Kitabı oku: «Belford's Magazine, Vol II, No. 10, March 1889», sayfa 7

VACANT PEWS AND WORRIED PULPITS

The homes, so called, of our larger cities are in a majority of cases without comfort, and in nearly all instances without refinement. The class upon which we once so prided ourselves, made up of families possessed of a competence, and enabled through a reasonable income from steady work to have about their homes some comfort and a few luxuries, is rapidly disappearing. We have left us two classes only, made up of the very rich and the poor. The merchant, the mechanic, and even the common laborer, who once could boast of a humble home of his own, and enough steady employment to make that home comfortable, is rarely met with. We believe indeed that he exists only in the imagination of Senator Edmunds. Well-authenticated statistics inform us that we have a larger percentage of tenantry to our population than any people on the face of the earth. This not only includes our great commercial, mining, and manufacturing centres, but the rural regions as well. We learn that, throughout the agricultural regions, while the farms lessen in number, the farmers increase.

We know what this means. We recognize at a glance that the growth of our country in national wealth, which is claimed to be amazing, is not a healthy growth. For that is not healthy which gives prosperity to a few and poverty to the masses.

This has been so long and so generally recognized that it has come to be commonplace, and people weary of its reiteration. We indulge in this weariness for the purpose of calling attention to a consequence that is not so familiar.

It is remarked by observant lookers-on from abroad that our laboring classes are thoroughly ignorant of art, and take no pleasure in contemplating works of art, as do the like classes in the towns of Europe. The reason given for this is that we have no specimens in our highways, and few in galleries. The latter are closed against the laboring classes on the only day a laborer can have to visit them, and that is Sunday.

The wrong done our people by this can scarcely be overestimated. A taste for art can generally be cultivated. It is quite impossible to educate a people in science and literature, for this depends on intellectual faculties that our heavenly Father, from a wise purpose to us unknown, has been very sparing in distributing. But almost every man is capable of being taught to admire, if not love, the beautiful in art. What an element in the way of social improvement or progress this cultivated taste is we all recognize, and what happens to a race that neglects it we all know.

Now, it is possible for a people to possess the highest appreciation of, and admiration for, art and yet be semi-barbarous, for the Christian element is necessary to bring about real civilization; but it is quite impossible for a race to be without some cultivation in the way of art and be civilized at all.

It is not strange, to a thoughtful observer, to note that as a nation we are on the down-grade. Such an observer from abroad cannot cross Broadway, for example, without learning that life and limb are in peril from a community that has more law and less order than any people the world over. He is prepared to learn then that our galleries of art – such as exist – are closed against the poor, and he is ready to receive without wonder the further fact that our churches also are closed against the poor.

It is this last truth that is somewhat new in the way of being recognized, although quite old as a matter of fact.

At a convocation of Protestant ministers held at Chickering Hall last November, on behalf of the Protestant community of New York, the following was officially stated as to the religious condition of the city:

"The population of New York City has for years been steadily and rapidly increasing, while at the same time the number of churches has been relatively decreasing. In 1840 there was one Protestant church to every 2,400 people; in 1880, one to 3,000; and in 1887, one to 4,000."

Now, to this startling admission could have been added another, no less deplorable, and that is that the attendance has decreased more rapidly than the churches, and, in such as now remain open a seventh part of the time, there is an exhibit of empty seats quite depressing to the minister. If we consider the Protestant population only, not one-tenth are church attendants – and not a tenth of these are true believers.

The reason for this deplorable condition was much discussed by the good men making up the clerical convention, and the prevailing opinion seemed to be, as gathered from the utterances, that this disheartening result came from the active interference of the Catholic clergy – or papists, as our friends termed them.

There was much truth in this. These zealous "papists" are certainly making great inroads upon our population; but, admitting that they take large numbers from the Protestant churches, there yet remains a vast population of non-going church people that the so-called papists have not influenced, nor indeed as yet approached. What then is the cause of this irreligious condition?

