next, as fancy takes him or according to whether he “hit it” or “missed it” by holding or selling, the previous year. To the conserva- tive farmer, the raising of the crop is more interesting; to the reckless farmer, the grasping of the “top price” in selling it. The selling of the crop is, through and through, an affair of reckless adventure, as reckless as horse-trading and in- volving stakes enormously greater. In 1882, when hops rose to one dollar a pound, even the chronic holder became excited and wavered in his habitual disposition to hold his crop, while the reckless farmer “went clean crazy” and bought hops at one dollar a pound, so that, as between the one, refusing to sell at one dollar, which meant a profit of over seven hundred per cent, and the other, buying at one dollar, it is difficult to R PRODUCTION OF WEALTH 203 say which was the “biggest fool.” Not only farmers and brokers, but also storekeepers, lawyers, physicians, bought hops at wildly extravagant prices and, to many of these, the crash brought great loss or complete ruin. Speculation was not con- fined to hops. In 1883, a “bucket shop” was started in Blank- ville, and the gambling craze swept over village and country. Within a few months, probably twenty-five men had lost from $100 to $3,000 in stock-gambling. What was not lost in gambling was spent in the billiard parlors and the saloon on the floors below the bucket-shop. After the place closed, several Blanktown speculators continued their operations in the stock market of the city of X This was, to be sure, an era of extreme recklessness, but it tended to repeat itself less extravagantly with every rise in the price of hops, con- fining itself, thereafter, however, exclusively to hops. One of the strongest indications of a lack of shrewdness in determining the hop acreage and in disposing of the crop is that very few farmers of Blanktown have made any pre- tense, during our period, to keeping accounts or to basing their operations upon statistical calculations. They have kept no accounts which might show what has been their yearly acreage or how large a crop was harvested or what price was received each year. It was owing to a lack of such records that a deeper analysis was not attempted in Chapter I. Very few farmers have figured out the cost of producing a pound of hops, so that they are unable to say what are their net profits from the hop crop in any one year. Having no idea of the profitableness of their industry, they can not, of course, compare it with other industries. Hence their tendency, already noted, to un- dervalue the profitableness of hop raising, as compared with other industries, and to be carried to extreme lengths by un- founded hope and fear.* Of cooperative as well as individual reaction to the new 1 Inefficiency in all agricultural industries is characteristic of Blank-- town, as compared with neighboring towns, owing to the fact that hop raising, with its reckless methods, has so long overshadowed in importance other industries. 204 AN AMERICAN TOWN conditions of the world economy, recklessness has been the chief characteristic. The ruin of the reckless farmer often has been hastened by his reckless generosity. His ready “T’ll-help- you,” beneficent all around when prompting him to help his struggling neighbor in the woodlot, worked his ruin when it led to “signing notes” for financially involved neighbors. This hard experience gradually taught the lesson that, in the com- plicated world economy, you’ll-help-me did not as inevitably follow I’ll-help-you, as in the neighborhood economy. The con- servative farmer signed notes less readily, for persistence rather than generosity was his dominant characteristic. The entire population of Blanktown, however, country and village, have suffered from the survival of generosity in their business rela- tions with those whose only principle of business conduct is shrewdness. The Blanktownsman too readily presumes that the commercial world, like himself, regulates its business ac- cording to the simple cooperative scheme, “You help me and I’ll help you,” and too readily relies on a tacit understanding of a mutual agreement for the return of help generously extended. Often, however, one party to the contract was born and bred in the commercial world, where generosity plays no part in business activity, and hence is unconscious of the fact that his success in the deal with and at the expense of the other party was due to the latter’s tacit assumption of a generous—honest relation between them. He knows nothing of you help me and I'll help you. He knows only written contract and long ago would have perished in the struggle had he known anything else. The farmer or village store- keeper, on the other hand, knows little of the methods of or of the fierce struggle out in the business world. When he loses in a deal and sees that his simple cooperative scheme is not recognized by the other party, he attributes the legitimate profit of the shrewd individual to dishonesty, that is, to that. through which, alone, in the early days, it was possible for one man to profit at the expense of another, namely, failure to return, in kind, help extended. He does not realize that PRODUCTION OF WEALTH 205 the fault lies, partly, in himself, in his own obtuseness in not comprehending the significance of the new economy. This mutual misunderstanding is evident in the tardy efforts of the citizens of Blankville to build up the manufacturing enterprises of the town. When the decadence of the hop industry threatened to greatly depopulate the town, an effort was made to induce outside entrepreneurs to start manufactur- ing enterprises in Blanktown. The plan followed was to give an entrepreneur a few thousand dollars, outright, raised by voluntary contributions, with the understanding that he would do business a certain number of years in the town. Two at- tempts of this sort have been made and both were failures. In both cases, the merchants of the village were the prime movers and the arrangement of the details was entrusted to the most capable of their number. Failure was due to lack of shrewdness in the selection of the enterprise and of the entre- preneur. In both attempts, the dominant motive was not intel- ligent, but impulsive. Contributions were made under stress of the general hue and cry for public spirit rather than from an intelligent approval of the project. “If other towns can have factories, I guess we can,” is.as near as the promoters came to an intelligent apprehension of the conditions of suc- cess of the enterprise. This lack of shrewdness explains why Blanktown is behind some neighboring towns in her manufac- turing interests. The significant fact about these fruitless at- tempts is that, in both cases, the promoters paid over to the entrepreneur the amount stipulated, without exacting from him any written obligation to maintain his enterprise a certain number of years or refund a part of the subsidy, and this in spite of the fact that, when the first enterprise speedily failed, the citizens had resolved that, in the event of another attempt, they would not rely on tacit agreement. It is doubt- ful whether, in either case, such an agreement was understood by the entrepreneur. Upon the failure of the second enter- prise, the entrepreneur was generally denounced as dishonest and incompetent and it was resolved never again to contribute to a manufacturing enterprise. 206 AN AMERICAN TOWN The mutual misunderstanding between those who use shrewdness, alone, in their business and those still under the influence of the old-time cooperative scheme is causing a wide- spread and growing distrust throughout the population. Those doing business along generosity—honesty lines distrust an em- ployer who “doesn’t speak to his help,” that is, who lacks fel- low-feeling, because fellow-feeling is, to them, an evidence of economic worth. Thus, fellow-feeling indicates a readiness to return help received, that is, honesty; also a power to ren- der valuable aid, that is, efficiency. This distrust is assuming the form of a belief that, in the absence of legal restraint, a man will exploit his neighbor’s as he once exploited natural wealth. “You help me and I'll help you,” is regarded as hav- ing changed to “I’ll help myself to as much of you as I am shrewder than you.” Whenever two courses are open to a man, one to pay his debts and another to escape paying them by some legal subterfuge, it is assumed he will choose the lat- ter: “You help me and I'll help you in return if I can’t help it.” This distrust is, as we shall see, largely responsible for the failure of attempts for industrial cooperation in Blank- town. As a result of this discrediting of the old-time cooperative scheme, there has been a perceptible decrease in rigid and proud honesty throughout the population. In verbal agree- ments which he can understand, the farmer is still honest. He would scorn to put the largest potatoes on top of a meas- ure and the smallest underneath. When it comes to matters which he only imperfectly understands, however, we find two classes among the agricultural population: The conservative farmer tends to be always honest, the reckless farmer not always. Both classes retain the instinct of honesty. With a blow they resent the appellation of liar. But, to catch a rogue, some of them, unconsciously, perhaps, have become rogues. The hop industry offers a great temptation to dis- honesty. Owing to the lack of uniform grading of different qualities of hops each broker has his own grades of quality, PRODUCTION OF WEALTH 207 which, to the farmer, are merely whims. Hence, the latter who, in matters which he can clearly understand, scorns trick- ery does not scruple to trick the broker in order to circumvent his whims. Such deceit has been most prevalent in contracts for future delivery, where not only has there often been an attempt to deliver a poorer quality than was contracted, but also both parties habitually have repudiated the contract when- ever it turned out to be for their interest, its verbal nature making impossible any legal enforcement. Thus, while in simple cooperation with each other, the farmer remains true to his obligations of mutual helpfulness, in his business relations with shrewd individuals he often stoops to dishonesty. This tendency is seen not only in his relations with the hop broker, but also with the merchant class in general. The farmer regards the prices of merchandise as fixed not by laws of supply and demand, but, arbitrarily, by the merchant, with the purpose of exploiting the farmer (Part I, Chapter IV). Thus, one farmer said: “As soon as the farmer gets higher prices the merchants advance the price of their goods ; so prosperity don’t mean so much as you'd think.” This notion of his being victimized by the merchant leads, in some cases, to an attempt at dishonest retaliation. More than one farmer has soothed his conscience, when a debt is overdue, with the reflection that “the merchant is making his living off the farmer anyhow,” and will get all he deserves if he is paid a part of the debt, enough to cover the cost of the goods to him. The shrewdness which enables the mer- chant to make a living appears to the farmer to have no pro- ductive power. This widespread notion of the unproductiveness of shrewdness and of the arbitrary character of prices tends to encourage dishonesty. As kinds and qualities of consumers’ goods multiply, how- ever, the economic value of the merchant, in discriminating between the adulterated and the pure food, between the stylish and the out-of-date garment, is being increasingly recognized and is introducing into commercial competition a new element, 14 208 AN AMERICAN TOWN namely, reliability, including both shrewdness and honesty. The storekeeper does not rely exclusively or mainly, how- ever, on his reputation for reliability. As was shown in Part I, Chapter IV, the instinct underlying commercial is similar to that underlying agricultural competition, namely, the win- ning of patrons from rivals, in toto, rather than the arousing and satisfying of new wants in the patrons of rivals. The conception of commercial competition as a rivalry in the de- velopment and satisfaction of new wants rather than a strug- gle for the