A WINTER’S WORK, IN FOUR 
 VOLUMES 
 
 VOLUME I 
 
 THE NEW INDUSTRIALISM 
 
THE 
 
 NEW INDUSTRIALISM 
 
 PART I. INDUSTRIAL ART 
 
 By PROF. OSCAR L. TRIGGS 
 
 PART II. THE FUTURE SCHOOL 
 By WILBUR S. JACKMAN 
 
 PART III. THE ART AND CRAFT 
 OF THE MACHINE 
 
 By FRANK LLOYD WRIGHT 
 
 PUBLISHED BY 
 
 NATIONAL LEAGUE OF INDUSTRIAL ART 
 CHICAGO, MCMII 
 
From the Educational Department of the 
 Illinois State Society of the Daughters of the 
 Revolution. 
 
 A course of fourteen lectures on general 
 social topics, open to the public without fee 
 and with free discussion being given in Univer- 
 sity Lecture Hall, Fine Arts Building, Chicago. 
 
 Marguerite Warren Springer, 
 
 CHAIRMAN. 
 
PROGRAMME 
 
 Oct. ii — C onstitution and How it was Made 
 
 by Judge Chas. G. Neely 
 
 Oct. 25 — Industrial Art 
 
 by Prof. Oscar Lovell Triggs 
 University of Chicago 
 Sec. of Industrial Art 
 League 
 
 Nov. 8 — Ibsen’s, The Enemy of the People 
 
 by Jenkin Lloyd Jones 
 
 Nov. 22 — A Talk to the People 
 
 by Samuel M. Jones 
 Mayor of Toledo 
 
 Dec. 13— Henry George 
 
 by Louis F. Post 
 
 Editor of The Public 
 
 Dec. 27 — John Ruskin, Prophet 
 
 by Walter Vrooman 
 
 Founder of Ruskin Hall 
 Oxford University 
 
 Jan. 10 — The Future School 
 
 by Prof. Wilbur S. Jackman 
 University of Chicago 
 
 Jan. 24 — What is the Real Emancipation of Woman ? 
 
 by Wm. M. Salter 
 
 Lecturer Ethical Culture 
 Society 
 
 Feb. 14 — The Blight of the Army 
 
 by Marion Craig Wentworth 
 
 Feb. 28 — The Newer Ideals of Peace 
 
 by Jane Addams 
 
 Mar. 14 — Man and the Machine 
 
 by Frank Lloyd Wright 
 
 Mar. 28 — The Coming Society 
 
 by Prof. Albion W. Small 
 University of Chicago 
 
 Apr. 11— Charity or Justice, Which? 
 
 by Prof. Emil G. Hirsch 
 University of Chicago 
 Sinai Temple 
 
 Apr. 25 — The Future of Militarism 
 
 by Prof. Edmund J. James 
 University of Chicago 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 Educational Department of the Daughters of the 
 Revolution ...... 
 
 The Winter’s Programme .... 
 Prefatory — American Ideals . 
 
 Introduction — The Forward Movement in Patriotism 
 Industrial Art ..... 
 
 The Gospel of Art . , 
 
 The Future School ..... 
 The Art and Craft of the Machine 
 National Society, Daughters of the Revolution . 
 
 The Illinois State Society of the D. R. and its 
 Affiliation 
 
 Insigna and Colors of the D. R. . 
 
 Heroic Deed of Elizabeth Zane 
 
 The New Revolution .... 
 
 Concerning D. R. and D. A. R. 
 
 Illinois Regiment in the War of the Revolution 
 Objects of the Society .... 
 Eligibility to the Society .... 
 
 13 
 
 15 
 
 23 
 
 33 
 
 45 
 
 65 
 
 69 
 
 81 
 
 1 15 
 
 1 17 
 
 119 
 
 123 
 
 129 
 
 137 
 
 147 
 
 166 
 
 167 
 
ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 Thomas Carlyle .... Frontispiece 
 
 An Industrial Art Workshop . . . . n 
 
 William Morris ..... 41 
 
 Ruskin ....... 61 
 
 In Workshop of University Guild ... 77 
 
 Old Colonial Bed ..... 113 
 
 BETTY ZANE CHAPTER, CHICAGO D. R. 
 
 Some Pewter from the Colonial Period . . 125 
 
 BETTY ZANE CHAPTER, CHICAGO D. R. 
 
 A Corner of Room of the D. R. Guild . . 143 
 
 BELONGING TO BETTY ZANE CHAPTER, CHICAGO D. R. 
 
 Corner Cupboard and China . . . 153 
 
 OF BETTY ZANE CHAPTER, CHICAGO D. R. 
 Wash-bowl and Pitcher, used by Washington . 163 
 
 RELICS OF CHICAGO D. R. CHAPTER 
 
PREFACE TO WINTER’S WORK 
 
 AMERICAN IDEALS 
 
 EX-GOVERNOR JOHN P. ALTGELD 
 
 A CENTURY and a quarter ago there was 
 established on this continent, not simply a 
 new government, not simply an independent gov- 
 ernment, not simply a government free from the 
 political control of foreign powers, but there was 
 established a new theory of government. A new 
 principle. The principle of the equality of men 
 before the law. The principle that governments 
 derive their just powers from the consent of the 
 governed. 
 
 It was a government based upon liberty, based 
 upon foundations of freedom. It was a recogni- 
 tion of the idea that man is capable of self-govern- 
 ment. A promulgation of the idea that when the 
 oppressive hand of power is taken off the mind of 
 man, he will aspire to higher things and will 
 struggle to attain higher conditions. 
 
 It was a protest against the institutions that 
 had prevailed in the by-gone centuries. It in sub- 
 
 23 
 
stance said that the theories of government and 
 the practice of repression that had prevailed in 
 all the centuries of the past had proven to be fail- 
 ures ; that instead of leading mankind to a higher 
 and nobler civilization, they seemed by their re- 
 pressive measures to push the human race down 
 to an ever lower and lower level of life. 
 
 These free institutions thus established in this 
 country were themselves the product or crystal- 
 lization of the ideas that had long prevailed in 
 America, and to a limited extent on the other side 
 of the Atlantic. Never before had a government 
 embodied in its fundamental law such lofty senti- 
 ments and such high ideals. It was indeed a new 
 departure. It was indeed the morning of a new 
 time. 
 
 The hand of repression once removed, the in- 
 tellect of man leaped forward in all fields of hu- 
 man effort. Man being permitted to pursue the 
 bent of his own mind, so long as he did not injure 
 his neighbor, drew new inspiration and went forth 
 with new ardor, with new courage, and with a 
 higher purpose. The world went forward in 
 invention, in discovery, in literature, in art, in the 
 sciences, in politics, in government, and even in 
 military affairs. Men not only studied the heav- 
 ens, but stole from nature her secrets and applied 
 them to their use. 
 
 It was this new life, this new energy bom of 
 freedom, that made the wonderful nineteenth cen- 
 
 24 
 
tury — a century that did more for human pro- 
 gress, more for the elevation of the human race, 
 more for the development of the earth than all 
 of the centuries that had gone before. Should hu- 
 man progress end, the nineteenth century will 
 stand in history forever as the child of liberty, 
 the child that was born in the manger of human 
 rights, and for that reason proved a benediction 
 to mankind. 
 
 As we now look back beyond the nineteenth 
 century, we find that wherever there is a green 
 oasis in the great desert waste of the past, there 
 was a partial recognition of the principles of de- 
 mocracy, a partial understanding of republican 
 institutions. We find that the nations of the past 
 grew great only in proportion as they recognized 
 human rights, and that the process of retrogres- 
 sion began and their glory departed when they 
 proved recreant to the principles of democracy. 
 
 The intellectual activity that is bom of free- 
 dom made Greece glorious; made Rome great; 
 made some medieval European cities famous ; has 
 given England her power in the world, and has 
 placed America at the front of modern civiliza- 
 tion. It is this intellectual activity drawing its 
 inspiration from freedom that has spanned the 
 continents with railroads; that has narrowed the 
 Atlantic to a week’s journey; that has brought 
 the different parts of the earth together; that has 
 built cities and given its progress to the world. 
 
 25 
 
The recognition of the doctrine of human 
 rights has produced in America groups of great 
 men. It has given us constellations of great men 
 in other fields than that of politics and of govern- 
 ment. Great men in railroading, in manufactures, 
 in commerce, in agriculture, in education, in liter- 
 ature, in every field of human activity. The prin- 
 ciples embodied in our Declaration of Indepen- 
 dence have drawn every country of Europe after 
 us, and forced it to modify its institutions by giv- 
 ing some recognition to popular rights. These 
 principles have made us a world power, for we are 
 not now becoming a world power, we have been 
 one of the greatest world powers on this earth for 
 nearly half a century. Not through our armies, 
 for we had none. Not through our navy, for it 
 was small. Not through our wealth or exhibition 
 of brute force, for there were countries that sur- 
 passed us in these things. We have been a world 
 power by reason of the high ideals we represented. 
 We have been a moral force in the world, shaping 
 the civilization of the time and directing the pro- 
 gress of man. The scholars, the philosophers, the 
 statesmen, the patriots of the world pointed to the 
 American Republic and said “there is the hope of 
 mankind.” 
 
 The abolition of slavery on this continent was 
 the natural consequence of the adoption of the 
 Declaration of Independence. Slavery rested on 
 the doctrine that might gives right; it rested on 
 
 26 
 
the doctrine that the strong have a right to eat the 
 bread that is earned by the weak; that dominant 
 people have a right to control a weaker people 
 and to give to the weaker people so much of lib- 
 erty, of freedom or justice as to the dominant 
 people seems good. This doctrine could not live 
 side by side with the Declaration of Independence, 
 which proclaimed that all men were created equal 
 and had equal rights. It was the Declaration of 
 Independence that so late as the year 1898 caused 
 the American people to rise up and say that the 
 concentration camps in Cuba could not be permit- 
 ted in this age. 
 
 The world is not going backward. Viewed 
 from headland to headland the march of the hu- 
 man race is upward. True, every forward move- 
 ment seems to be followed by a short reactionary 
 step. The waves of the rising tide of civilization 
 roll far up the bank, and they roll back again, 
 but the next wave that comes will roll further up 
 than the last, and I believe that the world is on the 
 threshold of a new development, of a new indus- 
 trial, economic, and social existence based upon 
 justice. The commercialism of which we are now 
 reaping the harvest will pass away. It will be seen 
 by and by that it was only a link in the great 
 chain of human progress, creating industrial con- 
 ditions which paved the way to other and further 
 development. 
 
 The parasites of the earth will not be permitted 
 27 
 
to forever devour the substance of others. The 
 world is beginning to see that it is the men and 
 the women who toil with their hands who make 
 civilization possible. The rest of us may indeed 
 be useful, and we think we are necessary in a high- 
 ly developed society, but we are all carried on the 
 backs of those who work with their hands. To- 
 day commercialism is chilling the soul and strik- 
 ing down all high ideals. It is prostituting every- 
 thing that is noble, great, or grand. Its twin 
 brother, imperialism, is strutting on the street 
 and posing in the drawing-room. But there is 
 growing up among the people in Europe and 
 America a new literature, a new wave of ideas 
 based on the brotherhood of man. There is grow- 
 ing up a new religion of humanity which demands 
 that the hand that does the world’s work shall 
 have a fair share of what it earns. 
 
 By and by this literature and these ideas will 
 produce a harvest. In the natural order of de- 
 velopment they will crystalize into institutions 
 and will give to the world industrial freedom and 
 social justice. In their own time this literature 
 and these ideas will give to the world a new era 
 of progress. They will give to the world an era 
 glowing with justice and radiant with liberty. 
 
 As religious freedom gave the world a new 
 birth, as political freedom gave it a new devel- 
 opment, so industrial freedom and social justice 
 will lead mankind to the highest plane of human 
 
 28 
 
J - 1 
 
 felicity. But if we would be harbingers of the 
 new time we must not pull down our altars. 
 
 We must protect the rights of the citizen, we 
 must maintain American standards, we must up- 
 hold the right of assembly, and we must preserve 
 free speech and free press. 
 
 We are not ready to admit that the fathers were 
 wrong — we are not ready to apologize for 
 their immortal work — and we will not con- 
 sent to hide their graves. All of our 
 greatness was bom of liberty, even 
 our commercialism was rocked in 
 the cradle of democracy, and 
 we cannot strangle the 
 mother without de- 
 stroying her 
 children. 
 
 29 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
THE FORWARD MOVEMENT 
 IN PATRIOTISM 
 
 LAURA McADOO TRIGGS 
 
 HIS is the day of social organization. The 
 
 world over, men and women are united in 
 fraternities and clubs and organizations, national 
 and international. The public at large has grown 
 familiar with the motive and practice of those de- 
 voted to social labors or with the purpose of the 
 culture club or charity league. But to many it 
 will come as a surprise to learn that there exist 
 in the United States fully seventy-five societies 
 denoting themselves as patriotic, hereditary, and 
 historical. Due perhaps to the fact that member- 
 ship in these societies rests, in most cases, upon 
 descent, they have formed a group somewhat 
 apart; in character, however, they are peculiarly 
 American, with the largest ideal aims, and it is 
 interesting to trace the part that they play and the 
 program they offer in this strenuous, busy mod- 
 ern life. 
 
 The societies commemorate almost every na- 
 tional event from Revolutionary times down to 
 the Spanish- American War. There are both Sons 
 
 33 
 
and Daughters of the Revolution, of the War of 
 1812, of the Civil War veterans on both sides, re- 
 lief corps, monument and memorial associations, 
 army and navy and red cross legions — and a host 
 of others. The primary purpose of one and all is 
 to perpetuate and diffuse the spirit which created 
 our national heroic epochs, to inculcate a deeper 
 understanding of the meaning of the American 
 Union — in short, to make out of the American 
 consciousness of to-day the stuff of as fine and 
 staunch a patriotism as that which in the past 
 made possible this present. In concrete ways 
 their work has taken useful directions. Valuable 
 research has brought to light many documents 
 and records of the country’s history, actual his- 
 torical study has been accelerated, preservation of 
 national sites has been effected, and some philan- 
 thropic assistance rendered. Numbers of indi- 
 viduals have through these societies come for the 
 first time to an appreciation of the meaning of 
 American citizenship, with all that that implies, 
 as the gift of the toils and privations of the fore- 
 fathers. More scientific than the rest is the work 
 which has been done among the public schools, 
 where children have been instructed in patriotism 
 and a national sense. In some respects it is more 
 difficult for the American child to grasp the mean- 
 ing of liberty than for the child of a tyrannical 
 government. A certain benefit accrues to an idea 
 which is lighted by contrast or darkened by men- 
 
 34 
 
ace. When it is the commonplace soil of daily liv- 
 ing, it gains in reality but loses in imaginative 
 value. The long environment of freedom is the 
 American’s “descent,” as ancient lineage is the 
 European’s. Liberty is so much a matter of 
 course at this time, that far from being prized, 
 there are indications at times of its being regarded 
 in the light of a surfeit. Witness the recent will- 
 ingness on the part of the public to surrender the 
 right of free speech. But it was not thus with 
 the men who made the nation, and the young to 
 whom we look for future citizenship can only 
 realize the quality of their full and expansive 
 democracy by a review of the national travail 
 which preceded it. 
 
