Physiognomy is not entirely a delusion. There is no "science" of Physiognomy, however, nor is it an exact art. The rules laid down by Adamantius were quite different from those of Aristotle, just as those of Baptist Porta and Robert Fludd were quite different from Levater's. Physiognomy is the art of knowing the humor, temperament or disposition of a person from observation of the lines of the face, and from the character of its members or features. While there is as yet no code of rules laid down by any author which constitutes a trustworthy guide, there in an apparent analogy between the mind and the countenance, which is discernible to keen observers. Probably every man and woman prides him or herself on the ability of translating expression, because we all imagine that we are good judges of human nature; yet, we have all erred in this regard, and often they were costly errors. Our instincts and intuitions, are perhaps the safest guides, afterall, for there is but little reliance to be placed on the text books; and the common beliefs regarding the meaning of the features are anything but reliable. The best that can be done, for the present, is to assemble the predominating characteristics of the great men of history and compare these with their portraits.
It is generally conceded that the greatest authority on Physiognomy is Levater; yet, in my copy of his principal work, which, by the way, is the voluminous 15th London edition, he says: "I understand but little of physiognomy, and have been, and continue daily to be, mistaken in my judgment." Since no greater physiognomist ever lived, it seems fair to assume that there is no "science" of physiognomy, and no infallible system with which we can read the character and capabilities of a person by means of the features. Whether such a science will yet be discovered or devised, remains to be seen. However, it is possible, and even probable, that the features all have meanings, even if we do not know those meanings, and that the code finally adopted by Levater is fairly correct. This being true, the best we can say for Physiognomy is that ithelpsus to interpret character by showing ustendencies. That is, given a face the chin of which denotes firmness, and the mouth tenacity,we may be reasonably certain that the individual will have a strong tendency to do thus and so under certain conditions, provided those characteristics are not over-balanced and offset by other characteristics. That the tendency is not conclusive, is apparent: for the person may be born with a nose which, according to Physiognomy, denotes criminal propensities; yet, he may have overcome his immoral tendencies by means of education, religion or environment, while his nose remains unchanged. Again, he may have certain features which are said to denote generosity, for example, yet there may be various other features which denote love of power, acquisitiveness, vanity, etc., which would make it quite impossible to say that generosity would predominate, and to which tendency the subject would yield. Indeed, it is a grave question if all the accumulated knowledge of the ages on Physiognomy would not be misleading, even if every person knew the precise meaning of every section of the face; for, however skilful we might be, our judgment would constantly be taxed to the utmost to weigh and balance, to compare and distinguish, one indication with another, and then that other with still another, and with perhaps a whole group of others,—a task for a mathematician, psychologist andphilosopher combined. Again, who may say that a large nose, which was esteemed so highly by Napoleon, or a strong jaw, which is generally understood to denote perseverance, may not be mere accidents of nature, for are not some born tongue-tied, cross-eyed or flat-footed, without design, meaning or tendency, so far as those physical conditions are concerned? And do not all persons develop one or more faculties, and neglect others, without causing any change in the bones of the face? One may conquer and conquer, like Alexander, until there are no more worlds to be conquered, and yet not acquire a conqueror's nose. If we treat Physiognomy as the science of interpreting expression by means of the muscular anatomy of the face, that is a different matter; but the real Physiognomy deals with bones as well as with muscles. If there is doubt as to whether the shape of the bones of the face are indicative of character, there is no doubt that the flesh and muscles of the face form what we call expression of the countenance, and that this can be interpreted with some degree of accuracy.
Levater says that the forehead is the image or mirror of the understanding; the nose and cheeks the image of moral and sensitive life; and the mouth and chin the image of the animal life;while the eye will be to the whole as the summary and center. I am prepared to believe without hesitation that nothing passes in the soul which does not produce some change in the body, and that even desire, and the act of willing, create a corresponding motion in the body; but it requires extraordinary credulity to believe that bones are enlarged or diminished by this process, and, consequently, that part of Physiognomy I must reject. But it is quite certain that, on the countenance discernibly appear light and gloom, joy and anxiety, stupidity, ignorance, and vice, and that, on this waxen tablet are deeply scribed every combination of sense and soul. On the forehead, all the Graces revel, or all the Cyclops thunder! Nature has left it bare, that, by it, the countenance may be enlightened or darkened. At its lowest extremities, thought appears to be changed into action. The mind here collects the powers of resistance. Here resides thecornua addita pauperi. Here headlong obstinacy and wise perseverance take up their fixed abode. Beneath the forehead are its expressive confines, the eyebrows; a rainbow of promise, when benignant; and the bent bow of discord, when enraged; alike descriptive, in each case, of interior feeling. The nose imparts solidity and unity to the whole countenance,—the mountain that shelters the fair vales beneath. How descriptive of the mind and character are its various parts; the insertion, the ridge, the cartilege, and the nostrils, through which life is inhaled. The eyes, considered only as tangible objects, are by their form, the windows of the soul, the fountains of light and life. The eye-bone, whether gradually sunken, or boldly prominent, is also worthy of attention; as likewise are the temples, whether hollow or smooth. That region of the face which includes the eyebrows, eye, and nose, also include the chief signs of soul; that its of will, or mind, in action. The occult, the noble, the sublime, sense of hearing, has nature placed sideways, and half concealed. On the inferior part of the face, nature has bestowed a mask for the male, and not without reason, for here are displayed those marks of sensuality, which ought to be hidden. All know how much the upper lip betokens the sensations of taste, desire, appetite, and the enjoyments of love; how much it is curved by pride and anger, drawn thin by cunning, smoothed by benevolence, made flaccid by effeminacy; how love and desire, sighs and kisses, cling to it, by indescribable traits. The under lip is little more than its supporter, the rosy cushion on which the crown of majesty reposes. If the parts of any twobodies can be pronounced to be exactly adapted to each other, such are the lips of man, when the mouth is closed. Words are the pictures of the mind. We judge of the host by the portal. He holds the flaggon of truth, of love and endearing friendship. The chin is formed by the under lip, and the termination of the jaw-bones, and it denotes sensuality in man, according as it is more or less flexible, smooth, or clear: it discovers what his rank is among his fellows. The chin forms the oval of the countenance; and when, as in the antique statues of the Greeks, it is neither pointed nor indented, but smooth, and gradually diminishes, it is then the keystone of the superstructure. With apologies to Herder for much of the foregoing, thus endeth this brief dissertation on Physiognomy.
It is quite clear that the phenomena of dreams could be perfectly accounted for by natural laws and therefore they should not be attributed to supernatural causes.
