CHAPTER VI

THE THIRST FOR RIGHTEOUSNESS

Even as we pass by the joy and beauty of youth on the streets without

dreaming it is there, so we may hurry past the very presence of august

things without recognition. We may easily fail to sense those

spiritual realities, which, in every age, have haunted youth and

called to him without ceasing. Historians tell us that the

extraordinary advances in human progress have been made in those times

when "the ideals of freedom and law, of youth and beauty, of knowledge

and virtue, of humanity and religion, high things, the conflicts

between which have caused most of the disruptions and despondences of

human society, seem for a generation or two to lie in the same

direction."

Are we perhaps at least twice in life's journey dimly conscious of the

needlessness of this disruption and of the futility of the

despondency? Do we feel it first when young ourselves we long to

interrogate the "transfigured few" among our elders whom we believe to

be carrying forward affairs of gravest import? Failing to accomplish

this are we, for the second time, dogged by a sense of lost

opportunity, of needless waste and perplexity, when we too, as adults,

see again the dreams of youth in conflict with the efforts of our own

contemporaries? We see idealistic endeavor on the one hand lost in

ugly friction; the heat and burden of the day borne by mature men and

women on the other hand, increased by their consciousness of youth's

misunderstanding and high scorn. It may relieve the mind to break

forth in moments of irritation against "the folly of the coming

generation," but whoso pauses on his plodding way to call even his

youngest and rashest brother a fool, ruins thereby the joy of his

journey,--for youth is so vivid an element in life that unless it is

cherished, all the rest is spoiled. The most praiseworthy journey

grows dull and leaden unless companioned by youth's iridescent dreams.

Not only that, but the mature of each generation run a grave risk of

putting their efforts in a futile direction, in a blind alley as it

were, unless they can keep in touch with the youth of their own day

and know at least the trend in which eager dreams are driving

them--those dreams that fairly buffet our faces as we walk the city

streets.

At times every one possessed with a concern for social progress is

discouraged by the formless and unsubdued modern city, as he looks

upon that complicated life which drives men almost without their own

volition, that life of ingenuous enterprises, great ambitions,

political jealousies, where men tend to become mere "slaves of

possessions." Doubtless these striving men are full of weakness and

sensitiveness even when they rend each other, and are but caught in

the coils of circumstance; nevertheless, a serious attempt to ennoble

and enrich the content of city life that it may really fill the ample

space their ruthless wills have provided, means that we must call upon

energies other than theirs. When we count over the resources which are

at work "to make order out of casualty, beauty out of confusion,

justice, kindliness and mercy out of cruelty and inconsiderate

pressure," we find ourselves appealing to the confident spirit of

youth. We know that it is crude and filled with conflicting hopes,

some of them unworthy and most of them doomed to disappointment, yet

these young people have the advantage of "morning in their hearts";

they have such power of direct action, such ability to stand free from

fear, to break through life's trammelings, that in spite of ourselves

we become convinced that

"They to the disappointed earth shall give

The lives we meant to live."

That this solace comes to us only in fugitive moments, and is easily

misleading, may be urged as an excuse for our blindness and

insensitiveness to the august moral resources which the youth of each

city offers to those who are in the midst of the city's turmoil. A

further excuse is afforded in the fact that the form of the dreams for

beauty and righteousness change with each generation and that while it

is always difficult for the fathers to understand the sons, at those

periods when the demand of the young is one of social reconstruction,

the misunderstanding easily grows into bitterness.

The old desire to achieve, to improve the world, seizes the ardent

youth to-day with a stern command to bring about juster social

conditions. Youth's divine impatience with the world's inheritance of

wrong and injustice makes him scornful of "rose water for the plague"

prescriptions, and he insists upon something strenuous and vital.