exclusive satisfaction of customary wants has not arisen in Blanktown. In the arousing and satisfying of new wants the success of one merchant does not necessarily involve the loss of another, for a demand for new goods may be created, thereby, which does not interfere with. the demand for goods already on the market. Wants may be indefinitely: multiplied by multiplying the stimulus. The Blanktown mer- chant, however, regards the patron as an integer to be won by “palaver,” or by establishing his place of business on the “handiest” corner, or by tricking the public into believing that his goods are cheapest, rather than as a bundle of poten- tial wants by displaying the means of the satisfaction of which the patron is to be gained. However, in his efforts to win custom, the storekeeper is gradually drifting into a method which appeals to the indefinitely increasing want capacity, namely, the method of suggestion. This is seen in the increas- ing importance of the show-window displays and the extrava- gant advertisements of “new goods.” The village merchants may be divided into two classes: the “enterprising” merchants who “keep up with the times” in their displays and advertisements, and the “conservative” merchants who keep only “what is called for” and rely on their favorable location, or the personal attachment of the popula- tion, or devices for arousing the desire to get something for nothing, or their reputation for reliability. The enterprising seems to be encroaching on the patronage of the conservative storekeeper. Occasionally, one finds a shrewd farmer who PRODUCTION OF WEALTH 209 “calculates we have to pay for them arc lights and them show windows”; but, as it is the farmer’s wife who buys the dress goods and the millinery, his shrewdness is of little avail. The chief evidence of the change in the competitive method from the struggle to appropriate patrons, in toto, to tivalry in the stimulation of new wants is the increasing trading done by Blanktown people to the city of X , twenty- two miles distant. The greater attractiveness of the city as com- pared with the village stores lies not in the superior cheapness of their goods, but in the greater glamor of their displays. Commercial competition is, thus, coming to consist, more and more, of the arousing and satisfaction of new wants, success in which, on the part of one merchant, does not involve, necessarily, the loss of another. Those using the suggestive method, however, do not realize its significance. Their view- point is still that of the old-time merchant, namely, that a patron won by them means a patron lost to another. The essential difference between the exclusive satisfaction of cus- tomary and the arousing of new wants is obscured by the fact that the satisfaction of a new want often involves the curtailment and even the elimination of a customary want. Thus the appropriation of patronage will remain an impor- tant element in commercial competition. But the characteristic feature of the new competition is the tendency of new wants to multiply indefinitely under the influence of the suggestive method. “Your gain, another’s loss” tends to become less, and “your gain, not another’s loss,” more true. Fundamentally, however, competition continues to be a conflict—a rivalry in the shrewd use of suggestion. _ Increasing susceptibility to_ suggestive influence has caused a reckless departure from thé custom of frugality throughout the Blanktown population. In the early days, when people were persistent rather than susceptible to suggestion, only necessaries of life were purchased or offered for sale. A pay-as-you-go policy was the result. To-day, new goods, arousing new wants, are displayed, and when a customer signi- 210 AN AMERICAN TOWN fies a wish to possess an article, the storekeeper readily gives possession on a verbal promise to pay. A reckless incurring of indebtedness and a widespread carelessness about paying debts is the result. This recklessness increases in periods of prosperity, owing, of course, to the general feeling that pros- perity will continue. However, it is the effect of this feeling upon the merchants, prompting them to allow individuals to tun larger bills in prosperous times, that is the primary cause of the greater credit business. Thus encouraged, people pur- chase on the strength of their expectation of future gains. Purchase of goods on credit spreads from those in whom its cause is the expectation of high prices for their hop crop to those whose prosperity is not affected by the hop industry, but who “get trusted” because “the rest do.” Thus, servant girls deem it a part of the programme of a fine lady to “run a bill” at three or four different stores. In this way the entire population has abandoned the old-time frugality. The effect of prosperity in the hop industry upon the growth of their credit business has long been observed by the mer- chants of Blanktown. This phenomenon might be statistically measured by ascertaining from some reliable merchant the ratio of the value of the goods sold on credit to the value of all the goods sold each year during our period. Not having such statistics, we must make the best of what we have. From one merchant, whose patronage extends throughout the town and whose business, not having been seriously disturbed by competition, reflects the prosperity of the town, two items have been secured which, used together, will serve our purpose. One is the ratio of the amount outstanding at the end of each year to the permanent stock, the other is the ratio of the cash taken in each year to the permanent stock. These two items we have for the years 1883 to 1900, inclusive. The largest figure in each series is for the year 1883. Upon this figure as a base has been calculated the percentage of decrease of each series each year. The percentage of decrease of the ratio of the amount outstanding to the permanent stock is represented, PRODUCTION OF WEALTH ail in Chart XV, by the dash curve, while the dotted curve repre- sents the percentage of decrease of the ratio of the cash re- CHART XV. ceived to the permanent stock. Both curves are based on the figures at the right. The unbroken curve is the hop curve and is based on the figures at the left. The point to be noted is not 212 AN AMERICAN TOWN that the amount outstanding increases in prosperous years, nor that the cash received increases in prosperous years, but that the increase of the former is proportionately greater than that of the latter. In 1890, for instance, the amount outstand- ing increased twenty-five per cent, while the cash received increased only ten per cent. The proportion of the amount outstanding to the cash taken in tends not only to increase in prosperous periods, but also to diminish in periods of depres- sion. For instance, in 1895-96 the decline of the dash curve is forty-six per cent, while that of the dotted curve is only eighteen per cent. Our general conclusion is that the reck- less purchase of goods on credit tends to increase and decrease with the fluctuation in the condition of the hop industry. Recklessness is, however, a first stage in the developinent of shrewdness. The extremely reckless farmers were ruined and forced to emigrate; the shrewd farmers became successful speculators, and those who lacked shrewdness, but escaped ruin, remained, thereafter, more moderate in their activity. In the second period of prosperity the farmer did not put all his arable land under hops, preferring a varied agriculture with the certainty of a smaller profit to the exclusive cultivation of hops with the chance of great profits alternating with great losses. He spent less time on the village streets or in the saloon talking about his prospects and more time working on his farm. In selling his crops he was satisfied with a more moderate profit, and took a smaller part of the profits in the form of consumers’ goods. He was less reckless and more shrewd in his departure from the old-time customs of persist- ence and frugality. We take up, now, the study of the organized activity of the farmers of Blanktown during our period. As lack of shrewdness characterizes the Blanktownsmen, individually, so their associated activity is marked by inefficiency. For some years prior to 1875 there was, in Blanktown, a farm- ers’ club which met weekly for the discussion of agricultural topics. As hop raising became the all-important industry, in- PRODUCTION OF WEALTH 213 terest in the discussion of methods and processes waned. After 1880, the meetings were devoted less to practical discussion and more to music and other conviviality, and, before 1887, the club had ceased to exist. In 1888, the farmers of Blank- town joined with surrounding towns in an organization de- voted to the study of agricultural topics under the direction of state lecturers. The exercises of each meeting consisted of music and the reading of papers. The discussion which fol- lowed the reading of each paper was less animated than that of the old-time farmers’ club, consisting of remarks by men who were strangers or mere acquaintances rather than of hard- headed give-and-take between old neighbors. The meetings were held successively in the different towns represented in the association. Prior to the meeting, the most attractive farm in the vicinity was placed on exhibition, and visiting farmers were “shown around” by their hosts. Thus, the inter-town or- ganization was characterized by display and deference rather than by the frankness of the town organization. The interest which gave rise to it was of short duration, and, after 1890, meetings ceased to be held. The history of these farmers’ clubs reflects the general trend of economic development during the second period, namely, a general falling off in efficiency following periods of pros- perity, due to the relaxation from industrious habits and the great increase of consumers’ as compared with capital goods. The period of depression, 1895-96, and the decadence of the hop industry caused a great reduction in the hop acreage. In 1898, the acreage of the town had been reduced at least one-half, and over one-third of the farmers had gone out of the busi- ness entirely. The result was a great increase in the impor- tance of the dairy industry. A large part of the milk produced by Blanktown is sold to companies who supply the New York city market. In 1898, owing to the low price paid for milk, there was much discontent, not only among the farmers of Blanktown, but also throughout the entire district in this and other states which supplied the New York market. The result 214 AN AMERICAN TOWN was the formation of an association of the milk producers of five states for the purpose of selling their milk, in New York, di- rectly to the consumers, through their own agents. When this project was presented by the officers of the association to the farmers of Blanktown, at a meeting in September, 1898, sev- enteen of the leading farmers joined the association, the mem- bership fee being one dollar. At this stage, the scheme was merely a project, no arrangements for independently dispos- ing of the milk having been made. At a meeting held some weeks later, when it was understood that arrangements had been made for distributing the milk, forty-one other farmers joined the association. These were largely the less intelligent farmers who acted in imitation of those who had joined at the previous meeting or who had “held off,’”’ not daring to incur the displeasure of the company to whom they were selling their milk until they were sure the new scheme was “a go.” However, there was some further delay in the association’s taking over the milk, and when, at the beginning of the second year, the farmers were asked to renew their membership, only thirty-eight of the forty-nine members responded. This loss of interest extended throughout the five states so that the project finally “fell through.” The chief reason for the decrease of interest among the farmers of Blanktown was that their cooperation was impul- sive rather than intelligent. A metropolitan journal of com- merce gave the situation as follows: “The Consolidated Milk Exchange, which really is a trust, is responsible for the atti- tude of the farmers. Instead of making contracts with the producers, they