The Americans

We have spoken of the President and Congress, of the organization of court and state, and, above all, of the parties, in order to show the various forms in which the genius of the American nation has expressed itself. It may seem almost superfluous to recognize public opinion as a separate factor in political affairs. It is admitted that public opinion is potent in æsthetic, literary, moral, and social problems, with all of which parties and constitutions have nothing to do. But it might be supposed that when a people has surrounded itself with a network of electoral machinery, supports hundreds of thousands of representatives and officials, has perfected parties with their armies of politicians and legislatures which every year discuss and pass on thousands of laws—it might be supposed that in regard to political questions public opinion would have found its complete expression along official channels, and in a sense would have exhausted itself. Yet this is not the case. The entire political routine, with its paraphernalia, forms a closed system, which is distinct in many ways from the actual public opinion of the country.

It is indeed no easy matter to find under what conditions the will of a people can most directly express itself in the official machinery of politics. Many Germans, for instance, entertain the notion that no government is truly democratic except the cabinet be in all matters dependent on a majority in parliament; and they are astonished to learn that in democratic America Congress has no influence on the election of the highest officials; that the President, in fact, may surround himself with a cabinet quite antagonistic to the political complexion of Congress. But no American believes that politics would represent public opinion any better if this independence of the Executive and his cabinet were to be modified, say in conformity with the English or French idea. The reasons for a discrepancy between public opinion and official politics lie anyhow not in the special forms prescribed by the Constitution, but in the means by which the forms prescribed by the Constitution are practically filled by the nation. In the English Constitution, for instance, there is nothing about a cabinet; and yet the cabinet is the actual centre of English politics. American politics might keep to the letter of the Constitution, and still be the truest reflection of public opinion. That they are not such a reflection is due to the strong position of the parties. The rivalry of these encourages keen competition, in which the success of the party has now become an end in itself quite aside from the principles involved. Personal advantages to be derived from the party have become prominent in the minds of its supporters; and even where the motives are unselfish, the tactics of the party are more important than its ideals. But tactics are impossible without discipline, and a party which hopes to be victorious in defending its own interests or in opposing others’ will be no mere debating club, but a relentlessly strict and practical organization. Wherewith the control must fall to a very few party leaders, who owe their positions to professional politicians—that is, to men who for the most part stand considerably below the level of the best Americans.

The immense number of votes cast in the Presidential elections is apt to hide the facts. Millions vote for one candidate and millions for the other, without knowing perhaps that a few months before the national convention some ten or twelve party leaders, sitting at a quiet little luncheon, may have had the power to fix on the presidential candidate. And these wise foreordainings are even less conspicuous in the case of governors, senators, or representatives. Everywhere the masses believe that they alone decide, and so they do between the nominees of one party and of the other, or sometimes between several candidates within the party; but they are not aware that a more important choice is made behind the scenes before these candidates make their appearance.

As with the incumbents, so it is with the platform. The party leaders practically decide what questions shall be made the political issues; and this is the most important function of all. We have seen that dissenting groups can hardly hope on ordinary occasions to make a break in the firm party organization, and though they may vigorously discuss questions which have not been approved by the party leaders, they will, nevertheless, arrive at no practical results. It therefore happens very often that voters are called on to decide issues which seem to them indifferent, or to choose between two evils, and can expect nothing from either candidate in the matters which they think most vital. They go to the polls merely out of consideration for their party. Thus, in reality, the people do not decide the issues on which they are to vote, nor on the candidates whom they elect, nor yet on the party leaders who do decide these things. Nor can the people, if discontented with the party in power, recall that party during its term of office. In Germany the government can dissolve parliament if new issues arise; in England the Cabinet resigns if it fails to carry a measure; but in America the party with a congressional majority has nothing to fear during its appointed term. In short, the political life of America is dominated by those forces which rule the parties, and only in so far as the nation is filled with the party spirit, is the official political hierarchy an expression of the nation’s will.

Now it is not in the nature of public opinion to nerve itself up to clear and definite issues. Unless worked on by party demagogues, it never formulates itself in a mere yes or no, but surveys the situation impartially, seeing advantages and disadvantages on both sides, and passes a conservative judgment. The man who thinks only of parties will often agree to a compromise which is unjust to both parties and in general unworthy of them; but the man who takes his stand above the parties knows that many problems are not fathomed with a yea or nay; he does not see two opposite sides between which an artificial compromise is to be found, but he appreciates the given situation in its organic unity and historical perspective. Historical understanding of the past and moral seriousness for the future guarantee his right judgment. He sees the practical opposition of interests, which is always more complex than the two-horned dilemma that the parties advertise, in a true light, and testimony of experts instead of politicians suggests to him the rational solution of the problem. The actual course of action to be followed may coincide with the plan of one or the other party, or may be a compromise between them, and yet it will be a distinct policy. In such decisions there lives ever the spirit of immediate reality; no artificial dichotomy nor any political tactics are involved, and the natural moral feeling of a healthy nation is then sufficient for every issue. Nowhere is this naïve moral sense more potent among the masses than in America; will then these unpartisan convictions have no weight in political life? Will they not rather strive to have an independent effect on the destinies of the nation? The centre and real expression of these politics for essentials is the system of public opinion.

We have seen that every American legislature has two parts, an upper and a lower house, which have different ways of procedure and different prerogatives. One might similarly say that the parties with all their paraphernalia are merely the lower house of the nation, while Public Opinion is the upper house; and only the two houses together constitute the entire national political life. The nation is represented in each branch, but in different senses. In a way the parties express quantitatively the will of the nation, and public opinion does it qualitatively. Whenever a quantitative expression is wanted, the issues must be sharply contrasted in order to separate clearly the adherents of each; all fine shades and distinctions have to be sacrificed to an artificial clearness of definition, much as is done in mechanics, when any motion is schematically represented, as the diagonal in a parallelogram of two other forces. As a quantity any yea or nay is as good as any other, and the intensity of any party movement is due to the accumulation of small increments. The great advantage of this lower house is, as of every lower house, that its deliberations can be brought to an end and its debates concluded. Every political election is such a provisional result.

It is very different in the upper house. Public opinion accepts no abstract schematizations, but considers the reality in all its complication, and in its debates no weight is given to any show of hands or other demonstration of mere numbers. Crass contrasts do not exist here, but only subtle shadings; men are not grouped as friends and foe, but they are seen to differ merely in their breadth of outlook, their knowledge, their energy, and in their singleness of heart. The end in view is not to rush politics, but to reform politics and in all matters to shape public events to national ideals. Here one vote is not like another, but a single word wisely and conscientiously spoken is heard above the babel of thousands. And here the best men of the nation have to show themselves, not with programmes nor harangues, but with a quiet force which shapes and unites public opinion and eventually carries all parties before it.

Public opinion may be responsible now for a presidential veto on a bill of Congress, now for the sudden eclipse of a party leader, or the dropping of a list of candidates, or again it may divide a party in the legislature. Public opinion forces the parties, in spite of themselves, to make mere party advantage secondary to a maturer statesmanship.