Ancient divines taught that dreams either proceeded from the Deity or from the devil, but it is now quite certain that all dreams originate only in the dreamers. Dreams come only from a state of imperfect sleep. When sleep is perfect, all the faculties are at complete rest, and there can be no dreams—and even if there were, memory being absent, the dream could never be recalled. Bodily sensations are the most common cause of dreams. A hot-water bottle at the feet might cause dreaming of a fire; kicking the bed-clothes from the lower extremities might carry the dreamer to scenes of snow and ice; getting one's head accidentally under the pillow might involve the dreamer in a drowning episode or other incident of strangulation. Physical ills also have their influence upon theunsound sleeper, and the nature of the pain is usually similar to the nature of the dream. The mind, during unsound sleep, is irrational, and often groups incongruous things and scenes into meaningless and impossible situations. Stored away in hidden recesses of the memory, are innumerable items, and during imperfect sleep the mind seizes some of these haphazard and forms some of the most fantastic and ludicrous pictures.
The cause of the dream is sometimes the cause of its fulfilment. For example, a person might think, in his waking moments, of writing a poem, and if it is strongly on his mind he is likely to dream of it. The dream may suggest some missing link or idea, and when he awakes he is better prepared to complete it. Belief in the supernatural origin of dreams is also the frequent cause of their fulfilment. If a person dreams of approaching sickness, and is superstitious, his fears and imagination are likely to hasten the calamity. There is recorded somewhere in history the case of a general who dreamed of a defeat, and, being superstitious, his courage deserted him, and the enemy conquered. There is also recorded the case of a German student, who dreamed that he was to die the next day at a certain hour. His friends found him next morningmaking a will and other preparations, and as the time drew near, he had every appearance of a person about to die. His friends used every argument to shake his belief in dreams, but to no purpose, and they were despairing of saving him, when the physician contrived to set the clock forward, and thus prolonged matters until the student's life was at last saved. There are several instances on record where death has actually ensued in consequence of the belief in the supernatural origin of dreams, and there is no doubt that believers in dreams often cause fulfilment by mental influence. It is true that there are instances on record where a person has dreamed of the death of a relative, and found that that relative had died at about the time of the dream, but these instances are rare and prove nothing. When it is considered that there are doubtless millions of instances where persons have dreamed of the death of relatives, when they have not died, the comparatively few cases where the dreams came true must be taken as mere coincidence. It is not a miracle for a dream of this kind to come true, but it would indeed be a miracle if one or more of such dreams did not come true, like the one that is recorded of a proud young divinity student who dreamed three times in one night that he must turn to theseventh verse of the fifth chapter of Ecclesiastes, where he would find important instructions. He arose in the morning, and turning to the specified passage, found this: "In the multitude of dreams there are divers vanities."
The mental process by which the human mind arrived at the conclusion that dreams result from supernatural causes is due to the same propensity of the mind for the marvelous, and to that excess credulity which attributes all unusual or remarkable mental impressions to some external agency. The average mind is prone to reason out the causes of phenomena to the limit of its mental powers, and then, when it arrives at the point when it can go no farther, and can give no rational explanation, to attribute the phenomena to the supernatural.
All dreams originate from former sensations. These sensations were introduced into the mind by the senses, at some previous time or times, and the mind has stored them away where they have lain dormant and forgotten. The dream-state is that condition of temporary subconsciousness when the memory recalls the aforesaid sensations and submits them to the scrutiny of the reasoning faculty, by which their relations are determined, through the agency of association. During perfect sleep there can be no dream,because the dream is caused by a state of activity of certain faculties, which, in perfect sleep, are in a state of torpor. There could be no dream if the mental faculties, including memory, are at perfect rest. Only when part of the mental faculties are sufficiently active to recall the sensations and impressions that are stored away, and to institute association, can there be dreams. Some of the faculties must be active, and some inactive, to produce a dream, and only in imperfect sleep does this condition obtain. Among the inactive faculties in the dream state is judgment, which, were it active, would correct the mental process and discover the fallacy. Imagination is often brought strongly into play by the dreamer; and the combination of imagination, previous sensations and associations often create fantastic objects and pictures wholly different from those occurring in nature. The mind of the dreamer can readily combine parts of the sensations previously derived from beholding an elephant, a crow and a cow, and may see in his dream a crow with a trunk, a cow with a bill, or an elephant with upright horns and a black feathered tail. It can also readily associate with his own self parts of various sensations derived from reading or hearing of certain crimes or improprieties, and picture himself in the act ofdoing things utterly at variance with his morals and inclinations when in a conscious state.
It also may happen, in the various modes of combination, that objects or events are portrayed in accordance with nature and facts, but, perhaps, in exaggerated, diminished or distorted forms, in which case an erroneous standard of judgment is formed that will throw all after sensations out of perspective with truth.
The dreamer generally dreams of things which have lately been weighing on his mind, but not necessarily so, nor does it follow that he will dream what has been ardently expected or painfully dreaded. Association of ideas may lead his unguided mind to a scene or object which, in his wakeful moments, he cannot trace, for his memory usually preserves only the final objects or scene, and not the various steps that led to it. Thus, if moving be on his mind, he may, in his dream, see a moving van, then a painting on the side of the van, then an artist, then a paint shop, a model, another picture on an easel, and finally a very pleasant or a very horrible scene in a studio. When the dreamer awakes he remembers only the scene, and he is at a loss to know why he should have dreamed of a scene so foreign to his previous thoughts.
There appears to be no truth whatever in thetheory that dreams come as omens or warnings, for they are purely accidental. Neither is there apparently any truth in the belief that dreams come by opposites, that they are the manifestation of some invisible agency, or that there is anything supernatural, uncanny or mysterious about them.
To maintain that one can foretell future events, or read past events, from dreams, is absurd. Nearly every person dreams each night, and particularly during the moments when losing consciousness and the moments when awakening, since imperfect sleep then obtains; and, it would be strange indeed if, during one or more of these occasions, we did not by chance dream of something which afterwards actually happens.
All bodily derangements that interrupt healthy sleep, such as irritation of the digestive organs, and even over-exertion, worry, and undue excitement, will produce dreams, and it is therefore fairly obvious that, since we know the cause of dreams, their effects and results, there is nothing marvellous, unnatural, wonderful, extraordinary or supernatural in dreams.
Until the past few hundred years, the cause of dreams was not understood. Aristotle believes the cause of dreams to be common sense,but placed in the fancy. Avicen thought it to be an ultimate intelligence moving the moon in the midst of that light with which the fancies of men are illuminated while they sleep. Averroes, an Arabian physician, ascribed it to the imagination. Democritus referred the cause of them to little images, or representations, separated from the things themselves. Plato placed it among the specific and concrete notions of the soul. Albertus attributed dreams to superior influences, which continually flow from the sky, through many specific channels.
In order to disdelusionize, it will be necessary to get a clear understanding of the nature of the mind and of its workings. "When the mind turns its view inward upon itself," says John Locke, "and contemplates its own actions,thinkingis the first that occurs. In it, the mind observes a great variety of modifications, and from them receives distinctideas. Thus the perception, which actually accompanies, and is annexed to any impression on the body, made by an external object, being distinct from all other modifications of thinking, furnishes the mind with a distinct idea which we callsensation; which is, as it were, the actual entrance of an idea into the understanding by the senses.