 Then again, there was never stronger need of 
 profound patriotic understanding than in this era 
 of world-reaching national expansion. In the 
 earlier history of the United States there was less 
 necessity for special organizations to spread the 
 national ideas, for those who formed the nation 
 were in large measure the heirs in blood and con- 
 viction of its founders. When one considers the 
 immense influx of foreign populace who emigrate 
 to these shores, and the absolute alien colonies 
 over which floats the flag of the Union, the con- 
 viction is aroused of the importance of service 
 rendered for spiritual unity. The patriotic so- 
 cieties become then peculiar guardians of the 
 American ideal, “keepers of the seal,” so to speak, 
 
 35 
 
and by reason of their direct descent from found- 
 ers and patriots of the nation, the rightful agents 
 for the spread of American tradition and history. 
 
 As further befitting the celebration of the 
 conquest of democracy, we discover that a large 
 proportion of these societies is composed of wo- 
 men. Along with the forward movement in all 
 social directions, the emancipation of woman has 
 been the most striking incident. The universal 
 class-consciousness of women as workers has 
 found expression in innumerable clubs of every 
 character, and of those expressive of patriotic en- 
 thusiasm the Daughters of the Revolution may be 
 taken as a type. The society was founded in New 
 York in 1891, being a national organization with 
 federated state societies, which include again local 
 chapters. They have accomplished important 
 historic and philanthropic service, not the least of 
 their patriotic plans being the preservation of 
 Washington’s camp-ground at Valley Forge by 
 making it a national park. More than this, 
 among all the ancestral societies, it has remained 
 for the Daughters of the Revolution to inaugu- 
 rate a wholly new departure from the work of 
 their colleagues. The one criticism which may be 
 passed upon such organizations, as also the one 
 temptation which assails them, is a certain glori- 
 fication of war and the military idea, at variance 
 with the world spirit and motive of the present. 
 It is well to inculcate patriotism and reverence 
 
 36 
 
for the past. But to become really educative such 
 study must proceed further and be sociologically 
 consistent with the new order of citizenship char- 
 acteristic of America. That order expresses not 
 militarism, but an industrial development with 
 its accruing elevation of the mean of mass pros- 
 perity and happiness. All the work hitherto of 
 teaching the history and triumph of American 
 arms has been but the evolutionary basis for in- 
 struction in the social problems now maturing. 
 The patriotic associations must assume these if 
 they are to justify themselves as vital, social, or 
 even patriotic, agencies. The Daughters of the 
 Revolution have sensed this larger employ of the 
 idea of patriotism, have made the step forward, 
 and through the initiative of Mrs. Marguerite 
 Warren Springer, Regent of the Illinois State So- 
 ciety, have established in Chicago an open plat- 
 form for the study of present-day social interests. 
 Mrs. Springer’s motive is to make of the organiza- 
 tion which boasts descent from the founders of 
 democracy a true expression of the democratic 
 life. To commemorate the fathers of democracy 
 and yet be unsympathetic of the wide directions 
 of economic advance bom of political freedom is 
 to be Tory at heart. Similarly it is misleading to 
 celebrate the aggressive and martial temper of the 
 young republic unless it is made plain that merely 
 the quality of valor is applauded, and that its 
 exercise must now be displayed in the peaceful 
 
 37 
 
fields of co-operative social betterment. The 
 military ideal is an anachronism. The social ideal 
 has supplanted it, but since it has come to birth 
 through the legacy of political struggle, a society 
 which educates the public in respect to one must, 
 to be scientific, include and progress to the other. 
 
 The program of the Daughters of the Revolu- 
 tion exhibits this inclusion and sincerity. His- 
 tory of the past has been made the background 
 for the enlightenment of the new duties taught 
 by new occasions. The public discussions now 
 in progress in Chicago are under direction of men 
 and women from the ranks of the university, the 
 liberal pulpit, social labor and settlement, politics, 
 the press, and the professions. Subjects like the 
 following are advanced: The Coming Society; 
 The Newer Ideals of Peace; Industrial Art; The 
 Future of Militarism; The Future School; Man 
 and the Machine ; A Talk to the People, etc. The 
 audience takes active part in the questions raised, 
 and contributes to their elucidation. This labor, 
 Mrs. Springer feels, is more truly patriotic than 
 the looking backward to purely static conditions. 
 She advocates an increasing attention on the part 
 of the patriotic associations to work of this type, 
 rather than the expense of energy and resources 
 in the erection of memorials and monuments or 
 the furthering of charity labors unless they be al- 
 lied to definite social endeavor. She has also 
 affiliated the Illinois branch with the Settlement 
 
 38 
 
idea, and to the Industrial Art League, both of 
 which aim in numerous ways to introduce 
 creative workmanship into the develop- 
 ment and expression of the American 
 character. With the assumption of 
 these large modern and creative 
 directions of energy by the 
 national association, Am- 
 erica will possess the 
 first scientific dem- 
 onstration of the 
 patriotism of 
 democracy. 
 
 39 
 

 one day w;; shall 
 
 A R.T AGAI N TO qVR DAll 
 1 • A B O R * Wl N fj AC K, M 
 n I AT 13 To JAY, -TrtiUMZ, 
 LiF >- 
 
 COPYRIGHT 1902— THE BOHEMIA GUILD OF THE 
 
 INDUSTRIAL ART LEAGUE 
 
PART I 
 
 INDUSTRIAL ART 
 
 BY 
 
 OSCAR LOVELL TRIGGS, PH.D. 
 
 University of Chicago 
 
INDUSTRIAL ART 
 
 BY OSCAR LOVELL TRIGGS 
 
 I AM not certain that I myself deserve a place on 
 this program in the midst of this galaxy of dis- 
 tinguished speakers. I claim, however, for my 
 subject an equality with all the subjects of this 
 course. If then you expect me to treat my sub- 
 ject seriously, and with the dignity that becomes 
 it, you will not require of me a technical discus- 
 sion about the making of pots and pans, which 
 somehow have come to stand as symbols of In- 
 dustrial Art. 
 
 The question of art is a social question. We 
 cannot have a genuine native art until society is 
 so ordered that art is its natural outcome. In- 
 dustrial Art is the industrial phase of a general 
 modern tendency working toward a freer social 
 order ; so from this point of view I wish to explain 
 first what the industrial art movement is; and 
 second, what it means; and third, where it is 
 tending. 
 
 I. 
 
 What then is the industrial art movement, or 
 if you prefer the title given by J. Cobden-Sander- 
 
 45 
 
son, “The Arts and Crafts Movement?” Con- 
 sidered as a movement, this is an industrial ten- 
 dency springing from the economical teachings 
 of Carlyle, Ruskin, and William Morris. The 
 practical beginning was about forty years ago. 
 I find indeed the beginning of this movement in 
 i860, that time when Morris built his famous 
 Red House on the outskirts of London in the 
 midst of an orchard, he himself being the archi- 
 tect, the decorator, and the furnisher. Its the- 
 oretical aspect however is older than this, and is 
 measured by the lives of Carlyle, Ruskin and 
 William Morris, or essentially three generations. 
 
 Carlyle’s relationship to the movement is re- 
 mote and theoretical only, yet it is important. 
 I brought with me Carlyle’s “Past and Present,” 
 wishing to read a passage from his chapter on 
 “Labor,” from which we will get an idea of Car- 
 lyle’s doctrine of work : 
 
 “There is a perennial nobleness, and even sa- 
 credness, in Work. Were he never so benighted, 
 forgetful of his high calling, there is always hope 
 in a man that actually and earnestly works; in 
 Idleness alone is there perpetual despair. Work, 
 never so Mammonish, mean, is in communication 
 with Nature; the real desire to get Work done 
 will itself lead one more and more to truth, to 
 Nature’s appointments, and regulations, which 
 are truth. 
 
 “The latest Gospel in this world is, Know thy 
 46 
 
work and do it. ‘Know thyself : long enough has 
 that poor ‘self’ of thine tormented thee ; thou wilt 
 never get to ‘know’ it, I believe ! Think it not thy 
 business, this of knowing thyself ; thou art an un- 
 knowable individual : know what thou canst work 
 at ; and work at it like a Hercules ! That will be 
 thy better plan. 
 
 “It has been written, ‘an endless significance 
 lies in Work’; a man perfects himself by work- 
 ing. Foul jungles are cleared away, fair seed- 
 fields rise instead, and stately cities; and withal 
 the man himself first ceases to be jungle and foul 
 unwholesome desert thereby. Consider how, 
 even in the meanest sorts of Labor, the whole 
 soul of a man is composed into a kind of real 
 harmony, the instant he sets himself to work! 
 Doubt, Desire, Sorrow, Remorse, Indignation, 
 Despair itself, all these like hell-dogs lie be- 
 leaguering the soul of the poor dayworker, as of 
 every man; but he bends himself with free valor 
 against his task, and all of these are stilled, all 
 these shrink murmuring far off into their caves. 
 The man is now a man. The blessed glow of 
 Labor in him, is it not as purifying fire, wherein 
 all poison is burnt up, and of sour smoke itself 
 there is made bright, blessed flame ! 
 
 “Destiny, on the whole, has no other way of 
 cultivating us. A formless Chaos, once set it re- 
 volving, grows round and ever rounder; ranges 
 itself by mere force of gravity into strata, spher- 
 
 47 
 
ical courses; is no longer a Chaos, but a round, 
 compacted World. What would become of the 
 Earth, did she cease to revolve ? In the poor old 
 Earth, so long as she revolves, all inequalities, 
 irregularities disperse themselves; all irregular- 
 ities are incessantly becoming regular. Hast thou 
 looked on the Potter’s wheel, — one of the vener- 
 ablest objects; old as the Prophet Ezekiel, and 
 far older? Rude lumps of clay, how they spin 
 themselves up, by mere quick whirling, into beau- 
 tiful circular dishes. And fancy the most assid- 
 uous Potter, but without his wheel; reduced to 
 make dishes, or rather amorphous botches, by 
 mere kneading and baking ! Even such a Potter 
 were Destiny, with a human soul that would rest 
 and lie at ease, that would not work and spin ! Of 
 an idle, unrevolving man the kindest Destiny, like 
 the most assiduous Potter without wheel, can 
 bake and knead nothing other than a botch; let 
 her spend on him what expensive coloring, what 
 gilding and enameling she will, he is but a botch. 
 Not a dish; no, a bulging, kneaded, crooked, 
 shambling squint-cornered, amorphous botch — 
 a mere enameled vessel of dishonor ! Let the idle 
 think of this. 
 
 “Blessed is he who has found his work; let 
 him ask no other blessedness. He has a work, 
 a life-purpose ; he has found it, and will follow it ! 
 How, as a free-flowing channel, dug and torn by 
 noble force through the sour mud-swamp of one’s 
 
existence, like an ever-deepening river there, it 
 runs and flows; draining off the sour, festering 
 water, gradually from the root of the remotest 
 grass-blade ; making, instead of pestilential 
 swamp, a green, fruitful meadow with its clear, 
 flowing stream. How blessed for the meadow it- 
 self, let the stream and its value be great or small ! 
 Labor is Life ; from the inmost heart of the Worker 
 rises his god-given Force, the sacred celestial Life 
 essence breathed into him by Almighty God; 
 from his inmost heart awakens him to all noble- 
 ness, to all knowledge, ‘self-knowledge’ and much 
 else, so soon as Work fitly begins. Knowledge? 
 The knowledge that will hold good in working, 
 cleave thou to that; for Nature herself accredits 
 that, says Yea to that. Properly thou hast no 
 other knowledge but what thou hast got by work- 
 ing ; the rest is yet all a hypothesis of knowledge ; 
 a thing to be argued of in schools, a thing float- 
 ing in the clouds, in endless logic-vortices, till 
 we try it and fix it. ‘Doubt, of whatever kind, 
 can be ended by Action alone.’ ” 
 
 The sum of Carlyle’s teaching, however, was 
 this, “Produce, produce, in God’s name produce, 
 even though it be but an infinitesimal portion of 
 a product.” Carlyle simply set the world to work. 
 He did not care how they worked or at what they 
 worked. 
 
 Now Ruskin was Carlyle’s pupil. He seized 
 upon Carlyle’s doctrine of work, developed it into 
 
 49 
 
an economical system, and applied it practically 
 in a number of ways. I do not intend to insult 
 Ruskin by calling him a fine writer— which would 
 mean that I do not care for what he said. I do 
 not consider Ruskin an art critic in the conven- 
 tional meaning of the word. He was a very un- 
 safe art critic. He was, however, a skillful polit- 
 ical economist, and he dealt with art simply be- 
 cause art is one of the chief forms of human pro- 
 ductivity. As Ruskin knew more about art than 
 any economist, and more about economy than any 
 artist, he had a good right to speak upon the sub- 
 ject, The Political Economy of Art. 
 
 You are doubtless familiar with Ruskin’s 
 ideas. I want to recall to your mind several of his 
 fundamental distinctions. 
 
 In the first place he distinguished between 
 mercantile economy, the economy of money-ex- 
 change, which he called the “Science of Ava- 
 rice,” and political economy, which referred to the 
 welfare of the people at large. Mercantile economy 
 is the economy of trade, of money, of exchange. 
 Political economy represents the general welfare 
 of mankind. From this point of view Ruskin 
 formulated several definitions. Let me place be- 
 fore you three, those relating to wealth, value, 
 and cost. These definitions are doubtless familiar 
 to you, but let me put them freshly before you. 
 
 Wealth is commonly defined in terms of 
 money or property. How much is a man worth? 
 
 50 
 
This man is said to be a “millionaire.” But what 
 is he worth in terms of social service? When 
 some one was talking to Emerson about Califor- 
 nia, its glories, its fruits, its wines and properties, 
 Emerson inquired, “Yes; but what kind of men 
 do they produce?” And it was the same Emerson 
 who said, “He that feeds men serveth few; he 
 serves ail who dares be true.” And so Ruskin 
 would say, defining wealth in terms of life, that 
 wealth has meaning according to some such hu- 
 man standard. 
 
 On my way to the lecture-hall to-night I 
 looked at my watch to observe the time. As I was 
 also carrying Carlyle’s “Past and Present,” I 
 asked myself the value of these two objects. Now 
 the value of all watches considered as timekeep- 
 ers is about the same, although their money value 
 is variable. The value of all books considered 
 from the money point of view is essentially the 
 same, and yet the intrinsic value of books is vari- 
 able. Take the subject of food. What is the 
 value of a given product? Well this food costs 
 so much. It has that value you say. But food is 
 intended to sustain life. That is the true meas- 
 ure. Let us say, this food is adulterated. Then 
 what becomes of its intrinsic value? It has dis- 
 appeared, yet the money value may remain the 
 same. Again, what is the value of our public 
 schools? I do not observe that our public schools 
 are quoted in the daily markets. I can find stocks 
 
 Si 
 
and bonds of railroads, but I cannot buy our 
 school-houses. Here is a value which represents 
 a public asset, a social asset; but which has no 
 money quotation. The intrinsic value of our 
 schools surpasses calculation. 
 