Germans will not readily appreciate this double expression of the popular will; they would find it more natural if party life and public opinion were one. For in Germany the conditions are quite different. In the first place there are a dozen parties, which express the finer shades of public opinion more adequately than the two parties can in America. And this division into many small parties prevents the development of any real party organization such as would be needed by a party assuming entire responsibility for the affairs of the nation. The nearest approach to two great parties is the opposition between all the “bürgerliche” parties on the one hand and the social democrats on the other. But the development of really responsible parties is hardly to be expected, since the German party is allowed only a small degree of initiative. The representatives of the people have the right to accept or reject or to suggest improvements in the proposals of the government; but with the government rest the initiative and the responsibility. The government stands above the parties, and is not elected by the people nor immediately dependent on them. It originates most of the legislative and executive movements, and therewith represents exactly that moral unity of the nation which is above all parties, and which is represented in America by public opinion; while in America the government is the creature of the parties.

One should not draw the conclusion that the public opinion of America is the quintessence of pure goodness. Public opinion in the United States would be no true indication of the forces at work in the nation if it did not represent all the essentials of the typical American. In order to find this typical man, it would be misleading simply to take the average of the millions; one leaves out of account the great herd of colourless characters, and selects the man who harmoniously combines in himself, without exaggeration, the most striking peculiarities of his countrymen. He is not easy to find, since eccentricity is frequent; one man is grotesquely patriotic, another moral to intolerance, another insipidly complacent, and another too optimistic to be earnest or too acquisitive to be just.

And yet if one goes about much in American society, one finds oneself now and then, not only in New York or Boston or Washington, but quite as well in some small city of the West, in a little circle of congenial men who are talking eagerly, perhaps over their cigars after dinner; and one has the feeling that the typical American is there. His conversation is not learned nor his rhetoric high-flown; but one has the feeling that he is alive and worth listening to, that he sees things in sharp perspective, is sincerely moral, and has something of his own to say. Party politics do not interest him specially, although as citizen he goes to a few meetings, contributes to the party funds, and votes on election day if the weather permits. But he speaks of politics generally with a half-smile, and laughs outright at the thought of himself running for the legislature. He sees the evil about him, but is confident that everything will come around all right; the nation is young, strong, and possessed of boundless resources for the future. Of course he understands the prejudices of the masses, and knows that mere slap and dash will not take the place of real application in solving the problems which confront the nation; he knows, too, that technical proficiency, wealth, and luxury alone do not constitute true culture. And herewith his best energies are enlisted; he contributes generously to libraries and universities, and very likely devotes much of his time to the city schools. But he is frank to confess, as well, that he has a weakness for good-fellowship and superficiality, preferring operetta to tragedy every time. He is not niggardly in anything; to be so is too unæsthetic. At first one is astonished by his insouciance and the optimism with which he makes the best of everything. One feels at once his good nature and readiness to help, and finds him almost preternaturally ready to be just to his opponents and overlook small failings. He envelops everything with his irrepressible sense of humour, and is always reminded of a good story, which he recounts so drolly and felicitously that one is ready to believe that he never could be angry. But this all changes the instant the talk turns from amusing stupidities or little weaknesses and goes over to indecency or corruption or any baseness of character. Then the typical American is quite changed; his genuine nobility of soul comes out and he gives his unvarnished opinion, not blusteringly, but with self-controlled indignation. One feels that here is the real secret of his character; and one is surprised to see how little he cares for political parties or social classes. He will fiercely condemn the delinquencies of his own party or the unfair dealings of his own social set. It now appears how honestly religious he is, and how far the inner meaning of his life lies beyond the merely material.

Such a good fellow it is, with all his greater and lesser traits, who may at any time voice undiluted public opinion. Thousands who are better, wiser, more learned, or less the spendthrift and high-liver, and the millions of inferior natures, will show one trait or another of the national character in higher relief. And yet the type is well marked; it is always optimistic and confident in the future of America, indifferent to party tactics, but enthusiastically patriotic. It is anxious to be not merely prosperous but just and enlightened as well; it is almost hilariously full of life, and yet benevolent and friendly; conservative although sensitive, without respect for conventions and yet religious, sanguine but thoughtful, scrupulously just to an opponent but unrelenting toward any mean intent. Probably the most characteristic traits of public opinion are a patient oversight of mistakes and weaknesses, but relentless contempt and indignation for meanness and lack of honour. This is in both respects the very reverse of the party spirit, which is too apt to hinge its most boasted reforms on trivial evils, and pass over the greatest sins in silence.

One element of public opinion should be suggested in even the briefest sketch—its never-failing humour. It is the antiseptic of American politics, although it would be better, to be sure, if political doings could be aseptic from the outset. But probably dirty ambition and selfishness are harder to keep down in a democracy than anywhere else. The humour of public opinion stands in striking contrast, moreover, to party life; as one cannot fail to discover on looking closely. Party tactics demand that the masses have hammered into them the notion that the sacred honour of the nation lies with their party, but that on the other side there lies hopeless ruin. The man who urges this dogma must keep a very solemn face, for if he were to bring it out with a twinkle in his eye, he would destroy the force of his suggestion. The voter, too, is serious in his duties as a citizen, and demands of the candidates this extremely practical mien and solemn party arrogance. But when the same citizen talks the matter over with his friends, he is no longer a stickler for party, but a voicer of public opinion, and he sees at once the humour of the situation. He punctures the party bubbles with well-aimed ridicule. So it happens that the population is more ruled by humour here than anywhere else, while the party leaders stand up, at least before the public, in the most solemn guise. Just as in some American states the men drink wine at home, but at official banquets call for mineral water; so out of the political harness one may commit excesses of humour, but in it one must be strictly temperate. This is, of course, the reverse of the well-known English method, where the masses are rather dull, while the leaders are famous wits and cynics. America would never allow this. When one meets leading politicians or members of the Cabinet in a social way, one is often amazed at their ready wit, and feels that these men have decidedly the capacity to shine as do their English colleagues. But that would wreck the party service. The people are sovereign; public opinion has, therefore, the right to ironical humour, and can smilingly look down on the parties from a superior height; while those who play the party game of government have still to keep demure and sober. In England it is the Cabinet, in America public opinion, which assumes the gentle rôle of wit. Hardly could the contrast between aristocracy and democracy be more clearly exemplified.

If some one should ask who makes public opinion, he might well be referred at first to that class which at present does not enjoy the suffrage, and presumably will not for some time to come—the women. The American woman cares little enough for party politics, and this is not so much because she has no rights. If she had the interest she probably would have the rights. But while the best people have no wish to see the women mix in with the routine of party machinery, this is not at all in order that they may not concern themselves with the public problems of the day. On the contrary, women exert a marked influence on public opinion; and here, as might be expected, it is not the organized crusades, like the temperance movement, which count, but rather their less noisy demonstrations, their influence in the home and their general rightness of feeling. Every reform movement which appeals to moral motives is advanced by the public influence of women, and many a bad piece of jobbery is defeated by their instrumentality.