arbitrarily make prices . . . and we do not wonder that the farmers are kicking.” Whether or not this was true, it was the way the farmers understood the situation. They were full of fight at first, but their anger against the trust cooled as time went on, without arrangements being perfected for independently disposing of their milk, and when, at the end of the first year, they were asked to renew their PRODUCTION OF WEALTH 215 membership, they declared the association “wouldn’t get an- other dollar out of” them. This change was due, partly, to a growing distrust of their leaders. They believed nothing was being done because the leaders had been “bought off” by the trust. The reasons for the decline of interest in the scheme were, then, first, a lack of an intelligent understanding of the time necessary in an enterprise of such magnitude to “get things in running order”; secondly, a lack of that. intimate association necessary to ensure that personal contact which alone can keep up an impulsive interest. An attempt of the farmers to form a joint stock creamery company was also a failure. The company was formed and a creamery was erected and opened for business. But when the company, which had been purchasing the town’s milk product, raised the price paid for milk, so that the farmers realized less profit by making butter at their creamery than by selling milk to the company, they left their creamery for the company in spite of the fact that butter making was very profitable. They could not withstand the temptation to grasp the little larger profit held out as a bait by the company. The creamery eventually passed into the hands of the company, who then paid the farmers for their milk “what price they d pleased.” This second failure still further increased the farmers’ distrust of each other, some of the largest producers being accused of withdrawing, their milk from the creamery because “they had been bought by the company” ; that is, given a little higher price for their milk than was paid generally in order to secure their patronage and so demoralize the movement to “stick to the creamery.” The reason for the failure of the joint stock company project was, therefore, a lack of the intelli- gence necessary to hold the patrons of the creamery true to their own concern at the time when the competing company raised the price paid for milk. This lack of intelligence is, more particularly, a lack of intelligent appreciation of identity of interest, the same fatal defect which, as was shown in the preceding chapter, is the cause of the growing laxity in the a 216 AN AMERICAN TOWN observance of law. Instead of the old-time fellow-feeling rest- ing on identity of interest (Part I, Chapter IV), we find mutual distrust. The farmers of Blanktown are now firmly persuaded that “somehow farmers can’t stick together. You hold a dollar near enough to their eyes and it looks as big as the moon. They can’t see anything else.” The reason for this exclusive attention to the prosperity of the moment is that, in the absence of a feeling of identity of interest, the surviving indi- vidualism of the economy of independence has full sway. In the early days cooperation was unimportant as compared with individual effort. Every farmer was “lord of his little world” and “lived off his farm.” His commercial activity consisted in taking a dozen eggs or half a hog “to town” and “turning it into cash” to pay for the few necessaries of life he could not produce or to add to his bank account. This narrow indi- vidualism still survives. The farmer of to-day is, like his fore- fathers, accustomed to “take care of his own pennies and let others take care of themselves.” He is not used to thinking that the labor of others may contribute to his own productivity and his labor to the productivity of others. Hence, his in- ability to alter his activity in consideration of others’ interests. As one farmer said: “The best way to do is to take your milk to no creamery and to no company, but to make your own butter in your own churn; then you’re independent.” CHAPTER XIII. THE SOCIAL WELFARE: CULTURE: EDUCATIONAL ACTIVITY. (The purpose of education, in the early days, was to enable the youth to play their part in the simple business relations of the neighborhood economy. To be able to read, write and cipher was to be an educated man, { That the significance of the change from the economy of persistence to the economy of shrewdness is but imperfectly recognized in Blanktown, is evi- dent from the fact that “practical” education—the ability to do rather than to think, is still emphasized. Thus, the prevailing tendency is to pooh at agricultural colleges on the ground that “a fellow may have any amount of book learning, but he can’t make money at farming unless he has had experience.” The value of technical education is sometimes admitted, but, of college education, seldom or never. For, the Blanktownsman can not be convinced of the necessity of a type of shrewdness that can adapt itself to changing as well as to fixed industrial conditions. College education, where it is approved, is ap- proved not because it is regarded as “practical,” but because it sometimes diverts a youth from self-indulgence, by arousing in him a desire to “be somebody,” or because it imparts a lit- erary polish and, thus, serves as an ornament for those who are to move in “cultured society.” But, for the young man who must, first of all, make his way in the world, a college education is not regarded as practical. On no account should such a fellow go away to school, unless he first knows “what he is going to be,” that is, unless he goes to acquire a technical education. The education of the children and youth of Blanktown has been carried on in the rural district schools, in the Blankville high school, and in schools and colleges outside the town. Phases of educational activity which can be correlated with 218 AN AMERICAN TOWN our economic curve are the attendance of children from the rural neighborhoods at the Blankville high school, and thé attendance of Blanktown students at schools and colleges. There are no statistics of the number of children from the rural districts who have attended the Blankville high school each year during our period. We know, however, the amount CHART XVI. 4 paid in tuition fees each year to the high school by pupils from the rural districts As the tuition fee has remained the same, during our period, the increase or decrease of this amount will indicate a corresponding increase or decrease in the number of pupils. In Chart XVI, the dotted curve (based on the series of figures at the right) represents the per capita num- ber of cents paid each year for tuition by the population of 1 Records of the Treasurer of the Board of Education. EDUCATIONAL ACTIVITY 219 the rural districts. The rise of the dotted curve in the period of prosperity, 1879-84, is very marked. Its decline, after 1887, is due to the decrease in the number of children in the rural districts. We turn, now, to the education of the youth of Blanktown at schools and colleges outside the town. Students attending school out of town may, for our purpose, be divided into three classes: 1. Students attending a degree-conferring college, univer- sity, or technical school. “2. Students attending a state normal school. 3. Students attending “finishing schools,” military schools, academies and other schools of a similar character. The number of Blanktown students in these schools from year to year,’ is represented in Chart XVII. The dot and dash curve, the dash curve, and the dotted curve, are the col- lege, the normal school, and the finishing school curves, re- spectively, and are based on the figures at the right.2 With the exception of 1885, there is no marked rise in the college curve until 1888. This curve shows no immediate response to the period of prosperity. In order to enter a college, a student must have had four or five years of previous training. An in- crease in prosperity would immediately affect the number of college students only as it would enable one, already prepared, to enter college. The prosperity of 1879-84 affected the num- ber of college students only as it encouraged parents to pre- pare their children for college and to save money for the purpose of eventually sending them. Thus, the effect of economic prosperity on college attendance was less immediate than its effect on sensational and emotionally ideational activity. Attendance at finishing schools, military schools, academies, 1The number was obtained from personal testimony and from notices in the Blankville Times of students at home during vacation time. 2 The strictly accurate method would be to use, as a base, the number of students in the social population of a proper age to attend college, normal school and other schools. But this number can not be ascertained. 220 AN AMERICAN TOWN and the like has been due, largely, to imitation of the college \student.1. Throughout our period, Blanktown has had one or more students in college and it has been considered a mark of social distinction for parents to have children “away at school.” Hence, children not capable of undertaking a college course CHART XVII. were sent “away to school.” We note the rise of the finishing school curve in 1881-83, entrance to a finishing school requir- ing no previous preparation. The curve rises still higher in 1891-1900, owing, partly, to the rise and hence the stronger imitative influence of the college curve during the later part 1 During the entire period, the Blankville high school has prepared students for all colleges, so that it has not been necessary to go out of town for a college preparation. EDUCATIONAL ACTIVITY 221 of our period. The school curve shows no decline during the last decade, while the decline of the college curve is marked owing to the tendency of increasing emigration cityward to lower the grade of intelligence of the rural community. The rise of the normal school curve, in 1889-1900, is also due to an imitation of the college student, not so much from the desire for social distinction, however, as from a desire on the part of the poorer classes to give their children an education which should fit them to earn their living as teachers. Both the individualistic and the social motives were influen- ” tial in high school and college attendance, on the part of parents sending children as well as with the children them- selves. We shall take up first the motives for sending children, to town schools. The individualistic motives: The purpose of education in Blanktown, has been discipline which should train children to ‘ work persistently rather than instruction which should teach them to think shrewdly. The school building is in accord with this stoic ideal of education. The school building, small, low- roofed, and weather-beaten, the one room furnished with a stove, desk and whittled benches, no books upon library shelf, few or no charts or maps upon the bare and scarcely weather- proof walls—this suggests little interest of the parents in a training other than that of self-denial. The district school seems to have been managed with the purpose, chiefly, of in- curring the least possible expense in meeting the legal require- ments for such schools. The impulses of submission and domination: With the coming of prosperity, the district schools were not improved, but many children were sent to the Blank- ville high school. This does not mean that prosperity suddenly made parents conscious of greater intellectual needs on the part of their children than the district school could supply. Various reasons are given for sending children to the village school, — chief of which is that the children may acquire the manners of village children and have village children for their play- 222 AN AMERICAN TOWN mates. This instinctive submission to the more impressive civilization of Blankville as compared with that of the rural districts was, perhaps, the chief motive for sending children to the village school. Another important motive was the im- pulse of domination. The rural parents hoped their children would take the school honors in contest with the village boys and girls, and thus not only raise their social status among their rural neighbors, but