which is low, unworthy, malicious, or even petty is fundamentally
disagreeable to him. The true American is not to be judged by certain
scandal-mongering papers, nor by city politics. As known in private
life, he is admirable in all his social attitudes. He has a real
distaste, often in part æsthetic, for what is vulgar or impure; and this
is true in wider as in more exclusive circles. In business he may look
sharply to his own advantage; but even there he is not stingy or
trivial, and he will seldom make use of a petty advantage, of doubtful
actions, or dishonourable flattery and obsequiousness in order to gain
his end, nor be brutal toward a weak competitor. That is opposed to the
American national character. It is less opposed, however, to the
assimilated immigrant population, especially the Irish.
The relation of one man to his neighbour is correspondingly upright. The
spirit of self-assertion educates to politeness, helpfulness,
good-nature, and magnanimity. European books on America are fond of
saying that the fundamental principle of American life is, “Help
yourself.” If that is understood to mean that the individual person is
not expected to keep quiet and wait for some higher power to help him,
and is expected, instead of waiting for the government, to go ahead and
accomplish things for himself, it is true. We have already everywhere
discovered the principle of individual and private initiative to be the
great strength of the American state; the community is to act only when
the strength of the individual is not sufficient. And the American
believes in self-help in still another sense. He teaches his children to
think early of economic independence; the sons even of the wealthy man
are to begin with a small income and work up for themselves. Here the
traditions of the pioneers are in a way perpetuated, for they had to
conquer the soil by their own hard work. This training in self-help has
contributed very much to make the American strong, and will doubtless
continue to be regarded as the proper plan of education, however much
the increasing prosperity may tend in the opposite direction.
On the other hand, the motto “Help yourself” is thoroughly misleading,
if it is taken to mean that every one must help himself because his
neighbour will not help him. A readiness to help in every way is one of
the most marked traits of the American, from the superficial courtesy to
the noblest self-sacrifice. The American’s unlimited hospitality is well
known. Where it is a question of mutual social intercourse, hospitality
is no special virtue, and the lavish extravagance of present-day
hospitality is rather a mistake. But it is different when the guest is a
stranger, who has brought, perhaps, merely a short note of introduction.
The heartiness with which such an one is promptly taken into the house
and provided with every sort of convenience, arises from a much deeper
impulse than mere delight in well-to-do sociability. In the large
cities, the American affords his guests such lodging and entertainment
as a European is accustomed to bestow only in the country.
More or less remotely, all hospitality involves an idea of exchange; the
entirely one-sided devotion begins first in philanthropy. When men feel
themselves essentially equal, they may welcome external dissimilarities
which incite them to redoubled efforts; but they will not like to see
this unlikeness go beyond a certain point. Differences of power,
education, and wealth are necessary to keep the social machinery moving;
but there is a certain lower boundary where helplessness, illiteracy,
and poverty do really threaten the true personality. And then the whole
significance of social community is lost. One’s neighbour must not be
debased nor deprived by outward circumstances of his inner self; he must
have at once the means of working for culture and striving for power and
possessions. Otherwise, an inner unlikeness would arise which would have
to be recognized, and which would then contradict the presuppositions of
democratic society. The feeling of justice is aroused at the sight of
helplessness, the desire for reform at the sight of illiteracy; and
poverty inspires eager assistance.
In its outward effects social helpfulness amounts to the same as
religious benevolence, although they are at bottom far removed, and
their difference may be recognized, however much they work into one
another. In the world of self-perfection there is pity for the needy,
and benevolence is offered as a religious sacrifice. In the world of
self-assertion, the consciousness of right is uppermost, which will not
suffer the debasing influence of poverty; and here benevolence is felt
as a social duty by the performance of which social equality is
preserved. It is a natural consequence of pity and sacrifice to
encourage beggary and unsystematic alms-giving; and the fact that in
America everything is directed against beggary and against letting
anybody feel that he is receiving alms, speaks for the predominance of
the social over the religious motive in America. The one who receives
alms lowers himself, while the true social purpose is not in the
charitable intent to help up the fallen, but to protect the social
organism from the pathological symptom of such debasement; the belief in
equality and the right of self-assertion must not be taken from any
individual in America. The other extreme, state aid, legal enactments,
or illness and accident insurance, or insurance against old age or lack
of employment, would be politically impossible. They would be an attempt
on the individual’s right of self-determination, which would be opposed
for the sake of principle. The American social system demands, rather,
development along a line somewhere between individual alms-giving and
government insurance. It is a question of creating permanent social
organizations to do away with poverty, illness, depravity, crime, and
distress in a systematic, intelligent fashion.