If the boundaries between the sexes are forgotten in the matter of public opinion, so even more are those between the various classes. Public opinion is not weakened by any class antipathies. To be sure, every profession and occupation has its peculiar interests, and in different quarters the public opinion takes on somewhat different hues; the agricultural states have other problems than the industrial; the South others than the North; and the mining districts still others of their own. But these are really not differences of public opinion, but different sectors of the one great circle. In spite of the diverse elements and the prejudices which go to make up public opinion, it is everywhere remarkably self-consistent. This is because it is the voice of insight, conscience, and brotherly feeling, as against that of carelessness, self-interest, and exclusiveness. The particular interests of capital and labour, of university and primary school, of city and country, have not their special representatives at the court of public opinion. And least in evidence of all, of course, are the officials and professional politicians. These men are busy in strictly party affairs, and have no time to dabble in the clear stream of public opinion. At best, a few distinguished senators or governors, together with the President and an occasional member of the Cabinet, come to have an immediate influence on public opinion.

The springs of public opinion flow from the educated and substantial members of the commonwealth, and are often tinged at first with a very personal colouring; but the streamlets gather and flow far from their sources and every vestige of the personal is lost. Ideas go from man to man, and those which are typically American find as ready lodgment with the banker, the manufacturer, or the scholar as with the artisan or the farm-hand. Any man who appeals to the conscience, morality, patriotism, or brotherly feeling of the American, or to his love of progress and order, appeals to no special parties or classes, but to the one public opinion, the community of high-minded citizens to the extent of their disinterestedness.

Yet even such a public opinion requires some organization and support. Bold as the statement may sound, the American newspaper is the main ally of public opinion, serving that opinion more loyally than it serves either official politics or the party spirit. The literary significance of the newspaper we shall consider in another connection, but here only its public influence. An American philosophizing on the newspapers takes it as a matter of course that they serve the ends of party politics; and it is true enough that party life as it is would not be possible without the highly disseminated influence of the newspaper. A German coming to the country is apt to deny it even this useful function. He is acquainted in Europe with those newspapers which commence on the first page with serious leading articles, and relegate the items of the day to a back page along with the advertisements. But here he finds newspapers which have on the first pages not a word of editorial comment and hardly even a serious piece of politics—nothing, in fact, but an unspeakable muddle of undigested news items; and as his eye rests involuntarily on the front page, with its screaming headlines in huge type, he will find nothing but crimes, sensational casualties, and other horrors. He will not before have realized that the devouring hunger of the American populace for the daily news, has brought into existence sheets of large circulation adapted to the vulgar instincts of the millions, the giant headlines of which warn off the educated reader from as far as he can see them; that paper is not for him. But a foreigner does not realize the injustice of estimating the political influence of the press from a glance at these monstrosities, which could not thrive abroad, not so much because the masses are better and more enlightened as because they care less about reading. Moreover, he will come slowly to realize that what he missed from the front page is somewhere in the middle of the paper; that the street-selling makes it necessary to make the most of sensations on the outside, and to put the better things where they are better protected. And so he learns that the American newspaper does express opinions, although its looks belie it.

The better sort of American newspaper is neither a party publication nor yet merely a news-sheet, but the conscious exponent of public opinion. Its columns contain a tiresome amount of party information, it is true; but a part of this is directly in the interests of an intelligent public opinion, since every citizen needs to be instructed in all the phases of party life, of political and congressional doings, and in regard to the candidates who are up for office. It is to be admitted, moreover, that some of the better newspapers, although not the very best, are unreservedly committed to the leaders of some party—in short, are party organs. In the same way several newspapers are under the domination of certain industrial interests and cater to the wishes of a group of capitalists. But any such policy has to be managed with the utmost discretion, for the American newspaper reader is far too experienced to buy a sheet day after day which he sees to be falsified; and he has enough others to resort to, since the competition is always keen, and even middle-sized cities have three or four large daily papers.

It is perhaps fortunate that any such extreme one-sidedness is not to the commercial advantage of the newspapers, for in America they are preëminently business enterprises. Their financial success depends in the first place on advertisements, and only secondarily on their sales in the streets. The advertising firm does not care whether the editorials and news items are Republican or Democratic, but it cares very much about the number of copies which are circulated; and this depends on the meritorious features which the paper has over competing sheets. Newspapers like the German, which count on only a small circle of readers, and these assured, at least for the time being, by subscriptions, can far more readily treat their readers cavalierly and constrain their attention for a while to a certain party point of view. In an American city the daily sales are much greater than the subscriptions, and the sheets which get the most trade are those which habitually treat matters from all sides, and voice opinions which fall in with every point of view. Of course, this circumstance cannot prevent every paper from having its special political friends and foes, its special hobbies, its own style, and, above all, its peculiar material interests. But, on the whole, the American newspaper is extraordinarily non-partisan on public questions, notwithstanding the statements in many German books to the contrary; and the ordinary reader might peruse a given paper for weeks, except just on the eve of an election, without really knowing whether it was Republican or Democratic. Now one party and now the other is brought up for criticism, and even when the sheet is distinctly in favour of a certain side, it will print extracts from the leading articles of opposing journals, and so well depict the entire situation that the reader can form an opinion for himself.

While the newspapers are in this way largely emancipated from the yoke of parties, they are the exponents of a general set of tendencies which, in opposition to party politics, we have called public opinion. In other words, the papers stand above the parties with their crudely schematic programmes and issues, and aspire to measure men and things according to their true worth. Though ostensibly of one party, a journal will treat men of its own side to biting sarcasm, and magnanimously extol certain of its opponents. The better political instincts, progress and reform, are appealed to; and if doubtful innovations are often brought in and praised as reforms, this is not because the newspaper is the organ of a party, but rather of public sentiment, as it really is or is supposed to be. The newspaper reflects in its own way all the peculiarities of public opinion—its light-heartedness and its often nervous restlessness, its conservative and prudent traits, its optimism, and its ethical earnestness; above all, its humour and drastic ridicule. It is well known that the American newspaper has brought the art of political caricature to perfection. The satirical cartoon of the daily paper is of course much more effective than that of the regular comic papers. And these pictures, although directed at a political opponent, are generally conceived in a broader spirit than that of any party. The cap and bells are everywhere in evidence, and there is nothing dry or pedantic. From the dexterous and incisive leading article to the briefest jottings, one notes the same good humour and playful satire which are so characteristic of public opinion. This general humorous turn makes it possible to give an individual flavour to the most ordinary pieces of daily news, so that they have a bearing considerably broader than the bare facts of the case, and may conceivably add their mite to public opinion. And herewith a special newspaper style has come in, a combination of a photographically accurate report and the whimsical feuilleton. Thus it happens that the best papers editorially persuade where they cannot dictate to their readers, and so, apart from party politics, nourish public opinion and create sentiment for or against persons, and legislative and other measures, while ostensibly they are merely giving the news of the last twelve hours.