also gain them an entrance into vil- lage society. The main feature of the activity of the Blank- ville high school is the intense and often bitter rivalry for cer- tain prizes, chief of which are a prize of twenty-five dollars awarded the member of the graduating class who wins the largest number of “counts,” and four prizes, two of six and two of four dollars, awarded the first and second best boy and the first and second best girl speakers at the annual prize-speaking contest. The rivalry for the twenty-five dollar ‘prize is most intense; around it eddies the under-current of school life during the entire year. The students grade each other in ability, according to their chances for winning the prize, calculated on the basis of the number of different subjects in which they have passed examinations. Students tend to elect those subjects which they can “pass off’? most easily and, in this, are not discouraged by their parents or their teachers. Thus, a dominant motive in study is the impulse of domina- tion by a display of “counts” and prizes. In this rivalry to make the greatest display, children are encouraged by their parents as well as by their teachers. When the chief contest- ants have been of different religious sects, as Protestant and Catholic, the rivalry has become bitter and the entire village has “taken sides.” The impulse of domination is evident, also, in the interest which centres in the prize-speaking contest. This is the most important event of the school year. So long as the speakers in this contest make a creditable showing, the people of the town are largely indifferent as to the work done in the courses of study; but, when a creditable showing is not made, the EDUCATIONAL ACTIVITY 223 school administration is unqualifiedly condemned. Thus, in 1893, when the contest was exceptionally poor, the principal of the school was denounced as incapable in the Times, and the standard of the school was declared to have declined under his administration, which was particularly irritat- ing to the townsmen, in view of their frequent boast that their high school was one of the “leading” high schools in the state. These denunciations voiced the sentiment of the ma- jority, and this in spite of the fact that it was publicly demon- strated that the work done in the courses of study during the administration of the principal was of an unusually high order. Thus was the work of the school judged entirely from the nature of its display on parade occasions. The controversy was embittered by the fact that the principal was a Baptist, a sect not in favor with the majority of the population. On this account, prejudice against him was easily aroused and rapidly spread until it assumed all the animosity of religious intolerance. _ Education in out-of-town schools and colleges also shows the predominance of the dominating and submissive impulses over the individualistic motives and, also, over the social motives of sympathy and desire for recognition. The indi- vidualistic motive of mental restlessness, a thirst to know, has been influential with a few students, but the desire to ~’ be better fitted to make a living has been the chief individual- istic motive. The motive of sympathy is seen in those parents to whom a knowledge of the great outside world had been denied, and who determined to give their children a better opportunity for acquiring knowledge than they had enjoyed. Some parents, also, sent their children to college, hoping that their studies would make them staunch defenders of the faith. Sectarianism has had great influence in determining what school the boy or girl should attend. The desire for recog- nition, as a motive for college attendance, is seen in those cases where a boy has wanted to go to college in order to become like certain college graduates of his acquaintance. 15 224 AN AMERICAN TOWN Thus, the college attended has depended, to some degree, upon what colleges were represented in Blanktown by men who have won the admiration and sympathy of the youth, the cur- rent having been, at first, toward the smaller colleges, like Am- herst and Williams, later toward the larger colleges, when these happened to be represented in the faculty of the high school. The change of the current from the smaller to the larger colleges is due, however, not only to a change in the “colleges represented by the professional men of Blankville, but also to the impulse of domination, the Yale or Harvard student having a marked advantage over the Amherst student © in the dispute as to which college is greatest. “A man will always stick up for his own college, no matter if it is so far in the backwoods that only the squirrels know just where it is. But you can’t make others think that your little backwoods college is greater than the big time-honored one.” In such disputes and in his dress, mannerisms and general conceit shown in vacation time, we detect the college man’s dominating impulse. This, also, is a dominant motive of parents in send- ing their children to college. It is hoped that the children will take the honors, particularly the prizes in the oratorial contests, and so furnish the parents with notices for the vil- lage paper conducive to their stronger social domination. The drift to the larger colleges is due, in part, to the greater distinction accorded parents whose sons are in Yale or Harvard. “Yale is so much harder than Amherst” that an exploit by a Yale boy creates a greater impression among the members of the parents’ social circle than does a similar exploit by an Amherst boy. Finally, we note the influence of the motive of submission. Going “away to school” has become a fad; in some cases, an impulsive imitation of outside influence, in other cases, an imitation of those first Blanktown college students, and of some, later, who went to college “for business.” Like many other fads, it has swept over the town until “people are coming to think that a boy or girl can’t learn anything any longer EDUCATIONAL ACTIVITY 225 at home.” This impulsive submission to the prevailing social movement for higher education, together with the social domi- nation enjoyed by parents who or whose children are conspicu- ous in this movement, largely explains the increase of out-of- town school and college attendance during our period. No more significant indication of the change between the educational ideals of the first and second periods could be found than is furnished by the change in the popular notion of the function of the teacher. In the earlier period the teacher must make the boy mind; in the later she must make him learn. The Board of Education charge the teacher to hold up the examination before the student; use it to inspire fear in the dull pupil, to kindle rivalry for high marks in the “smart one.” The idea that a student should be encouraged to do a thing right just for the satisfaction of doing it right, is unheard of. If urged as a principle of method, it is con- demned as all right in theory, but without efficacy in practice. Not only “the board,” but also the parents in general hold the teacher responsible for making their children learn. This is in marked contrast to the early period. Then the teacher was required only to keep good order, and she was not left unaided in doing this, for the boy who was whipped in school “got another when he went home.” Much less was the teacher expected to make the child learn. The mother who was so- licitous about her boy’s progress took the matter in hand her- self and drilled the three R’s into him until he had some- thing which “stood by him the rest of his days.” In the second period, however, she is too busy with church work or social life or the study of “antiquities” to look after her child’s education. She leaves this to the public school teacher. Tt is “her business.” For the child’s lack of progress the teacher is called to account. The system of state examinations for public school pupils is defended on the ground that the teacher “wouldn’t drill the pupil conscientiously” if the examinations were made out by herself. The state examination is the big stick held over the teacher to compel her to do what should 226 AN AMERICAN TOWN be done in the home by the parents. State examinations are excused on the ground that they take the examining out of the teacher’s hands and so prevent her from “using partiality” ; it is not seen that they also take out of the teacher’s hand that power of initiative which alone can make her an inspiring teacher. But the real reason state examinations are upheld is that they act as a menace to both teacher and student and so enable the parent to shirk that primary disciplining duty which the parent of the first period would have scorned to shirk and would have resented being usurped by an “outsider.” The principle of efficiency—do this right for the sake of doing it right—will not replace, in education, the impulse of display— do this right for the sake of the prize and the praise—until the home resumes its supreme place in child-training. CHAPTER XIV. THE SOCIAL WELFARE: CULTURE: RELIGIOUS ACTIVITY. “The chief characteristic of the religious activity of Blank- town during its entire history has been its denunciation of worldliness ; its important doctrine, the gospel of self-denial. The reason for the decreasing importance of religion in the second period (Chapter VIII) is that, when self-denial was no longer an economic necessity, the church continued to preach self-denial, instead of meeting the reaction from self-denial to self-indulgence with an ideal of life which would inhibit extreme without opposing all self-indulgence. In the first period religion was the guardian angel of custom. Its guardianship extended over all customs, economic as well as religious. The minister spoke out against dishonesty as well as against Sabbath desecration, and an individual guilty of one was “churched” as summarily as if guilty of the other. Both were customs and, as such, sanctioned by religion. The growing importance of shrewdness and self-indulgence in the second period gradually discredited the customary life of the community, the customs of which were derivatives from and contributory to the maintenance of the cardinal customs of per- sistence and self-denial. The church’s attitude to the customary life became less straightforward and more hesitant. One cus- tom after another, once sanctioned by religion, was relegated to the category of “secular” and, as such, “outside the sphere of religion.” As far as can be ascertained, no clergyman during the second period has preached against two of the most flagrant and increasingly prevalent violations of the old-time customary life, dishonesty and immorality. Sermons against dancing, card and billiard playing, theatre going and liquor- drinking became more and more rare toward the close of the second period, until they have ceased altogether. Thus, the 228 AN AMERICAN TOWN church has narrowed its practical activity as the old-time cus- tomary life of the community has passed away. The one prac- tical topic now sermonized upon is the one custom still gen- erally observed by the community, namely, Sabbath observance by abstinence from work and attendance at church. Aside from this sermons are purely abstract or moralizing. Instead of raising the standard of a new social life, in striving to realize which ‘the new individualistic motives of sense of power of shrewdness, sense of wealth power and desire for self-indul- gence shall be socialized, the church has stamped all discus- sion of such standards as secular and contented itself with re- affirming and moralizing upon the abstract principle of self- denial. In order to understand more fully the relation of religion to social custom, a deeper analysis of the nature of the religious sanction is necessary. The chief individualistic motive of the first period was the sense of need of physical comfort—food, clothing and shelter. The chief economic fact was dependence on the forces of external nature for the satisfaction of these needs. The forces of nature were apprehended in two ways, as natural sequence and as the expression of arbitrary will. Each of these conceptions regulated economic life. 1. Natural sequence: This was simply the inference that things