"The same idea, when it occurs again withoutthe operation of the like object on the external sensory, isremembrance; if it be sought after by the mind, and with pain and endeavor found, and brought again in view, it isrecollection; if it be held there long under consideration, it iscontemplation; when ideas float in our mind without any recollection or regard of the understanding, it is that which the French callreverie; our language has scarce a word for it. When the ideas that offer themselves (for, as I have observed, while we are awake, there will always be a train of ideas succeeding one another in our minds) are taken notice of, and, as it were, registered in the memory, it isattention; when the mind, with great earnestness, and of choice, fixes its view on any idea, considers it on all sides, and will not be called off by the ordinary solicitations of other ideas, it is what we call intention or study.Sleepwithout dreaming is rest from all these; and dreaming itself, is the having of ideas (while the outward senses are stopped, so that they receive not outward objects with their usual quickness) in the mind, not suggested by any external objects, or known occasion, nor under any choice or conduct of the understanding at all, and whether that which we callecstasy, be not dreaming with the eyes open, I leave to be examined."
We often converse with a dead or absent friend, in our dreams, without remembering that the grave or the ocean is between us. We float, like a feather, or fly like a bird, upon the wind, one moment in New York, and the next in Melbourne, without reflecting that the laws of nature are suspended, or inquiring how the scene could have been so suddenly shifted. We accommodate ourselves to every event, however romantic, impossible, unreasonable, extravagant and absurd.
We also dream awake, which dreams may be calledreveriesorwaking-dreams, and they are sometimes as chimerical, and impossible to be realized, as our sleep dreams. Many fabulous stories of apparitions, magic, and apparent miracles, owe their origin to some form of dream.
Superstition has done more harm than war, famine and pestilence.
It has been said that all men are tainted with superstition, in greater or less degree, and that they are credulous from the cradle to the grave. We may be particularly strong on Friday, on the thirteenth, on walking under a ladder, and other foolish superstitions which have thousands of times been exposed, yet we find ourselves weak on something else equally absurd. We are credulous because we are naturally sincere, which indicates that superstitious belief proceeds from honorable principles. All men have a strong attraction to truth, and the man who is the most deceitful is usually the most disposed to belief that other men respect truth. And thus, before rejecting the statements of others, we usually require to detect something in them which is not in accord with our previous knowledge, unless, perchance, we have cause to suspect a design to deceive us. Credulity is,therefore, natural, in part, and it is also the result of the faulty education that we have received from our distant ancestors.
Perhaps many of the superstitions owe their origin to religion. If people had not been taught about devils, hells, miracles and other mysteries, they would not be so susceptible to other beliefs equally absurd.
It is commonly known that gamblers are very superstitious, but fashions change with them as they do with everything else; for, where unsuccessful gamblers used formerly to make a knot in their linen, to change their luck, they now content themselves with changing their chairs, and performing other silly things which some successful gamester has lately done. And so with other superstitious persons. As a security against cowardice, it was once only necessary to wear a pin plucked from the winding sheet of a corpse; now, all one needs is to rub the back of a hunchback. To insure a prosperous accouchement to your wife, you once had to tie her girdle to a bell and ring it three times, while now all that is necessary is to see the new moon over your right shoulder and wish. To get rid of warts, you were to fold up in a rag as many peas as you had warts, and throw them into the highroad, when the unlucky person who picked them upbecame your substitute; but now, they may be cured by finding a pin, head toward you. To cure a tooth-ache you had to solicit alms in honor of St. Lawrence, but in these enlightened times it can be done by staring at a horseshoe over the door. And so on,ad infinitumdo we find the superstitions, like the fashions, ever changing.
The birth of science was the death of superstition, said Huxley; but, alas, it is a slow and painful death. But, science is only half born as yet, and that is why superstition is only half dead.
P. T. Barnum was known as the prince of humbuggers, yet few men have ever lived who had a keener insight into human nature. He knew the human heart, he knew its weaknesses, and he knew how to profit by his knowledge.
The gullibility of the public is shown in various ways: first, by the prosperity of the palmists, astrologers and mediums; second, by the success of all get-rich-quick enterprises; third, by the crowds who patronize the street fakirs who sell articles which nobody can operate but themselves; and fourth, by the apparent success of certain officials who operate through their press agents.
Palmistry, graphology, physiognomy, phrenology, clairvoyancy, chirognomancy, and theother "sciences," have not yet been accepted by the powers that be, fortunately, as an infallible detector of crime. Very few, indeed, of the believers in these isms and ologies would care to have their fate in court determined by experts in one or more of these theories. Only a few hundred years ago, persons were tried and convicted of witchcraft by the same sort of "experts," and the result was that the accused had a very slight chance of acquittal.
Most of our great men have had their illusions, delusions and superstitions, but that is no excuse for people of our times. Genius is always ill-balanced, in accordance with the law of compensation. Napoleon believed in the exploded theory of astrology, and he once said of a bright star, "It has never deserted me. I see it on every occurrence urging me onward; it is an unfailing omen of success." Oliver Cromwell says he saw the figure of a gigantic woman enter his chamber, who told him that he would become the greatest man in England. Sir Joshua Reynolds thought the lamps in his gardens were trees, and the women bushes, agitated by the breeze. Descartes thought he was followed by an invisible person, whose voice urged him tocontinue his researches. Loyola, lying wounded after the siege of Pampeluna, imagined he saw the Virgin, who encouraged him to prosecute his mission. Pope thought he saw an army come through the walls of his home to inquire after his welfare. Goethe says that he once saw his exact counterpart coming towards him. Byron was also visited by ghosts, and Dr. Johnson thought he heard his mother's voice, though she was in a distant city. Swedenborg imagined that he could converse with departed spirits. Cellini was deterred from suicide by the apparition of a beautiful woman, and Nicolai was annoyed by various spirits, one of which had the appearance of a dead body. And when we remember that some of the world's greatest minds were deluded by the doctrines of witchcraft, alchemy, astrology, spiritualism, and kindred superstitions, now known to be false and silly, including the mighty search for the Philosopher's Stone, we should hesitate long before accepting any strange theory just because somebody else believed in it.