There is another distinctly American invention—the interview. Doubtless it was first designed to whet the reader’s curiosity with the piquant suggestion of something personal or even indiscreet. In Europe, where this form of reporting is decidedly rudimentary, it usually evinces neither tact nor taste; whereas in America it is really a literary form, and so familiar now as to excite no remark. It has come to be peculiarly the vehicle of public opinion, as opposed to party politics. The person interviewed is supposed to give his personal opinions, and it is his authority as a human personality which attracts the reader. A similar function is served by the carefully selected letters to the editor, which take up a considerable space in the most serious sheets.

The outer form of the newspaper is a matter really of the technical ability of the American, rather than of his political tastes; and it is to be observed at once that the general appearance, and above all, the whole system of getting and printing news rapidly, is astonishing. Every one has heard of the intrepid and fertile reporters, and how on important occasions they leave no stone unturned to obtain the latest intelligence for their papers. But the persistence of these men is less worthy of note than the regular system by which the daily news is gathered and transmitted to every paper in the land. With an infallible scent, a pack of reporters follows in the trail of the least event which may have significance for the general public. A good deal of gossip and scandal is intermingled, to be sure, and much that is trivial served up to the readers; but granted for once, that millions in the lower classes, as members of the American democracy, wish, and ought to wish, to carry home every night a newspaper as big as a book, then, of course, such a hunger for fresh printed matter can be satisfied only by mental pabulum adapted to the vulgar mind. The New York Evening Post will have nothing of this sort; it appeals more to bank directors and professors; but shop-hands prefer the World. It is the same as with the theatres; if the ordinary citizen is prosperous enough to indulge frequently in an evening at the theatre, then, of course, melodrama and farce will become the regular thing, since the common man must always either laugh or cry.

The lightning news service is, of course, somewhat superficial and frequently in error, not to say that it is served up often with the minimum of taste; but the readers gladly take the risk of mistakes for the sake of the greater advantage it is to public opinion to have a searchlight which penetrates every highway and byway, showing up every sign of change in the social or political situation, and every intimation of danger.

And if reporters are accused of being indiscreet, one must first inquire whether the fault does not really lie with some one or other who, while pretending to shrink from publicity, really wants to see his name in the paper. Anyone familiar with the newspapers of the country knows that he is perfectly safe in telling any editor, and even any reporter, whatever he likes if he adds the caution that he does not wish it given out. It will not be printed. The American journalist is usually a gentleman, and can be relied on to be discreet. The principal journalists and editors of the leading newspapers are among the ablest men of the country, and they often go over to important political positions and become even ministers and ambassadors.

The powerful influence of the American newspapers is outwardly displayed in the sumptuous buildings which they occupy. While in Europe the newspapers are published generally in very modest quarters, where the editors have to sit in dingy rooms, the buildings of the American newspapers compare favourably with the best commercial edifices; and the whole business is conducted on an elaborate scale. Scarcely less astonishing are their achievements in the way of illustration. While the most select papers decline on principle to appeal to the taste for sensation, many large papers have yielded to the demand, and have brought the technique of illustration nearly to perfection. A few hours after any event they will have printed a hundred thousand copies of the paper with pictures taken on the spot, and reproduced in a manner of which any European weekly might well be proud.

Taken all in all, the American press very worthily represents the energy, prosperity, and greatness of the American nation; and at the same time with its superficial haste, its vulgarity and excitability, with its lively patriotism and irrepressible humour, it clearly evinces the influence of democracy. The better the paper the more prominent are the critical and reflective features; while the wider the circulation, the more noticeable are the obtrusive self-satisfaction and provincialism, and the characteristic disdain of things European. Going from the East to the West, one finds a fairly steady downward gradation in excellence, although some samples of New York journalism can vie for crude sensationalism with the most disgusting papers of the Wild West. And yet the best papers reach a standard which in many respects is higher than that of the best journals of the Old World. A paper like the Boston Transcript will hardly find its counterpart in the German newspaper world; and much good can be said of the Sun, Tribune, Times, and Post in New York, the Star in Washington, the Public Ledger in Philadelphia, the Sun in Baltimore, the Eagle in Brooklyn, the Tribune in Chicago, the Herald in Boston, the Evening Wisconsin in Milwaukee, and many others which might be named. Even small cities like Springfield, Massachusetts, produce such large and admirable papers as the Springfield Republican. And to be just, one must admit that the bad papers could be condensed into tolerably good ones by a liberal use of the blue pencil. For their mistakes lie not so much in their not having good contributions as in their inclusion of crude and sensational material by way of spice. Very often the front page of a paper will be overrun with the most offensive scandals, caricatures, and criminal sensations, while the ninth and tenth pages will offer editorials and other articles of decided merit. The newspapers which care only for a large circulation will have something for everybody; and they are not far out of the way in calculating that the educated reader who looks first at the editorials and political dispatches, will have enough that is unregenerate in his soul to make him relish a sideward glance at the latest sensational reports. The newspaper is content on the whole not to bore its readers, and to hold a close rein on public opinion rather than on party politics.

With all this, it is not to be denied that there are lower motives which degrade journalism. One of the chief temptations lies in the amalgamation of newspaper politics and party activities. The editor who, in the interests of public opinion, scans all the parties with a critical eye and professes to be impartial, is for this very reason the more tempted to misuse his position for private gain. He may diligently support one party in the name of impartiality and fairness, while in reality he counts on a remunerative office if that party is successful; and from this point the steps are few to the moral state of those who attack a certain party or an industrial enterprise in order to discover the error of their position on receipt of a sufficient compensation. The energy with which some newspapers stand up for certain financial interests casts grave doubt on their personal independence; and yet direct bribery plays an exceedingly small role, and the government or a foreign country is never the corrupting influence. Very much more important are the vanity and selfishness of newspaper proprietors, who for one reason or another choose to lead the public astray. But such perversities are less dangerous than one might think, for the American newspaper reader reads too much and is politically too discerning to take these newspapers at their face value. The mood induced by one paper is corrected by another; and while the journalist is tickled at his own shrewdness in writing only what his readers will like, the reader slyly preserves his self-respect and belief in his own critical ability, by hunting out everything with which he does not agree and reading that carefully. If the journal is above the party, the reader is above the journal, and thus it is that the newspapers are the most influential support of public opinion.