alike in one respect are alike in all. Thus, the super- stition that if a hog is killed in the “ole of the moon” the pork will shrink in the barrel was widespread in the early period and is by no means extinct to-day. That is, from the fact that the making of the pork occurred in a like time with the ole of the moon, it was inferred that the pork would be like the moon in other qualities, among them the quality of shrinking. Numberless inferences of sequence, some of them as useless as this one, some of them of great utility, and all of them the germs of a growing conception of natural law, have regulated economic life in Blanktown during its entire history. ‘2, Arbitrary will: Many natural phenomena were, plainly RELIGIOUS ACTIVITY 229 not natural sequences. An unusually early or late frost, an unusually wet or dry season, had no preceding phenomena which they invariably followed. They could not be foreseen as could the shrinking of pork which had been killed in the ole of the moon. However, the mental habit of inference again supplied the interpretation. Just as man’s conduct, in this and that event, could not be foreseen, so nature was, at certain times, impulsive and arbitrary. The Blanktownsman’s belief in an arbitrary will behind nature was not acquired by conscious inference. It was a process of his subconsciousness, a bit of tradition wrought into him at birth and of the psycho- logical explanation of which he was no more conscious than of the physiological explanation of his preference for fried meat. Of the fact of its existence and the explanation thereof we have abundant evidence, however, as will be shown below. The fundamental and contradictory character of the two theories of natural sequence and arbitrary will comes out repeatedly in religious discussions between old residents. The discussion often reduces itself to the question whether God could do this or whether He couldn’t, being at that point subservient to natural law. Some of the most heated invec- tives of the minister were against those who heeded super- stitions instead of depending on a “bountiful Providence,” and against those infidels who preached the supremacy of natural law as against “interventions of Divine Providence.” _ Belief in arbitrary will gained strong support from the patriarchal character of the family life of early Blanktown. The children were taught to obey their parents implicitly and the wife to yield to her husband in all cases of difference of opinion. The father ruled his family rigorously, often harshly, priding himself on the amount of work his wife could do and the amount he could “get out of” his boys. His rule was not only hard, but arbitrary. He did not scruple at breaking promises to his children when he might profit thereby. In one case, a father promised his boy an afternoon off if he would do his day’s “stint of work” in the forenoon. The 230 AN AMERICAN TOWN stint was finished before noon, but the boy was forced to work all the afternoon. The child thus came to feel that his pleasures and pains depended on the arbitrary will of a ruler rather than on his own efforts. In the case of the boy who was compelled to work during the afternoon which he had been looking forward to as a holiday, the pain of that work was associated with the hard glint of the father’s eyes, the “set” expression of his jaws, and, perhaps, with the blow with which he told him to go to work and not talk about a holiday in the busy season. This emotional expression of the father was so often associated with painful states, that it habitually aroused a feeling of pain even when not followed by a blow or other painful sequence. That is, the father’s face aroused fear in the child. The fear of the father often was habitual, for the father often was a “stern man.” Under’ its influence, the boy regarded every new or unexpected mood of his father with apprehension until it became clear whether or not the new mood foreboded pain. When he got up in the morning he wondered whether father would be “grouty’’ to- day, and kept out of the way until his parent’s humor became apparent. That is, his fear of father inhibited his ordinary activity until that fear was dispelled by an emotional expres- sion of good nature. Now, the religion of Blanktown was simply this fearful attitude of boy to father directed toward the arbitrarily wilful natural forces. Fearful or pain-producing natural phenomena, such as storms, droughts, or hard win- ters, were felt to be manifestations of God’s anger. A man, irreligious at other times, dared not blaspheme during a thun- der-storm. Not only at such times, but also in unfavorable seasons, there was an increase of religious fear, such a season being regarded as a judgment upon levity, that is, as a mani- festation of the vengeance of an angry God. Sunday was a day when the population, thus dependent for their liveli- hood on God’s good humor, endeavored to win his favor for the coming week by remaining in doors out of his sight, as it were, abstaining from daily work and keeping still until his ill- RELIGIOUS ACTIVITY 231 humor, if, perchance, he were ill-humored, should have passed and his favor be assured. Thus, the fear of God inhibited daily work on Sunday. God would be pleased with this manifesta- tion of fear and would be beneficent during the week. Having explained the significance of the essential fact in Blanktown’s early religious activity, the observance of the Sabbath by abstinence from work, we shall now recall certain aspects of that activity which show Sabbath-observance to have been the essential fact and which show that its motive was an instinctive desire to gain the help of Divine Providence in productive activity. The predominance of Sabbath-observ- ance by abstinence from work, in early religious activity, is evi- dent from several facts given in Part I, Chapter V. I. The entire population of early Blanktown abstained from work on the Sabbath. A man would as soon have thought of breaking the civil law as of working on Sunday. But, only a small percentage of the population were church-members, though a large part attended church. The chief social require- ment was that a man should abstain from work on the Sab- bath. Thus, the instinct of fear and not ideational enthusiasm was the characteristic religious trait. 2. The relative unimportance of interest in doctrine is evi- dent, also, from the fact that there was no feeling of bit- terness between different Protestant sects. Further, the feel- ing between Catholics and Protestants was due to the American prejudice-against the Irish nationality rather than to a no- popery sentiment. The strongest feeling of religious difference was that between the Christian and the infidel, the infidel being the man who, preaching the supremacy of natural law, dared to work on Sunday. A man might not be a member of a church, might not attend church, might, in fact, be an infidel of the imaginary type (Chapter V) and inclined to the Uni- tarian or spiritualistic belief, and not incur the ire of his neigh- 1This religious fear being, as we have said, instinctive and sub- conscious, as instinctive as the fearful attitude of the child to the father, it follows that those under its influence can not understand, that is, be conscious of its significance as we have here endeavored to explain it. 232 AN AMERICAN TOWN bors. It was against the infidel who fearlessly worked on Sunday that the social abhorrence of the community was di- rected. Such an awful sin was a “slap in the face of the Almighty” and destined to bring speedy vengeance.* 3. The lack of sweeping revivals considered in connection with the frequent and bitter quarrels in the church, never over questions of doctrine, but always over secular matters, such as a line-fence dispute, show an instinctive rather than an idea- tional type of mind.* 4. The weakness of the ideational element in religion is evi- dent in the futile attempt to carry the total-abstinence idea to its logical conclusion and forbid church members to raise hops on the ground that hops were used in the manufacture of beer. The Baptist and Presbyterian churches adopted resolu- tions excluding from membership all persons who should en- gage in the cultivation of hops (Part I, Chapter V). Before 1875, however, these resolutions had become dead letters, and, since that time, only two farmers of Blanktown have abstained from the cultivation of hops on religious grounds. Thus, in the religion of Blanktown, interest in doctrine was relatively weak, observance of the Sabbath rigid and universal. We turn, now, to another important element in early re- ligion, that element which was mentioned at the beginning of the present chapter, namely, the gospel of unworldliness or self- 1 That the observance of the Sabbath by abstinence from work was a matter of superstition, pure and simple, and not a distinctive attribute of Christianity, is evident from a study of individual minds. Thus one man who avowed there was nothing true in Christianity, who had nothing to do with churches, and who said the New York Tribune was his Bible, observed Sunday by strict abstinence from work, and has been known to view with fearfulness violations of the Sabbath by work or recreation. He once noticed two men fishing on Sunday, and with an almost horror-stricken tone remarked: “My goodness, see those fellows fishing on Sunday!” 2A “split in the church” is, in the words of an old resident, “pre- vented in two ways. If you have some wealthy members, they run things and the rest have to take a back seat. If you have some good members, they are doing good instead of quarreling and put the rest to shame.” Both philanthropic work and the domination of wealth being lacking in the first period, there was nothing to inhibit quarreling. RELIGIOUS ACTIVITY 233 denial. Unworldliness was emphasized as that conduct which would win the favor of God and secure his beneficent interven- tion in economic affairs. This relation of religious fear to social custom is evident in the social requirements of the minister. The function of the minister was twofold: to secure the “special help of Divine Providence” and to exemplify in his words and conduct the spirit of unworldliness. Taking up the second function first, we note that society demanded evi- dence of the minister’s unworldliness in his personal appear- ance. His black apparel, dignified mien and rigid facial ex- pression were marks of self-restraint. He was expected to preach unworldliness and to practice what he preached. His preaching consisted of injunctions to abstain from forms of pleasure which might lead to such excessive self-indulgence as would weaken the power of persistence, as, for instance, dancing and liquor-drinking. These forms of pleasure were condemned, however, as wrong in themselves, as sinful as those excessive forms of indulgence to which they might lead. Com- mercial enterprises, also, were occasionally denounced from the pulpit as full of temptations to dishonesty. A minister was once dismissed for holding stock in a cotton factory; so early do we see the beginning of a conflict between the economy of generous-honest cooperation and the economy of shrewdness and written contract. Thus, in personal appearance, preaching and conduct, the minister exemplified the religious doctrine of unworldliness. He was required to do this because, as inter- cessor between God and man, he must perfectly exemplify the conduct which God approved; else his efforts to avert the anger and secure the favor of God would be futile. As one who stood thus near to God, the minister was regarded with awe. A call from the minister was a solemn occasion. He was jealously required to visit all families impartially, for his visits had an important social significance: the fact that the minister called upon and prayed with a family was a proof that that family was observing those requirements of unworldliness, in virtue of which they might invoke and expect the favor 234 AN AMERICAN TOWN of God. Thus, a pastoral call signified to the community that the family visited recognized the principle of self-denial and observed the customs of the community based thereon ; in short, that the family were good citizens. On the other hand, the minister was expected not to visit such families as failed to live up to the standard of unworldliness. He was required not to eat and drink with the drunken, both because such conduct would cast a suspicion of worldliness upon him and, more especially, because it would involve a social approval of in- dividuals undeserving of approval. Unworldliness was adhered to in the same spirit as a present is given to an individual whose favor is desired: the minister’s intercessions for the beneficent intervention of Divine Provi- dence would be successful in proportion as his presence and conduct were “well-pleasing” to God. Divine aid was sought for in those exigencies in which the individual was powerless, as in cases of sickness which baffled the physicians’ skill, and in times of unfavorable weather, as drought or incessant rain. It is recorded that the minister was once urged to “be more earnest at the throne of grace that the seasons be ordered in mercy.’’ Money as well as display of self-denial was used to gain supernatural aid. Thus one man gave as his reason for increasing his contributions to the church that every time he had increased his contributions in the past, “the Lord had prospered him.” We now see why fear of an arbitrary God, and the various observances to secure his favor, of which Sab- bath observance by abstaining from work was the chief, ob- tained so generally. The reason is that this fear was selected for its function in sanctioning the observance of those customs of self-denial which, when the fit individual was the persistent one, were the conditions of selection. The fact that a man abstained from work on the Sabbath was a proof, to his neigh- bors, that he had the fearfulness necessary to induce a submis- sive attitude to social custom in general. Conversely a man’s 1 This was the essential but not the sole element in the fitness of the observance of the Sabbath by abstinence from work. Among other reasons for its selection was the physical benefit of an interval of rest. RELIGIOUS ACTIVITY 235 violations of the Sabbath irritated his neighbors as signifying a general disposition to disregard social usages. Thus, people who disbelieved Christian doctrines and scoffed at church- goers still insisted on abstinence from work on the Sabbath. One such individual was heard to exclaim, on seeing two strangers fishing on Sunday, “My goodness! see those men fishing on Sunday; they must be unruly fellows,” meaning, by unruly, habitually defiant of social customs. Gas now a Clear idea of the nature of the religious life of the first period, we can understand why, in the second period, religion decreased in importance. In a world economy, the individual is no longer directly dependent on nature for the satisfaction of need. Need is satisfied from an income which accrues independently of the season, favorable or unfavorable. Hence, the arbitrary power behind nature, which may or may not grant a favorable season, is coming to be no longer feared. Further, self-denial has become less necessary, and religion, as a sanction of self-denial, has decreased in import- ance. In short, as a sanction of custom, religious fear is no longer useful; with the passing of direct dependence upon nature and the development of shrewdness in reaction to a world economy, it is no longer possible. | Neither useful nor possible, it is gradually becoming obsolete, These economic changes reacted, also, on family relations, tending to alleviate the father’s domination of the children and the children’s fear of the father. Being no longer in direct contact with nature, the help of sons was no longer needed. Domination has survived, however, as seen in the oft-repeated question, “What are you going to make of your boy?” The father often attempts to decide his son’s vocation for him, though his domination is no longer habitual or absolute, as is Owing to the general prevalence of hard physical labor, the most rest- ful way to keep Sunday was to be quiet in the house. This survives to-day as seen in the social impatience with a neighbor who is too noisy or too much on the street on Sunday. Owing to the increasing work done indoors, however, the population is more and more inclined to be outdoors on Sunday and is growing more and more restless under the old-time restraint. 236 AN AMERICAN TOWN evident from the fact that the “coming of age” no longer marks so changed a relationship as in the early days when the twenty-first birthday was regarded as the boy’s independ- ence day. In the second period, the father was no longer habitually strenuous through struggle with nature, but absorbed in business interests which his son could not understand, or in pleasures in which his son could not join. Hence, his aspect was no longer fearful nor his rule painful. Instead of suffer- ing the pain of work, the boy enjoyed the pleasure of spending his allowance. Parents endeavored to inhibit excessive indul- gence by arousing the boy’s desire to make something of him- self rather than by punishment and by arousing religious fear. The pampering or the education of children according as the parent is self-indulgent or intellectual, has replaced the early régime of domination. Thus, the child’s early training in fearfulness is tending to become a thing of the past. Turning now to our analysis of the religious activity of the second period, we find that the disquieting effect of the new conditions of a world economy upon customary activity and religious interest was noticed early by clergymen and religious people generally. Particularly demoralizing was the hop in- dustry with its peculiarly strong speculative features. The speculative and reckless class of farmers have tended to be irreligious or, at least, unorthodox, from the days of the horse- traders of T: town (afterward, M Road), ‘one day howling Methodists and the next blaspheming backsliders,” to the days of the reckless hop speculators. The unorthodox class has assumed toward the orthodox an attitude of habitual defiance, answering the latter’s threats of eternal punishment with the declaration that “all men will be saved.” On this 1 The correlation between a love of speculation and erratic religious ideas has been popularly noticed since the early days of the first period when the stern, unemotional Sabbath-observers spoke of the horse- traders of T——town as “one minute seeing who could get the drunkest, and the next minute seeing who could praise the Lord the loudest.” That the spread of the speculative temper in the second period did not result in this simple rhythmic oscillation from excessive conviviality to excessive religious ecstacy is due to the greater variety of activity, work and pleasure afforded by the change to a world economy. RELIGIOUS ACTIVITY 237 account, they have been known, generally, as Universalists. This irreligious spirit, thus closely connected with hop raising, has been ascribed by clergymen to “the work of the devil.” Hop raising, being subsidiary to the liquor business is “the devil’s own business” and those who take part therein are “in league with Satan.” Laymen who have felt the effects of hop raising have a truer idea of the cause of the trouble. Some of them, alarmed at the disturbing effect of the fascination in- volved in attempting to grasp the “top price,” were glad to return to a varied agriculture and to exchange the worry of a large but irregular for the certainty of a regular but smaller profit, the latter being more conducive to the calm of a “Chris- tian walk and conversation.” The religious activity of Blanktown, during the second pe- riod, presents two phases, a survival of the old-time religious fear, the function of which is the sanction of the customary life, and a phase with a function comparatively new. Both are evident in the prevailing method of Sunday observance. The Sabbath is still observed by strict abstinence from work. Not only has there never been an attempt to have Sunday base-ball, golf or horse-racing, in Blanktown, but such a movement never has been seriously agitated. Children are very rarely allowed to coast or to throw and catch a ball on Sunday. The card or dancing party scrupulously comes to an end before midnight on Saturday. At the club, special pains is taken to finish a game of billiards before twelve o’clock on Saturday night, and this. by young men who never attend church. Sunday is observed not only by abstinence from work, but also by church-attendance. Individuals who go to an extreme of self- indulgence during the six days observe a strict abstinence therefrom on the seventh and attend church, using Sunday to display before the assembled citizens their disposition to submit to the requirements of social propriety. Thus, as in the first period, Sabbath observance serves as a testimony, on the part of each citizen, to his submission to the canons of social propriety. It is a sign of respectability, that is, a sign 238 AN AMERICAN TOWN of that fearful state, under the influence of which the individual submits to the socially approved customs of self-denial. In virtue of this submission, he is respected by the community. Thus, in the second period has survived the sanctioning func- tion of religion. Owing to the fact that church membership is a sign of respectability, there has been no decrease, in the second period, in the proportion of the population included in the membership of the churches (Part I, Chapter V). The greater formality of church activity, however, is evident from the change of policy regarding the admission of children to mem- bership. In the first period, it was held that only adults should be admitted to church membership, for only they understood the significance of such membership. In the second period, children were urged by the minister to join the church without his making any effort to explain the significance of such a step. The policy of admitting children was probably imitated from the Episcopal Church, and was adopted by the Presby- terians in 1883, and by the Methodists and Baptists in 1886 and 1887. (Thus, in the second period as in the first, church attendance served as a sign of submission to the customary life of the community. In the later period, however, we find another_ motive for church attendance, namely, a desire for display./ The church service gives all citizens an opportunity to meet each other and to receive that submission due each according to his wealth or business ability or standing in the educational world. Witness the display of costumes and the desire to attend the fashionable church which is characteristic of the second period. The rivalry of different churches for the po- sition of “the fashionable church” is evident in rivalry of church choirs and church furnishing committees. The Pres- byterian church early attained the distinction of “the fashion- able church,” as is evident from the fact that, when the new church edifice was completed, in 1873, and the auction of sit- tings was opened, the strife for the “chief seats in the syna- RELIGIOUS ACTIVITY 239 gogue” was so animated that the President of the village was obliged to pay $100 for the first choice, in addition to a high rental, while the second choice went for $40 and the third for $30. Thus the motive of church attendance, in many cases, was the desire to attain social domination by the display of wealth power rather than to show submission to social customs of self-denial. The difference between the religion of the first and of the second periods is best illustrated by the difference in the preferred type of minister. The minister of the early days must, in his personal appearance, walk and conversation, as we have seen, be a perfect example of self-denial. The suc- cessful minister of the later period was the handsome, well- dressed, sociable man who had traveled extensively, read widely and could be entertaining at all times, in sermons as well as in social functions. Thus, the general tendency of the religious activity of Blanktown has been away from religious fear} Of the two motives of church attendance, in the first period, desire to secure the favor of God and desire to show respect for and submission to the customary life of the com- munity, the former has become relatively unimportant, leaving the desire for respectability as the sole survival of