ABRACADABRA was one of the names given to the Persian sun-god Mithra. This word was supposed to have magic powers to cure diseases, provided it was written in the form ofa magic triangle several times, as follows, and worn on the bosom for nine days:
ABRACADABRABRACADABRRACADABACADACADA
Why is superstition so deep-rooted? Why do we cling to error so tenaciously? Why does every new, occult fad soon attract a host of followers? Let us see. First, there is a charm to everything that is extraordinary—we love the unusual, the different, the marvelous, the miraculous; second, we hate to see destroyed that which we love. Hence, the tendency to exaggeration, which is a consequence of it; and hence the regretful reluctance to have our dreams of wondrousness dispelled. Is there anything quite so unpleasant, when we have told a friend of some marvelous manifestation we had witnessed, as to have that friend prove to us that the manifestation was but a trick? Not only is our pride hurt, but our pet joy is spoiled; we had been hugging a sacred mystery, only to find it a delusion.
That which we call mystery is unfinishedknowledge—not complete ignorance. That which we call the supernatural is but the natural not yet understood, or only partly understood. We know a little of everything, but not everything of everything, nor even everything of any one thing. Science is only a mystery solved.
A prevalent and dangerous form of credulity or enthusiasm is that which makes us extremists or faddists. A faddist is an extremist, and an extremist is a faddist. It is one thing to be so stubborn and old-fashioned that nothing new has any interest to us, and it is another to be so credulous and catholic that we seize every new theory with a mad enthusiasm. Every fad and delusion is founded on a truth, but the extremist sees in them more than a truth; his brain becomes a kaleidoscope, with numerous reflecting surfaces which reflect multifold imaginary pictures. From two or three simple truths, sprang an immense false system of astrology; from the simple truth that our temperaments and characters are more or less expressed upon our bodies, sprang some of the silly doctrines of palmistry and physiognomy; from the simple truth that every person has an individuality which is expressed in his apparel, his home and his manners, sprang the ridiculous theory of psychometry; from the simple truth that souls live beyondthe grave, and that our imagination may picture those souls, sprang the untenable belief in ghosts, spirits and mediums; and from the simple fact that our pains and troubles are intensified by brooding over them, sprang the fallacy of Christian Science. Who would say that the Boston tea partycausedthe Revolutionary war, or that the firing on Fort Sumptercausedthe "late unpleasantness"? The quarrel between Queen Anne and the Duchess of Marlborough over a pair of gloves did not cause the change of ministry and the following peace with Louis XIV, nor did the blood of Lucretia put an end to the kingly powers at Rome, as some say, and neither did the sight of Virginia terminate the decemviral power, nor did the view of Caesar's body and mantle enslave Rome. It seems to be that love of the marvellous, of the curious, of the strange, and of the impossible, that makes us ascribe great results to the most insignificant and isolated causes.
There is a book entitled "Current Superstitions," which can be had in any library, that should cure any reasonable mind of superstition. It contains some thousands of superstitions common throughout the United States, and if a person were to believe in them all, that person could not live one day without violating a dozen ormore that would involve him into fatal consequences. Fortunately, the superstitious person usually clings to only two or three, which are not bothersome, and he does not see the folly of them. Some superstitions seem harmless enough, such as, for example, the belief that holding an open umbrella over the head in the house is productive of bad luck, for who wants to do such a thing? or, that of walking under a ladder, for how many times in a lifetime does a person have occasion to avoid doing so? But all superstitions are harmful to the mind, and harmful in their influence upon others—particularly upon children. A man cannot successfully contend against an unknown enemy in the dark, and superstition pre-supposes that there is some unknown, relentless, all-powerful force at work, against God, Nature, common sense, and against the laws of the universe.
There is an old story, but a well-authenticated one, which serves to illustrate the dangers of superstition. In Hamburg, in 1784, a singular accident occasioned the death of a young couple. The lady, going to the church of the Augustin Friars, knelt down near a Mausoleum, ornamented with divers figures in marble, among which was that of Death, armed with a scythe, and a small piece of the scythe being loose, fellon the hood of the lady's mantlet. On her return home, she mentioned the circumstances as a matter of indifference to her husband, who, being a credulous and superstitious man, cried out in a terrible panic, that it was a presage of the death of his dear wife. The same day he was seized with a violent fever, took to his bed and died. The disconsolate lady was so affected at the loss that she was taken ill and soon followed him. They were both interred in the same grave, and their inheritance, which was very considerable, fell to some distant relatives.
Under the head of "Thirteen at Dinner," Edwards in "Words, Facts and Phrases" says: "The common superstition which makes it unlucky to have thirteen at dinner is no doubt a reference to the Last Supper of our Lord and his disciples, where thirteen were present and Judas was among them. He left first, and therefore the first of a party of thirteen to leave the table is the unlucky one." Perhaps this is correctly stated, but if so, how many persons now make thedangerousmistake of at once leaving a table as soon as they discover thirteen present! By leaving at once they hope to avert the evil, whereas they are rushing into it. What folly, either to leave the table or to remain at it, because of this superstition!
The Thirteen Club of New York serves a useful mission. Composed of several hundred prominent people, it meets, discusses the folly of popular superstitions, exposes the fallacies of the supernatural, and breeds a healthy condition of the mind. They meet on Fridays, usually on the 13th of the month, they enter the clubrooms by passing under a ladder, the dues are multiples of thirteen, umbrellas are hung over every chair, salt is spilled on every table, and so on, in defiance of the laws of superstition.
Those foolish persons who believe in the silly superstition "Thirteen at table, one of them sure to die," should remember that if there are fourteen at table, or more, the chances of one of them dying soon are much greater than if there were only thirteen, so that it is far safer to reduce the number to thirteen!
Wonder is the effect of novelty upon ignorance, it is said, but the ignorant are not the only ones to wonder over novelty, and other things than novelty cause wonder, such as want of familiarity with common things met with every day. Knowledge is the cure of both ignorance and superstition, but of the love to wonder there appears to be no cure.
The reason we are so quick to believe in the supernatural is that we are prone to discern init either good luck or bad luck—benefit or punishment. We are all governed by our passions—principally Hope and Fear, and nothing is more capable of creating those hopes and fears than unrestrained credulity concerning the mysterious.
Everybody has doubtless seen those wonderful, supernatural mind-readers at Coney Island, who profess to be able to tell you your name. I listened to one of their dialogs recently, in which a young lady and her companion were amazed at having the magician look in their eyes and read there their true names, fully convinced of the supernatural powers of the operators. Guessing at how it was done, my friend and I strolled off, made a plan, returned, stopped in front of the camp, and began a conversation in which I addressed my friend as "William"—which was not his name at all—and he called me "Washington," to all of which the several fakirs were intently listening, though pretending not to. Just as they thought they had enough to work upon they approached us, and we yielded to their entreaties. We were ushered into the mystic chamber, there was some whispering among them, and then we were dramatically ordered to think intensely of our names, the chief fakir all the while glaring tragicly into my friend's eyes. "Ah, I has it," said he, gesticulating wildly,"William!" he exclaimed, exultantly. "Wonderful!" was our reply. Devoting his attention to me, he appeared puzzled, but finally said: "You no think; I no get name, but I tell you something wonderful—I tell you what on your mind." "Very well," said I, "that will do." And then he put his greasy forefingers on my temples and cried, "You think you have somewashing done!"