We believe that we can help our clerical friends to a solution of this religious mystery. It comes from a lack of consideration for the masses they seek to instruct. There is a want of sympathy for the poor, that not only shuts the galleries of art from the laboring classes, but closes the Protestant churches also.

These structures, while scarcely to be classed as works of art, – for they are carefully divested of all that appeals to good taste, – are yet luxurious affairs at which the rich and well-born, in purple and fine linen, are expected to attend. They are more social than religious affairs, and there is no place for the ragged, even if such appeared from a public bath, duly cleansed of their offensive dirt. To make this exclusiveness complete, the churches are filled with pews that, like boxes at the opera, are the property of subscribers able to pay for such luxuries. True, certain pews are reserved as free seats for the poor; but the class sought thus to be accommodated are averse to being put in their poverty on exhibition, as it were, even for the luxury of hearing a solemn-toned clergyman whose theological gymnastics are as much beyond the comprehension of the hearers as they are beyond that of the reverend orator himself.

To realize our condition in this respect, let our reader imagine, if he can, our blessed Saviour and his apostles entering bodily, to-day, one of these edifices built to His worship. Weary and travel-stained, clad in the coarsest of garments, the procession would scarcely start along the dim-lit aisle before that austere creation of Nature in one of her most economical moods, the sexton, would hurry forward to repel further invasion of that most respectable sanctuary of God. Our Saviour would be informed that somewhere in the outlying spaces of poverty-stricken regions there was a mission-house suitable for such as He.

We must not be understood as intimating, let alone asseverating, aught against this form of Christianity. It is so much better than none that we feel kindly toward it. The religious evolution that develops a respectable sort of religious purity, that builds a marble pulpit and velvet-cushioned pews, is all well enough if it quiets the conscience and soothes with trust the death-bed of even a Dives. We regard a Salvation Army, that makes a burlesque of religion as it goes shouting with its toot-horns and stringed instruments, as to be tolerated, because it is better than the Bob Ingersolls. We only seek to inform the well-meaning teachers of the religion of to-day why it is they preach to empty pews.

Few of us are aware of what we are doing when we close our galleries and churches, and open our saloons to the poor. This last, so far, has proved impossible. But let our hot gospellers, whose creed is based on "Be-it-enacted," visit any one of the poor abodes of the laborers denied admission to innocent places of amusement on the only holiday they have for such recreation. Such investigator will descend to a subterranean excavation dug in the sewer-gas-filtered earth, where the walls sweat disease and death. These are homes for humanity. Or he will ascend rotten stairways to crowded rooms, heated to suffocation by pestilent air poisoned by over-used breath from men, women, and children, packed in regardless of health, comfort, and decency. These are the so-called homes of thousands and thousands: and the wonder is, not that they die, but that they live. We send millions of money with missionaries to foreign shores: to our own flesh and blood we send – the police. Loving care and patient help are bestowed on distant pagans: poor-houses, prisons, and wrath are the fate awarded to our brothers at home.

A little way from these abodes of misery and crime the saloon is open, with its gilded iniquity, warm, cheerful, and stimulated with liquid insanity in bottles and beer-kegs. Do we wonder that the churches are empty and the saloons crowded?

The advent of our blessed Saviour was heralded by the anthem of the heavenly hosts, that sang "Glory to God on high, and peace and good-will to men on earth." The few sad years of our Redeemer's life among men were passed with the poor, the sinful, and the sorrowing. We have to-day much glory to God on high, and no good-will to men on earth.

Your churches decrease in numbers as the population swells, O brethren, because of your lack of Christian sympathy!