 Consider then the question of cost. Cost is 
 commonly measured in terms again of money. 
 This object cost so much, so many dollars; but 
 the real cost of that object is something different. 
 Let us see. They are making cotton goods in 
 certain mills in the south. They are employing 
 children under twelve years of age wherever pos- 
 sible. Valued in money the cost of those cot- 
 ton goods is very slight because you can get 
 child labor at very little expense. The actual 
 cost of those cotton goods cannot be measured, 
 for life is being used and destroyed, and civiliza- 
 tion is jeopardized. Cost is measured by the ex- 
 pense of life, not of money. 
 
 Well, in all these respects Ruskin humanized 
 economy. He did not ask what the product re- 
 quired, but he asked what man required. He was 
 the first scientific economist the world has seen. 
 
 Thus far the gospel of work has been for- 
 warded by two main truths. The first truth was 
 contributed by Carlyle — his saying that “Work 
 is noble, that the only happiness is in work and 
 not in leisure.” 
 
 The second was Ruskin’s contribution, that 
 work is made for man and not man for work. 
 
 52 
 
Thus at the center of the industrial common- 
 wealth these thinkers contemplated is a man at 
 work, heartily at work, because it is a pleasure 
 so to do ; and yet the movement thus far lacked 
 its practical example. Carlyle was a man of let- 
 ters, and it is the misfortune of a man of letters 
 that he must write many volumes upon work 
 and never work himself. Carlyle was such a 
 man of letters. Ruskin was a poet, an artist, a 
 geologist, a botanist — he was active in many 
 directions, but he was not strictly a worker. 
 
 The man which these thinkers were looking 
 for was furnished in the person of William Mor- 
 ris. Morris adopted his theory from Ruskin. 
 He contributed practically nothing to the essen- 
 tial economy of the subject. As Ruskin was de- 
 scended from Carlyle, so Morris was begotten of 
 Ruskin. Morris accepted the new political econ- 
 omy which Ruskin had elaborated. It was given 
 him however to make that economy concrete in 
 a practical example. Now it is interesting to ob- 
 serve that Morris was in his youth and early 
 manhood an aristocrat. His father was a man of 
 wealth. He was brought up in an environment of 
 refinement and culture. He matriculated at Ox- 
 ford for the church and was rapidly fixing his 
 habits for a leisuristic career, but it was not long 
 before he came under Ruskin’s influence, when he 
 was converted to the doctrine of work ; and very 
 soon he stopped writing poetry and devoted him- 
 
 53 
 
self to industry and to the promotion of that cause 
 which is so well stated in these words : “One day 
 we shall win back art in our daily labor ; win back 
 art, that is to say, the pleasure of life, to the peo- 
 ple.” His practical activities took two directions, 
 the one personal, the other social. He established 
 a workshop, and he became a social reformer, 
 a practical socialist. His work in these two re- 
 spects is too well known to need explanation. I 
 am not so much interested in his social reforms as 
 in his workshop, for in this workshop was 
 solved a world-old problem, and out of it came 
 the most conspicuous revolution these later days 
 have witnessed. 
 
 Not now taking into account the radiation of 
 the new industrial impulse, this much may be 
 known of its first stages : Carlyle announced the 
 doctrine, Ruskin elaborated the system, and Mor- 
 ris gave the first practical example. 
 
 II. 
 
 What now is the meaning of Industrial Art? 
 Observe the terms. I bring together two words, 
 the word industry, and the word art. Their jux- 
 taposition implies the association of art and labor. 
 In the case of such association we inquire what 
 will result ? 
 
 Will you observe the fine artist at his work. 
 He conceives a theme ; he works upon his theme 
 in perfect freedom and because it gives him pleas- 
 
 54 
 
ure. Art is undoubtedly the freest playground of 
 the spirit. The reward of the artist lies in the 
 doing of the work — the reward is in the process, 
 in the pleasure that the doing produces. If in 
 addition to this pleasure you provide him a little 
 bread and butter he is able thus far to support his 
 physical life. 
 
 Turn to the laborer. He works under di- 
 rection. He lives in practical slavery. He works 
 because he must. His reward is not in the pro- 
 cess but in the wage. He must have his share 
 of the product he makes. His return therefore is 
 not in the process but in the property. Now 
 bring art and labor into association, take some- 
 thing of the artist’s freedom — set him at useful 
 things. Take something of the workman’s sub- 
 serviency, let him plan and execute in freedom. 
 Bring the process which the artist enjoys and the 
 product which the workman enjoys together and 
 you have a result which we have agreed to call 
 Industrial Art. Industrial Art may be defined in 
 abstract terms as “freedom conditioned by use,” 
 or to reverse the terms, as “industry conducted 
 with pleasure.” This union is, I take it, bet- 
 ter for both parties, both for the artist and 
 the workman. There is an old proverb that “all 
 work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.” There 
 is one other and still worse plight: that of the 
 one who plays all day and does no work. If work 
 alone results in dullness, play alone issues in de- 
 
 55 
 
generacy. It is not enough that a man half works 
 and half plays. The eight-hour day is no solution 
 of the labor problem; that is simply a compro- 
 mise, simply meaning that I must be a drudge 
 for eight hours of the day on work I detest in 
 order to earn a few hours for my play. The real 
 solution is in so changing the character of work 
 that it becomes itself a pleasure. 
 
 The modern problem of art is to make art so- 
 cial, that is, useful. The modern problem of labor 
 is to make labor artistic. These principles will 
 clear up somewhat if we understand that the same 
 problems are arising in education. We are 
 introducing into our schools to-day something 
 that is called manual training. We have brought 
 a workshop into the schools that have hitherto 
 been devoted to intellectual development. What 
 is the explanation of the introduction of this 
 workshop into the school? Is not the old educa- 
 tion like the old art transcendental and cultural 
 only, and is not the new education like the new art 
 practical and real? The modern problem of edu- 
 cation is exactly the same as the modem problem 
 of art, that of making the school social; and ac- 
 cords also with the same problem of labor, that 
 of making labor educative. Put these two 
 tendencies together. Observe that both art and 
 education are reaching out after labor, and labor 
 is reaching out and seeking association with the 
 studio on the one hand and the school on the 
 56 
 
other. Will not the result be that all of these 
 factors will be transformed? The school and the 
 studio will become workshops, and the workshop 
 in its turn will become a studio and a school. In 
 Industrial Art, then, I see the ultimate goal of 
 three modern tendencies. Art and education will 
 tend more and more to be industrial ; industry will 
 tend to be artistic and educative. 
 
 III. 
 
 Our third query is : What will be the end of 
 this movement? I have already hinted at an 
 answer. I believe that civilization will come to 
 be represented by a workshop. That which rep- 
 resents the present industrial system is the fac- 
 tory, a factory controlled by some owner or pro- 
 prietor, held together by the money wage, and 
 conducted to the end of producing goods for sale. 
 Under the impulse contributed by the new 
 education, which is industrial in its tendency, and 
 by the new industry, which is artistic and educa- 
 tive in its tendency, the factory is destined to 
 break up into groups, or guilds of self-governing 
 workmen, who, while still making goods for sale, 
 will strive for higher education and artistic re- 
 sults. I conceive that such a working guild is the 
 unit of the social order in the industrial common- 
 wealth we are now forming. The political and 
 legal systems of the past are practically out- 
 grown. An industrial commonwealth is not a 
 
 57 
 
government of laws ; it is a copartnership of men. 
 If then I had my way at this moment I would es- 
 tablish such a workshop. I would form a guild 
 of say fifteen master workmen and their assist- 
 ants. I would take an architect, for building is 
 the beginning of all, and I would add a decorator, 
 sculptor, workers in wood, metal, leather, glass, 
 and clay, printer, illustrator, bookbinder, an en- 
 graver, and a photographer. And I would join to 
 this group a chemist and a physicist to assist in 
 the special problems associated with work. With 
 these men I would make an experiment in the new 
 art. Yes, and it would be an experiment in the 
 new education as well. I would adopt the po- 
 litical economy of Ruskin. I would place the 
 man before the work. I would set these men to 
 work at useful things, and while they were at 
 work I would educate them, not by books, but by 
 so changing the character of their work that the 
 work itself would be educative. So I would have 
 a workshop and school combined. 
 
 Perhaps one item of this program is not easily 
 understood, how it is possible for work to be ar- 
 tistic and educative, or how it is possible for an 
 artist or an educator to engage in work. Fortu- 
 nately we have the practical example of William 
 Morris, one of the most cultured, one of the most 
 intellectual, one of the most highly trained men in 
 Europe — a poet, a man of letters, and yet this man 
 so equipped turned to the handicrafts ; and really 
 
 58 
 
he enjoyed his handicraft as much as he enjoyed 
 his poetry, and when some English noble called 
 Morris a “poet upholsterer,” he smiled and went 
 about his upholstery, thinking that he derived 
 perhaps more pleasure from that than from his 
 poetry. J. Cobden-Sanderson affords a parallel 
 instance. He was a lawyer who gave up his 
 briefs to become the best bookbinder in Europe. 
 Let us suppose for a moment that our best men 
 to-day devoted themselves to the crafts and es- 
 sayed to solve the actual problems of labor, do 
 you think labor would long remain in its present 
 condition? Do you not think they would soon 
 transform that labor until labor became some- 
 thing in which a man of mind could engage with 
 satisfaction? 
 
 Well then if I do not get the workshop I will 
 wait. I will wait for the development of the ten- 
 dencies already spoken of. I will wait for the 
 transformation of the school into a factory, and 
 I will wait for the transformation of the factory 
 into a school. Why we have already introduced 
 the workshop into the school. How long do you 
 suppose it will be before the workshop will crowd 
 out the class-rooms and dominate the school? 
 Have you observed the tendency on the part of 
 employers to introduce educative features into the 
 factory? I understand that the Westinghouse 
 Company in Pittsburg, employing thousands of 
 men, have started schools in their factory. I won- 
 
 59 
 
der how long rich men will continue this round- 
 about and very cumbersome way of satisfying 
 their social conscience — their way of building up 
 vast fortunes by means of workmen, and then 
 turning back some portion of that fortune into 
 schools and institutions. Why not develop edu- 
 cation at once in the factory, and seize upon that 
 opportunity of combining the factory and the 
 school. 
 
 I know of one ideal workshop. It is the Rook- 
 wood pottery at Cincinnati. The Rookwood pot- 
 tery was established twenty years ago by a wo- 
 man, a woman of wealth and of social position, 
 who wanted simply to make an art experiment 
 with the native clays and with home workmen. 
 She started with the fixed purpose of turning out 
 an artistic product, and of treating the workmen 
 associated with her in the work so that their art 
 should be the outcome of their enjoyment; and 
 to-day the Rookwood pottery is built high upon 
 the bluff overlooking the city of Cincinnati, an 
 example of what may be done in respect of an 
 ideal workshop. The proprietor is simply the ar- 
 bitrator. The workmen maintain their individ- 
 uality. They rarely make two products alike. 
 They educate themselves in the making and the 
 pottery remains to-day one example of what may 
 be done in ideal production — it is there that the 
 economy of Ruskin is most in evidence. 
 
 60 
 
COPYRIGHT 1902-THE BOHEMIA GUILD OF THE INDUSTRIAL ART LEAGUE 
 
THE GOSPEL OF ART 
 
 E. P. ROSENTHAL 
 
 “No greater pleasure hath a man than love 
 and give if need be life for that he loves.” 
 
 65 
 
PART II 
 
 THE FUTURE SCHOOL 
 
 BY 
 
 PROF. WILBUR S. JACKMAN 
 
 University of Chicago 
 
THE FUTURE SCHOOL 
 
 WILBUR S. JACKMAN 
 
 T T is obvious to the most casual observer at the 
 ^ present time that educational matters are in 
 the early stages of a revolution. The imperative 
 demand, pressing from every quarter, for a purer 
 type of citizenship has turned the attention of the 
 public toward the schools as the chief means by 
 which the end desired may be attained. Subject 
 as they are to the influences of tradition, however, 
 it has proved to be a difficult task so to modify 
 methods of instruction in the schools that they 
 may be consistent with the present theory that 
 training for citizenship is an affair of education. 
 
 If we have arrived at our more or less exalted 
 station of living by an evolutionary process, we 
 now probably represent but a stage of growth in 
 an indefinite series which, in time, must be super- 
 seded by successively higher stages. This notion 
 does violence to our traditions. The world has 
 long believed that man at his present horizon rep- 
 resents not only the highest type now on earth, 
 but that his present condition represents the high- 
 est possible degree of accomplishment. But in 
 
 69 
 
fact, the fall of man, not his rise, has been the 
 great theme of the past. 
 
 Judging by his history, the later conditions of 
 man will be reached through a greater refinement 
 of those senses which we now possess, and possi- 
 bly, through the birth of other senses of which 
 we now have but a suspicion, or perhaps no 
 knowledge at all. 
 
 When one pictures the future man in view of 
 the possibilities of evolution, one can see a being 
 far more sensitive to the touch of his surround- 
 ings; capable of a much greater variety of sen- 
 sations ; with immensely increased power in sum- 
 moning impressions, which have been digested 
 into knowledge, into actual and immediate use ; a 
 being much better able to recognize and receive 
 spiritual influences exerted by his fellows, and 
 with greater capability of exerting these influ- 
 ences himself. Then it must come to pass that 
 with more knowledge at hand and with a better 
 command of it, with a more delicate sense of the 
 proper relation of things, and within easy spirit- 
 ual reach of his fellows, man’s life will be corre- 
 spondingly more powerful in working out the 
 ideals of a true social state. 
 
 If, through the natural processes of develop- 
 ment, the future citizen is to fill the foregoing bill 
 of particulars, and if the schools are to be the ac- 
 cepted means of promoting that development, it 
 
 70 
 
is evident that some radical changes in organiza- 
 tion and methods will become necessary. 
 
 To be in accord with modern notions respect- 
 ing growth, the ideal school of the future will be 
 first concerned with its surroundings. The house 
 will not be located in the slums of the cities, nor 
 yet will it be buried in the recesses of the country 
 districts. The city schools of the future will be 
 built in the suburbs, and the future city councils 
 will as seriously consider the street railway routes 
 leading to these centers of our social strength as 
 they now consider the routes leading to the chief 
 marts of trade. The schools of the country, too, 
 will be placed near the villages, towns, and cities 
 that the children may reap the social advantages 
 that are thereby to be gained, and also that much 
 of the useless waste of the present plan may be 
 avoided. 
 
 The school-house will be placed in these open 
 surroundings, because just as it required the 
 clear sunlight and pure air, doubtless, to call into 
 being the first speck of life on the earth, so it 
 to-day requires the same beneficent influences to 
 keep the creation ever fresh. It is only under 
 these primeval influences, unhindered by soot or 
 dust, that we can have that absolutely fundamen- 
 tal condition for growth, education, and citizen- 
 ship — sound physical health. 
 
 In the future school, therefore, it will be easy 
 to keep the children in close contact with nature 
 
 7i 
 
in those primeval forms from which man has al- 
 ways derived his original strength. It is start- 
 ling to consider how barren at present the lives 
 of the children are in the schools in this respect 
 — country and city alike. Yet how often in all 
 our work do we go back to those experiences 
 derived from our early contact with nature for 
 strength, help, and comfort in our present time of 
 trouble ! What of the future lives of the children 
 who to-day are being drawn by the schools more 
 and more from home influences and natural sur- 
 roundings, and submerged in a crowd and are 
 being fed on the dry husks of words and other 
 semi-barren symbols! 
 