In this, however, they do not enjoy a monopoly; beside them are the weekly and monthly papers. Here again we shall consider their literary merits in another connection, but their greatest significance lies in their influence on public opinion. The political efforts of the weekly papers are mostly indirect; they deal primarily with practical interests, religious and social problems, and literary matters; but the serious discussions are carried on as it were against a political background which lends its peculiar hue to the whole action. The monthly magazines are somewhat more ambitious, and consider politics more directly. In their pages, not merely professional politicians, but the very ablest men of the nation, are accustomed to treat of the needs and duties of city and state; and these discussions are almost never from a one-sided point of view. A magazine like the North American Review usually asks representatives of both parties to present their opinions on the same question; and a similar breadth of view is adopted by the Atlantic Monthly, the Review of Reviews, and other leading monthlies, whose great circulation and influence are hardly to be compared with similar magazines of Europe. The point of view common to all is that of a very critical public opinion, well above party politics and devoted to national reform and everything which makes for progress and enlightenment. Much the same can be said of those magazines which combine politics with literature and illustrations, such as the Century, Harper’s, Scribner’s, McClure’s, and many others. When McClure’s Magazine, for example, presents to its half-million readers month after month an illustrated history of the Standard Oil Trust, every page of which is an attack on secret evasions of the law, it is not serving the interests of any party, but is reading public opinion a lesson.

The spoken word vies with the printed. The capacity of Americans, and especially of the women, to listen to lectures is well-nigh abnormal. And in this way social and political propagandas find a ready hearing, although a purely party speech would not be effective outside of a party convention. The wit and pathos of the speaker generally reach a level considerably above mere matters of expediency, and appeal to public opinion from a broadly historical point of view. The dinner speaker is also a power, since he is not constrained, as in Germany, to sandwich his eloquence in between the fish and game or to make every speech wind craftily around and debouch with the inevitable “dreimal Hoch.” He is quite at liberty to follow either his whims or his convictions, and herein has come to be a recognized spring of public opinion.

Finally, somewhat the same influence is exerted by the countless clubs and associations, and the various local and national societies which are organized for specific ends. Every American of the better sort belongs to any number of such bodies, and although concerning two-thirds of them he knows no more than that he pays his dues, there is left a third for which he sincerely labours. There is much in these organizations which is one-sided, egotistical, and trivial, and yet in the most of them there is something which is sound and right. There is not one at least which fails to strengthen the conviction that every citizen is called to be the bearer of public opinion. Just as the parties complain that the voters neglect the routine duties of the organization, so to be sure do the strenuous reformers of the country complain that the ranks behind them informally break step. But the main thing is that behind them there is a host, and that public opinion is to-day as thoroughly organized as the official parties, and that it sees each day more clearly that its qualitative effect on the national life is at least equally important with the quantitative efficacy of the parties.

Every important question is treated by both organizations, public opinion, and the parties. At the approach of a great election the parties create such a stir and bustle that for a couple of months the voice of public opinion seems hushed. Party tactics rule the day. But on the other hand, public opinion has its own festivals, and above all, works on tirelessly and uninterruptedly, except for the short pause just before elections. Public opinion reacts equally on both parties, forces them to pass laws that the politicians do not relish, and to repeal others that the politicians would gladly keep; and, ignoring these men, it brings the public conscience to bear on the issues to be pressed, the candidates to be nominated, and the leaders to be chosen.

We have surveyed public opinion and party politics as two distinct factors in the American national consciousness, as two factors which are seldom in complete agreement, and which are very often in sharp opposition, but which finally have to work together like an upper and lower legislative chamber in order to solve the problems of the day. We have not the space to speak minutely of all these problems themselves with which the American is at the present moment occupied; since the politics of the day lie outside of our purpose. This purpose has been to study that which is perennial in the American spirit, the mental forces which are at work, and the forms in which these work themselves out. But the single questions on which these forces operate, questions which are to-day and to-morrow are not, must be left to the daily literature. It is our task, however, to indicate briefly in what directions the most important of these problems lie. Every one of them would require the broadest sort of handling if it were to be in the least adequately presented.

So many problems which in European countries occupy the foreground, and which weigh particularly on the German mind, are quite foreign to the American. Firstly, the church problem as a political one is unknown to him. The separation of church and state is so complete, and the results of this separation are viewed on all sides with so much satisfaction, that there is nowhere the least desire to introduce a change. It is precisely in strictly religious circles that the entire independence of the church is regarded as the prime requisite for the growth of ecclesiastical influence. Even the relations between the church and party politics are distinctly remote, and the semi-political movements once directed against the Catholic Church are already being somewhat forgotten. There is no Jesuit question, and the single religious order which has precipitated a real political storm has been the sect of Mormons, which ecclesiastically sanctions an institution that the monogamous laws of the nation forbid. Even here the trouble has been dispelled by the submission of the Mormon Church.

As a matter of course, America has also never known a real conflict between the executive and the people. The government being always elected at short intervals by the people and the head of the state with his Cabinet having no part in legislation, while his executive doings merely carry out the wishes of the dominant political party, of course no conflicts can arise. To be sure, there can be here and there small points of friction between the legislative and executive, and the President can, during his four years of office, slowly drift away from the party which elected him, and thus bring about some estrangement; but even this would only be an estrangement from the professional politicians of his party. For experience has shown that the President, and on a smaller scale the governor of a state, is successful in breaking with his party only when he follows the wishes of public opinion instead of listening to the dictates of his party politicians. But in that case the people are on his side. One might rather say that the conflicts between government and people, which in Europe are practically disputes between the government and the popular representatives of political parties, repeat themselves in America in the sharp contrast between public opinion on the one hand and the united legislative and executive on the other; since the government is itself of one piece with the popular representation. Public opinion, indeed, preserves its ancient sovereignty as against the whole system of elections and majorities.

There is another vexation spared to the American people; it has no Alsace-Lorraine, no Danish or Polish districts; that is, it has no elements of population which seek to break away from the national political unity, and by their opposition to bring about administrative difficulties. To be sure, the country faces difficult problems of population, but there is no group of citizens struggling to secede; and in the same way the American has nothing in the way of emigration problems. Perhaps one may also say finally that social democracy, especially of the international variety, has taken such tenuous root that it can hardly be called a problem, from the German point of view. For although there is a labour question, this is not the same as social democracy. The labour movements, as part of the great economic upheaval, are certainly one of the main difficulties to be overcome by the New World; but the social democratic solution, with its chiefly political significance, is essentially unknown to the American. All this we shall have to consider in other connections. Although this and that which worry the European appear hardly at all in American thought, there is, on the other hand, a great sea of problems which have mercifully been spared to the European. It is due to the transitional quality of our time that on this sea of problems the most tempestuous are those of an economic character. The fierce conflicts of recent Presidential elections have been waged especially over the question of currency, and it is not until now that the silver programme may be looked on as at least provisionally forgotten. These conflicts were immediately preceded by others which concerned protection and free-trade, and the outlook is clear that these two parties will again meet each other in battle array.