THE TRUTH ABOUT SAMOA

It would be interesting to know at what precise period in Prince Bismarck's masterful career he first conceived the scheme of colonial empire which has grown to be an absorbing passion of his declining years. Probably it was about the time when he began to proclaim, with suspicious energy, that nothing was farther from his designs than to rival the achievements of Great Britain in the field which that nation had made almost exclusively its own. No modern statesman is better versed in the arts of diverting public attention from the enterprises he has resolved to prosecute with his utmost strength and skill. Events which rapidly followed the exhausting war of 1870 were calculated to admonish him that Germany's resources were insufficient to maintain her in the position of supremacy to which he had led her. The steady increase of emigration to America was one of the discomposing consequences of his splendid triumph, and the hope of retaining under German rule the tens of thousands of fighting men who annually deserted the fatherland may have been a powerful incentive to colonial development in various attractive parts of the world. Whatever the original impelling motives were, there is now no doubt that the plan of extending the German sway indefinitely by establishing vast settlements in regions yet uncivilized, and making them tributary to the glory and wealth of the empire he had created, took possession of the Chancellor's mind, a dozen or more years ago, with a tenacity which no discouragement or dissuasion has ever weakened. It was about that date that the unusual activity of German ships of war in the Oriental seas excited the watchfulness of European governments and provoked inquiries which led to singular disclosures. The methods of diplomatic investigation in the far East are in some respects different from those which prevail nearer home – possibly owing to a lack of facility in employing them where official scrutiny is close and constant; and it might be injudicious to examine too minutely the processes by which it became known that the guardian of Germany's destinies was engaged in maturing a plot of territorial aggrandizement the like of which has been devised by no other European statesmen in recent days, and which has been paralleled only by the vivid imagination of the first Napoleon. It was soon learned that of the numerous islands which constitute what is known as Polynesia, not one of value had escaped visitation by carefully selected explorers, whose errand it was to report upon the feasibility of eventually making the German flag supreme in the Southern Pacific, and delivering over enormous tracts of land to the domination of the German race.

A glance at a map of the world will show how immense the possibilities of conquest in the East are to one who has fixed his resolve upon unscrupulous annexation or absorption. The natives of these regions are incapable of resistance, and nothing but the combined opposition of European naval powers could ever stand in the way of the gigantic enterprise. Such opposition Germany has – or believes she has – little cause to fear. Some of the leading nations are bound to support her interests by alliances which they dare not break. France can interpose no obstacle that would be regarded with anxiety. Russia has no immediate concern in the Asian archipelagos, and any claim put forward by the United States would be rejected with derision. Great Britain alone remains, and against her interference the German rulers are confident that they have a sure safeguard in the traditional apprehension of Russian encroachments in the north and west of Asia. While England is straining her eyes to scan the slightest movement of the Czar toward China and Korea, and speculating incessantly upon the outcome of supposed intrigues which probably have no substantial existence, Germany considers herself secure from molestation in other quarters. It is quite as likely, however, that the rooted English conviction of German incapacity to conduct colonial operations may more reasonably account for the indifference to Bismarck's proceedings. From some cause, not yet clearly divulged, the Germans have certainly been permitted to pursue their audacious course with singular freedom from remonstrance. It cannot be surmised that the British authorities are ignorant of what is in progress. Even if they were unprovided with direct sources of information, there is enough in the avowed and unconcealed demonstrations of the past ten years to awaken jealousy. Without anything approaching a sound commercial basis for the undertaking, the far-seeing Chancellor has established a huge national steamship line, exceeding in length of route the extremest reach of the most important British maritime companies. From the Baltic ports this line runs southward, one arm extending through the Mediterranean and the Red Sea, and skirting the continent of Asia until it comes to an end in Korean waters, while the other embraces almost the entire coast of Africa, and, starting eastward, touches Australia, penetrates the great Malay group, and finds a convenient terminus in the Samoa Islands, concerning which so much futile discussion has been wasted in the last few months. All along the aforesaid African route the shores are dotted with German settlements, often planted in direct defiance of England's claim to priority, and maintained in spite of every form of protest. The British flag has been affronted under circumstances far more flagrant than the world suspects, yet the outrage has been passed over with careful avoidance of public scandal. Unless it is believed by the English government that Bismarck's mighty conception is destined to an ignominious collapse, – like an ill-balanced arch whose span is too ponderous for self-support, – it is difficult to conjecture the reasons for this prolonged submission to an insolent and unprecedented dictation.