 The school of the future will be an invention 
 for the purpose of utilizing to the uttermost all 
 the rich experiences of childhood. The school 
 of to-day is the place where the child goes to con- 
 ceal what he has learned and actually knows, 
 where he is taught to forswear those things 
 which he most dearly loves, and where he is re- 
 quired to renounce almost totally that which he 
 most delights to do — namely, to work with his 
 hands. 
 
 The new school, therefore, will be the gather- 
 ing point for all the rich things in life that are 
 so attractive to childhood. The new pedagogy 
 will be induced through the challenge which such 
 fullness of subject-matter makes upon the pupil 
 to learn and upon the teacher to teach. 
 
 72 
 
The school of the future will look after the 
 individual. The unfortunate and the weak, ac- 
 cording to their several needs, will be properly 
 cared for by the strong, and this responsibility 
 will make the latter more thoughtful and tender. 
 In other days, the weak were exposed upon the 
 mountains to a pitiless death. To-day thousands 
 of such children through indifference are unne- 
 cessarily exposed to a fate almost as merciless. 
 Fictitious rewards and false incentives create and 
 foster selfishness in the strong to the utter dis- 
 couragement of the weak. The latter, early jos- 
 tled to the wayside, are left to lead a life of de- 
 spair and intellectually to perish. If the devotion 
 of the strong were placed at the service of the 
 weak there would be few indeed who would fail 
 to “pass.” But the machinery of the schools as 
 now constituted scarcely countenances the altru- 
 istic instincts of the children, much less does it 
 foster them. 
 
 The new school, therefore, will be an ideal, 
 self-governing, democratic social state. It will 
 be this for it can be no other. It will be this be- 
 cause the whole structure rests upon kindness and 
 consideration for others. The children will be 
 courteous and kind to each other and to the teach- 
 er because the teachers and parents will be cour- 
 teous and kind to them and to each other. This 
 condition of mutual consideration and respect 
 shall prevail because it will be found in the end 
 
 73 
 
to pay the best for all concerned ; that selfishness 
 and all forms of self-seeking are expensive and 
 in the end suicidal. 
 
 There will be new teachers, too, in the future 
 school. They will be selected and trained for 
 their life work with even greater care than we 
 now exercise in selecting our favorite cattle or 
 dogs. Their tenure of office no longer subject to 
 the whim of some political creature, they will give 
 themselves wholly to their work as a labor of 
 love and as a means of living up to the highest 
 ideals of life. 
 
 New parents there will be also, who will have 
 lost some of the hypocrisy of these days; who 
 will not endlessly inflict upon the suffering teach- 
 er the story of the thoroughness of their own edu- 
 cation as wrought out under conditions that no 
 longer prevail. Yea, verily, there will be in those 
 days a new heaven and a new earth. 
 
 The new school is assured. Man sometime 
 will learn that it is better to aid than to oppose 
 the evolutionary process, and also that the school 
 offers the best organized means for progress. 
 The new school founded upon the theory that 
 man must live in harmony with nature, instead 
 of at war with her, will minister to the senses, 
 which, as yet, are but a prophecy of what they 
 shall be. Through a kind nurture and refinement 
 of feelings it will gradually replace envy and 
 hate with generosity and love. 
 
 74 
 
 
Trained with and under the influences of the nat- 
 ural physical, social, and moral forces that 
 make for human growth, the future citi- 
 zen, the product of the future school, 
 will find less of strife and more of 
 peace; less of evil and more of 
 good. Life will have more 
 of steadiness for it will 
 have more of reason. 
 
 Human destiny will 
 have a higher 
 meaning. 
 
PART III 
 
 THE ART AND CRAFT OF THE 
 MACHINE 
 
 BY 
 
 FRANK LLOYD WRIGHT 
 
THE ART AND CRAFT OF THE 
 MACHINE 
 
 FRANK LLOYD WRIGHT 
 
 W HAT the machine means in ethics or sociol- 
 ogy no artist can know as yet, but this 
 thing has become the commonplace of his field, 
 and from actual experience, repeated day after 
 day in every phase of his effort, he may approach 
 the nature of the riddle closely, and in time fie 
 may prove that this “creature of iniquity” is 
 capable of carrying to fruition high ideals in art 
 — higher than the world has yet seen ! 
 
 In this day and generation we must recognize 
 that this transforming force whose outward sign 
 and symbol is the thing of brass and steel we call 
 a machine, is now grown to the point where the 
 artist must take it up, no longer to protest. Genius 
 must dominate the work of the contrivance it has 
 created. This plain duty is relentlessly marked 
 out for the artist in this, the Machine Age. He 
 cannot set it aside, although there is involved an 
 adjustment to cherished gods, perplexing and 
 painful in the extreme; and though the fires of 
 long-honored ideals shall go down to ashes. They 
 
 81 
 
will reappear, phoenix-like, with new life and 
 purposes. 
 
 None will deny that the machine has dealt a 
 death-blow to the art that Morris and Ruskin 
 loved and faintly revived. The evidence is too 
 substantial. By the art that Morris and Ruskin 
 loved, I mean art in the sense of structural 
 tradition, whose craft is fashioned upon the hand- 
 icraft ideal; wherein forms as structural parts 
 were laboriously joined so as to beautifully em- 
 phasize the manner in which the joining was 
 done. The manner in which the million and one 
 different ways in which these necessities of struc- 
 ture were realized have come down to us chiefly 
 through the books as art and they have for their 
 basis the methodical conditions of the craft that 
 produced them. They were simply the idealized 
 expression of those methods and conditions. 
 Let us assume architecture as a fitting repre- 
 sentative of this early art, and go as far back as 
 the invention of printing for our first great ma- 
 chine and trace hastily wherein the machine has 
 sapped the vitality of this art. What printing or 
 the machine has done for architecture or the fine 
 arts will have been done in a measure of time for 
 all art immediately fashioned upon the early 
 handicraft ideal. Victor Hugo has drawn the 
 parallel and was a noble lover and a great stu- 
 dent of architecture, and after tracing the growth 
 of architecture in superb fashion, showing how 
 
 82 
 
in the Middle Ages all the intellectual forces of 
 the people converged to one point — architecture 
 — he shows how, in the life of the time, whoever 
 was born poet became an architect. All other 
 arts simply obeyed and placed themselves under 
 the discipline of architecture. They were the 
 workmen of the great work. It was the archi- 
 tect who summed up in his person the sculpture 
 that carved his facades, the painting which il- 
 lumined his windows, and the music which set 
 his bells to pealing and breathed into his organs 
 — there was nothing in that time, which, in order 
 to make something of itself was forced to come 
 and frame itself in the edifice. Thus down to the 
 time of Gutenberg, architecture is the principal 
 writing — the universal writing of humanity. In 
 the great granite books begun by the Orient, con- 
 tinued by Greek and Roman antiquity, the Middle 
 Ages wrote the last pages. So down to the fif- 
 teenth century the chief register of humanity is 
 architecture. But in the fifteenth century human 
 thought discovers a mode of perpetuating itself, 
 not only more resisting than architecture, but still 
 more simple and easy. Architecture is dethroned. 
 Gutenberg’s letters of lead are about to super- 
 sede Orpheus’s letters of stone ; the book is about 
 to kill the edifice. Cut the primitive bed of a river 
 abruptly with a canal hollowed out beneath its 
 level and the river will desert its bed. We may 
 see now how architecture withers away, becom- 
 
 83 
 
ing little by little lifeless and bare. One feels the 
 water sinking, the sap departing, the thought of 
 the times and people withdrawing from it. The 
 chill is almost imperceptible in the fifteenth cen- 
 tury, the press is yet weak and at most draws 
 from architecture a superabundance of life, but 
 with the beginning of the sixteenth century the 
 malady of architecture is visible. It becomes 
 classic art in a miserable manner; from being 
 indigenous, it becomes Greek and Roman; from 
 being true and modem, it becomes pseudo-classic. 
 And it is this decadence which we call the Re- 
 naissance ! It is the setting sun which we mistake 
 for dawn. Architecture has now no power to 
 hold the other arts, so they emancipate them- 
 selves, break the yoke of the architect, and take 
 themselves off, each in its own direction. One 
 would liken it to an empire dismembered at the 
 death of its Alexander and whose provinces be- 
 come kingdoms. 
 
 Sculpture becomes statuary, the image trade 
 becomes painting, the canon becomes music. 
 Hence Raphael, Angelo and those splendors of 
 the dazzling sixteenth century. 
 
 Nevertheless when the sun of the middle ages 
 is completely set, architecture grows dim; be- 
 comes more and more effaced. The printed book, 
 the gnawing worm of the edifice sucks and de- 
 vours it. It is petty, it is nothing. Reduced to 
 itself, abandoned by other arts because human 
 
 84 
 
thought is abandoning it, it summons bunglers 
 in place of artists. It is miserably perishing. 
 
 Meanwhile what becomes of printing? All 
 the life leaving architecture comes to it and in 
 proportion as architecture ebbs and flows, print- 
 ing swells and grows. That capital of forces 
 which human thought has been expending in 
 building is hereafter to be expended in books, 
 and architecture as it was is dead, irretrievably 
 slain by the printed book ; slain because it endures 
 for a shorter time, slain because human thought 
 has found a more simple medium of expression, 
 which costs less in human effort ; because human 
 thought has been rendered volatile and inde- 
 structible, reaching irresistibly the far corners of 
 the earth and for all. 
 
 The decline of architecture forms but one line 
 of evidence of the organic process that has stead- 
 ily gone on down to the present time, and still 
 goes on weakening the hold of the artist upon his 
 people and time, drawing from his ranks poet and 
 scientist, until architecture is but a little poor 
 knowledge of archaeology and the average of art 
 is reduced to the gasping poverty of imitative 
 realism; until the whole letter of tradition, the 
 vast fabric of precedent in the flesh, which has in- 
 creasingly confused the art ideal while the ma- 
 chine has been growing to power, is a corpse from 
 which the spirit has flown. 
 
 So the artist craft wanes; craft that will not 
 85 
 
see that human thought is stripping off its old 
 form as it dons another, and artists are every- 
 where, whether catering to the leisure class of old 
 England or ground beneath the heel of commer- 
 cial abuse here in the great West, the unwilling 
 symptoms of the inevitable, organic power of the 
 machine they combat and the smoke of the fac- 
 tories they scorn to understand. Invincible the 
 machine goes on gathering force and knitting the 
 material necessities of mankind closer into a 
 universal automatic fabric ; the engine, the motor, 
 and the battleship, the works of art of the cen- 
 tury. 
 
 A magnificent truth confronts us now with no 
 guise of beauty ; a lusty material giant without a 
 trace of ideality disguised by tattered garments 
 long outgrown. And within our recollection we 
 have all been horrified at the bitter cost of its de- 
 velopment ; appalled to see this great power 
 driven by greed like a ruthless Juggernaut over 
 the innocent and defenceless, to see the bread 
 snatched from the mouths of the sober and indus- 
 trious, and honorable occupations going to the 
 wall with a half-blown riot, a feeble strike, or a 
 stifled moan, outclassed, outdone, outlived. The 
 workman himself has come to regard it as his 
 Nemesis and combines against it with a wild de- 
 spair that dashes itself to pieces, while the artist, 
 blissfully dreaming in the paths of the past, be- 
 rates him for his lack-luster senses, rails against 
 
 86 
 
conditions that neither afford him his opportu- 
 nity nor appreciate him as he panders to ill-be- 
 gotten luxury, or folds his hands, innocuous, and 
 starves to death, a martyr upon the cross of “art.” 
 Handicraftsman and artist succumb to the inevi- 
 table as one man at a machine does the work of 
 from five to fifty men in the same time, doing it 
 better, the artist meanwhile prostituting to old 
 methods and ideals the new possibilities of this 
 same machine and again in the name of the artis- 
 tic ! Meanwhile new avenues open, new possibil- 
 ities expand and notwithstanding injustice and 
 perversion the condition of the workman betters 
 as his margin of leisure widens, his wage rises 
 and the ubiquity of the machine brings him crea- 
 ture comforts and educational advantage, the ma- 
 terial comforts of life universally increase and 
 art alone languishes as an element foreign to this 
 condition, a parasite fastening itself at the bud 
 of this growing power to the passing confusion of 
 that power and its own destruction. 
 
 Is it not time to ask why it is that in the art 
 schools of this country the machine has no recog- 
 nition, is not reckoned with and measured up to 
 in the training of capable and earnest young men 
 and women? Let us for a moment visit in mem- 
 ory a temple of the fine arts very like other fine 
 art temples, where some of the city’s sons and 
 daughters are qualifying their souls to breathe 
 into this machine age the thrill of ideality. We 
 
 87 
 
approach a structure fashioned as inculcated by 
 the French, upon the ideals and methods of a 
 Graeco-Roman and a decaying civilization, whose 
 essential tool was the chattel slave ; a servile imi- 
 tation of a building originated to satisfy some 
 one else’s condition. We pass between the usual 
 lions, and beneath some foreign finery into the 
 lobby where a noble statue of the Republic con- 
 fronts us, although she is somewhat imperial, 
 and we find amid the casts of antiquity earnest 
 students, patiently and hungrily gleaning a half- 
 acre of archaeological dry bones, to feed and go 
 forth armed for educational conquest. Go forth 
 to make some impression upon the machine age 
 in which they live, their fundamental tool the 
 machine. 
 
 In this half-acre not a relic has a vital relation 
 to things as they are, except that they are more or 
 less beautiful in themselves — things as they were. 
 These students are therefore to concoct from a 
 study of the aspect of these things as they were 
 a fine-art panacea for things as they are ; to pro- 
 cure an extract of antiquity suited to modern 
 needs, meanwhile knowing nothing, permitted to 
 care nothing for modern needs, taught to shun 
 and despise the essential tool of their age as a 
 matter commercial and antagonistic to art. So 
 they go forth, each with his little extract, applying 
 it as a sticking plaster from without wherever it 
 can be made to stick, helplessly knowing that it 
 
 88 
 
should be a development from within — and this 
 is modern art ! 
 
 We climb the stairs to see the results hanging 
 upon the walls of the upper galleries, and we find 
 the same reverence for the past at cost to the pres- 
 ent and of doubtful value to the future— evidence 
 rather of the lust of the collector than the encour- 
 aging patronage of the patron of his day and gen- 
 eration. To emulate the atmosphere so created 
 we find our young men going to Holland to paint 
 gray days and sheep, or to Normandy to rival 
 Millet’s peasants, or certainly, better still, bring- 
 ing us soft skies and sunny nooks from our own 
 land, but where is the throbbing pulse of the 
 nineteenth century portrayed and idealized? 
 