Meanwhile the formation of large trusts has loomed up rapidly as a problem, and in this one sees the real influence of public opinion as against that of party politics, since both parties would doubtless have preferred to leave the trusts alone. At the same time the great strikes, especially that of the Pennsylvania coal districts, have brought the conflicts between capital and labour so clearly to the national consciousness that the public attention is strained on this point. Others say that the most serious economic problem of the United States is the irrigation of the parched deserts of the West, where whole tracts of land, larger than Germany, cannot be cultivated for lack of water; while American engineers, however, now think it entirely possible with a sufficient outlay of money to irrigate this region artificially. Still others regard the tax issue as of prime importance; and the circle of those who believe in single-tax reform is steadily growing. Every one agrees also that the status of national banks needs to be extensively modified; that the reckless devastation of forests must be stopped; and that the commercial relations between the states must be regulated by new laws. Some are hoping for new canals, others for the subvention of American ships. In short, the public mind is so filled with important economic questions that others which are merely political stand in the background; and, of course, political questions so tremendous as was once that of independence from England and the establishment of the Federation, or later, the slave question and the secession of the South, have not come up through four happy decades.

Besides the economic problems there are many social problems which appear in those quarters where public opinion is best organized, and spread from there more and more throughout political life; such are the question of woman’s suffrage, and the half economic and half social problem of the extremes between poor and rich, extremes which were unknown to the New World in the early days of America and even until very recent times. The unspeakable misery in the slums of New York and Chicago, in which the lowest immigrants from Eastern Europe have herded themselves together and form a nucleus for all the worst reprobates of the country, is an outcome of recent years and appeals loudly to the conscience of the nation. On the other side, the fatuous extravagance of millionaires threatens to poison the national sense of thrift and economy.

Among these social problems there belongs specially the earnest desire of the best citizens to develop American art and science at a pace comparable with the extraordinary material progress of the country. Doubtless the admirable results which have here been obtained, came from the extraordinary earnestness with which public opinion has discussed these problems. The great development of universities, the increase in the number of libraries and scientific institutions, the creation of museums, the observance of beauty in public buildings, and a hundred other things would never have come about if public opinion had let things go their own way; here public opinion has consciously done its duty as a governing power. Somewhat nearer the periphery of public thought there are various other social propagandas, as that for the relief of the poor and for improving penal institutions; the temperance movement is flourishing, and the more so in proportion as it gives up its fanatical eccentricities. Also the fight against what the American newspaper reader calls the “social evil,” attracts more and more serious attention.

Besides all these, there is a considerable number of purely political problems; first among these are the problems of population, and notably the questions of immigration and of the negro; then come internal problems of government, such as civil service and municipal reforms, which especially engage the public eye; finally, the problems of external politics, in which the watchwords of imperialism and the Monroe Doctrine can be heard shouted out above all others. At least we must briefly take our bearings, and see why these problems exist, although the treatment cannot be exhaustive.

The first issue in the problem of population is, as we have said, that which concerns immigration; and this is just now rather up before public opinion since the last fiscal year which was closed with the beginning of July, 1903, showed the largest immigration ever reached, it being one-tenth greater than the previous record, which was for the year ending in 1882. The facts are as follows: The total immigration to the United States has been twenty million persons. The number of those who now live in the United States, but were born in foreign countries, is more than ten millions; and if we were to add to these those who, although born here, are of foreign parentage, the number comes up to twenty-six millions. Last year 857,000 immigrants came into the country. Out of the ten millions of the foreign-born population, 2,669,000 have come from Germany, and 1,619,000 from Ireland.

The fluctuations in immigration seem to depend chiefly on the amount of prosperity in the United States, and, secondly, on the economic and political conditions which prevail from year to year in Europe. Up to 1810 the annual immigration is estimated to have been about 6,000; then it was almost wholly interrupted for several years, owing to the political tension between the United States and England; as soon as peace was assured the immigration increased in 1817 to 20,000; and in the year 1840 to 84,000. The hundred thousand mark was passed in 1842, and from then on the figure rose steadily, until in 1854 it amounted to 427,000. Then the number fell off rapidly. It was a time of business depression in the United States, and, moreover, the slavery agitation was already threatening a civil war. The immigration was least in 1861, when it had sunk to 91,000. Two years later it began to rise again, and in 1873 was almost half a million. And again there followed a few years of business depression, with its correspondingly lessened immigration. But the moment economic conditions improved, immigration set in faster than ever before, and in 1882 was more than three-quarters of a million. Since 1883 the average number of persons coming in has been 450,000, the variation from year to year being considerable. The business reverses of 1893 cut the number down to one-half, but since 1897 it has steadily risen again.

Such bare figures do not show that which is most essential from the point of view of public opinion, since the quality of the immigration, depending as it does on the social condition of the countries from which it comes, is the main circumstance. In the decade between 1860 and 1870, 2,064,000 European wanderers came to the American shores; of these 787,000 were Germans, 568,000 English, 435,000 Irish, 109,000 Scandinavians, 38,000 Scotch, and 35,000 French. Now for the decade between 1890 and 1900 the total number was 3,844,000; of these Germany contributed 543,000, Ireland 403,000, Norway and Sweden 325,000, England 282,000, Scotland 60,000, and France 36,000. On the other hand, we find for the first time three countries represented which had never before sent any large number of immigrants; Italy, Russia, and Austria-Hungary. In the decade ending 1870 there were only 11,000 Italians, 7,000 Austrians, and 4,000 Russians, while in the decade ending in the year 1900 the Russian immigrants, who are mostly Poles and Jews, numbered 588,000, the Austrian and Hungarian 597,000, and the Italian no less than 655,000; and the proportion of these three kinds of immigrants is steadily increasing. In the year 1903 Germany sent only 40,000, Ireland 35,000, and England 26,000; while Russia sent 136,000, Austria-Hungary 206,000, and Italy 230,000. Herein lies the problem.

A few further figures may help to make the situation clearer. For instance, it is interesting to know what proportion of the total emigration from Europe came to America. In round numbers we may say that since 1870 Europe has lost 20,000,000 souls by emigration, and that some 14,000,000 of these, that is, more than two-thirds, have ultimately made their homes in the United States of America. Of the German emigrants some 85 or 90 per cent. have gone to the United States; of the Scandinavian as many as 97 per cent.; while of the English and Italian only 66 and 45 per cent. respectively. It is worth noting, moreover, that in spite of the extraordinary increase in immigration, the percentage of foreign-born population has not increased; that is, the increase of native-born inhabitants has kept up with the immigration. In 1850 there were a few more than two million foreign-born inhabitants, in 1860 more than four millions, in 1870 there were five and a half millions, in 1880 six and a half millions, in 1890 nine and a quarter millions, and in 1900 ten and one-third millions. In 1850 these foreigners amounted, it is true, to only 11 per cent. of the population; but in 1860 they had already become 15 per cent. of the whole, and diminished in 1870 to 14.4 per cent., in 1880 to 13.3 per cent.; in 1890 they were 14.8 per cent., and in 1900 13.6 per cent.