The connection with the state would thus be preserved, since the state
poor-laws supervise and regulate such organizations; on the other hand,
the connection with individuals would be preserved, since they derive
most of their means from private gifts and enlist a great deal of
personal service, particularly that of women. Besides these private and
semi-public organizations, there is the co-operation of certain state
institutions on the one hand, and on the other of quiet individual
benevolence, for which any amount of organization always leaves plenty
of scope. Care of the poor and of children, social settlements and
educational funds, whatever the forms of helpfulness, the same spirit of
almost exaggerated benevolence inspires the gift of unlimited money,
advice, time, and strength. Philanthropy could be improved in its
outward technique in many states. Too often politics have a disturbing
influence; inexperience and religious narrowness are in evidence;
efforts are sometimes directed partly against one another; and many
conditions of distress arising from the mixed population of the great
thinly settled tracts of land, present problems which are still
unsolved. But this has nothing to do with the recognition of the
benevolent traits of American character.
The readiness of the American to give to good purposes is the more
impressive the closer one looks. From a distance, one sees gifts of
millions of dollars which less impress one; everybody knows that men
like Carnegie, Rockefeller, and Vanderbilt make no sacrifices in
contributing sums even in seven figures. But the person who is nearer
the scene observes that there is also the widow’s mite, and that the
well-to-do middle class often gives away a proportion of its income that
seems almost too large, according to European ideas. And this giving is
never a thoughtless throwing away; the giver always investigates. Almost
everybody has a special interest, where he fulfils his benevolent duties
thoughtfully and intelligently, Vanity hardly figures at all; the
largest gifts are often anonymous and unheard of by the newspapers.
Those who are often in the position of appealing to American public
spirit for good purposes, soon lose the feeling that they are reminding
the public of a duty or asking for an offering. The American gives in a
way which suggests that he is delighted to be called on for so worthy a
cause; he often adds a word of thanks to a contribution which is larger
than was expected, for having his attention called to the cause in hand.
And his benevolence is not all a matter of the check-book. Whether the
wind has blown some one’s hat off in the street, or some greater
mischance has brought unhappiness, the American feels that he lives in
the midst of a kindly disposed community. A feeling of comradeship is
always more or less in evidence. In any case of sudden accident or
misfortune, the way in which the American unselfishly lends a hand, or
the crowd instinctively organizes itself to give aid, always astonishes
a newcomer.
This fundamental motive shows itself in many ways; magnanimity is one of
the most characteristic variations. The American takes no advantage of
the weakness or misfortune of another; he likes competition, but that
presupposes that the competitors have equal advantages. An opponent’s
disadvantage takes away the pleasure of victory. During the Spanish War,
the ovations accorded to the Spanish “heroes” were often decidedly
beyond the limits of good taste; and even during the Civil War, when the
embitterment was extreme, people outdid themselves in their kind
treatment of the prisoners. And leading men of the North have lately
proposed, in spirited public addresses, to erect a national monument to
General Lee, the great leader of the Southern States. As in war so it is
in peace. The presidential candidates of the two parties arranged some
years ago to speak in the same places during the same week; but one of
them was detained by illness in his family, and the other cancelled his
speeches in order not to profit by the misfortune of his opponent. In
the case of a difference of opinion which is settled by vote, say in a
small club or committee meeting, the cheerful submission of the minority
is generally surpassed by the magnanimity of the majority.
This same magnanimity is shown in helping the weak; there are no
better-natured, more considerate, and patient people than the American,
so long as the social side of life is in question. Their temperamental
coolness and humour stand them in good stead. At bottom it is the
feeling that they are all equal, and that if one has made a miss-step
to-day and needs help, one needed it one’s self yesterday, and may need
it again to-morrow. The accident that one is doing one’s duty at the
moment while another is careless, indiscreet, or foolish is not to be
magnified nor taken to mean that one’s self is a better sort of a man.
Such kindliness greatly makes for general informality.
Among the current complaints of Europeans is, that the American life
lacks just this serene cordiality, the German Gemütlichkeit. It is true,
indeed, that the rhythm of American life is quicker and more energetic;
so that the stranger, until he has become accustomed to the more
strenuous pace, remains at first oppressed by a disagreeable sense of
haste; just as the American who visits Germany has at first a
disagreeable feeling of hide-bound pedantry and careless indifference.
Such a first impression is superficial. As soon as the American is
adapted to the adagio of German life, he feels that the slowness is not
carelessness; and the German, when he has learned the smarter marching
time of American life, knows in the same way that the quick, strong
accent by no means excludes serenity and comfort. It is true that in the
two countries these feelings are differently distributed. The German
Christmas-tide is certainly more fervent and serene than the American,
but it is a question whether German popular life has any holiday more
warmly solemnized than the Thanksgiving Day of New England. The American
nature favours a purely social comfort which has less to do with
sentiment and feeling than with the sense of affiliation.