early relig- ious activity. Desire to secure the favor of God has given place to desire to secure the favor of man by display of those factors determining social status. The above interpretation of the religion of Blanktown will be termed unfeeling and, at best, only half true. This it is and for the reason that pro- longed field study is necessary in order to get at the essential elements in the religious feelings of the people. In the second volume it will be shown that, though forms of worship and the character of sermons may change, though the conduct of worshipers may change, yet true religion still lives in the hearts of the people and, under favorable conditions, will mani- fest itself. Having now finished our survey of the sociological develop- ment of Blanktown, the question arises, can we discern through 16 240 AN AMERICAN TOWN it all anything which will give us a clew as to fundamental processes. In the following chapter I shall suggest some prin- ciples of interpretation, which, though not conclusive, furnish a working hypothesis which will bring to a focus some im- portant points to bear in mind in field study. CHAPTER XV. SOCIAL SELECTION: INDUSTRIAL AND SYMPATHETIC SELECTION. The population of Blanktown has given no evidence of the working of a process of natural selection. There has been no “perishing” of the “unfit.” No matter how worthless the individual, he has not been allowed to starve. And not only this, but, in cases of need, he has been given the food, cloth- ing and medical aid necessary to keep him economically ef- ficient. From first to last, Blanktown has been, with reference to the struggle for existence, one group, in which the survival of each and every individual has been, from the mere fact of his or her living within the territory of the group, a practically assured fact.t I have heard of no inhabitant of Blanktown who, when in his or her normal mood, that is, not in a mood of intense hatred and not “holding a grudge,’ would not “stint” him- self or herself to save another from starvation or bitter ex- posure. To be sure, the “pride” which might prevent needy individuals from asking aid of any person excepting rela- tives or friends, even to save life, is widespread. The origin of this impulse is not revealed by a study of the popula- tion past or present. It may be an instinctive impulse inher- ited from that stage of society when a population was made up of clans in relentless warfare, in which the attitude of each individual to members of all other clans or tribes was one of instinctive attack. In such a state of social organi- zation, the muscles of the body and the whole mental atti- tude toward outsiders would be so “set” in habitual defiance that hunger or exposure even unto death would not suffice 1Exceptions to this are the cases of serious criminals like the notorious L—— gang of outlaws, who for many years had their strong- hold in the hills of M—— Road, until, on the night of June 17, 1866, it was stormed by a mob of enraged townsmen and the gang scattered in all directions. 242 AN AMERICAN TOWN to relax the defiant into a suppliant attitude. Almost as fierce a defiance as this, on the part of persons in want, is sometimes seen. If such a “proud-spirited” attitude persisted to the point where the unfortunate individual perished, we should, as- suredly, have a case of the perishing of the unfit. I have not found a clear case of this sort in Blanktown. As has been shown, the population segregated in the form of groups of relatives and friends so that each family was so near another friendly family as to relieve all apprehension of extreme need ; and, further, the universal compassion shown for a worthless, unknown tramp found dead in a barn, and the widespread expression of regret that “someone did not know about it in time,” shows how utterly false would be any deductive appli- cation of the principle of natural selection to Blanktown. The children are a strong medium through which the uni- versal compassion works for the salvation of the poor. On the one hand, it is the children who arouse compassion: “The man may be a worthless sot, but we can’t see his children suffer.” On the other hand, they break down the proud spirit of the family suffering in secret. “I wouldn’t ask it for myself, but my children have nothing to eat.” These and other influences have brought it about that no families, Indian, negro or white, have, during the history of Blanktown, been subject to the operation of natural selection. A thorough discussion of this subject involves many details which can not be brought up here. Suffice it to say that these show that entirely different principles must be adduced for the explanation of social facts in Blanktown. '. The first fact to be noted is that, while there is no struggle for existence, there is a struggle for social standing involving ‘two distinct struggles,—first, a struggle for the wealth neces- ‘sary to support the customary standard of living, secondly, a ‘struggle for a larger social esteem. We turn now to an analysis of the struggle for wealth. In the first period, the Blanktowns- man was engaged principally in the exploitation of natural resources. A chief economic activity was a direct attack upon INDUSTRIAL SELECTION 243 nature. An economic relation of prime importance was that of the individual to natural resources. Persistence in attack upon these depending upon muscular power and upon the mental power of concentrating it upon the resisting object until it gave way and depending also upon power of enduring heat, cold and hardship, was an important trait of character. But its importance lay in the fact that it was required for). a good social standing, not in the fact that i¢ was indepen” sable to physical existence. Those who lacked it entirely had sufficient food, clothing and shelter and as many children as did the enterprising farmer. There has been, therefore, strictly speaking, no struggle for existence in Blanktown. However, the struggle for wealth often has all the bitterness of a- struggle for existence. The farmer’s life is as anxious a one as if he were not practically beyond the possibility of starva- tion. He and his wife are uneasy until they have a “little pile laid by for a rainy day.” But question them and you will see that it is fear of a loss of social standing involved in the disgrace of coming “on the town,” not fear of perishing from starvation, that haunts them. We discard natural selection, therefore, and proceed in search of those principles which really explain the struggle to maintain or raise social stand- ing. Persistent individual effort has never been the sole con- dition of attaining the wealth necessary to social standing, nor the relation of the individual to natural resources the sole economic relation. Another important relation from the first has been cooperation, and honesty, necessary for successful « cooperation, was, from the beginning, throughout the first period, indispensable to a good social standing. In the strug- gle for subsistence, honesty was a customary economic method which mtist not be violated. Industrial activity was, therefore, more than a struggle for wealth. It was a struggle for social preference, for the preference of the efficient man. The ef- ficient man was the persistently honest man. Now, this process by which the persistently honest man became a select type in the struggle for wealth, we may call industrial ; selection. 244 AN AMERICAN TOWN We turn now to the second phase in the struggle for social standing, namely, the struggle for a larger social esteem. As we leave the sphere of industrial selection, we find a sort of intermediate zone in which there is a desire or set purpose—we can hardly call it a struggle—to live true to certain social requirements which are not so intimately related to industrial selection as is honesty, but of which the utility can, in some measure, be seen. Among the traits thus selected are courage, frugality, purity in private life, observance of law and the Sab- bath. A farmer more readily cooperated with one who fulfilled the sum of these requirements of a good citizen than with one \who did not. The desire to live true to the moral requirements ‘of the community we may call a desire for social approval. There is one more quality necessary to cooperation, namely, generosity. The neighbor with whom a farmer most readily cooperated was the generous neighbor. At first sight, how- ever, it is difficult to see the utility of generosity to the generous person. Further, the mental state of generosity precludes the idea of utility. It is an impulse of helpfulness, not a desire for gain—and in no sense a struggle. We have passed into an entirely new domain, therefore, and must speak of aspiration, not struggle, for social esteem. This brings us face to face with an entirely separate sphere of activity which selected its own peculiar traits. The individual who most perfectly em- bodied these, in the early days, was the genial, jovial man whose face beamed with good will and who was in for any- thing on all festive occasions. This man need not have a great reputation for honesty. Thus, the old residents of Blank- town recall no one with greater pleasure than Tom I , an Indian who used to get his meals from house to house. He had the faults of other Indians, deceitfulness and laziness, but the sound of his well-known voice always caused a “rush” of the “women folks to the back door ;” for Tom’s homely wit and sly humor were everywhere enjoyed. The man who relieved the monotony of work was prized, as well as the man who worked. The process by which the man who relieved the INDUSTRIAL SELECTION 245 monotony of work, became a selected type we may call sympa- ” thetic selection. - ae me Turning now to the two selective processes in the second period, we find, first, that the relation of the individual to natural resources has become more indirect. In the first period, the individual picked the location of his house with reference to the fertility of the soil or the favorableness of the site for a mill or a store, while, in the second period, he located with reference to the group in which he was to work. From the rural districts into Blankville came those farmers who were mechanically skillful and better fitted to be mechanics, also those farmers who were shrewd and better fitted to be mer- chants or hop-brokers than tillers of the soil. Secondly, and more important still, we find that cooperative power now came to be determined less by honesty and more by sagacity in managing men. It is in the rural districts that honesty re- mains most strongly intrenched. This change from honesty t sagacity as the selected variation distinguishing the need type of the first from that of the second period marks a transition between two distinct phases of industrial selec- tion. The sympathetically selected type of the second period was also much different from that of the first. The jovial farmer was found to be “too noisy” on festive occasions—‘‘haw-haw- ing so that you could hear him away out into the street.” His jokes were declared too coarse, his stories and homely wit too slow. The social favorite was the “cultured”? man, one of wide information and cleverness in conversation and with the means to entertain lavishly. With the sympathetic selection of the wealthy and the clever person there sprang up numer- ous forms of the display of wealth and reading clubs for the display of learning. The essential difference between the pleasure activity of the first and second periods is this: in the first period the , pleasures were more largely bodily—the hearty laugh, the | hearty meal, the rustic dance in which the boy did not hold | 246 AN AMERICAN TOWN the girl at arm’s length and both “went into it for dear life,” so that “the shouting and clatter drowned out the music ;’ in the second period, the pleasures were the “more refined” pleasures of the senses—the laugh was modulated and not a spontaneous guffaw, the tables were more tastefully decorated and less “loaded down,” the dancers were more artistic in dress - and step than exuberant in movement. This change from en- joyment of bodily pleasures to enjoyment of pleasures of the senses as the selected variation distinguishing the