The State of New York has the largest number of foreigners, and in the last fifty years the percentage of foreigners has risen steadily from 21 per cent. to 26 per cent. Pennsylvania stands second in this respect, and Illinois third. On the other hand, the small states have the largest percentage of foreign population. North Dakota has 35 per cent. and Rhode Island 31 per cent. The Southern states have fewest foreigners of any. These figures are, of course, greatly changed if we add to them the persons who were not themselves born in other countries, but of whom one or both parents were foreigners. In this way the foreign population in the so-called North Atlantic States is 51 per cent., and is 34 per cent. throughout the country. If a foreigner is so defined, the cities of New York and Chicago are both 77 per cent. foreign.

These figures are enough by way of mere statistics. The thing which arouses anxiety is not the increasing number of immigrants, but the quality of them, which grows continually worse. Just fifty years ago the so-called Know-Nothings made the anti-foreign sentiment the chief plank of their programme, but the “pure” American propaganda of the Know-Nothings was forgotten in the excitement which waged over slavery; and the anti-foreign issue has never since that time been so brutally stated. There has always been much objection to the undeniable evils involved in this immigration, and the continual cry for closer supervision and restriction of immigration has given rise to several new legal measures. Partly, this movement has been the expression of industrial jealousy, as when, for instance, Congress in 1885, in an access of protectionist fury, forbade the immigration of “contract labour,” that is, forbade any one to land who had already arranged to fill a certain position. This measure was meant to protect the workmen from disagreeable competition. But right here the believers in free industry object energetically. It is just the contract labour from the Old World which brings new industries and a new development of old industries into the country, and such a quickening of industry augments the demand for labour to the decided advantage of native workmen. The law still stands in writing, but in practice it appears to be extensively corrected, since it is very easily evaded.

The more important measures, however, have arisen less from industrial than from social and moral grounds. Statistics have been carefully worked up again and again in order to show that the poor-houses and prisons contain a much larger percentage of foreigners than their proportionate numbers in the community warrant. In itself this will be very easy to understand, owing to the unfavourable conditions under which the foreigner must find himself, particularly if he does not speak English, in his struggle for existence in a new land. But most striking has been the manner in which the magic of statistics has shown its ability to prove anything it will; for other statistics have shown that if certain kinds of crime are considered, the foreign-born Americans are the best children the nation has. The question of illiteracy has been discussed in similar fashion. The percentage of immigrants who can neither read nor write has seemed alarmingly high to those accustomed to the high cultivation of the northeastern states, but gratifyingly small to those familiar with the negro population in the South. One unanimous opinion has been reached; it is that the country is bound to keep out such elements from its borders as are going to be a public burden. At first idiots and insane persons, criminals, and paupers made up this undesirable class, but the definition of those who are not admitted to the country has been slowly broadened. And since the immigration laws require the steamship companies to carry back at their own expense all immigrants who are not allowed to land, the selection is actually made in the European ports of embarkation. In this wise the old charge that the agents of European packet companies encouraged the lowest and worst individuals of the Old World to expend their last farthing for a ticket to the New World, has gradually died out. Nevertheless, in the last year, 5,812 persons were sent back for lack of visible means of support, 51 because of criminal record, and 1773 by reason of infectious diseases.

The fact remains, however, that the social mires of every large city teem with foreigners, and that among these masses the worst evils of municipal corruption find favourable soil, that all the sporadic outbreaks of anarchy are traceable to these foreigners, and that the army of the unemployed is mostly recruited from their number. These opinions were greatly strengthened when that change in the racial make-up set in which we have followed by statistics, and which a census of the poorer districts in the large cities quickly proves: Italians, Russian Jews, Galicians, and Roumanians everywhere. The unprejudiced American asks with some concern whether, if this stream of immigration is continued, it will not undermine the virility of the American people. The American nation will continue to fulfil its mission so long as it is inspired with a spirit of independence and self-determination; and this instinct derives from the desire of freedom possessed by all the Germanic races. In this way the German, Swedish, and Norwegian newcomers have adapted themselves at once to the Anglo-Saxon body politic, while the French have remained intrinsically strangers. Their number, however, has been very small. But what is to happen if the non-Germanic millions of Italians, Russians, and Turks are to pour in unhindered? It is feared that they will drag down the high and independent spirit of the nation to their low and unworthy ideals. Already many citizens wish to require of the immigrants a knowledge of the English language, or to make a certain property qualification by way of precaution against unhappy consequences, or perhaps to close entirely for awhile the portals of the nation, or, at least, to make the conditions of naturalization considerably harder in order that the Eastern European, who has never had a thought of political freedom, shall not too quickly receive a suffrage in the freest democracy of the world. And those most entitled to an opinion unconditionally demand at the least the exclusion of all illiterates.

Against all this there stand the convictions of certain rather broader circles of people who point with pride at that great American grist-mill, the public school, which is supposed to take the foreign youth into its hopper, grind him up quickly and surely, and turn him out into good American material. It is, in fact, astonishing to look at the classes in the New York schools down on the East Side, where there is not a child of American parentage, and yet not one who will admit that he is Italian, Russian, or Armenian. All these small people declare themselves passionately to be “American,” with American patriotism and American pride; and day by day shows that in its whole system of public institutions the nation possesses a similar school for the foreign-born adult. Grey-haired men and adolescent youths, who in their native countries would never have emerged from their dull and cringing existence, hardly touch the pavement of Broadway before they find themselves readers of the newspaper, frequenters of the political meetings, and in a small way independent business men; and they may, a few years later, be conducting enterprises on a large scale. They wake up suddenly, and although in this transformation every race lends its own colour to the spirit of self-determination, nevertheless the universal trait, the typical American trait, can appear in every race of man, if only the conditions are favourable.

In the same direction it is urged once more that America needs the labour of these people. If Southern and Eastern Europe had not given us their cheaper grades of workmen, we should not have been able to build our roads or our railroads, nor many other things which we have needed. In former decades this humble rôle fell to the Germans, the Scandinavians, and the Irish, and the opposition against their admission was as lively as it now is against the immigrants from the south and east of Europe; while the development of the country has shown that they have been an economic blessing; and the same thing, it is said, will be true of the Russians and Poles. There are still huge territories at our disposal which are virtually unpopulated, untold millions can still employ their strength to the profit of the whole nation, and it would be madness to keep out the willing and peaceable workers. Moreover, has it not been the proud boast of America that her holy mission was to be a land of freedom for every oppressed individual, an asylum for every one who was persecuted? In the times then of her most brilliant prosperity is she to be untrue to her noble role of protectress, and leave no hope to those who have been deprived of their human rights by Russian or Turkish despots, by Italian or Hungarian extortionists, to disappoint their belief that at least in the New World even the most humble man has his rights and will be received at his true value? Thus the opinions differ, and public opinion at large has come as yet to no decision.

