[Sidenote: A Vain Seeking]
The recent announcements by several men of science that they believe
that they have sure proofs of the immortality of the soul may not be
so important as they seem to the gentlemen who make them, but at least
they are interesting. The proofs that are relied upon are chiefly
communications received through mediums, which are said to be so
remarkable in the knowledge which they imply, that those who receive
them are driven to conclude that they come from the spirits of persons
who lately lived on earth. To the average observer spiritualism seems
a labyrinth of frauds and mysteries, some deep, some shallow, wherein
those who wander grope from delusion to delusion, and arrive nowhere.
The cry is not so much that all spiritualism is false, as that whether
false or not it is all unprofitable. That is the usual attitude the
intelligent public has toward it, and it is based on observation which
is wide if not profound. For though we hear of reputations damaged and
lives apparently misdirected as a result of spiritualistic experiments,
we rarely hear of persons whom spiritualism has helped. The quest seems
trivial and disconcerting; not useful.
Few of us think that spiritualism will ever prove the immortality
of the soul to the satisfaction of the scientific mind. Still when
Professor Hyslop of Columbia University declares that that very thing
is about to be done, we are quite ready to give him our attention.
We have heard before of Mrs. Piper, the Cambridge medium, who has
been for ten or twelve years in the charge of the Psychical Research
Society. We know that she is looked upon as a remarkable medium, and
that the closest watching for years past has failed to detect her in
deceit. It is through her Professor Hyslop says that the proofs which
he finds satisfactory have come. They have come then by a notable and
reputable route, and they are indorsed by an observer whose indorsement
is probably as good as can be given, for Professor Hyslop is not only
a man of high character but of a ripe experience in matters of this
sort. Psychology is his specialty. He knows the tricks of commercial
spiritualism, and has often detected and exposed them. It is human to
err, and it is entirely possible that his certainties may turn vague
on exposure, and that his conclusions will not stand; but certainly his
proofs deserve and will receive respectful inspection.
But, of course, the question is not whether or not we are going
to believe the soul immortal, but merely whether we shall consider
that these newly advertised proofs of it are worth anything. Most of
us instinctively believe in a future life as it is, and will go on
believing in it however new proofs may triumph or fail. We think there
must be a future life. It is not improbable. What is grossly improbable
is that there is none. The wonder is not that there should seem to be
feeble glimmerings of intercourse between us who are still here and
those who have gone before. The wonder is that it has proved to be so
extraordinarily difficult to speak across a grave. Professor Hyslop has
probability overwhelmingly with him in his general contention. If we
are not agitated by his promises and impatient to read his disclosures,
it is because proofs of the sort he deals with have heretofore been
inconclusive and disappointing. For some reason the life of earth seems
to have been isolated. We scarcely even dream of what life may have
preceded it, and though we do dream much about the life that is to
follow, we gather surprisingly little information about it. Still, all
knowledge is hidden from man until he finds it out. It is not forbidden
to him to discover the secrets of earth. Who shall say that it is
unlawful to go farther, if he can, and pry into the mysteries that seem
to lie outside of earth? Is it trespassing to seek for sure tokens of
another life? Who shall say so? The most that conservative observers may
say is that, so far, spiritualism has seemed trivial, misleading, and
inexpedient. That demoralization, if not madness, has seemed to lie that
way; and that those who have been content to go about their business
here, taking the future life on trust, have seemed to fare better than
those who have directed earthly energies into a search for proofs of
unearthly facts.
It may be that science is about to buttress the edifice that faith has
reared; but proofs or no proofs, most of us will continue to read "to be
continued" at the bottom of the page of this life, and simply wait, each
for himself, for the page to be turned. The story does not conclude: it
simply breaks off. Of course there will be more of it.
* * * * *
During the recent war with Spain, a statement often made was that women
were more in favor of it than men. If its truth or falsity cannot be
determined, one may wonder at least how there could have been the
slightest justification for it. Hardly any fact in history thrusts
itself to the front more persistently and conspicuously than the evils
that war brings upon women. Not even the men that bear the brunt of
battle pay a greater tribute to Mars than they. To be sure, they do
not to-day as in the past fall a prey to a savage soldiery. "Civilized
warfare" has done much for them, as it has for men. But there are
still moral, intellectual, and economic effects that ought to make them
all members of peace societies and ardent advocates of international
arbitration.
Several hundred thousand men cannot be withdrawn from the industrial
pursuits of a country and assigned to the work of destruction, or
to preparations for it, without a profound disturbance. The greatest
harm thus wrought is not the enormous waste, positive and negative—the
unproductive consumption, as the economists call it, and the check to
the production of so many toilers; it is the diversion of women from the
lighter duties that belong to them to the heavier ones that belong to
men. Whenever or wherever war has levied on the workshop and the field,
they have had to fill the vacant places. It is not the savage alone that
becomes lost to the feeling of courtesy and humanity and turns his women
into beasts of burden. The most enlightened nations commit the same
barbarous offence. The drain upon the English working-classes during the
Napoleonic wars forced even young children into the exhausting work of
adults, leading to a physical degeneracy that was thought to threaten
the primacy of the Anglo-Saxon. How many American tourists in Europe
realize the terrible significance of the spectacle of women toiling
in the fields or dragging through the streets a heavily laden cart?