But no apprehension of collapse disturbs the German statesman's undaunted soul. In his cabinet lie the maps of the reconstructed world, upon which the future dominions of his country equal in magnitude, if they do not surpass, those of the most extensive territorial powers. The course of operations with respect to each accession is plainly marked out, and to the fulfilment of the stupendous whole he and those who bear his name are unalterably pledged. It may be generations, even in his ambitious view, before the great result is attained, but no doubt of the final consummation is allowed to take shape among those who know the bent of the iron Chancellor's will. Meanwhile, effective measures are employed to try the temper and test the enduring faculties of the native races to be subdued. Cruelty and barbarity mark the German range of advancement, wherever their footsteps are imprinted. In Africa and in most parts of Asia their name is held in terror and abhorrence. They are uniformly represented by men of Bismarck's own stamp, who shrink from nothing that can accelerate the completion of their plans. The episode of Samoa affords a fair example of their intentions and their methods of execution. What is Samoa? Simply a strategic point of departure – a station that must be owned and held as a rallying-spot, a depot, and an arsenal. Having been once selected, it will never be surrendered, except under a pressure greater than the civilized world is willing or able, in Bismarck's belief, to concentrate upon such an object. The notion that the Washington government can exert the minutest influence is too groundless to be entertained by any person who has studied the situation. It is true that most of the European powers courteously abstain from offering opinions as to the result of American intervention, but the Chinese, who are aware of no reasons for reserve, openly laugh at it. The Japanese, more keenly alive to ultimate consequences, do not laugh, but are grievously concerned at the growing feebleness and irresolution of the only country that has ever permitted considerations of humanity to enter into its foreign policy. Russia – strangely or not, as the observer may choose to decide – is the sole great power that appears to cherish expectations of a future growth of American influence in the Eastern Hemisphere. German agents, acting under well-defined and easily comprehended instructions, omit no opportunity to belittle and degrade the reputation of the United States in all the districts which are included in the scope of Bismarck's magnificent projects.

But the reputation of this Republic, for good or evil, is not the question now under consideration. What we desire to point out is the uselessness of attempting to controvert, by ordinary diplomatic means, a scheme of wholesale aggrandizement to which the most resolute, unshrinking, and pitiless mind of this age devotes all its energy and all the instruments of material force now subject to its control. For a considerable time a certain amount of reticence will be deemed necessary, and the completest ignorance of the movement will be professed, especially by those who have been most actively concerned in the preparations. But the facts are known to so many who care nothing for the realization of Bismarck's hopes that the secret cannot long remain a close one. It is hardly to be supposed, however, that the fullest possible revelation, much as it might irritate him, would substantially modify his arrangements. It would perhaps retard them, and doubtless cause him to noisily disavow the whole proceeding; but the machinery would continue to move as surely and efficiently as ever toward the required end. This being understood, and thoughtfully considered as a firm and fixed purpose of the German rulers, to occupy as much of the coming century as is necessary for its execution, a sufficiently new light will be thrown upon the Samoan complication to show that instead of being a petty incident of international debate, it is in truth the opening scene of a great and portentous historical drama. To imagine that the hand which has contrived this colossal enterprise will falter at the first sound of adverse criticism is to totally misapprehend the character of its owner and to blindly disregard the lessons he has been teaching for a score of years.

THE INFANT MIND

Herbert Spencer holds that while the physical body is being developed, after birth, until puberty, the real and only education is that which comes from common experience through the senses. The mind, like the limbs, is reaching eagerly out to take in the wonders of the new existence, and the only parental care is that which protects the infant being from the abuse found in over-exertion. Now the greatest harm that can happen to the innocent creature is the attempt to hasten information through mental stimulants. If left to itself, the mind, like the body, will have a healthy growth. If, however, it is interfered with through any forcing process, there will be an abnormal growth of some faculties at the expense of others, and disease or deformity will result.