estéemed type of the first from that of the second period marks a transition between two distinct phases of social selection. Sympathetic selection cooperated with industrial selection in the differentiation between the rural districts and Blankville, ’ begun by industrial selection. In the first period, the geograph- ical position of families was determined not only by industrial selection but also by a desire to be near relatives, friends or members of the same church. One man declared he moved into the Center out of P Valley “to get out of that ungodly community.” In the second period sympathetic selection brought about a still further differentiation of the population. Blankville became a pleasure centre for the “cultured” from the rural districts! as well as a commercial centre for the me- chanically skillful and the shrewd. In the rural districts, there remained those who still insisted upon self-denial and Sabbath observance. Hence the custom of sending a dissolute son “‘to the country’ where he may not only be out of the reach of the whirl of pleasure but also under the influence of the insist- ence on self-denial. Nothing shows more clearly the change between the indus- trially and the sympathetically selected types of the first and of the second periods than the change in the preferred type of minister. In the first period, that candidate was ‘‘called to the pastorate” of the church who was a “straightforward man,” 1 This selective process reached beyond Blanktown. Thus the young women of the village chose as husbands young men “from the city,” personally attractive, lavish in display of wealth, and with a good deal to say about their “fashionable connections,’ and the young men of the town led home “highly accomplished” young women. INDUSTRIAL SELECTION 247 erect in bearing, unequivocal in thought, frank even to bluntness in expression, consistent in thought and action. Consistency was a much extolled virtue. A “consistent Christian” was one who “never changed his mind,” “stuck to his own church,” no matter what the attractions elsewhere, and ‘‘practiced what he preached.” Particularly in the minister was this directness in thought and utterance and conduct required. He must be- lieve in “straight temperance” and “come out fair and square”’ for it. One must be a total abstainer or his influence was for drunkenness ; he must be a Sabbath observer, if not, he was an infidel ; he was bound for heaven or for hell. As an orator, that minister was enjoyed whose manner was direct, attitude tense, voice stentorian and gestures “straight from the shoul- der.” The minister must be powerful and direct, but that was not all. He must be a tender shepherd bearing in his great heart the troubles of all his flock and presenting these severally before the “throne of grace.” It was, this ready compassion which made him “powerful in prayer.” Turning now to the preferred type of minister in the second period, we find a marked change. It was the sagacious min- ister, who avoided “bones of contention,” who came to be more and more sought after. To be sure, he must not play cards and dance himself; but it wouldn’t do to come out too strong- iy against these amusements for others. The minister who had “traveled in Europe’ and whose series of sermons on his travels showed that he “knew the history of all the places” he had visited, found himself the popular man of the town. The question of the interaction of industrial and sympathetic selection is very complicated. We know that there is an inter- action. The individual sympathetically. selected tends to be industrially selected also, because sympathy is the safety valve which inhibits the individualistic motive at the point where it might otherwise go “below zero.” When in need of “a lift,” the farmer of the first period went to that neighbor who “was always ready to help,” not to the “grouty” neighbor. The result was that the generous neighbor had a greater number 248 AN AMERICAN TOWN in his debt than the grouty neighbor, which gave him a broader cooperative basis and hence a greater readiness to ask for help when he was in a “tight pinch.” In this way the generous man pressed persistence less near to the point of exhaustion, at critical times, and so tended to be a more con- stantly powerful industrial agent. The merchant who found that he was confining himself to his business to the point of prostration began to cultivate the acquaintance of men enjoy- ing various kinds of pleasure, and found this acquaintanceship conducive to health. A man’s individualism would devour him were it not for the relaxing effect of sympathy. On the other hand, all play and no work makes Jack a mere toy. Blanktown has had its share of men wrecked in their desperate search for new pleasures when all they needed was work. The spread of nervous troubles among the female portion of the population, of card-playing crazes and other “frenzied” pleasures, is due to the lack of children to work for or to the advent of the nurse and the hired girl, thus throwing the housewife out of work. The second volume will show that all true religion, all love of literature and art, and all philanthropic and public-spirited conduct are fundamentally complex forms of sympathy which tend to strengthen the individualistic powers. The enjoyment of these forms of sympathy will tend to keep the individual constantly at his highest industrial power, thus placing him at an advantage as compared with one whose full power may be greater than the full power of the broadly sympathetic man, but who, lacking the relaxation afforded by sympathy, is not so constantly at his full power. It will be shown, also, that zest for literature, religion and philanthropy is imparted by work. Man can not be at his full enjoying power without approxi- mating to his full industrial power. Industrial and sympa- thetic selection are, therefore, distinct but interacting proc- esses. Their distinctness is fundamental, extending away down to the physiological processes of the human body. These two processes determine the life of the individual and of the INDUSTRIAL SELECTION 249 race, the one process the activity of their working hours, the other the relaxation of their play hours. Since we are to regard whatever struggle there is among the population of Blanktown as a struggle for social standing and not for existence, we can not use the phrase survival of the fittest. Just as it is convenient, however, to have the phrase survival of the fittest as another and more accurate phrase signifying the process of natural selection, so it is con- venient to have other and more accurate terms for the proc- esses of industrial and sympathetic selection. Accordingly, for industrial selection, I suggest the phrase preference as analagous to survival and preferred as analogous to fittest. We shall then have the preferred type as resulting from the process of preference. For sympathetic selection, I suggest the phrase estimation as analogous to survival and esteemed as analogous to fittest. We shall then have the esteemed type as resulting from the process of estimation. Whenever it is convenient to refer to the total selective process of human society without sig- nifying either of its constituent processes or committing one self to a theory of their interaction, we may use the term approved type as resulting from the process of approval. This will be a convenient term to use as synonymous with social selection. Finally, we need a set of terms to use for the total process as due to the interaction of the two distinct processes. The best are those highest in the classes both of the preferred and the esteemed. A perfect poise is the essential thing. Blank- town has men of great force with little sympathy and men of great sympathy with little force. Individuals with less force and greater sympathy than the former or with greater force and less sympathy than the latter are better than either of the unbalanced types. A man fairly well up in social status and well-poised, that is, one whom our President would call a “good citizen” may be said to be chosen. Hence, we have a final process, the choice of the good, better, or best, accord- ing to the social evaluation of the citizen in question. 250 -AN AMERICAN TOWN We turn now to the problem of geographical distribution. The reader will remember that the immigrants into Blank- town entered at the northern end of the central valley and streamed southward. The majority of the immigrants during the first decade of the settlement did not stop in the central valley, fearing the “fever and ague” of the lowland, but pressed on into the hill country. When it was seen that the valley was not unhealthful, there were gradual rearrangements of the population, causing a segregation of different types of character somewhat as follows: Those of the persistent type who had settled in the hill country—formal in religion—sold their farms and came down to possess the more fertile lands, leaving the less persistent—visionary and ecstatic in religion— among the hills. The more persistent among the later im- migrants settled on the more valuable lands in the valley and those dispossessed moved on into the less valuable hill coun- try of southeastern Blanktown and into A , the town to the south, a region even more hilly. Thus it is that the valley population, that is, the population of northern, western and central Blanktown, from which the social development of the town has received its stamp, has been predominantly persistent in activity and formal in religion. One reason why the eastern and southeastern parts have had a comparatively small influence on the social development of the town is that their population has been more constantly changing; also, the foreign element there has been greater than elsewhere. In only one neighborhood of this section, namely, Blankwell, does the old-time ultra-religious population remain intact. As one inhabitant told a clergyman who was planning to conduct religious services there, ‘we have all kinds here.” Blankwell has shown a marked susceptibility to new and strange doctrines. Between 1865 and 1875, spiritualism took root in the hamlet, making converts of four or five fami- lies. In 1899, Christian science sprouted there, regular Sun- day services being attended by three or four families. Their Christian science is not of the radical sort, however, the beliefs INDUSTRIAL SELECTION 251 of that sect having gained credence as being in accordance with Scriptural tradition, not because of any active interest in their practical application in healing. Christian science is ad- mitted to be scriptural but, in case of sickness, the doctor is called. Thus the Blankwell people lie geographically and so- ciologically between the ecstatically religious population of southeastern Blanktown and A: on the one hand, and the austere Sabbath observers of northern, central and western Blanktown, on the other. The total process of geographical distribution throughout Blanktown is, therefore, to be explained wholly by the very intricate interaction of the processes of industrial and sympa- thetic selection. Of the distributive process thus explainable, we distinguish two stages, first, the segregation of the persist- ent type in the valley, and secondly, the differentiation of these into the persistent, self-denying tillers of the soil and the skillful or shrewd, pleasure-loving industrial and commercial class who were finally segregated in Blankville. But the vil- lage owed its existence as an industrial and commercial centre to its strategic position on the stage-road connecting Blank- town with one of the great water systems of the country. Thus, the development of Blanktown is no exception to the great principle underlying all evolution—adaptation to the physical environment. VITA. The author of this dissertation was born June 22, 1876. He received the degree of A.B. from Brown University in 1898 and the degree of B.D. from Union Theological Seminary in 1got. During the years 1899 to 1902 he was a graduate stu- dent at Columbia University, holding the University Fellowship in Sociology in the academic year 1902-03. The years 1903-06 were spent in sociological studies of communities in the East and in the Middle-West. PK? pnarese Carer Seen