 In this temple, a temple that should be the 
 heart center of a great national activity, we find 
 tradition not as an inspiring spirit that animated 
 progress in the past but an ancient mummy, a 
 dead letter, a “precedent.” We come away to see, 
 as we glance about us, the houses our people live 
 in and the public buildings they build, and trace 
 evidence on every side of an inglorious war be- 
 tween things as they were and things as they are ; 
 barren ugliness giving place to deceit glaring 
 with vain pomp and pretense ; Greek temples for 
 the money changers, Roman monuments for the 
 postal service, a nondescript palace, with a grand 
 tower for a grocery store, and bay windows, 
 topped by miniature Parthenons for office build- 
 
 89 
 
ings. Every interest in town, it seems, scurrying 
 for respectability by seeking and advertising con- 
 nection at least with the “classic.” The renais- 
 sance of the ass and the lion’s skin ! Our private 
 houses are more servile still; a polyglot encamp- 
 ment displaying a theatrical desire on the part 
 of fairly respectable people to live in chateaux, 
 manor houses, Venetian palaces, or, worse still, 
 in abortions of carpenter architects intended to 
 beat them all at their own game. Plunder ! Lies ! 
 Shams ! based upon ignorance and vanity. Every- 
 thing sacred to the art of old now rendered ob- 
 solete and unnatural by the machine, and reduced 
 to a meaningless masquerade of plunder! Then 
 look within and see the machine-made copies of 
 old originals, in fact, unless you are very fortu- 
 nate indeed, possessed of extraordinary taste and 
 opportunity, all you possess is in some degree an 
 instance of vitiated handicraft: that is, things in 
 form and design suited to handicraft methods 
 imitated poorly by the machine. Your furniture 
 very likely carved by the machine, and fitted with 
 curved legs and arms, with a tortured sprawl 
 which you suppose artistic when it is no more 
 than a nasty imitation of an erstwhile wood- 
 carver’s dream. And your rugs, perhaps, are mod- 
 ern machine weavings of the Oriental rug pat- 
 terns ; your walls are papered with imitations of 
 old tapestry in pattern and in texture, your wood- 
 work is stained antique. You have a white-and- 
 
 90 
 
gold “reception room” with a few gilded chairs, 
 an overwrought piano, and withal a general 
 “profusion” which belonged to a more sensual 
 time — a more decadent period. 
 
 And do these things in themselves mean any- 
 thing to you aside from their vogue and price? 
 aside from your sense of quantitative ownership? 
 Do you perceive in them a fine fitness in form, 
 line, and color to the purposes which they serve, 
 and to each other? Do many of them serve any 
 purpose at all of which you can think? Do you 
 finally enjoy in them an appreciation of truth in 
 beautiful guise? 
 
 If you do not you are a victim of habit, and 
 bad habit, evidence of the stagnation of an out- 
 grown art which has no vital meaning to your 
 life or to our time and of which you are ashamed 
 to confess your ignorance when you are, as every- 
 one else is, hopelessly ignorant concerning it, for 
 it is “impossible.” 
 
 You may well wonder what has become of the 
 grand spirit of art which in times past made man s 
 reflection in his environment a godlike thing. 
 Glance for a moment behind this scene painting 
 that passes for the art of the nineteenth century, 
 and study for a moment the tools which produce 
 the “art.” It is unnecessary to go far afield for 
 familiar types of the machine, forced by false 
 ideals to do violence to simplicity when they have 
 made possible the highest simplicity and great 
 
 91 
 
beauty. We will find the magnificent prowess of 
 the machine bombarding civilization with man- 
 gled corpses or strenuous horrors that once stood 
 for cultivated luxury and are now a species of 
 commercial vulgarity. Without regard to first 
 principles or common sense the letter of tradition 
 is recklessly fed into the rapacious maw of ma- 
 chines until “reproductions” may be had for 
 ninety-nine cents where the original cost ages 
 of toil and patient culture. This seems like prog- 
 ress were it not that these very things are now 
 harmful parasites befogging the sensibilities of 
 our natures, belittling and falsifying any true 
 perception of normal beauty the Creator may 
 have seen fit to implant in us. The idea of fitness 
 to purpose, harmony between form and use is 
 lacking in them as it is sadly lacking in us; and 
 as for making the best of the conditions which 
 produce them, by so doing idealizing the indus- 
 trial fabric that is perverted and enslaved by 
 them, the mere idea has grown abnormal. 
 
 Among the few, the favored chosen few who 
 love and devote their energies to art, the training 
 they acquire is utilized by them as a protest, a 
 protest against the machine as the creator of this 
 iniquity when it is no more than the creature. 
 As perhaps wood is the most available of home- 
 ly materials and naturally then the most abused, 
 let us first glance at wood. 
 
 Machinery has been invented for no other 
 92 
 
purpose than to imitate the wood-carving of the 
 early ideal, with the result that no cheap furniture 
 is salable without some horrible botch work 
 meaning nothing unless it means that “art and 
 craft” has fixed in the minds of the masses the 
 old hand-carved chairs as the “ne plus ultra” of 
 the ideal. The miserable tribute to this perver- 
 sion yielded by Grand Rapids alone would mar 
 the face of art beyond repair, to say nothing of 
 the weird or fussy joinery of spindles and jig- 
 sawing ; beamed, braced, and elaborated to outdo 
 in sentimentality the sentiment of an already 
 overwrought “antique.” The whole sentiment 
 of early craft we find degenerated to an ignorant 
 sentimentality having no longer sensible signifi- 
 cance and certainly no commercial integrity. 
 Simplicity teaches us that the beauty of wood 
 lies in its qualities as wood. Treatments that fail 
 to bring those qualities foremost are not plastic, 
 therefore not appropriate — so not beautiful. The 
 machine teaches us, if we have left it to the ma- 
 chine, that certain simple forms and handling 
 serve to bring out the beauty of wood and retain 
 its character and that certain other forms and 
 handling do not; that all wood-carving is apt to 
 by a forcing of the material, for it destroys its 
 finer possibilities as a material having in itself 
 beauty of marking, exquisite texture, and won- 
 derful color. The machines used in this work 
 will, if a little study is bestowed upon them, show 
 
 93 
 
you that by unlimited cutting, shaping, smooth- 
 ing, and repetitive capacity they have emanci- 
 pated these beauties of nature in wood, making 
 possible without waste beautiful surface treat- 
 ments of clean, strong forms that the veneers of 
 Sheraton or Chippendale only hinted at with dire 
 extravagance, and that were unknown to the mid- 
 dle ages. Here these machines considered tech- 
 nically have placed in the hands of the designer 
 a means of idealizing the true nature of wood 
 harmoniously with man’s spiritual and material 
 needs without waste and within the reach of 
 every one But an unfair advantage is taken of 
 peerless tools and we merely suffer from a riot of 
 vitiated handicraft. Then, at random, take the 
 worker in marbles. His gang-saws, planers, pneu- 
 matic chisels, and rubbing beds have made it 
 possible to reduce blocks, say ten feet long, six 
 feet deep, and two feet thick, to sheets or slabs 
 one inch thick, in a few hours, thereby making it 
 possible to use a precious material as an ordinary 
 wall covering in which the slab as in a veneer 
 may be turned and matched at the edges to de- 
 velop exquisite pattern, emancipating hundreds 
 of superficial feet of marvelous drawing in pure 
 color that formerly wasted in the heart of a block 
 of structural building material. This makes pos- 
 sible a distinctly new use to bring out the beauty 
 of this material consistently with its nature and 
 impossible to handicraft. But what happens? 
 
 94 
 
The “artist” persists in taking a dishonest ad- 
 vantage of these machines, building up an imita- 
 tion of solid piers with molded caps and bases 
 cunningly uniting the slabs at the edges until 
 detection is difficult except to the trained eye. 
 His method does not change to develop the new 
 technical possibility. He is singly enabled to 
 make more piers and shafts because he can now 
 make them hollow. 
 
 His architecture becomes worthy of the fakir, 
 for his forms not only tell of the method which 
 used to be and belie the method that is, but cheat 
 progress of the new possibilities which are its 
 due. For instance, witness any public library or 
 art institute, the Congressional Library and the 
 Boston Library are conspicuous examples. In the 
 stone-cutting trade the planer has made it possi- 
 ble to cut in stone any given molded surface or to 
 ingrain upon the surface of stone any lovely tex- 
 ture the cunning brain may devise, and do it as 
 it never was possible to do it by hand. What is 
 it doing? Giving us as near an imitation of hand- 
 tooth chiseling as possible, imitating moldings 
 specially adapted to wood, making possible the 
 lavish use of miles of meaningless molded string 
 courses, meanwhile sneered at by the “artist” be- 
 cause it fails of the wavering delicacy, the “mel- 
 lowness” resulting from the imperfections of 
 hand-work. He never seems to think that he 
 might discount that delicacy in the design of the 
 
 95 
 
contour of his sections, making a telling point of 
 the very perfection he dreads, so designing for 
 the prolific dexterity of the machine work which 
 it can do so well that hand-work would seem in- 
 sufferably crude in comparison. The deadly fa- 
 cility this one machine has given “book architec- 
 ture” is only rivalled by galvanized iron. And if 
 you will have tracery in stone you may arrive at 
 it now consistently with the cheapening of other 
 features of this fundamental trade. You may imi- 
 tate the hand-carving of the ancients baffled by 
 the tender cunning of the original, or you may 
 give the pneumatic chisel suitable work to do 
 which would mean a changed style, a shift in the 
 spiritual center of the ideal now controlling it. 
 
 Y ou will find in studying the group of old ma- 
 terials that they have all been rendered plastic 
 by the machine. The machine itself is steadily 
 creating the very quality in these things needed 
 to satisfy its own art equation. Burned clay is a 
 conspicuous instance of this. The modern ma- 
 chines (and a process is a machine) have ren- 
 dered this material as sensitive to the creative 
 brain as a dry plate is to the lens. A marvelous 
 simplifier, enabling the artist to clothe the struc- 
 tural conditions of his age with simple, modestly 
 beautiful robes where five or more different 
 kinds of material were aggregated formerly in a 
 segregation of features and parts supposed to be 
 picturesque, but really a species of millinery to be 
 
 96 
 
warped by the sun and beaten by the wind and 
 rain into a variegated heap of trash. Out of the 
 newer possibility comes a base imitation of the 
 tool-marked blocks, voussoirs, and carvings — the 
 stone work of ancient peoples. There is the pro- 
 cess of modem casting in metal, one of the per- 
 fected modern machines capable of perpetuating 
 the imagery of the most delicately poetic mind 
 without hindrance — within reach of every one, 
 therefore outraged by the bungler forcing it to a 
 degraded seat at his festival of the “Renaissance.” 
 Multitudes of processes await sympathetic inter- 
 pretation, such as the galvano-plastic and its elec- 
 trical brethren — a prolific horde now ; cheap fakirs 
 imitating real bronzes and all manner of the an- 
 tique, secretly damning it in their vitals ; and elec- 
 tro-glazing, shunned because too cleanly and deli- 
 cate, so exquisitely susceptible it is to the tradi- 
 tional designer’s lack of touch. 
 
 The lithograph is the prince of an entire prov- 
 ince of reproductive processes that, each and 
 every one, have individualities and possibilities of 
 their own. See what Whistler has made of the 
 lithograph, and then he has sounded but one note 
 in the gamut of its possibilities. But that note 
 rings true to the process and is as delicate as the 
 sheen of the butterfly’s wing. Yet the most this 
 particular machine did for us, until then in the 
 hand of art and craft, was to give us a cheap imi- 
 tative effect of painting. 
 
 97 
 
Volumes might be written and fail to cover 
 the never-ending “artistic” abuse of the newer 
 materials like steel. 
 
 Thus is the use made of the tools. Let us go 
 to the commercial field first ripened by the ma- 
 chine for an application of the product. The tall 
 modern office building is a characteristic of the 
 machine. It is representative and shows the evil 
 at its height, although it is merely one of many 
 characteristic problems. 
 
 We may sense here an advanced stage of a 
 condition surely entering all art for all time. Its 
 triumph here in the struggle taking place between 
 the machine and “art” of structural tradition re- 
 veals “art” in tatters, hung upon the steel frame 
 of commerce like a forlorn head upon a pike staff, 
 a solemn if a gruesome warning to architects and 
 artists everywhere. 
 
 We must walk blindfolded through the streets 
 not to see that this magnificent resource of ma- 
 chine and material has brought us a complete, 
 broadcast degradation of types and forms sacred 
 to the art of old — a pandemonium of tin masks, 
 huddled deformities, and decayed methods. With 
 a perverted mine of industrial wealth at our feet 
 we naturally have no power to use it except to the 
 perversion of our normal possibilities. A shame 
 which merciful ignorance mistakes for glorious 
 achievement. We even believe in our artistic 
 greatness when, as we have seen, we toss up a 
 
 98 
 
Pantheon to the god of money in a night, get 
 together a mammoth aggregation of Roman mon- 
 uments, sarcophagi and Greek temples for a post- 
 office in a year or two, and the patient retinue of 
 the machine pitches in with a terrible effective- 
 ness to consummate this unhallowed ambition, 
 this insult to ancient gods. 
 
 A new element has entered here. The struc- 
 tural necessity which shaped Pantheons, monu- 
 ments, and temples has been reduced by the ma- 
 chine to a skeleton of steel, complete in itself with- 
 out the artist craftsman’s touch. 
 
 It is not easy to comprehend then that the 
 myriad little ways of satisfying these necessities 
 known to us as the traditional art of building, 
 vanish, become history? The mainspring of their 
 existence has been removed, their spiritual cen- 
 ter has shifted and what remains is but a husk. 
 
 The imitative blocks and voussoirs of imitated 
 stone are badgered into imitating all manner of 
 structural gymnastics or else granite is cut in the 
 fashion of the followers of Phidias and the blocks 
 are cunningly arranged about the steel beams and 
 shafts to look like architecture in the books. 
 These building blocks are carried by this strain- 
 ing steel skeleton from floor to floor, and it would 
 be quite as feasible to begin at the cornice and 
 come down to the base with it as to work from 
 the base upward. It is often done. The key- 
 stone of the arch may be set and the arch filled 
 
 99 
 
downward to the hanches. This outward seem- 
 ing or mask takes on the complexion of the clas- 
 sic, the renaissance or whatever catches the fancy 
 or fastens the “convictions” of the designer. 
 
 The fashionable followers of Phidias have 
 been trying to make this wily skeleton of steel all 
 sorts of “book architecture” and the result of 
 their effort is certainly ingenious and surpris- 
 ing until you go behind the scenes. The artist 
 is emancipated here as elsewhere, free to work his 
 rational will with a freedom unknown to struc- 
 tural tradition; his unit has enlarged and his 
 rhythms are simplified and etherialized. He is no 
 longer hampered by stone, arch, or lintel, but he 
 clings to the grammatical phrases they have made 
 when those phrases are in his hands empty lies 
 and he can make of them nothing else. 
 
 The steel frame of commerce has received a 
 few rational solutions. The steel frame has been 
 recognized as a legitimate basis for a simple, sin- 
 cere clothing of plastic material that reveals its 
 essential nature and idealizes its purpose without 
 structural affectation and pretense. This is, per- 
 haps, the first sane word that has been said in the 
 field for the art of the machine. 
 
 But the artistic stomach has become dyspep- 
 tic from overmuch unwholesome pastry, and will 
 refuse wholesome food until the malady which is 
 inevitable asserts itself. So spin a rough, feeble 
 thread of the evidence at large that the machine 
 
 100 
 
has weakened the artist, all but destroyed his 
 hand-made ideal, and is reducing him to a pose, 
 a mere attitude. With the old love and natural 
 enthusiasm he works miserable mischief mean- 
 while with the purest of motives, perhaps, because 
 his heart has not kept in sympathy with his scien- 
 tific brother’s head. 
 