If every spiritualist, astrologer, palmist, clairvoyant, mind reader and fortune teller were compelled by law to hang out a sign, "I am a professor of tricks, magic, sleight-of-hand, legerdemain, and tomfoolery; come in and match your wits against mine!" they would still have many customers; but, if everybody believed in signs, there would be no harm done. But perhaps the people would rather have it the other way, as it is, so that they can nurse the delusion that "Perhaps there may be something in it, after all."
Stage tricks are usually harmless, except when played by fakirs who claim to be possessed of supernatural powers. There is a large variety of these, such as spiritualists, slate-writers, clairvoyants, telepathists and mind-readers, who perform ordinary stage tricks under the guise of occultism, and they deserve something more than mere exposure. Every operator has his or her own particular method of performing certain tricks, and it would be impossible to explain in a brief article how each is done; but it may be helpful to expose a few of the more common ones. All of these tricks may be accounted for as follows: Sleight-of-hand, confederacy, ingenious contrivance, or the application of some natural law, and most of the best tricks are performed with the aid of two or more of these. Had Hermann the Great, or Keller, been dishonest, they could almost have had the world at their feet, by maintaining that their tricks were done through spirit or physic force;but they were honest enough to admit that all their feats were done by means of one or more of the devices just mentioned. There is no slate-writing trick, or materialization, or mind-reading exhibition, that they could not have duplicated, or even excelled; in fact, they did actually duplicate and expose most of them. Had they claimed that spirits or devils, aided them, a majority of the people would probably have believed it without question. Perhaps one reason why more mediums, and such, are not exposed and arrested, is because there is something grew-some and awe-inspiring in the thought that possibly the on-looker is in the presence of the inhabitants of another world; or, perhaps the feeling of sadness, or of the sacredness of the occasion, shuts off all sentiments of revenge, however doubtful he may be of the genuineness of the exhibition. The fact that one by one practically all the great mediums have been exposed, seems to make no difference, because in our anxiety to learn if there is not some possible way to get news of the departed loved ones, we reason that because one, or a dozen, imposters have been exposed, this particular one may be genuine, and that there may possibly be something in it after all.
Why is it that so many are willing to attributeoccult powers to all magicians who perform inexplicable tricks? There is scarcely a person who cannot do one or more card tricks which will puzzle the most astute observer, but we do not marvel because we know that they are merely tricks; but let the trickster once announce that he is a mind-reader or a hypnotist, and three out of every five will accept the statement as truth and not seek further to disprove it. Thus, we are taught that credulity is a disease with which most persons are afflicted, and that it is very easy to fool the best of us. Those who are so weak as to accept every mystery as a manifestation of supernatural power, should obtain one of the many books which can be had at any library, and make a study of the art of legerdemain. Then, when attending a spiritualistic seance, or a slate-writing exposition, the student will be able readily to detect the fraud and to duplicate it for the amusement of his own friends.
If every investigator would, before going to a seance, buy one or more of the books, which are on sale at every bookstore, showing how the various stage tricks are done, there would not be many spiritualists in the world. These books sharpen the wits, and while they may not give the precise methods adopted by the medium tobe visited, they will show how easy it is to deceive the eye and to fool the best of us.
Much has been said of the wonderful tricks of the fakirs in India, particularly of the Great Mango Trick, and all kinds of supernatural powers have been ascribed to these clever people. In these exhibitions, the fakirs take a seed and a pile of sand, and make a Mango tree grow, in a few minutes, to the height of three or four feet. The secret lies in the fact that the leaves and twigs of the Mango are such that they can be folded into a very small compass and rolled up within the hollow seed, so that when they are unrolled they do not show the slightest crease. The fakir covers the whole with a cloth, and operates beneath it, piling the dirt around it, and exhibiting the building tree occasionally to his astonished audience. Baldwin, "The White Mahatma," has exposed this and many others of the Indian tricks, in his book, "The Secrets of Mahatma Land Explained."
Slate-writing tricks are done in a hundred different ways. Some operators carry a tiny point of pencil under their thumb nail, some have chemical compounds which render writing invisible until heated, or moistened, and some have duplicate slates. The messages they write areobtained in various ways, often by means of accomplices, and still oftener by guess-work.
Some mediums have a regular detective force who make it a business to get acquainted with all susceptible persons, or prospective customers, and after getting a history of these persons, they convey it to the medium, who only has to await the coming of the victims to be able to make startling revelations.
The mind readers also operate largely by means of confederates, and most of the theatrical performers have clever trappings. One of these was exposed recently in a Long Island village, when it was discovered that the operator had several telephone wires running under the floor of the theatre, from the rear of the stage. In another instance, it was found that the sheets of cardboard, which were passed around for the audience to rest their papers upon, were sensitized so that when they were collected and subjected to chemical treatment they would make visible the writing that had been done over them. The questions asked were communicated to the operator by an accomplice in the wings. Another method, adopted by those who claim to read the numbers in watch cases, and to tell the numbers on banknotes, is that of a code of signals sent to the operator by a confederate in theaudience. These codes are sometimes composed of words, and sometimes of gestures and signals.
One noted spiritualist claimed to be able to put the subject under a spirit influence and give him superhuman strength. For instance, the subject would support his feet on two little stools, and his hands upon two others, each pair of stools being about five feet apart, and he would then arch his body upward, in the form of a bridge. A heavy anvil was then placed upon his abdomen, and the operator would take a huge sledge hammer and beat a piece of red hot iron into a horseshoe. This was only an experiment in inertia, and the heavy blows were hardly felt by the man below, the effect of them being almost absorbed by the large mass of iron. It was also noticed that when heavy weights were lifted at arm's length, they were so arranged as to lie along the forearm, this position being more graceful and about fifty per cent. easier. Leather straps were broken around the chest, and this was done by means of a sharp tongue to the buckle, filed to an edge, which cut the strap with slight pressure. (The audience eagerly examined the strap in advance, but never thought of examining the buckle.) Heavy Jack-chains were also broken by the subject, but these chains all contained one weak link, of unwelded soft iron,which would stretch out when pulled in a certain direction. Pennies were broken with ease, but these were, of course, prepared in advance, by placing them in a vice and working them back and forth many times until they became soft in the middle.
Innumerable tricks are done by means of cans and other vessels containing false bottoms, or several compartments, and every stage where magicians perform contains various trap doors in the floor, mirrors, and other illusions. A modern scheme is to have two rows of blinding lights, before a black background, so that the audience cannot see the machinery. By this contrivance, figures on the stage are made to float in the air, and to do all kinds of apparently impossible things. One familiar performance has a man at a piano rise in air and revolve rapidly, all in full view—apparently—of the audience, and another makes a lady dance in midair, and take gigantic strides at enormous speed. These tricks are done by means of machinery, concealed from view by optical illusions, the lady having an iron belt about her waist which connects with the hidden machinery in the rear.