To most of them it seems rather picturesque and attractive. Yet it is
the reverse of the medal that commemorates some great battle or some
military genius.
In all militant countries, the soldier is the ideal man. His is the most
honorable business. Whoever does not bear arms or is unable to endure
the hardships of a campaign sinks to a lower level. But no class is
thrust into a more intolerable position by this false test of social
worth than women. A double stigma attaches to them—that of weakness and
that of toilers. Only as mothers of soldiers do they hold a place in
public esteem. Napoleon's idea of the noblest woman was she that bore
the greatest number of children for his armies. The idea of the present
Emperor of Germany is much the same. "_Küche, Kirche, Kinder_," is the
alliterative description attributed to him of the narrow sphere in which
he would have them move. Little wonder, therefore, that the condition
of the women in the military countries of Europe differs but little
from that ignoble ideal. Little wonder, too, that American women that
transplant themselves by marriage to the countries where it prevails
often find that they have sold their birthright for a mess of pottage.
It is a commonplace of sociology that intellectual as well as political
despotism is born of war. When a nation is engaged in a desperate
struggle with an enemy, the central power must be invested, under
penalty of defeat, with all the authority needful to wield effectively
the resources of the state. Besides drafting soldiers and levying taxes,
it crushes opposition and criticism. The result is that in countries
like Russia and Germany, freedom of thought and action has still to
be won. Especially is it so in all that relates, even remotely, to
politics. But the rights denied to women include many not denied to
men. Despite German universities, German science, German philosophy,
and German culture in every direction, about which so much is said in
glowing praise, the women of the Fatherland are still in the shackles
forged by feudalism and despotism. The temples of learning are closed
against them. The right of the toilers among them to become associated
together to better their condition is repressed. Only as they move
in the narrow circle drawn by the soldier can they escape the look of
amazement that might be bestowed upon any freak of nature.
Militarism works equal havoc in the moral and spiritual domain. Recently
Count Tolstoi described the deplorable condition of the inhabitants of
the famous black-earth region. The startling feature of his powerful
picture of these victims of military despotism was the apathy,
melancholy, and fatalism that have seized them. Perhaps the Russian
women do not have to bear more than the men; but since they belong to
the more fragile sex, they are less able to bear it. As in France during
the last years of the Grand Monarch, the share of the fruits of toil
taken by the government to support armies of soldiers and officials
has become so large that these unfortunate people are constantly on the
verge of starvation. Their normal diet is a third less than sufficient
to maintain health and strength. They are not simply weakened by the
lack of food—they are paralyzed by the outlook that however much they
may exert themselves, they cannot better their condition. "Why should
we trouble ourselves?" they say. "We shall not get fat. If we can only
live." Bending under this despairing thought, they take little interest
in their task. They avail themselves of no discovery and no invention
that will make it easier or more profitable. With their primitive plough
and staggering horse, they move slowly and drearily over their fields,
glad when night comes to deliver them from their thraldom and sad when
morning breaks to renew it. The priests themselves testify to their
indifference to the consolations of religion. Aside from their desire to
get enough to keep them alive, they have no other but to forget their
sufferings and disappointments. When surcease is not sought in the
natural sleep that comes from heavy toil, it is sought in deep draughts
of Russian spirits.
The degradation of character due to militarism takes many forms. There
is the vicious ethics of war carried into social and industrial life.
The deceit and fraud, more common in militant countries than in pacific,
are evils that women must endure with men. There are the callousness
and cruelty of war, from which they suffer far mere than men. There is,
finally, the moral laxity of war. The full story of the sufferings of
women from this cause cannot be written. The standing armies of Europe
spread a poison that penetrates the remotest corner of the social
fabric. No class escapes it. The gallantry of officers is notorious.
Not less so are their mercenary marriages. Among the rank and file
occur those illegitimate unions common to every garrison town. Among the
toilers the same evil prevails. Militarism acts directly and indirectly
to make them unwilling to assume the responsibilities of marriage. How
serious this evil has become may be gathered from the report of Dr.
Hirscherberg, of Berlin. In that city alone in 1897, 8,000 victims
of these _Arbeiter-Ehen_, as they are called, who had been deserted
by their companions, appealed for public relief. In 1895 the number
reached 12,000. But Berlin is not the only capital thronging with these
unfortunates. They crowd the dark corners of the cities of all the
militant countries of Europe.
[Illustration]