One can find innumerable illustrations of this idealistic impatience

with existing conditions among the many Russian subjects found in the

foreign quarters of every American city. The idealism of these young

people might be utilized to a modification of our general culture and

point of view, somewhat as the influence of the young Germans who came

to America in the early fifties, bringing with them the hopes and

aspirations embodied in the revolutions of 1848, made a profound

impression upon the social and political institutions of America. Long

before they emigrated, thousands of Russian young people had been

caught up into the excitements and hopes of the Russian revolution in

Finland, in Poland, in the Russian cities, in the university towns.

Life had become intensified by the consciousness of the suffering and

starvation of millions of their fellow subjects. They had been living

with a sense of discipline and of preparation for a coming struggle

which, although grave in import, was vivid and adventurous. Their

minds had been seized by the first crude forms of social theory and

they had cherished a vague belief that they were the direct

instruments of a final and ideal social reconstruction. When they come

to America they sadly miss this sense of importance and participation

in a great and glorious conflict against a recognized enemy. Life

suddenly grows stale and unprofitable; the very spirit of tolerance

which characterizes American cities is that which strikes most

unbearably upon their ardent spirits. They look upon the indifference

all about them with an amazement which rapidly changes to irritation.

Some of them in a short time lose their ardor, others with incredible

rapidity make the adaptation between American conditions and their

store of enthusiasm, but hundreds of them remain restless and ill at

ease. Their only consolation, almost their only real companionship,

is when they meet in small groups for discussion or in larger groups

to welcome a well known revolutionist who brings them direct news from

the conflict, or when they arrange for a demonstration in memory of

"The Red Sunday" or the death of Gershuni. Such demonstrations,

however, are held in honor of men whose sense of justice was obliged

to seek an expression quite outside the regular channels of

established government. Knowing that Russia has forced thousands of

her subjects into this position, one would imagine that patriotic

teachers in America would be most desirous to turn into governmental

channels all that insatiable desire for juster relations in industrial

and political affairs. A distinct and well directed campaign is

necessary if this gallant enthusiasm is ever to be made part of that

old and still incomplete effort to embody in law--"the law that abides

and falters not, ages long"--the highest aspirations for justice.

Unfortunately, we do little or nothing with this splendid store of

youthful ardor and creative enthusiasm. Through its very isolation it

tends to intensify and turn in upon itself, and no direct effort is

made to moralize it, to discipline it, to make it operative upon the

life of the city. And yet it is, perhaps, what American cities need

above all else, for it is but too true that Democracy--"a people

ruling"--the very name of which the Greeks considered so beautiful, no

longer stirs the blood of the American youth, and that the real

enthusiasm for self-government must be found among the groups of young

immigrants who bring over with every ship a new cargo of democratic

aspirations. That many of these young men look for a consummation of

these aspirations to a social order of the future in which the

industrial system as well as government shall embody democratic

relations, simply shows that the doctrine of Democracy like any other

of the living faiths of men, is so essentially mystical that it

continually demands new formulation. To fail to recognize it in a new

form, to call it hard names, to refuse to receive it, may mean to

reject that which our fathers cherished and handed on as an

inheritance not only to be preserved but also to be developed.

We allow a great deal of this precious stuff--this _Welt-Schmerz_ of

which each generation has need--not only to go unutilized, but to work

havoc among the young people themselves. One of the saddest

illustrations of this, in my personal knowledge, was that of a young

Russian girl who lived with a group of her compatriots on the west

side of Chicago. She recently committed suicide at the same time that

several others in the group tried it and failed. One of these latter,

who afterwards talked freely of the motives which led her to this act,

said that there were no great issues at stake in this country; that

America was wholly commercial in its interests and absorbed in money

making; that Americans were not held together by any historic bonds

nor great mutual hopes, and were totally ignorant of the stirring

social and philosophic movements of Europe; that her life here had

been a long, dreary, economic struggle, unrelieved by any of the

higher interests; that she was tired of getting seventy-five cents for

trimming a hat that sold for twelve dollars and was to be put upon the

empty head of some one who had no concern for the welfare of the woman

who made it. The statement doubtless reflected something of "The

Sorrows of Werther," but the entire tone was nobler and more highly

socialized.