Another familiar trick is the appearance and disappearance of a person into or from a box, basket, coffin, and so on, also in full view of theaudience. It will usually be observed that these are placed near to the back curtain, where it is easy for a person to enter or exit through a secret opening, but sometimes it is done through a trapdoor in the floor. Once I had the pleasure of assisting Hermann the Great at "Hermann's Theatre" on Broadway, since burned down. I went to his dressing room before the performance, and he gave me a tiny rabbit which I concealed in my ulster pocket, and at the same time several other confederates were given "props," such as silk hats, in which omelets were afterwards made, and handkerchiefs with red moons in the center, and red handkerchiefs with white moons, which were afterwards used in the performance by Hermann who cut a circle out of the middle of a white handkerchief and one from a red handkerchief, and afterwards produced out of the audience the handkerchiefs aforesaid, much to the wonderment of the audience. The rabbit I held was the counterpart of another which Hermann shot from a pistol on the stage, and which was afterwards found in my pocket, much to my apparent chagrin.
The art of magic, while by no means a lost art, is not so popular now as formerly, yet it still has a firm hold on human credulity. As Barnum used to say, "The people love to behumbugged." Inborn in us is that love of the marvelous which caused our ancestors to believe in astrology, sorcery and witchcraft. The stage magician is well aware of this, and as the old tricks become familiar to their audiences, they soon discover new methods to satisfy this natural propensity to crave mystery. Some good folks say that all magic is bad, in that it is deceit and treachery; but this seems rather a lame argument when it is remembered that the magician practically tells his audience that he is going to fool them, and that he is merely matching his dexterity against their quickness of perception. The real harm and danger comes of the modern tricks of magic, in which the magician pretends that he is possessed of some supernatural powers, such as spiritualistic manifestations, clairvoyance, mind reading, slate-writing, etc. If the real truth were known, these charlatans probably reason thus: "We are magicians, the people love to be mystified, we can no longer entertain them with the old tricks, they are ever ready to believe that which they cannot understand, the supernatural is always entertaining; and since we must make a living some how, we will perform our tricks and claim that they are of supernatural origin." There is some logic in this view, from their viewpoint, but from thestandpoint of us who see the danger in, and who are trying to destroy, superstition, it is a practice that should be suppressed.
In the introduction to Barnum's "Humbugs of the World," the great showman says, "I once travelled through the Southern States in company with a magician. The first day in each town he astonished his auditors with his deceptions. He then announced that on the following day he would show how each trick was performed, and how every man might thus become a magician. That expose spoiled the legerdemain market on that particular route, for several years. So, if we could have a full exposure of the tricks of trade of all sorts, of humbugs and deceivers of past times—religious, political, financial, scientific, quackish and so forth—we might perhaps look for a somewhat wiser generation to follow us."
Thus, we could go on at great length to show how easy it is to deceive people. It is one of the easiest things in the world to make up tricks to fool the best of us, and all operators in occult or physic phenomena know it. "Am I not to believe what I see with my own eyes, and hear with my own ears?" they all say,—at least ALL whowantto be convinced. The answer is, "No, you are not."
One by one the great superstitions of the world are slowly but surely disappearing. It was not long ago when we, in this new country of enlightenment, believed inwitchcraft, and were burning witches at the stake; but now it would take a long hunt to find a man, woman or child who believed in that horrible and disastrous superstition. The same is almost true of "Ghosts," for that word is now used more in jest than in earnest; but to believe in "apparitions" is not altogether of past centuries, for there are still many who cling to the delusion of supernatural appearances. The modern way of putting it is "Spirits."
Authors, poets and dramatists of all ages, sacred and profane, have made endless allusions to supernatural appearances, not only becauseghostsare convenient and entertaining characters to introduce, not only because writers naturally tried to reflect the beliefs of the periods of which they wrote, but because they could make adeeper impression on the minds of a superstitious world. Shakespeare makes fine use of the Ghost in Hamlet and in Macbeth, just as Goethe does of Mephistopheles in Faust. Not only is fiction and the drama full of Ghosts, but there are hundreds of volumes in the libraries giving serious, and apparently "well-authenticated" cases of supernatural appearances. Mrs. Crowe's "Nightside of Nature" is probably the classic of this line of literature—at least, it appears to be quoted more than any other. The author of Robinson Crusoe wrote "An Essay on the History and Reality of Apparitions; being an account of what they are and what they are not, when they come and when they come not; as also how we may distinguish between apparitions of Good and Evil Spirits, and how we ought to behave to them; with a variety of surprising and diverting examples never published before."
I have frequently been asked by believing friends, "How do you account for this?"—following with, perchance, an elaborate account of what the aunt's mother's sister's nephew once saw. My answer has always been, and still is, to those friends, to Mrs. Crowe, Daniel DeFoe and all others, "I cannot account for what somebody else saw, says he saw, or thinks he saw;but let me see it and I will guarantee to give you a reasonable explanation." John Ruskin says somewhere that the greatest thing in this world is to see something and to be able to tell simply and accurately just what you saw,and nothing else. There is the secret! I remember the first time I saw Hermann the Great, and how I went home and told everybody about the wonderful trick he had performed. Of course, nobody could tell me how it was done, for, from the way I described it, it was an impossibility. Sometime later I had occasion to meet Mr. Hermann in his dressing room, and I then learned how the trick was done. How simple! I had been duped and deceived. My eyes had not seen aright. How different was the story I had told, from the story Hermann told!
I have often thought, if Hermann had been in theGhostbusiness, what harm could he not have done!
We all know what becomes of the bodies and clothing of the dead. Of this there can be no doubt. What becomes of the soul, the spirit, nobody knows. Assuming that this does not die, which seems probable, we know that it cannot again live within the same body and apparel, for that is destroyed. To assume that the spirit procures a new and similar body and clothing, isto assume the existence of material, physical matter in the spiritual world. Does it not require quite a stretch of a sacrilegious imagination to picture a clothing factory in the spiritual world? And yet, we are told that ghosts appear "in the very clothes they used to wear." Mrs. Bargrave "took hold of Mrs. Veal's gown several times" and recognized the velvet. (Drelincourt on Death, 1700). We are also told of "rustling of silk," "creaking of shoes" and "sounds of footsteps" (Footfalls on the Boundary of Another World, Owen).
Even the voice is recognized, although the various organs that produced the original voice on earth have long since perished. We all seem to have a notion that ghosts should be light, thin and airy, but, it seems, there must be fatghosts, too. I remember at least one fat ghost, for I yanked it into my lap in the middle of a highly interesting seance at Mrs. Calder's, a famousGhostproducer who once thrived in New York. The ghost was alleged to be a famous Plymouth church preacher whose name is too revered to be mentioned in this connection.
