CHAPTER XII

PERSONAL FORCES

BOSWELL relates that Dr. Johnson once refused a living of considerable value in Lincolnshire. The thought of Dr. Johnson in a country parish seems not to have aroused any sense of humor in the faithful biographer, who after mentioning the conscientious convictions of his master concerning his personal duty, adds the pertinent consideration that Dr. Johnson's "love of London life was so strong, that he would have felt himself an exile in any other place, particularly if residing in the country." It would be the height of folly to deny the attraction of the city. The mere mention of men' of the type of Johnson and Macaulay is enough to make it plain that the city is the proper setting for thinkers and men of affairs when they reach the cosmopolitan size.

It is interesting, however, to find Dr. Johnson oppressed with the size of the little London of his day. Boswell had remarked, as they walked to church on Good Friday" that one disadvantage arising from the immensity of London was, that nobody was heeded by his neighbor; there was no fear of censure for not observing Good Friday, as it ought to be kept, and as it is kept in country towns." The doctor contended

1"The Life of Samuel Johnson," Vol. I, Chap. IX.

that, upon the whole, the day was very well observed even in London. "He, however, owned," writes Boswell," that London was too large." 1 The philosopher added more to the effect that it was not a case of the head outgrowing the body-a thing tolerable enough in his opinion, no doubt-but of a development in which head and body could not be made out at all. Evidently there would be some hazard if this critical old lover were to see his beloved London to-day. The gigantic city, however, has no lack of enchantments for those whose tastes have changed with the times. The present passion is for bigness, and cities seem never too large. Not only with ardent lovers but with wise men the country town is out of favor, a little David out in the field while the big brothers pass before Samuel.

The love of the city can give a good account of itself. There meet the great currents of the world— whether of trade, of government, or of thought. To dwell in the midst of great affairs is stimulating and wholesome. The throng of men has a fascination; the crowd is exhilarating. The sense of a living touch as one meets his fellows elbow to elbow is more human and social than the craving for solitudes. These personal influences, attracting to the city, must be added to the industrial forces that drive men thither. This aspect of the problem is well stated by a suggestive writer upon rural life a generation ago. "If you ask these people," says Mr. Eggleston, “why they are so eager for the town, and so ready to leave

1 Op. Cit., Vol. II, Chap. XI.

the country, their answer when you fairly get it is, 'The country is dull.' It is the defective social element of our country life which is the most efficient cause of the depletion of the country and the disproportionate gathering of population in the large towns and cities." A more philosophical observer, writing from the English standpoint, confirms this judgment. Mr. Lecky writes: "But every one who has much practical acquaintance with country life will, I believe, agree that the movement (migration of the agricultural population to the great towns) has been greatly intensified by the growing desire for more excitement and amusement." 2 This, doubtless, is a true view, and we need not dissent even when this increasing restlessness is attributed to education. Instead of finding fault with those who are discontented in the country, we do better to recognize in their desire for the city an expansion of mind and an inevitable phase of human experience in the advance of civilization.

It is well to sound the matter to the bottom and find in the centripetal social tendency an instinct developed in the evolutionary process. Natural selection early set its mark upon gregariousness, for during long eras of desolating war those who dwelt apart perished. A home upon the farm itself is the recent boon of peace and national stability; the village and the city have been places of refuge. The result of sifting the race for ages under this principle is the evolution of

1 Nathaniel Hillyer Eggleston, "Villages and Village Life," pp. 32, 37.

"Democracy and Liberty," Vol. I, p. 319. Cf. Vol. II, p. 477

an instinct villageward and cityward. The village loafer, rightly understood, simply squares himself with the forces that have made mankind, and offers no further protest against this social gravitation. And this same hunger for comradeship drives the uprooted migrant far beyond the neighboring village to the never-filled cities. To stay apart, to work alone, to live in seclusion, may have great compensations; but to speak of them is scarcely more effective than to reason with the avalanche concerning the glory of the mountain after it has felt the joy of yielding to the forces that have pulled at its heart since the world began.

The concession of the supreme attraction of the city and the recognition of the centripetal impulse in its full force-as if social gravitation varied with the mass-need not obscure those personal influences that enrich and mold rural life. Along the roadsides and in the villages life goes on with all its wide and deep human interests. There is rich profiting from such personal contacts as the country affords. In the development of men the personal environment must ever have chief significance; its unique features in city or country must be traced with care. Of these personal forces of the rural environment-rich influences even for a scattered people-our study must now take note if it is to fathom what is taking place.

Environment suggests to many minds only soil, climate, formations of land and sea; more important by far are the social tradition, literature, institutions, men. Here we speak of groups of men into which

the individual is born. It matters much whether one first sees the light in the midst of farmers and villagers, or in the huge conglomeration of the city. The theme is a composite one, and it is not easy to keep its elements apart. On the one hand the rural condition-chiefly the paucity of men-favors character of peculiar types; and on the other hand these men in their turn become an influence modifying and enriching the lives of their neighbors. The essential facts will come into view if we consider first the room and freedom and afterwards the closeness of personal contact in the country.

Originality requires chiefly to be let alone, and there is not much to say of the first topic beyond the recognition of the negative influence of the rural environment,-if mere vacuity and spaciousness can be called influences. The country protects from fads and crazes -the excesses of the imitative instinct. The more common putting of it is that the country is free from the temptations of which the city is full. A temptation is chiefly a bad example that appeals to the imitative instinct. In these times when social life is highly developed,-when a multitude of people do the same things, talk of the same things, read the same things, -we have something different from temptation in the old sense. There is an assault of society upon the individual with no sense of a moral issue to arouse resistance. The tendency is for vast masses to become passive to the sentiment or superstition or delirium of the hour. As these social storms pass over, they give an agreeable variety to the mental weather; many