German informality develops itself always among social equals, because
in Germany social differences seem to extend to the deepest traits of
personality; but social distinctions do not stand in the way of the
sympathetic intercourse of Americans, because they hardly ever forget
that such differences are external. In this sense the South German
enjoys more Gemütlichkeit than the North German, and the American more
than any European. The most indiscriminately chosen group can be brought
to a unity of feeling by the merest comical or pathetic accident, so
that all social distinctions fall away like dead leaves. In the most
dignified assembly, as at the busiest office, a single word or jest
creates unconsciously a sympathetic mood, in which the youngest
messenger and the most important director come at once into equality. A
feeling runs through the whole social life, as if one would like to say,
with a jovial wink, that no one believes really in all the social
distinctions, but is looking for what is good in the inner personality.
The most energetic expression of this inner striving for equality lies
in the feeling of justice. There is no province in which American and
German feelings are so different. This is especially true in the matter
of penal law. A crime is naturally a crime here as there, and the
differences in penalty are mainly due to different political, social,
and industrial institutions. The American is perhaps astonished at the
rigour of German law regarding the press or _lèse majesté_, and at the
mild punishment for duelling, or certain social delinquencies; while the
German is amazed at the severe American laws relating to temperance and
at the mild punishment for slander of officials, etc. But all this does
not show the least difference in the sense of justice, but only in the
institution. The real difference is deeper. The German, we might say,
lays the chief emphasis in seeing to it that on no account a criminal
shall evade the law, while the American will on no account let an
innocent man be punished. It is a matter of course that every social
community includes delinquents, and that for the protection of society a
penal code must do its best to suppress, to intimidate, or to improve
the lawless will. But in view of such necessary machinery, the American
feels that every effort should be made that his guiltless neighbour
shall not be molested, since the neighbour is one like himself. It is
better for a hundred guilty persons to escape the punishment they
deserve than for a single innocent person to be in the least aggrieved.
The real distinctions, therefore, do not lie in the penal code, but in
the way it is administered; to put it extremely, the German who is
accused is guilty until he proves his innocence, while the American is
innocent until he is proved guilty. A single example will make the
matter clear. Any one in the United States who has been charged with
murder or any other misdeed and on trial found not guilty, can never
again during his whole life be tried for the same crime; not even if
entirely new and convincing evidence comes up later, nor even if he
should himself confess the crime. The American jurist says that the
state has been given sufficient opportunity to prove the defendant’s
guilt. If the counsel of the state as plaintiff has not been able to
convince the jury, the accused man is legally innocent, and is protected
as a matter of principle from the dread of any renewal of the
accusation. In American legal opinion the German method of procedure
involves a certain arbitrariness, which according to the opinion of many
lawyers, is tolerated in Germany only because of the admirable quality
of the judges. American jurists say that about half of the testimony
admitted in the German court-room, and two-thirds admitted in the
French, are entirely incompatible with the legal supposition that every
man is innocent until proved guilty.
The different use of the oath is also characteristic of these two
countries. The sworn testimony on the basis of “information and belief”
is admitted without more ado, and so two contradictory pieces of
evidence under oath are not only admissible, but are very common; and
the German acceptance of the oath of one party and exclusion of that of
the other seems a downright impossibility from the point of view of
American law. In the same category is the requirement that the verdict
of the jury shall be unanimous. The twelve jurymen may not leave the
court except under surveillance until they have pronounced the verdict;
and thus it happens that they often have to sleep and eat for days in
the court house in order to be guarded from outside influences. If after
all they can come to no agreement, the case is dropped and the situation
remains exactly as it was before the trial; and the state attorney is
free to bring a new accusation. Only an unanimous “guilty” or “not
guilty” can be accepted. In this connection, too, is found the unusual
significance of the judicial injunctions, and especially of the writ of
habeas corpus, derived from Magna Charta, which says that no free man is
to be deprived of life, liberty, or property, except according to the
law of the land and by the verdict of his peers.
On looking over the judicial practice of the country as a whole, one
will feel, quite as in Germany, that this great machinery succeeds in
punishing crime and protecting society; but in America the instinctive
fear of the law is accompanied by a profounder feeling that any innocent
man is perfectly safe. Every trial shows, in a way, most clearly the
negative side of the process, that the rights of the defendant are to be
carefully protected. And if a newcomer in the country recalls certain
exaggerated reports in German newspapers of corruption in American
courts, he should bear in mind the words of Choate. Shortly before going
as ambassador to England, he made a speech before a society of jurists,
of which he was president, on the advantages and disadvantages of trial
by jury. As to the theoretical possibility of bribery in such cases, he
said that he could pass the matter over, since, during his experience of
forty years in law, he had not seen a single case in which even one
member of any jury had been accused of having been bribed. Unreliability
in the administration of justice would do away at once with the
fundamental principle of American social life. When men believe
sincerely in their equality, they naturally develop a strong sense of
justice, and regard the protection of the innocent man against every
sort of prejudice, hostility, dislike, or disregard as the very highest
function of the law.