Some Ghosts have even appeared in iron armour, and some with walking sticks, swords or shovels. People have heard, seen and felt allthese—the wordfeltmight be used in a double sense here, because one viciousghostis said to have delighted in thumping his hosts with a cane—so it can be assumed that such material things as clothing, armour and canes are to be had in the other world. And yet,ghostsare transparent! You can see right through them. They disappear through a stone wall, through a carpeted, oaken floor, and through a locked and bolted door. You can shoot at them, run them through with a sword, and you touch nothing.
Again, the sameGhostfrequently appears in many places at one and the same time. DeFoe tells of the burglars who found the sameghostin a chair in every room in the house at the same moment. Still again, we have "well-authenticated" cases of beggar Ghosts in rags, of one-armed Ghosts, beheaded Ghosts, blind Ghosts, hungry Ghosts, thirsty Ghosts, worried, tormented and unhappy Ghosts, and wicked, revengeful Ghosts. Is, then, the spirit world (heaven), no improvement on our own world? Mr. Kardec once asserted that we are surrounded by "myriads of spirits—good, bad and indifferent," which quite alarmed the author of "Mary Jane," who feared accidents might happen among such a crowd ofspirits. Mr. Baker,it was, who set the author at ease, by explaining that "thespiritscan walk through one another and not feel it."
It is a wonder that, in a world so full of humbuggers, get-rich-quicksters, fakirs and delusionists, greater effort has been made to profit by the greatest of all passions. For every human weakness we have a gold seeker, be it a Barnum, Munyon, a Lydia Pinkham, a 520% Miller, a Dowie, a Dis de Bar, or a Sister Fox. Some want to be tall, some short, some fat, some thin, some rich, some healthy, some beautiful, etc., etc., and there is always an army of fakirs, honest, semi-honest and otherwise, ready to make them so for a monetary consideration payable in advance. But, the greatest distress, the greatest passion, the greatest longing and yearning, is for the dead. What a tremendous army is the army of the mourners! What a gold mine to the man who can bring the mourner and the departed together!Ghostmakers do not necessarily mean to defraud, nor do they always perform for money. There are good and bad, as in all else, and they sometimes fool themselves in their efforts to fool others. TheImaginationis a wonderful organism. It is the greatest machine on earth, because it can do the greatest things. But,beware of it—it is not to be trusted; it will expand your credulity, undermine your reason, and give you a taste of the delirium tremens—which makes you see things!
Being an Argument in Favor of Industrialized Government
THE A. B. C. OF POLITICAL ECONOMY.
(Simplified for the Uninitiated.)
The one great desire uppermost in the minds of men is to get the greatest good from the earth, the source of all wealth, with the least possible labor and effort. In the so-doing, both experience and reason teach that economy is the watchword. It is the life blood of civilization—the essence of industrial prosperity. The basis of all philosophy is "I want," and in the pursuit of happiness and contentment, economy must be the watchword.
WASTE.
The destruction of the smallest useful atom is an injury to every living person; and the more useful the atom, the greater the injury. A great fire, a flood, a devastating cyclone, is not only a calamity to those immediately affected, but it is a universal loss; for, the great human family is just so much poorer, the world's progress has been retarded, and our onward march toward the perfect civilization has been checked. Likewise, every stroke of labor that does not go toward making the world better or richer is wasted energy. The man who insists on making shoes, or raising wheat, or digging coal, when he is mentally, physically and by nature ill-adapted to that calling, is a drone and a burden upon society. He is wasting energy and impeding the general progress, because he is doing something which others could do better or quicker, and he is therefore the cause of misplacing two persons in unproductive and unnatural callings.
MACHINES.
The labor saving machine is the personification of economy. It, and all great inventions, are welcomed by civilization as great economizers of the world's work. It is wasted energy for manto do by hand that which a machine can do as well and in less time. The machine economizes production and therefore lightens and lessens the toil of the human family. Ten men in a shop or industry, each assigned to that branch of the business to which he is best adapted, form a combination for economy identical with a machine. If a linotype machine, operated by one man, can do the work of say five type-setters, the world is richer to the extent of about what four men could create in other vocations,—allowances being made for the labor required to make the machine itself.
DEPENDENCE.
A person can no longer make his own hat, coat, shoes and house, and raise his own vegetables, as Crusoe did. Ten thousand men are co-operating to give him his shoes alone. There are the men who kill the animal which provides the hide, the men who carry it to the jobber, the men who strip it, the men who cure and tan it, the men who pack it, load it on the trucks, put it on the cars, unload it, carry it to the leather merchant, and the innumerable clerks, bookkeepers, advertisers and stenographers who help sell it to the shoe manufacturer, the additionaltransportation, the endless variety of hands it passes through in the factory, and the countless hands that handle the finished shoe before it reaches the consumer; and then,—the telegraph's part in the manufacture or sale or transportation of that shoe, and the mails and the advertising, each employing thousands. Even the linen thread used in the shoe has a similar history; likewise the pegs, the needles, the machines, the cloth lining and the metal eyelets. And the shoe is a small part of a man's necessaries. What does all this show? The inter-dependence of men, one upon the other.
CO-OPERATION.
We have come to that stage of human progress when we could not return to the Crusoe method if we desired. We must depend upon our brothers in distant parts. A vast industrial machine has been created, of which each member of the human family forms a part. A must look to B for his shoes, B must look to C for his meat, C must look to D for his coal, and all must look to one another for every needed thing. Even the savages in distant lands are at work procuring ivory and other commodities for us while we are creating suitable articles for them, and thus thehuman family are co-operating together for the common good.
If this system of co-operation or trade is not interfered with by unnatural and artificial devices, every man will sooner or later find his level and bend his energies in that calling to which he is best fitted by nature, education, training, and environment. A natural law is at work. To interfere with it is to divert commerce from its natural channels and cause friction in the great industrial machine. The machine needs no oiling or mending; it simply requires direction. It develops, expands and lubricates as it runs. It is not revolution that wears out a machine; it is friction.
COMBINATION.
Two or more persons can enjoy the heat of one stove, or the light of one lamp, or the shelter of one roof, as well as one person, and without depriving anyone of an equal quantity thereof. A printer can produce 1,000 circulars with but little more cost than 50. A truck or car can carry tons with but little more expense than pounds. Two fish can be fried in one pan as well as one. A professor can teach a class of 500 as well as of five. Hence the advantages ofcombination and co-operation, and hence the uneconomy of individual isolation. How much wiser for Crusoe to take Friday in his household and divide their labors, each doing that which best suits him, using,—so to speak—only one stove, one lamp and one frying-pan.