A curious feature in the immigration problem is the Chinese question, which has occasioned frequent discussion on the Pacific coast. The Chinaman does not come here to enjoy the blessings of American civilization, but merely in order to earn a competence in a short time so that he can return to his Asiatic home and be forever provided for. He does not bring his family with him, nor attempt in any way to adapt himself; he keeps his own costume, stays apart from his white neighbours, and lives, as for instance in the Chinese Quarter of San Francisco, on such meagre nourishment and in such squalid dwellings that he can save up wealth from such earnings as an American workman could hardly live on. A tour through the Chinese sleeping-rooms in California is in fact one of the most depressing impressions which the traveller on American soil can possibly experience. The individuals lie on large couches, built over one another in tiers, going quite up to the ceiling; and in twenty-four hours three sets of sleepers will have occupied the beds. Under such conditions the number of newcomers steadily increased because large commercial firms imported more and more coolie labour. Between 1870 and 1880 more than 122,000 had come into the country. Then Congress began to oppose this immigration, and since 1879 has experimented with various laws, until now the Chinese workman is almost wholly excluded. According to the last census there were only 81,000 Chinese in the whole United States.

More attractive than the yellow immigrants to these shores are the red-skinned aborigines of the land, the Indians, whom the Europeans found when they landed. The world is too much inclined, however, to consider the fate of the Indian in a false light, just because his manner of life captures the fancy and his picturesque barbarity has often attracted the poet. The American himself is rather inclined to see in his treatment of the Indian a grave charge against his own nation, and to find himself guilty of the brutal extermination of a native race. To arrive at such an opinion he assumes that in former centuries great tribes of Indians scoured the tremendous hunting-grounds of the land. But science has done away with this fanciful picture, and we know to-day that these millions of natives never existed. There are to-day about 270,000 Redskins, and it is very doubtful whether the number was ever much greater. It is true, of course, that between Central America and the Arctic Sea, hundreds of different Indian languages were spoken, and many of these languages have twenty or thirty different dialects. But the sole community in which such a dialect developed would include only a few hundred persons, and broad tracts of land would lie between the neighbouring communities. They used to live in villages, and wandered over the country only at certain seasons of the year in order to hunt, fish, and collect fruits.

As soon as the European colonies established themselves in the country the Indians used to take part in their wars, and on such occasions were supplied by the colonists with arms and employed as auxiliary forces. But the delights of these new methods of warfare, which they learned quickly, broke up their own peaceful life. The new weapons were employed for war between the Indian races, and eventually were turned by the Indians against the white settlers themselves. But, after all, the peaceful contact of Indians and whites was more productive of results. Only the French and Spanish permitted a mixture of the races, and in Canada especially to-day there is a mixed race of French and Indians; while in Mexico a large part of the inhabitants is Spanish and Indian. The truly American population sought above all else peaceably to disseminate its own culture; some Indian races became agricultural and devoted themselves to certain industrial pursuits.

Since the time when the United States gained actual possession of a larger part of the continent, a systematic Indian policy has been pursued, although administered largely, it must be admitted, in the American interests, and yet with considerable consideration of the natural inclinations of these hunting peoples. In various states, territories were set apart for them, which were certainly more than adequate to afford their sustenance; schools were built, and even institutions of higher learning; and through solemn treaties with their chiefs important rights were assigned to different races. To be sure, the main idea has always been to persuade the Indians to take up agricultural pursuits; to live merely by hunting flesh and eating wild fruits seemed hardly the thing at a time when millions of people were flocking westward out of Europe. Therefore, with every new treaty, the Indian reservations have been made smaller and smaller. The Indians, who would have preferred always to keep up their wild hunting life, felt, and still feel, that this has been unjust, and certainly many of their racial peculiarities have made it difficult to adapt American legal traditions fairly to their needs. The Indians had no idea of the private ownership of the soil; they considered everything as belonging to their tribe, and least of all had they any notion of the inheritance of property in the American sense. The Indian children belonged to the mother’s family and the mother never belonged to the tribe of the father.

Although all these sources of friction have led the Indian to feel unjustly treated, it is still true that there has been scarcely any actually destructive oppression. The very races which have been influenced most by American culture have developed favourably. Last year the Indian mortality was 4,728, and the number of births 4,742; the Indians are, therefore, not dying out. The largest community is in the so-called Indian Territory and consists of 86,000 people, while there are 42,000 in Arizona. The several Indian reservations together embrace 117,420 square miles.

The Indian question is the least serious problem of all those which concern population in America; by far the most difficult is the negro question. The Indian lives within certain reservations, but the negro lives everywhere side by side with the American. So also the Indian troubles are narrowly confined to a small reservation in the great field of American problems, but the negro question is met everywhere in American thought, and in connection with every American interest. There could hardly be a greater contrast than that between the Indian and the negro; the former is proud, self-contained, selfish and revengeful, passionate and courageous, keen and inventive. The negro, on the other hand, is subservient, yielding, almost childishly good natured, lazy and sensual, without energy or ambition, outwardly apt to learn, but without any spirit of invention or intellectual independence. And still one ought not to speak of these millions of people as if they were of one type. On the Gulf of Mexico there are regions where the black population lives almost wholly sunk in the superstitions of its African home; while in Harvard University a young negro student has written creditable essays on Kant and Hegel. And between these opposite poles exists a population of about nine millions.

The negro population of America does not increase quite so rapidly as the white, and yet in forty years it has increased two-fold. In the year 1860, before the slaves were freed, there were 4,441,000 blacks; in 1870, 4,880,000; in 1880, 6,580,000; in 1890, 7,470,000; in 1900, 8,803,000. In view of this considerable increase of the negro, it is not to be expected that the problem will lose anything of its urgency by the more rapid growth of the white population. And at the same time the physical contrast between the races is in no wise decreasing, because there is no mixing of the white and black races to-day, as there very frequently was before the war. It will not be long before the coloured population will be twice the entire population which Canada to-day has. These people are distributed geographically, so that much the largest part lives in those states which before the war practised slavery. To be sure, an appreciable part has wandered into the northern states, and the poorer quarters of the large cities are well infiltrated with blacks. Four-fifths, however, still remain in the South, owing probably to climatic conditions; the negro race thrives better in a warm climate. But it belongs there economically also, and has nearly every reason for staying there in future.

Nevertheless, the negro question is by no means a problem for the South alone; the North has its interests, and it becomes clearer all the time that the solution of the problem will depend in large part on the co-operation of the North. In the first place it was the North which set the negro free, and which, therefore, is partly responsible for what he is to-day; and it must lie with the North to decide whether the great dangers which to-day threaten can in any way be obviated. Europe has so far considered only one feature of the negro question—that of slavery. All Europe read “Uncle Tom’s Cabin,” and thought the difficulty solved as soon as the negro was freed from his chains and the poorest negro came into his human right of freedom. Europe was not aware that in this *wise still greater problems were created, and that greater springs of misery and misfortune for the negro there took their origin. Nor does Europe realize that opposition between whites and blacks has never been in the history of America so sharp and bitter and full of hatred as it is to-day. Just in the last few years the hatred has grown on both sides, so that no friend of the country can look into the future without misgivings. “Das eben ist die Frucht der bösen Tat.”