We note, with pleasure, how children race and play like kids or colts the day through, and we fail to perceive that the mind keeps pace with this active life. It is not only alive to its new existence, but enjoys what it finds in its open-air life. To interfere with this through the false system of training we are pleased to call education, is injurious, and often fatal.

All England – at least all the thinking part of the territory under government of Her Gracious Majesty – is in a high state of alarm over the stimulants administered through school examinations and the prizes given in consequence. Authors, scientists, and statesmen have joined in protesting against this abuse as a process that sickens the body and weakens the mind. It is a practice that is filling the hospitals, poor-houses, and asylums for the insane. We call this cramming. It is a forced, hot-house system, productive of more evils than good. Man is the only animal that loses his young to an extent that makes life exceptional. A majority of infants die before reaching the age of five years. If we consider the matter carefully, we find that while the young of the brutes seldom have more than one enemy to contend with, an infant has three – the mother who pets it, the father who neglects it, and the pedagogue who makes an idiot of it. Death indorses them all. How common it is to meet a slender, thin-limbed girl with sombre cheeks and lustreless eyes wending her way to school fairly loaded with books. She is being robbed of home, innocence, and health to satisfy the Moloch of education.

A most painful exhibit of – well, we will not say cruelty, but – ignorance or indifference, our dramatic critic calls attention to in the case of "Little Lord Fauntleroy." A child of tender years holds an audience for nearly three hours night after night, nearly all the time upon the stage, by the most extraordinary effort of memory and an instinctive turn for acting. This is a torture that discounts a Roman amphitheatre or the bull-fights of Spain. What is the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children about, that such an abuse should not only continue, but spread? – for the success of the piece is such that we shall have a hundred companies barn-storming over the land and torturing the brains of as many unhappy children. It is on this account that we rejoice with exceeding great joy over the death and final burying of Uncle Tom. This impossible old negro lived on little Eva, and that angelic child has at last been consigned to many asylums for idiots.

From this wanton cruelty it is a comfort to turn to the innocent and natural budding of the infant mind, and several specimens have floated in on us from various sources. Here is one from an indignant germ of a citizen:

"Mr. Editor

"Deer Sir – Last nite we had a hie old time at our house next dore. Mr. – , a alderman cam home and broke things and beet his wife – the nabors called the police, and they come and would not take him in the patrul waggon because he was a alderman, is that rite

"Yours to command

"Robert"

When our little friend Robert grows to man's estate he will know better the privileges and immunities granted the alderman. That privilege found in his right to beat his wife is not so well recognized and understood as his right to beat the public. When a fellow pays from five to ten thousand dollars for the position of city-father, it is expected that he will find a process through which to reimburse the private coffers of the municipal corporation called an alderman's pocket. There is nothing mean about the citizens of a great commercial centre. All that is asked is that the father aforesaid shall not be caught at it. As for the little luxury of getting drunk and beating his wife, that comes under the head of freedom to the private citizen and a constitutional opposition to sumptuary laws.

From this sunny side of aldermanic life we turn to some verse sent to us by a loving grandpa from the pen of Miss Elsie Rae. Our first and only regret at not being an illustrated magazine is that we cannot reproduce the drawings that accompanied the poem:

THE BROOK

 
As I sat by the brook yesterday,
I heard a voice by me say,
"What are you doing here,
My sweet little dear?
Look around and see your mother,
Also your sweet little brother:
I brought him here because the air is so soft;
 
 
It is so hot up in the loft."
The child turned her head
And very softly said,
"Well, dear little brother,
I am glad you brought him, mother."
"Yes, dear, so am I;
But it is hard to carry him from so high."