 These evident instances should serve to hint 
 to the thinking mind that the machine is a mar- 
 velous simplifier in not a merely negative sense ; 
 that it may be the emancipator of the creative 
 mind, and in time the regenerator of the creative 
 conscience. We may see that this destructive 
 process is taking place, that art may awaken to 
 the power of fully developed senses promised by 
 the dreams of its childhood even though that 
 power may not come the way pictured in those 
 dreams. 
 
 If the artist will only open his eyes he will 
 see that the machine has made it not only possi- 
 ble but imperative to wipe out the mass of mean- 
 ingless torture to which we have been subjected 
 in the name of the artistic for two centuries ; that 
 it has made a cleanly strength and ideality, a 
 poetic fire, possible which the art of the world has 
 never realized. The machine smooths away the 
 necessity for the temptation to petty structural 
 deceit, soothes this wearisome struggle to make 
 things seem what they are not and never can be, 
 satisfies the simple term of its modem art equa- 
 
 IOI 
 
tion as the ball of clay in the sculptor’s hand 
 yields to his desire — comforting forever this mas- 
 querade we suppose to be art. 
 
 The machine is the creature and not the cre- 
 ator of artistic iniquity. It has noble possibilities 
 unwillingly forced to degradation in the name of 
 the “artistic.” As far as its artistic capacity is 
 concerned it is itself the crazed victim of artist 
 whose art is fashioned upon a handicraft ideal. 
 
 This machine age is suffering for the artist 
 who accepts, works, and sings as he works with 
 the joy of the here and now; we want men who 
 seek eagerly and find or blame themselves, not 
 the times, if they fail to find the beauty of this 
 age; men who distinctly accept as singers and 
 prophets, for no man may work longer in the sense 
 that William Morris’ great work was legitimately 
 done, in the sense that most art and craft to-day 
 is an echo. The time when such work might be 
 useful has gone by. 
 
 Is this prevailing fear of the higher artistic 
 expression demanded by the machine founded 
 upon a finely guarded reticence, a recognition of 
 inherent weakness or plain ignorance? Assum- 
 ing that it is all three, is there not a modern arts 
 and crafts society possible that may educate it- 
 self to make some good impression upon the de- 
 stroyer of present ideals and tendencies? For the 
 more we examine conditions in the field the more 
 we shall find the utter impotence of the old forms 
 
 102 
 
to satisfy new conditions and the crying need of 
 the machine for plastic, pliant treatment that the 
 body of structural precedent cannot yield. I will 
 venture to say from observation and some expe- 
 rience that not one educational institution in 
 America has yet attempted to establish a vital 
 sympathy between science and art by training the 
 artist to his actual tools, or by a process of nature 
 study that develops the power of independent 
 thought fitting him to use them profitably. Not 
 one artist in one hundred has taken pains to edu- 
 cate himself by contact in the field with the tech- 
 nical conditions which he must master before he 
 can express himself. Until he does master them 
 he is of no vital service to his time. The machine 
 must be studied in its own sphere at the factories, 
 in process, and in economics with the men who 
 invent, organize, and direct its enormous activ- 
 ities; studied sympathetically, not as heretofore, 
 in the spirit of the idea that those things are 
 wrong, nor looking for that in them which would 
 most nearly approximate the handicraft ideal, not 
 looking for craftsmen, but getting a scientific 
 ground plan of the process in mind if possible 
 with a view to its natural bent and possibilities. 
 This would be no more than a process by which 
 artists receive information nine-tenths of them 
 lack concerning the tools they have to work with 
 to-day, for tools to-day are processes and ma- 
 chine where they were once but a hammer or a 
 
 103 
 
gouge, as the artist more the leader of an orches- 
 tra where he was once a soloist. 
 
 Granting that a determined, dauntless body of 
 artist material could be brought together with 
 enough persistent enthusiasm to grapple with the 
 machine, would not some one be found to pro- 
 vide the suitable experimental station that would 
 represent in miniature the elements of this great 
 pulsating web of the machine, wherein each preg- 
 nant process or significant tool in printing, lith- 
 ography, electrical reproductive processes, and 
 the technical machinery used in the wood-work- 
 ing, iron-working, clay-baking industries would 
 have its place, and where the best and truest 
 artists’ inspiration could mingle with the best 
 young scientific blood, sounding the depths of 
 these open mysteries to accord them the patient, 
 sympathetic treatment that is their due. This 
 may seem to artist mind too synthetic, but if out 
 of twenty students a ray of light should come to 
 a single one to light up a single operation, it 
 would be fairly something, while joy in handicraft 
 is a pleasurable personal accomplishment without 
 real relation to a grim condition which is grow- 
 ing daily more painful and more wasteful. Surely 
 a thing like this would in time alleviate the insen- 
 sate numbness of workers whose dutiful obedi- 
 ence is chained to both work and bunglers’ ambi- 
 tions; who knows not why nor understands this 
 would be a practical means of making his dutiful 
 104 
 
obedience result in something as normal to this 
 machine age as a ray of light is to the healthy 
 eye, something we can all understand and ap- 
 preciate. Every age has done its work, therefore 
 produced its art with the best tools or contriv- 
 ances it knew; the tools most successful in sav- 
 ing the most precious thing in the world — human 
 effort. Greece used the chattel slave as the es- 
 sential tool of its art and civilization. This tool 
 we have discarded and we would refuse the re- 
 turn of Greek art upon the terms of its restora- 
 tion because we insist now upon a basis of dem- 
 ocracy. 
 
 Is it not more likely that the medium of artis- 
 tic expression itself has changed and broadened 
 until a new definition and a new direction must 
 be given the art activity of the future, and that 
 the machine has finally made for the artist, 
 whether he will own it yet or not, a splendid dis- 
 tinction between the art of old and art to come? 
 A distinction made by the tool which frees hu- 
 man labor, lengthens and broadens the life of the 
 simplest man and thereby the basis of the democ- 
 racy upon which we insist. If the art of the 
 Greek, produced at such cost to human life, was 
 so noble and enduring, what limit dare we now 
 imagine to an art based upon an adequate life for 
 the individual? 
 
 Art is to me a matter of seeing and portraying 
 in any medium the harmony of organic tendencies 
 
 105 
 
and this harmony is “poetry.” The ability to do 
 this is, in a measure, a prophetic gift, for the artist 
 nature may intuitively sense these qualities, but 
 I feel composition to be simply the essence of 
 refinement in organization, the original impulse 
 of which is registered by the artistic nature as 
 unconsciously as the magnetic needle vibrates to 
 the magnetic law, but which is in synthesis or 
 analysis organically consistent if we had the 
 power to see. 
 
 So believing true art as organic as a primrose 
 or an oak I have grown into the belief that the 
 world of art to which we refer as “the world out- 
 side of science,” is not a thing outside and apart 
 but rather the very heart quality of this great ma- 
 terial growth, as religion is its conscience. 
 
 It is upon this faith in art as the organic 
 heart of the scientific frame of things, that I base 
 a belief that we must look to the artist brain of 
 all brains to grasp the significance to society of 
 this thing we call the machine, which is no more 
 or less than the principle of organic growth work- 
 ing irresistibly the will of life through the me- 
 dium of man. We are drawn helplessly into its 
 mesh as we tread our daily round. It has become 
 commonplace background of modern existence 
 and in too many lives the foreground, middle dis- 
 tance, and the future. At best we are some co- 
 operative part in a vast machinery, seemingly 
 controlled by some great crystallizing principle 
 106 
 
in nature. If you would see how interwoven it 
 is in the warp and woof of civilization, if indeed 
 it is not the very framework, go at nightfall to 
 the top one of the down-town steel giants and 
 you may see how in the image of material man, 
 at once his glory and his menace, is this thing 
 we call a city. There beneath you is the mon- 
 ster, stretching acre upon acre into the far dis- 
 tance. High over head hangs the stagnant pall 
 of its fetid breath, reddened with light from 
 myriad eyes endlessly, everywhere blinking. 
 Thousands of acres of cellular tissue, the city’s 
 flesh outspreads, layer upon layer, enmeshed by 
 an intricate network of veins and arteries radiat- 
 ing into the gloom, and in them, with a muffled, 
 persistent roar, circulating as the blood circulates 
 in your veins, is the almost ceaseless beat of the 
 activity to whose necessities it all conforms. 
 
 The poisonous waste is drawn from the sys- 
 tem of this gigantic creature by infinitely rami- 
 fying, thread-like ducts, gathering at their sen- 
 sitive terminals matter destructive to its life, hur- 
 rying it to millions of small intestines to be col- 
 lected in turn by larger, flowing to the great sew- 
 ers, on to the drainage canal, and finally to the 
 ocean. 
 
 This wondrous flesh is again knit and inter- 
 knit with a nervous system effective and com- 
 plete, delicate filaments for hearing, knowing, and 
 almost feeling the pulse of its organism, acting 
 107 
 
intelligently upon ligaments and tendons for 
 motive impulse, and in all is flowing the impel- 
 ling fluid of man’s own life. 
 
 Its muscles are the Corliss tandems, whirling 
 their hundred-ton fly-wheels, fed by gigantic 
 rows of water tube boilers burning oil, a solitary 
 man slowly pacing here and there regulating the 
 little valves controlling the deafening roar of the 
 flaming gas, while the incessant clicking and 
 shifting of the governor gear controlling these 
 modern Goliaths seems a visible brain in action, 
 as it registers infallibly in the enormous magnets, 
 purring in the giant embrace of great induction 
 coils, generating the vital current meeting on the 
 instant in the rolling cars on elevated tracks ten 
 miles away. 
 
 More quietly, whispering down the long low 
 rooms of factory buildings buried in the gloom 
 beyond, range on range of staunch, beautifully 
 perfected automatons murmur contentedly, au- 
 tomatons that would have the American manu- 
 facturing industry of five years ago by the throat 
 to-day ; manipulating steel as delicately as a 
 mystical shuttle of the modem loom manipulates 
 a silk thread in the shimmering pattern of a 
 dainty gown. Night and day these nervous 
 minions of the machine obediently serve the 
 master mind with sensitive capacities as various 
 as those of man himself. Here reflected in steam, 
 steel, and electrical energy is a creature grown in 
 
 108 
 
response to man’s needs, and in his image, daily 
 becoming more sensitive and complete. 
 
 And the labored breathing, the murmur, the 
 clangor, and the roar! — how the voice of this 
 greatest of machines, a great city, rises to pro- 
 claim the marvel of its structure; the ghastly 
 warning boom from the deep throats of vessels 
 heavily seeking inlet to the waterway below, an- 
 swered by the echoing clangor of the bridge bells, 
 growing nearer and more ominous, warning the 
 living current from the swinging bridge as the 
 vessel cuts for a moment the flow of the nearer 
 artery, and now closing upon its stately passage 
 just in time to receive, in a rush of steam as a 
 streak of light, the avalanche of blood and metal 
 hurled across it and gone roaring into the night 
 on its glittering bands of steel, faithfully encir- 
 cled in its flight by slender magic lines tick-tap- 
 ping its protection. 
 
 Nearer, in the building ablaze with midnight 
 activity, a wide, white band streams into the 
 marvel of the multiple press, receiving unerringly 
 the indelible impression of the human hopes, joys, 
 and fears throbbing in the pulse of the modern 
 activity and as infallibly as the gray matter of the 
 human brain receives the impression of the senses, 
 coming forth as millions of neatly folded, per- 
 fected news-sheets, teeming with vivid appeals, 
 good and evil passions ; weaving a web of inter- 
 communication so far-reaching that distance be- 
 
 109 
 
comes as nothing, the thought of one man in one 
 corner of the earth one day visible to all men 
 the next day ; the doings of all the world reflected 
 as in a glass — so marvelously sensitive this simple 
 band streaming endlessly from day to day be- 
 comes in the grasp of the multiple press. 
 
 If the pulse of this great activity to which the 
 tremor of the mammoth skeleton beneath your 
 feet is but an awe-inspiring response, is thrilling, 
 what of this prolific silent obedience? Remain 
 to contemplate this wonder until the twink- 
 ling lights perish in groups, followed one by one, 
 leaving others to smother in the gloom; until 
 the fires are banked, the tumult slowly dies to 
 an echo here and there. Then the darkened pall 
 is lifted and moonlight outlines the sullen, shad- 
 owy masses of structure deeply cut here and there 
 by half-luminous channels ; huge patches of 
 shadow, shade, and darkness intermingle mys- 
 teriously in block-like plan and sky-line; the 
 broad surface of the lake beside, placid and re- 
 splendent with a silver gleam. And there reflect 
 that the texture of the tissue of this great ma- 
 chine, this forerunner of the democracy we hope 
 for, has been deposited, particle by particle, in 
 blind obedience to law — the organic law to which 
 the great solar universe is but an obedient ma- 
 chine, and marvel that this masterful force is as 
 yet untouched by art or artist. A magnificent 
 truth with no guise of beauty disguised by tat- 
 
 IIO 
 
tered garments long outgrown; the outward sign 
 of an inner plan wherein combinations of 
 capital and great industrial tendencies 
 are but symptoms, government’s 
 imperfect manifestations, 
 whereof wear and fric- 
 tion are social in- 
 justice and 
 waste is 
 
 war. 
 
Old Colonial Bed, 
 
NATIONAL 
 
 SOCIETY OF THE DAUGHTERS 
 OF THE REVOLUTION 
 
 FOUNDED IN NEW YORK, 1891 
 
ILLINOIS 
 
 STATE SOCIETY OF THE DAUGHTERS 
 OF THE REVOLUTION 
 
 ORGANIZED MARCH 4, 1901 
 CHICAGO 
 
 MEMBER OFTHE NATIONAL SOCIETY OF THE DAUGHTERS 
 OF THE REVOLUTION, THE FORWARD MOVEMENT, 
 THE NATIONAL LEAGUE OF INDUSTRIAL 
 ART, AND THE GENERAL FEDERATION 
 OF WOMEN’S CLUBS 
 
 REPRESENTED ON THE CHICAGO EDUCATIONAL COMMIS- 
 SION OF THE CIVIC FEDERATION AND AT 
 THE PARLIAMENT OF RELIGION 
 
INSIGNIA OF SOCIETY 
 
 D. R 
 
BETTY ZANE 
 
 IN WHOSE HONOR THE CHICAGO CHAPTER 
 D. R. WAS NAMED 
 
THE HEROIC DEED OF ELIZA- 
 BETH ZANE 
 
 AIMEE ZANE 
 
 This dauntless pioneer maiden’s name 
 Is inscribed in gold on the scroll of fame ; 
 
 She was the lassie who knew no fear 
 
 When the tomahawk gleamed on the far frontier. 
 
 If deeds of daring should win renown, 
 
 Let us honor the damsel of Wheeling town, 
 
 Who braved the savage with deep disdain — 
 Bright-eyed, buxom Elizabeth Zane. 
 
 ’Twas more than a hundred years ago, 
 
 They were close beset by the dusky foe ; 
 
 They had spent of powder their scanty store, 
 
 And who the gauntlet should run for more? 
 
 She sprang to the portal and shouted, “I! 
 
 ’T is better a girl than a man should die ; 
 
 My loss would be but the garrison’s gain. 
 
 Unbar the gate,” said Elizabeth Zane. 
 
 The powder was sixty yards away ; 
 
 Around her the foemen in ambush lay ; 
 
 As she darted from shelter they gazed with awe, 
 Then wildly shouted, “A squaw! a squaw!” 
 