We have depicted the brighter side of the American sense of equality,
and may now, with a few strokes, put in the shadows. No one has denied
that there are unfortunate features, although some assert that they must
be accepted or else more important advantages sacrificed. A stranger is
at once struck by the tendency to uniformity which arises from the
belief in general equality. The spirit of comradeship is unfavourable to
individual differentiation, no matter whether it is a question of a
man’s hat and necktie or his religion and his theory of the universe. He
is expected to demonstrate his uniformity by seeming no different from
every one else. In outward matters this monotony is considerably
favoured by industrial conditions, which produce staple articles in
great quantities and distribute them from one end of the country to
another. Exactly the same designs in fashion, arts and crafts, furniture
and machinery are put on exhibition at the same time in the show-windows
from New York to San Francisco. On the other hand, it is the economic
custom of the American to replace everything which he uses very
frequently. This is due to the cheapness of all manufactured articles
and the high price of the manual labour which is necessary to make
repairs. It is actually cheaper to buy new shoes and underclothing at
frequent intervals than to have the old ones mended, and this also
provides every man with the latest styles. If a new style of collar is
brought out to-day, there will, say among the thousands of Harvard
students, be hardly a hundred to-morrow wearing the old style. This
tendency is, of course, aided by the general prosperity, which enables
an unusually large proportion of persons to have considerably more than
they need, and to indulge, perhaps imitatively, in the fashionable
luxuries of the day.
As much as the general prosperity favours this rapid adoption of new
fashions, it is still clear that wealth might, in itself, also help its
possessors to distinguish themselves in outward ways; but this does not
happen in the United States by reason of these prevalent social ideals.
Now, the desire to do as others do affects even the inner life; one must
play the same game and must read the same novel, not because one thinks
it is better, but because others do it, and because one feels in inner
accord with the social community only by loving and hating the same
things as it. Those who do not like what others like, find themselves
extremists at once; they are instinctively held off by society as
bizarre or over-intense, and relegated to the social periphery. There
are too few intermediate stages between the many who follow one another
and the few who follow no one, and the finer shadings of personality are
too much lost in this way. Americans ape one another as the officers of
an army, and not merely in uniform, but in the adjustment of all their
habits and desires, until comradeship becomes sterile uniformity.
In many ways the American inventive talent tends to relieve the general
monotony. But this effort all the time to discover new solutions of this
or that social problem, new surprises, new entertainments, is itself
only a sort of game which is played at by all uniformly. The small city
imitates the large one, the rural population imitates the metropolitan;
no profession cares to keep its own social individuality; and the press
and politics of the entire country tend to obliterate all professional
and local differences in social life, and to make of the whole nation a
huge assembly of gentlemen and ladies who, whether high or low, desire
to be just gentlemen and ladies at large. It is still not difficult
to-day to distinguish a gentleman of Omaha from a New Yorker; but this
is in spite of the former, who, as a matter of principle, aims to
present the same appearance. East and West, and recently in both North
and South, one sees the same countenance, and it is seldom that one
hears something of an intelligent effort to kindle local sentiment in
contrast to national uniformity. There is an appeal to provincialism to
free itself from the system of empty mutual imitation, and yet everybody
must see that the profoundest instincts of this country are unfavourable
to the development of individual peculiarities.
The dangers of this uniformity are chiefly æsthetic, although it is not
to be forgotten that uniformity very easily grows into intellectual
mediocrity, and under some circumstances may bring about a certain
ethical listlessness. On the other hand, the unfavourable effects of
that good-nature which dominates American life are all of them ethical.
Their amiable good-nature is, in a certain sense, the great virtue of
the Americans; in another sense, their great failing. It is actually at
bottom his good-nature which permits him everywhere to overlook
carelessness and crookedness, and so opposes with a latent resistance
all efforts at reform. The individual, like the nation, has no gift for
being cross; men avoid for their own, but more especially for others’
sake, the disagreeable excitement. Since the country is prosperous and
the world wags pretty well, no one ought to grumble if he is now and
then imposed on, or if some one gets an advantage over him, or makes
misuse of power. Among comrades nobody ought to play the stern pontiff.