It is difficult to illustrate what might be accomplished by reducing

to action the ardor of those youths who so bitterly arraign our

present industrial order. While no part of the social system can be

changed rapidly, we would all admit that the present industrial

arrangements in America might be vastly improved and that we are

failing to meet the requirements of our industrial life with courage

and success simply because we do not realize that unless we establish

that humane legislation which has its roots in a consideration for

human life, our industrialism itself will suffer from inbreeding,

growing ever more unrestrained and ruthless. It would seem obvious

that in order to secure relief in a community dominated by industrial

ideals, an appeal must be made to the old spiritual sanctions for

human conduct, that we must reach motives more substantial and

enduring than the mere fleeting experiences of one phase of modern

industry which vainly imagines that its growth would be curtailed if

the welfare of its employees were guarded by the state. It would be an

interesting attempt to turn that youthful enthusiasm to the aid of one

of the most conservative of the present social efforts, the almost

world-wide movement to secure protective legislation for women and

children in industry, in which America is so behind the other nations.

Fourteen of the great European powers protect women from all night

work, from excessive labor by day, because paternalistic governments

prize the strength of women for the bearing and rearing of healthy

children to the state. And yet in a republic it is the citizens

themselves who must be convinced of the need of this protection unless

they would permit industry to maim the very mothers of the future.

In one year in the German Empire one hundred thousand children were

cared for through money paid from the State Insurance fund to their

widowed mothers or to their invalided fathers. And yet in the American

states it seems impossible to pass a most rudimentary employers'

liability act, which would be but the first step towards that code of

beneficent legislation which protects "the widow and fatherless" in

Germany and England. Certainly we shall have to bestir ourselves if we

would care for the victims of the industrial order as well as do other

nations. We shall be obliged speedily to realize that in order to

secure protective legislation from a governmental body in which the

most powerful interests represented are those of the producers and

transporters of manufactured goods, it will be necessary to exhort to

a care for the defenseless from the religious point of view. To take

even the non-commercial point of view would be to assert that

evolutionary progress assumes that a sound physique is the only secure

basis of life, and to guard the mothers of the race is simple sanity.

And yet from lack of preaching we do not unite for action because we

are not stirred to act at all, and protective legislation in America

is shamefully inadequate. Because it is always difficult to put the

championship of the oppressed above the counsels of prudence, we say

in despair sometimes that we are a people who hold such varied creeds

that there are not enough of one religious faith to secure anything,

but the truth is that it is easy to unite for action people whose

hearts have once been filled by the fervor of that willing devotion

which may easily be generated in the youthful breast. It is

comparatively easy to enlarge a moral concept, but extremely difficult

to give it to an adult for the first time. And yet when we attempt to

appeal to the old sanctions for disinterested conduct, the conclusion

is often forced upon us that they have not been engrained into

character, that they cannot be relied upon when they are brought into

contact with the arguments of industrialism, that the colors of the

flag flying over the fort of our spiritual resources wash out and

disappear when the storm actually breaks. It is because the ardor of

youth has not been attracted to the long effort to modify the

ruthlessness of industry by humane enactments, that we sadly miss

their resourceful enthusiasm and that at the same time groups of young

people who hunger and thirst after social righteousness are breaking

their hearts because the social reform is so long delayed and an

unsympathetic and hardhearted society frustrates all their hopes. And

yet these ardent young people who obscure the issue by their crying

and striving and looking in the wrong place, might be of inestimable

value if so-called political leaders were in any sense social

philosophers. To permit these young people to separate themselves from

the contemporaneous efforts of ameliorating society and to turn their

vague hopes solely toward an ideal commonwealth of the future, is to

withdraw from an experimental self-government founded in enthusiasm,

the very stores of enthusiasm which are needed to sustain it. The

championship of the oppressed came to be a spiritual passion with the

Hebrew prophets. They saw the promises of religion, not for

individuals but in the broad reaches of national affairs and in the

establishment of social justice. It is quite possible that such a

spiritual passion is again to be found among the ardent young souls of

our cities. They see a vision, not of a purified nation but of a

regenerated and a reorganized society. Shall we throw all this into

the future, into the futile prophecy of those who talk because they

cannot achieve, or shall we commingle their ardor, their overmastering

desire for social justice, with that more sober effort to modify

existing conditions? Are we once more forced to appeal to the

educators? Is it so difficult to utilize this ardor because educators

have failed to apprehend the spiritual quality of their task?