 123 
 
She neither swerved to the left nor right, 
 
 Swift as an antelope’s was her flight. 
 
 “Quick, open the door!” she cried again, 
 
 “For a hope forlorn. ’T is Elizabeth Zane.” 
 
 No time had she to waver or wait, 
 
 Back she must go ere it be too late ; 
 
 She snatched from the table its cloth in haste 
 And knotted it deftly about her waist, 
 
 Then filled it with powder — never, I ween, 
 
 Had powder so lovely a magazine ; 
 
 Then, scorning the bullets, a deadly rain, 
 
 Like a startled fawn, fled Elizabeth Zane. 
 
 She gained the fort with her precious freight ; 
 Strong hands fastened the open gate ; 
 
 Brave men’s eyes were suffused with tears 
 That had there been strangers for many years. 
 From flint-lock rifles again there sped 
 ’Gainst the skulking redskins a storm of lead, 
 
 And the war whoop sounded that day in vain 
 
 Thanks to the deed of Elizabeth Zane. 
 
 T alk not to me of Paul Revere, 
 
 A man, on horseback, with naught to fear; 
 
 Nor of old John Burns, with his bell-crowned hat 
 
 He’d an army to back him, so what of that? 
 Here’s to the heroine, plump and brown, 
 
 Who ran the gauntlet in Wheeling town ; 
 
 Here is a record without a stain — 
 
 Beautiful, buxom Elizabeth Zane. 
 
 124 
 
THE NEW REVOLUTION 
 
 JENKIN LLOYD JONES 
 
 HE question of heredity is a very complicated 
 
 one, but it is safe to say that in many quar- 
 ters it has been overworked in recent years. Pro- 
 found as is the truth that the individual is im- 
 measurably modified by his inheritance, yet if 
 the two forces are to be pitted the one against the 
 other, environment, largely interpreted, is a 
 greater factor in character, in most cases, than 
 heredity. The two maxims of the turf are true, 
 viz., “Blood will tell” and “Money makes the 
 mare go.” 
 
 If too much is made of environment in some 
 directions there is still more danger of making too 
 much of ancestry. The ancestral pride rests on a 
 very shallow foundation, as a very little science 
 will show. Every individual must have four 
 great-grandfathers and eight great-great-grand- 
 fathers, saying nothing of eight great-great- 
 grandmothers, giving to each individual thirty 
 fore elders in four generations. Admitting one 
 of these was noble, fortunate enough to be born 
 in strenuous times, or reared under inspiring con- 
 
 129 
 
ditions, the line of conspicuous heredity is much 
 adulterated in the fourth generation. It is with 
 some dismay, then, that we note the growth and 
 multiplication of these ancestral societies in the 
 United States, particularly the anxiety of all sorts 
 of common people to exploit an uncommon hered- 
 ity. The true glory of every man and woman lies 
 in the fact that the life represented is a product 
 of much complexity, that many lines converge 
 in every individual; in other words, democracy 
 and not aristocracy presents the true scientific 
 basis of respect. Therein lie the titles of nobility. 
 We are unable to state the distinctions as we have 
 not attempted to keep track of the quarrels, the 
 political intrigue and the strain for leadership 
 among the various “Daughters of the Revolu- 
 tion,” so much of which is now an object of pain- 
 ful notoriety. 
 
 But we are much interested in the final out- 
 come. We are watching to see whether these 
 alleged “Daughters” are to prove worthy the al- 
 leged fathers, or whether they are to justify Arte- 
 mus Ward’s philosophic witticism when he said, 
 “People who exploit their ancestry are like po- 
 tatoes — the best part of them is under ground.” 
 
 We have said this much that we may have 
 the right to say the commendatory thing con- 
 cerning the movement of at least one section of 
 the “Daughters of the Revolution” here in Chi- 
 cago, under the lead of the State Regent, Mrs. 
 
 130 
 
Marguerite Warren Springer. She, making com- 
 mon cause with the Industrial Art League of 
 Chicago, has pointed the way over which these 
 “Daughters” may go to justify their ancestry. 
 
 The world is sick of war. Its contribution to 
 civilization is well-nigh complete and the books 
 are almost closed. The world waits for the peace- 
 ful revolutions of industry, the strike for social 
 equity, a declaration of independence from the 
 conventional tyrannies of caste, creed, class, and 
 race. 
 
 Looking in these directions the Daughters of 
 the Revolution have been sustaining a course of 
 fortnightly lectures in the University Lecture 
 Hall in the Fine Arts Building, Chicago, which 
 began October nth and will continue to April 
 25th. These lectures represent the living issues of 
 the new civilization as interpreted by the men and 
 women who, having given thought, are not afraid 
 to speak. Among the men and topics are : “The 
 Industrial Art,” by Professor Oscar L. Triggs; 
 “A Talk to the People,” by Mayor Samuel M. 
 Jones; “The Real Emancipation of Women,” by 
 W. M. Salter; “The Blight of the Army,” by 
 Marion Craig Wentworth; “The Coming So- 
 ciety,” by Professor Albion W. Small; “Charity 
 or Justice — Which?” by Dr. Emil G. Hirsch; and 
 “The Future of Militarism,” by Dr. Edmund J. 
 James. 
 
 The lines upon which this bloodless revolu- 
 131 
 
tion is to take place may be well indicated by the 
 prospectus of the Industrial Art League, which is 
 thus set forth: 
 
 “(i) To provide workshops and tools for the 
 use of guilds of artists and craftsmen, and means 
 for the exhibition and sale of their products ; (2) 
 to give instruction in the arts and crafts ; (3) to 
 establish an industrial art library and museum; 
 (4) by publications and other appropriate means 
 to promote the arts and crafts.” 
 
 When any band of women set themselves to 
 co-operate with such a society as this, and to help 
 along such activities as this, they are indeed 
 worthy “Daughters” of a doughty yeomanry, 
 whether they marched in the Continental Army 
 or stayed at home, thereby helping to feed and 
 clothe the Continentals. 
 
 The young Alexander managed the fractious 
 Bucephalus by turning his head from his own 
 shadow and giving him the road. Most of the 
 “troubles” of these “Daughters” would cease if 
 they could only be turned from studying their 
 own shadows and be given the road of real pro- 
 gress, put on the track with something worth do- 
 ing, at least a goal worth working for. This goal 
 has been well stated by Mrs. Springer herself in 
 an address before the Industrial Art League of 
 Chicago at a recent banquet. We make room for 
 the quotation, hoping that other “Daughters” 
 reading it may take heed and go and do likewise : 
 132 
 
“What is the problem of life?” The problem 
 of life is the social problem, and the social prob- 
 lem is the elimination of waste. Here we have 
 able-bodied, intelligent men out of employment; 
 and instead of letting them produce for their own 
 needs, we clothe, we feed, and we shelter them. 
 We do this through charity, poorhouses, and 
 prisons. We explain to them that the reason they 
 are hungry is because they have produced too 
 much food ; the reason they have no shoes to wear 
 is because they have made too many shoes; the 
 reason they have no coal is because they have 
 mined too much coal; and the reason they are 
 clothesless is because they have manufactured too 
 much cloth. You see it is so simple to understand 
 that the less we make the more we have, and that 
 the more we have made the less we have. This 
 is what we call the theory of overproduction. It 
 is evident that the only overproduction we have 
 is the overproduction of ignorance. The philoso- 
 phy of having one portion of society productive 
 and the other portion supplying its needs, is the 
 philosophy of ignorance and waste. 
 
 Ruskin has so aptly said: “Life without in- 
 dustry is guilt, labor without art is brutality.” 
 If our Revolutionary fathers were present they 
 would be found in the industrial art movement, 
 assisting us to solve the problems of life; the 
 problem of poverty in the midst of plenty, of 
 misery where happiness should be. Were we 
 i33 
 
able to receive a message from the tomb it would 
 read like this: “We care very little for monu- 
 ments made of stone ; they are too cold and have 
 no life in them. Neither do we care for noises on 
 the Fourth of July; this, too, is of little comfort. 
 Patriotism consists not of stones and noises ; pa- 
 triotism is the working out of the problems of 
 life. We gave our lives for a principle, to prevent 
 the taking away of property without the owner’s 
 consent. We would give our lives again to create 
 opportunity for the people’s happiness. If you 
 wish to build a monument, build one of living men 
 and women; bring happiness to the children 
 of men. If you desire noise, let it come 
 forth as a glad song of joy from the 
 hearts of men. This will be the 
 greatest monument you can 
 build us ; this will be a 
 great celebration 
 to us.” 
 
 *34 
 
CONCERNING D. R. AND D. A. R. 
 
 HE question is often asked, what is the differ- 
 
 ence between the Daughters of the Revolu- 
 tion and the Daughters of the American Revolu- 
 tion, and why are there two societies apparently 
 with the same objects and aims. It is the purpose 
 of this article to set forth the difference so that a 
 person contemplating joining one of the women’s 
 patriotic societies may be able to make intelligent 
 choice. 
 
 The Society D. A. R. was organized in Wash- 
 ington, October, 1890, for the laudable purpose of 
 a patriotic society. But in the article of the con- 
 stitution providing for admission there was a pe- 
 culiar clause. After describing the services of 
 the patriot ancestor necessary to make the de- 
 scendant eligible, the article further provides that 
 any person descended “from the mother of such a 
 patriot” is also eligible to the society. This clause 
 remained in force until 1895, and it is not an un- 
 reasonable supposition that many availed them- 
 teelves of such easy terms of entrance. In fact, 
 the Lineage Book of the D. A. R. shows many 
 
 137 
 
charter members who entered on such collateral 
 claims. 
 
 In application, the “mother of a patriot clause” 
 worked as follows : suppose a Revolutionary 
 mother had several sons, one a Patriot, the others 
 Tories or stay-at-homes ; suppose she had besides 
 several daughters, and that she herself had no 
 particular sympathy with the cause of Indepen- 
 dence or contributed in any way toward the same. 
 Now on the strength of her being the mother of 
 the one patriot son, the female descendants of all 
 the other sons, and of the daughters as well, were 
 equally eligible to the D. A. R., for they could 
 all claim kin with the “mother of a patriot.” This 
 eligibility, it will be seen, was based on senti- 
 ment, not on descent. 
 
 As already stated, this clause was not repealed 
 until 1895, after the D. R. Society was increasing 
 in strength and numbers. Even at the present 
 time the D. A. R. provision for entrance has a 
 clause susceptible of various interpretations. 
 This is the “recognized patriot” provision; just 
 what constituted a “recognized patriot” is a mat- 
 ter of conjecture in what did such a one differ 
 from a soldier, sailor, civil officer or one who ren- 
 dered material aid to the cause. 
 
 The main difference between the two societies 
 is this question of membership on collateral 
 claims. The D. R. contend that to be “Daugh- 
 ters” we must have had grandfathers in some de- 
 138 
 

 gree in Revolutionary service ; that uncles, cous- 
 ins, and others relatives remotely removed can- 
 not be termed direct ancestors. 
 
 Another marked point of difference is in gov- 
 ernment. The D. A. R. Society is governed by 
 a National Board at Washington which concen- 
 trates in itself all authority. State organizations 
 as such there are none ; there are state regents but 
 they have merely nominal authority. Besides 
 these regents there are no other state officers. 
 Chapters are responsible to the National Board 
 and send their dues to the same. This lack of 
 state organization is detrimental to patriotic work 
 in a state as a whole ; single chapters may under- 
 take such but there is no provision for union of 
 effort. 
 
 A point often made is that the D. A. R. have 
 a national charter. From the fact that the so- 
 ciety was incorporated in the District of Colum- 
 bia, where the only body to confer a charter of any 
 kind is Congress, this claim loses its significance. 
 The society stands upon exactly the same level 
 as any other corporation chartered in the district, 
 and its powers are no more extended than those 
 of any other patriotic organization. 
 
 Now as to the Daughters of the Revolution. 
 The society was organized in September, 1891, by 
 certain members of the D. A. R. who were dissat- 
 isfied with the loose conditions of admission im- 
 
 139 
 
 'A i 
 
plied in the “mother of a patriot” clause, and with 
 the spirit of autocracy which was manifesting it- 
 self in the management at Washington. The so- 
 ciety was duly incorporated under the laws of the 
 State of New York as an organization national 
 in its work and purposes. The requirements for 
 admission were fixed in the beginning as lineal 
 descent from a Revolutionary ancestor, and un- 
 questioned proof of the patriotic service of such 
 ancestor. Collateral claims were absolutely 
 barred out, and such statements as “he rendered 
 important service in the Revolutionary War,” 
 and “he was an officer in the Revolution under 
 Washington” were not accepted. Applicants 
 were required to make affidavit as to their line of 
 descent, and to give documentary proof or other 
 trustworthy evidence of ancestor’s service. The 
 rules thus laid down have been strictly adhered to 
 and no considerations of wealth or social position 
 have caused or cause the slightest deviation. The 
 pervading spirit of the D. R. is purely democratic. 
 This is shown most conclusively in the matter of 
 insignia : there is but one badge for all Daughters 
 recognizable as such through our country. No 
 jewels and no bars are permitted to show differ- 
 ence in wealth or lineage. 
 
 The organization of the D. R. provides for a 
 board of managers including the officers and 
 fourteen members, which board has a general 
 
 140 
 
oversight of the affairs of the society, passes upon 
 applications, admits members, organizes state so- 
 cieties, etc. In the respective states where there 
 is D. R. organization the affairs of the society are 
 managed by state societies, which in their turn 
 have supervision of local chapters and of the 
 members in the state. These state societies have 
 a complete set of officers, and the power is thus 
 distributed as in our government, between the 
 central government, the states, and the cities. 
 Our object is to devote money and work in the 
 states themselves. In the thirteen original states 
 our work is directed toward marking Revolution- 
 ary sites, preserving documents and relics, and 
 in the other states much has been done in pro- 
 moting the observance of national holidays, and 
 also in arousing and fostering a spirit of patriot- 
 ism in the public schools. 
 
 The D. R. membership is large and is steadily 
 increasing : our method of strict requirements and 
 careful scrutiny of applications makes the increase 
 healthful and desirable. There are state organ- 
 izations in thirty states and members are scat- 
 tered all through the Union. 
 
 If one becomes a Daughter of the Revolution 
 she may be sure that there can never be any 
 question about her status as a lineal descendant 
 of a Revolutionary ancestor. She belongs to a 
 society where all members stand on an equal foot- 
 
ing, she need apologize for no associate or make 
 elaborate explanation why such a one was ad- 
 mitted. “Daughters of the Revolution” carries 
 its full significance in its very title. 
 
 By order of the Board of Managers, 
 
 General Society, D. R. 
 
 142 
 
 
A Corner of the Room of the D. R. Guild. 
 
THE ILLINOIS REGIMENT 
 IN THE WAR OF THE 
 REVOLUTION 
 
THE ILLINOIS REGIMENT 
 IN THE AMERICAN 
 REVOLUTION 
 
 CHARLES EUGENE BANKS 
 
 Illinois played a heroic part in the American 
 Revolution — at this critical time the English had 
 possession of the Illinois valley. Governor Ham- 
 ilton was in command of the Northwest territory, 
 with headquarters at Detroit, Vincennes, and 
 Kaskaskia. From these forts supplies were dis- 
 tributed and emissaries sent frequently among 
 the Indians to inflame them against the whites. 
 Arms and ammunition were furnished to the sav- 
 ages without cost throughout the West and 
 South. An order of Hamilton is extant in which 
 he offered the Indians “All the necessary means 
 to murder the exposed frontier inhabitants,” and 
 it is known that he actually paid British gold for 
 the scalps of the whites, thereby winning for him- 
 self the nickname of Hair Buyer. 
 