Suppose at Christmas a man has 100 presents to distribute in various localities. A messenger for each of the 100 presents would mean an expense of say $50 and much wasted energy. A single messenger could so systemize the work, by mapping out the shortest routes, that he could accomplish the work in far less time, comparatively, than the 100 messengers, and his bill would be only about $5. Now, suppose the man should ascertain that each of his 199 neighbors in the block also had 100 presents to deliver. That would make 20,000 presents in all. If each man should employ a separate messenger it would cost about $1,000. One messenger would go to First street and leave a package (little knowing that another messenger was to deliver a package at perhaps the very next door), thence to—say Nineteenth street, thence to a distant section of the city, thence to still another district, and so on. Each of the 200 messengers would have the same long journey to make, wearing out his shoe leather, making the cars douseless work, and wearing and wasting his own energy. But suppose the 200 neighbors should combine and co-operate. They would soon find that about five messengers could deliver their 20,000 presents in about the same time that 200 could; and, at $5 each, or $25 in all, with a saving of $975 to themselves. Mapping out the city in five districts and assigning one messenger to each, they would probably find that many presents were to be delivered in adjoining houses, and some to different residents of the same house. Witness the many steps that have been saved, and the time, and the labor of 95 men who have thus been freed to work in some productive vocation.
Method and system are parents of economy. They allay waste, eliminate useless labor, and lighten and lessen the toil of the human family.
ANOTHER ILLUSTRATION.
Some morning at break of dawn witness the confusion in the simple industry of delivering milk. A wagon rattles up to your door and leaves a bottle of milk. It clatters down the street and leaves a bottle to a neighbor in the next block. Then it turns down the avenue and leaves a bottle several blocks away, and thenceperhaps to a distant section. But watch, and you behold another wagon coming. It stops at the next house to yours and deposits a bottle on the window-sill, then dashes down the block and leaves a bottle at some distant house, then to a house perhaps several blocks away, and so on until it has covered, in spots, a large territory. Soon, a third wagon appears and leaves a bottle at the second house from yours, and then dashes away to distant parts to cover its route.
And so on until nearly 200 different wagons, or grocer clerks, have visited the 200 houses in your block to deliver 200 separate bottle of milk. In every block the same scene is being enacted. Remember that every employer has horses, wagons, harness, drivers, a store, books, a cashier, advertising, fuel, light, and a plant to maintain.
[1]Now compare the unsystemized milk delivery with the scientific, methodical system of delivering the mail. The letter-carrier leaves a letter or paper at your door, hurries on to the next house, then to the next and the next; then, he does likewise on the other side of the street until nearly every house in the block is visited; then he proceeds to the next block and continues his systematic, economical labors; and so on untilhe approaches the line where another carrier has been doing likewise in the adjoining district.
Suppose mail should be delivered in the unorganized, unmethodic manner that milk is delivered; it would require many times as many carriers to do it, and this additional work would be just as useless and wasteful to the world as if they were employed to dig holes in the earth only to fill them up again. If the milk business were to be organized similar to the letter-carrying business what an enormous amount of wasted energy and labor would be saved. What an immense amount of useful and wealth-creating work could those now useless extra milkmen perform in other callings.
THE FUTURE.
The question is asked: Will all of the milk dealers one day combine and form a Trust? And should they? My answer is, Yes. Competition will perhaps drive them to it; but if it does not, some day they will see the advantages and benefits of such a combination and they will wisely follow the example of the oil and steel magnates. If they never see it, then some of the larger and wiser milk dealers will, and they will perhaps enlist sufficient capital to control the market by buying up the milk supply at thefarms, thus driving the smaller dealers out of the business or into the Trust.
What is true in the milk business is also true of nearly every other similar business, and that is the condition which this country has to face in the near future.
PARTNERSHIP.
A is engaged in the manufacture of shoes. B is a rival. They sell a certain shoe for $3. Each has a separate plant to maintain; a bookkeeper; a delivery wagon; and fuel, light, rent and advertising bills to pay. After a while A and B form a partnership under one roof, with only one delivery wagon, one bookkeeper, etc. With this great saving in expenses they find that they can produce as many shoes with the one enlarged plant as the two old plants produced and at much less cost. They can now pay a little higher wages, make a little more profit and still reduce the price of their shoes to, say, $2.90. C now comes to town and opens a rival establishment. He has difficulty in producing as good a shoe for $2.90 as does the firm of A & B, but he competes for a while until D comes to town and starts another shoe factory. Then C and D join their plants into one and the two firms go on competing, each spending large sums in advertising,etc. Finally they all get together and combine the several plants into one. They build an extension on A and B's building and move C and D's machinery therein. The new firm of A, B, C & D now have a large plant. Where formerly the individual manufacturers employed say six bookkeepers, they can now get along with but two. Where they once had ten delivery wagons they now require but two or three, because of the systemized routes mapped out. Instead of each manufacturer spending $10,000 a year for advertising, or $40,000 in all, the new firm now spends only say $15,000. The saving and economy is so great in nearly everything, that they can now pay still higher wages, make still greater profit and sell their shoes for perhaps $2.75—if they want to. Thus everybody is benefited by the enlarged partnership except those who have been thrown out of employment, and they shall presently be taken care of as we proceed.
Now, if four men by combining and forming a partnership can reduce the price of shoes from $3.00 to $2.75 and pay higher wages and make more profit than if they were operating separate plants, how great must be the advantages of 100 or 1,000 men and plants combining into a partnership. This would be a Trust. If two men can use the light of one lamp or the heat of oneradiator without one depriving the other of any light and heat, so can 100 men do likewise, provided there is enough light and heat to go around, and on this simple principle is the great Trust founded. It economizes; it eliminates useless energy; it allays waste; it saves. Our letters are delivered by the Trust system; our milk is delivered by the old system of individual enterprise and is inconsistent with modern civilization.
ORGANIZATION.
If the industries were not organized, if Trusts and Combinations were unknown, if there were no corporations and no partnerships and everything was carried on by individual units, what would be our industrial condition? What an enormous amount of waste would there be and what a colossal volume of extra work would the human family have to perform to produce what we now have!
Organization is the key-note of the century. "Individual Enterprise" is a relic of past ages. A partnership of two or more is organization on a small scale. A corporation is practically a combination of two or more partnerships, or an enlarged legalized partnership. A Trust then is simply an organization of several smaller organizations. The greater and more perfect theorganization, the greater the economy. The greater the economy the lower will be the cost of production, and the smaller will be the amount of work to be performed and, likewise, the cheaper will be the article—if! (See later).
ADVERTISING.
Most advertising is wasted energy. One of its purposes is to take trade from another and bring it to itself,—a snare set by A to attract B's customers. It creates nothing, and is only useful as a means of communication or notification, and it imposes an unnecessarily heavy burden upon the human family. While it does give employment, it is not much more useful employment than the hiring of men to shovel dirt into the river and then hiring them to shovel it out again. If employment is all we seek, why not tear down the public buildings and then hire men to build them up again? (The question of employment for labor will be dealt with elsewhere.)