It would seem a golden opportunity for those to whom is committed the

task of spiritual instruction, for to preach and seek justice in human

affairs is one of the oldest obligations of religion and morality. All

that would be necessary would be to attach this teaching to the

contemporary world in such wise that the eager youth might feel a tug

upon his faculties, and a sense of participation in the moral life

about him. To leave it unattached to actual social movements means

that the moralist is speaking in incomprehensible terms. Without this

connection, the religious teachers may have conscientiously carried

out their traditional duties and yet have failed utterly to stir the

fires of spiritual enthusiasm.

Each generation of moralists and educators find themselves facing an

inevitable dilemma; first, to keep the young committed to their charge

"unspotted from the world," and, second, to connect the young with the

ruthless and materialistic world all about them in such wise that they

may make it the arena for their spiritual endeavor. It is fortunate

for these teachers that sometime during "The Golden Age" the most

prosaic youth is seized by a new interest in remote and universal

ends, and that if but given a clue by which he may connect his lofty

aims with his daily living, he himself will drag the very heavens into

the most sordid tenement. The perpetual difficulty consists in finding

the clue for him and placing it in his hands, for, if the teaching is

too detached from life, it does not result in any psychic impulsion at

all. I remember as an illustration of the saving power of this

definite connection, a tale told me by a distinguished labor leader in

England. His affections had been starved, even as a child, for he

knew nothing of his parents, his earliest memories being associated

with a wretched old woman who took the most casual care of him. When

he was nine years old he ran away to sea and for the next seven years

led the rough life of a dock laborer, until he became much interested

in a little crippled boy, who by the death of his father had been left

solitary on a freight boat. My English friend promptly adopted the

child as his own and all the questionings of life centered about his

young protégé. He was constantly driven to attend evening meetings

where he heard discussed those social conditions which bear so hard

upon the weak and sick. The crippled boy lived until he was fifteen

and by that time the regeneration of his foster father was complete,

the young docker was committed for life to the bettering of social

conditions. It is doubtful whether any abstract moral appeal could

have reached such a roving nature. Certainly no attempt to incite his

ambition would have succeeded. Only a pull upon his deepest sympathies

and affections, his desire to protect and cherish a weaker thing,

could possibly have stimulated him and connected him with the forces

making for moral and social progress.

This, of course, has ever been the task of religion, to make the sense

of obligation personal, to touch morality with enthusiasm, to bathe

the world in affection--and on all sides we are challenging the

teachers of religion to perform this task for the youth of the city.

For thousands of years definite religious instruction has been given

by authorized agents to the youth of all nations, emphasized through

tribal ceremonials, the assumption of the Roman toga, the Barmitzvah

of the Jews, the First Communion of thousands of children in Catholic

Europe, the Sunday Schools of even the least formal of the evangelical

sects. It is as if men had always felt that this expanding period of

human life must be seized upon for spiritual ends, that the tender

tissue and newly awakened emotions must be made the repository for the

historic ideals and dogmas which are, after all, the most precious

possessions of the race. How has it come about that so many of the

city youth are not given their share in our common inheritance of

life's best goods? Why are their tender feet so often ensnared even

when they are going about youth's legitimate business? One would

suppose that in such an age as ours moral teachers would be put upon

their mettle, that moral authority would be forced to speak with no

uncertain sound if only to be heard above the din of machinery and the

roar of industrialism; that it would have exerted itself as never

before to convince the youth of the reality of the spiritual life.

Affrighted as the moralists must be by the sudden new emphasis placed

upon wealth, despairing of the older men and women who are already

caught by its rewards, one would say that they would have seized upon

the multitude of young people whose minds are busied with issues which

lie beyond the portals of life, as the only resource which might save

the city from the fate of those who perish through lack of vision.

Yet because this inheritance has not been attached to conduct, the

youth of Jewish birth may have been taught that prophets and statesmen

for three thousand years declared Jehovah to be a God of Justice who

hated oppression and desired righteousness, but there is no real

appeal to his spirit of moral adventure unless he is told that the

most stirring attempts to translate justice into the modern social

order have been inaugurated and carried forward by men of his own

race, and that until he joins in the contemporary manifestations of

that attempt he is recreant to his highest traditions and obligations.

The Christian youth may have been taught that man's heartbreaking

adventure to find justice in the order of the universe moved the God

of Heaven himself to send a Mediator in order that the justice man

craves and the mercy by which alone he can endure his weakness might

be reconciled, but he will not make the doctrine his own until he

reduces it to action and tries to translate the spirit of his Master

into social terms.

The youth who calls himself an "Evolutionist"--it is rather hard to

find a name for this youth, but there are thousands of him and a fine

fellow he often is--has read of that struggle beginning with the

earliest tribal effort to establish just relations between man and

man, but he still needs to be told that after all justice can only be

worked out upon this earth by those who will not tolerate a wrong to

the feeblest member of the community, and that it will become a social

force only in proportion as men steadfastly strive to establish it.

If these young people who are subjected to varied religious

instruction are also stirred to action, or rather, if the instruction

is given validity because it is attached to conduct, then it may be

comparatively easy to bring about certain social reforms so sorely

needed in our industrial cities. We are at times obliged to admit,

however, that both the school and the church have failed to perform

this office, and are indicted by the young people themselves.

Thousands of young people in every great city are either frankly

hedonistic, or are vainly attempting to work out for themselves a

satisfactory code of morals. They cast about in all directions for the

clue which shall connect their loftiest hopes with their actual

living.

Several years ago a committee of lads came to see me in order to

complain of a certain high school principal because "He never talks

to us about life." When urged to make a clearer statement, they added,

"He never asks us what we are going to be; we can't get a word out of

him, excepting lessons and keeping quiet in the halls."

Of the dozens of young women who have begged me to make a connection

for them between their dreams of social usefulness and their actual

living, I recall one of the many whom I had sent back to her

clergyman, returning with this remark: "His only suggestion was that I

should be responsible every Sunday for fresh flowers upon the altar. I

did that when I was fifteen and liked it then, but when you have come

back from college and are twenty-two years old, it doesn't quite fit

in with the vigorous efforts you have been told are necessary in order

to make our social relations more Christian."

All of us forget how very early we are in the experiment of founding

self-government in this trying climate of America, and that we are

making the experiment in the most materialistic period of all history,

having as our court of last appeal against that materialism only the

wonderful and inexplicable instinct for justice which resides in the

hearts of men,--which is never so irresistible as when the heart is

young. We may cultivate this most precious possession, or we may

disregard it. We may listen to the young voices rising--clear above

the roar of industrialism and the prudent councils of commerce, or we

may become hypnotized by the sudden new emphasis placed upon wealth

and power, and forget the supremacy of spiritual forces in men's

affairs. It is as if we ignored a wistful, over-confident creature who

walked through our city streets calling out, "I am the spirit of

Youth! With me, all things are possible!" We fail to understand what

he wants or even to see his doings, although his acts are pregnant

with meaning, and we may either translate them into a sordid chronicle

of petty vice or turn them into a solemn school for civic

righteousness.

We may either smother the divine fire of youth or we may feed it. We

may either stand stupidly staring as it sinks into a murky fire of

crime and flares into the intermittent blaze of folly or we may tend

it into a lambent flame with power to make clean and bright our dingy

city streets.

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Printed in the United States of America.

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