 Governor Patrick Henry of Virginia decided 
 to send an expedition into the territory to take 
 the forts and destroy Hamilton’s influence with 
 the Indians and a settlement of Canadian French 
 i47 
 
in and about Kaskaskia. For this service he 
 chose George Rogers Clark, since known as the 
 Hannibal of the West. (Clark Street, Chicago, 
 was named for him.) Clark was born in Virginia, 
 on November 14, 1752. He was a sturdy lad, 
 and like Washington, started as a land-surveyor. 
 In 1774 he was on the staff of Governor Dun- 
 more of Virginia, and did active service in the 
 campaign against the Indians. 
 
 Governor Henry appointed Clark lieutenant 
 colonel with authority to raise seven companies 
 for the capture of Kaskaskia in Illinois. At this 
 time Illinois included the states now known as 
 Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, Michigan, and Wisconsin. 
 
 On February 4, 1778, Colonel Clark started 
 for Pittsburg where he raised three companies 
 and embarked down the Ohio to Corn Island, 
 which he fortified and occupied. Here he met 
 by appointment Captain Bowman who had suc- 
 ceeded in raising a company from Kentucky. 
 Colonel Clark found it impossible to raise any 
 more men, and of the ones enlisted many grew 
 faint-hearted and refused to serve so that his force 
 finally dwindled to 153 men. These were divided 
 into four companies under command of John 
 Montgomery, Joseph Bowman, Leonard Helm, 
 and William Harrod. 
 
 With this little force Col. Clark proceeded to 
 Fort Massac, which he reached June 4th. Here he 
 left the river for the overland journey to Kaskas- 
 
 148 
 
kia, the British Indian stronghold on the Mis- 
 sissippi. 
 
 It was a wearisome march through a strange 
 country but the brave little band pressed forward 
 fearlessly. On the Fourth of July Col. Clark de- 
 livered the following address: 
 
 “Soldiers we are near the enemy for which 
 we have been struggling for years. We are not 
 fighting alone for liberty and independence, but 
 for the defense of our frontiers from the toma- 
 hawk and scalping-knife of the Indians. We are 
 defending the lives of our women and children, 
 although a long distance from them. These Brit- 
 ish garrisons furnish the Indians with powder 
 and lead to desolate our frontiers, and pay gold 
 for human scalps. 
 
 “We must take and destroy these garrisons. 
 The fort before us is one of them, and it must 
 be taken. We cannot retreat, we have no provis- 
 ions, and we must conquer. 
 
 “This is the 4th of July ; we must act to honor 
 it and let it not be said in after times that Vir- 
 ginians were defeated on that memorable day. 
 The fort and town, I repeat it, must be taken at 
 all hazards.” 
 
 Among those who are mentioned as being 
 with the command at this time are the following : 
 
 Lieutenant Colonel Geo. Rogers Clark. 
 
 Captains John Montgomery, Joseph Bowman, 
 Leonard Helm, William Harrod. 
 
 149 
 
Sergeant Shadrac Bond, who afterwards be- 
 came the first state governor of Illinois. 
 
 John Duff. 
 
 George Lunsford, 
 
 William Murry. 
 
 William Long. 
 
 John Montgomery. 
 
 David Pagan. 
 
 James Piggot. 
 
 Larkin Rutherford. 
 
 John Saunders, guide. 
 
 Simon Kenton. 
 
 The river was crossed in silence. Night had 
 fallen and the enemy slept. Governor Roche- 
 blave, a Frenchman who had sworn allegiance to 
 the English, was in command of the fort. Stealth- 
 ily as Indians themselves the Virginians stole 
 upon the sleeping garrison, and with a quick rush 
 took possession of the fort, making the com- 
 mander prisoner. The inhabitants were terrified 
 at the unexpected onslaught, but Colonel Clark 
 called them together and informed them that the 
 king of France had united his forces with the 
 Americans and that the war would soon be over. 
 Every Frenchman in Kaskaskia immediately es- 
 poused the American cause. The Rev. Father 
 Gibault called his flock together in the little 
 chapel and songs of praise and thanksgiving 
 mingled with the tones of the liberty bell of the 
 Mississippi Valley, as it pealed forth the same 
 iso 
 
glad tidings proclaimed for Americans from that 
 other liberty bell just two years before. 
 
 The capture of Kaskaskia was followed imme- 
 diately by the surrender of Cahokia, a fort on the 
 east bank of the Mississippi opposite the present 
 city of St. Louis. Vincennes (or as the British 
 had named the French fort on the Wabash River, 
 Sackville), was easily captured, and all that part 
 of the country became American territory. The 
 British afterwards recaptured Vincennes but 
 Colonel Clark, after a campaign in the early 
 spring during floods and severe storms drove the 
 British out and re-established it as an American 
 post. 
 
 It is probable that had George Roger Clark’s 
 expedition never been undertaken the United 
 States might have been limited to the thirteen 
 original states. Surely it is fitting that the de- 
 scendants of the Revolutionary soldiers commem- 
 orate the de^ds of that Illinois regiment. The 
 hills of old Kaskaskia re-echoed the battle cry 
 from beyond the Alleghanies in the campaign of 
 Colonel Clark and his band of brave Virginian 
 frontiersmen. Before the surrender of these forts 
 the British possessed the country from the Mis- 
 sissippi to the Alleghanies, and with the surren- 
 der of Quebec in 1759 all the country north of the 
 Tennessee River. This now for the first time be- 
 came the territory of the United States. 
 
LIST OF OFFICERS AND SOLDIERS OF 
 THE ILLINOIS REGIMENT 
 
 BRIGADIER-GENERAL. 
 
 Geo. Rogers Clark. 
 
 LIEUT.-COLONEL. 
 
 John Montgomery. 
 
 MAJORS. 
 
 Thomas Quirk, Geo. Slaughter. 
 
 John Montgomery, 
 Joseph Bowman, 
 Leonard Helm, 
 William Harrod, 
 John Bailey, 
 Richard Brashear, 
 Abraham Chaplain, 
 Benjamin Fields, 
 Robert George, 
 John Gerault, 
 
 CAPTAINS. 
 
 Richard Harrison, 
 Abraham Keller, 
 Richard McCarty, 
 Michael Pereault, 
 John Rogers, 
 Benjamin Roberts, 
 Mark Thomas, 
 Isaac Taylor, 
 Robert Todd, 
 
 John Williams. 
 
 LIEUTENANTS. 
 
 Richard Clark, James Robertson, 
 
 William Clark, William Roberts, 
 
 James Merri weather, Joseph Saunders, 
 
 James Montgomery, Jarrett Williams. 
 
 ENSIGNS. 
 
 William Asher, Laurence Slaughter. 
 
 i55 
 
CORNET. 
 John Thurston. 
 
 PRIVATES. 
 
 Allery, Joseph, 
 
 Allen, John, 
 
 Allen, Isaac, 
 
 Alonton, Jacob, 
 
 Allen, John, 
 
 Adams, Francis, 
 
 Ash, John, 
 
 Andree, Jean, Sergeant, 
 Antier, Francois, 
 
 Abbott, William, 
 
 Abbott, William, Jr., 
 Anderson, John, 
 
 Allen, Samuel, Sergeant, 
 Allen, David, 
 
 Asher, Bartlett, 
 Apperson, Richard, 
 
 Bell, William, 
 
 Bailey, David, 
 
 Ballinger, Larkin, 
 
 Blair, John, 
 
 Breeden, Richard, 
 
 Brown, James, 
 
 Berry, William, 
 
 Bentley, James, 
 
 Bentley, John, 
 
 Brazer, Peter, 
 
 Bush, John, 
 
 Bush, Drewrey, 
 
 Brown, James, 
 
 Boston, William, 
 
 Boston, Travis, 
 
 Baxter, James, Corporal, 
 Brown, Lew, 
 
 Brown, John, 
 
 Balter, Peter, 
 
 Biron, J. B., Sergeant, 
 Brown, Colin, 
 
 Barry, William, 
 
 Bevard, — , 
 
 Blancher, Pierre, 
 
 Blein, Pierre, Corporal, 
 Broissard, Pierre, 
 
 Bouche, John, Sergeant, 
 Benton, Thomas, 
 
 Bressie, Richard, 
 
 Breeden, John, Sergeant, 
 Bird, Samuel, 
 
 Batcher, Gaspar, 
 
 Back, John, 
 
 Ballard, Bland, Sergeant, 
 Ballard, Proctor, Sergeant, 
 Ballard, James, Corporal, 
 Bowen, William, Corporal, 
 Bush, Thomas, 
 
 Ballard, Bland William, 
 Barber, John, 
 
 Burnett, Robert, 
 Blankenship Henry, 
 Bryant, James, 
 
 Bowman, Christian, 
 
 Burk, Geo., 
 
 Binkley, William, 
 Ballinger, James, 
 
 Banis, John, 
 
 Bender, Robert, 
 
 Burberidge, John, 
 Burberidge, William, 
 
 Butts, William, 
 
 Bender, Lewis, 
 
 Beckley, William, 
 
 Buskey, Francis, 
 
 Boils, John, 
 
 Bowing, Ebenezer, 
 
 Brown, Asher, 
 
 Bingoman, Adam, 
 
 Bass, David, 
 
 Blackford, Samuel, 
 
 Barney, Simon, 
 
Brown, Lewis, 
 
 Begraw, Alexander, 
 
 Bond, Shadrac, Sergeant, 
 Bleam, David, Sergeant, 
 Brown, Collin, Sergeant, 
 Burne, Pierre, Sergeant, 
 Balton, Daniel, Sergeant, 
 Bush, William, Sergeant, 
 Clark, Andrew, Sergeant, 
 Crump, William, Sergeant, 
 Creze, Noah, 
 
 Cohen, Dennis, 
 
 Chapman, Richard, 
 
 Chick, William, 
 
 Cormilla, Patric, 
 
 Chapman, Edward, 
 
 Chapman, William, 
 
 Crossby, William, 
 
 Cowan, John, 
 
 Camp, Reuben, 
 
 Camper, Tillman, 
 
 Cogan, Peter, 
 
 Cogan, Jacob, 
 
 Clifton, Thomas, 
 
 Clark, John, 
 
 Cannon, Andrew, 
 
 Cabbage, Joseph, 
 
 Curry, James, 
 
 Conway, Patrick, 
 
 Cure, Jean Baptist, 
 
 Corns, John, 
 
 Crawley, John, 
 
 Cooper, Joseph, 
 
 Cooper, Ramsey, 
 
 Coste, J. B. de, 
 
 Clairmont, Michael, 
 
 Cabassie, B., 
 
 Coffee, Samuel, 
 
 Connolly, Thomas, 
 
 Conn, John, 
 
 Campo, Louis, 
 
 Campo, Michael, 
 
 Campbell, George, Sergeant, 
 Cowdry, John, 
 
 Cowan, Andrew, 
 
 Cowan, Mason, 
 
 Calvin, Daniel, 
 
 Corder (or Corden), James, 
 Campbell, John, 
 
 Curtis, Rice, 
 
 Chambers, Ellick, 
 
 Cockran, Edward, 
 
 Cockran, George, 
 
 Coheron, Dennis, 
 
 Carbine, Henry, Sergeant, 
 Cameron, James, Corporal, 
 Cowgill, Daniel, 
 
 Crutcher, Henry, V. & Q. M., 
 Crane, John St., 
 
 Certain, Page, 
 
 Compera, Louis, 
 
 Convance, Paul, 
 
 Contraw, Francis, 
 
 Compera, Francis, 
 
 Comtz, Christopher, 
 
 Cox, James, 
 
 Coclet, Andrew, 
 
 Damewood, Boston, 
 
 Dewett, Henry, Sergeant, 
 Donovan, John, 
 
 Davis, Robert, 
 
 Darnell, Cornelius, 
 
 Dawson, James, 
 
 Detering, Jacob, 
 
 Doherty, John, 
 
 Durst, Daniel, Sergt.-Maj., 
 Decker, Jacob, (died), Sergt. 
 
 Major, 
 
 Davis, James, Sergeant, 
 Dalhonean, Pierre, 
 
 Deerand, P., 
 
 Dusablong, B., 
 
 Duselle, Mons., 
 
 Dardy, John, 
 
 Dardy, Baptiste, 
 
 Dolphin, Peter, 
 
 Day, William, 
 
 Durrett, James, 
 
 *57 
 
Doherty, Frederick, (died), 
 Doherty, Edward, 
 
 Dawson, James, 
 
 Donrichelle, Louis, 
 
 Denton, Thomas, Sergeant, 
 Duncan (or Duncon), Nim- 
 rod, 
 
 Duncan (or Duncon), Benja- 
 min, 
 
 Doyle, John, 
 
 Duncan (or Duncon), Sam- 
 uel, 
 
 Duncan (or Duncon), Archi- 
 bald, 
 
 Duncan (or Duncon), Chas., 
 Duncan (or Duncon), Joseph, 
 Dudley, Armistead, 
 
 Doud, Roger, 
 
 Duff, John, 
 
 Donow, Joseph, 
 
 Drumgold, James, Sergeant, 
 Duncan, David, 
 
 Deen, James, (died), 
 
 Darnell, Cornelius, 
 
 Davis, Joseph, 
 
 Elms, William, Sergeant, 
 Evans, Charles, 
 
 Elms, James, 
 
 Elms, John, 
 
 English, Robert, 
 
 Evans, Stanhope, 
 
 Estis, James, 
 
 Frazier, Abraham, Sergeant, 
 Favers, John, Sergeant, 
 Flandigan, Dominick, Ser- 
 geant, 
 
 Floyd, Isham, Sergeant, 
 Freemen, William, Sergeant, 
 Fair, Edmund, Sergeant, 
 Fever, William, Sergeant, 
 Funk, Henry, 
 
 Fache, Louis, 
 
 Field, Lewis, (prisoner), 
 Field, Daniel, (died), 
 
 Freeman, Peter, 
 
 Foster, Henry, 
 
 Frost, Stephen, 
 
 Godfrey, Francis, 
 
 Gognia, Louis, 
 
 Grimes, John, 
 
 Grolet, Francis, Sr., 
 
 Grolet, Francis, Jr., 
 
 Gaskins, Thomas, 
 
 Ginan, S. Frederick, 
 Germain, J. R., 
 
 Grimshine, John, 
 
 Gognia, Jacque, 
 
 Gallagan, Owen, 
 
 Garuldon (or Ganchdon), 
 Baptiste, 
 
 Gognia, Pierre, 
 
 Goodwin (or Goodman) Wil- 
 liam. 
 
 Goodloe, Henry, Sergeant, 
 Glass, Michael, 
 
 Gwin, William, (died), 
 Goodwin, Edward, 
 Greenwood, Daniel, 
 
 Goodwin, Amos, 
 
 Gaines (or Garner), Wil- 
 liam, 
 
 Gordon, John, 
 
 George, John, 
 
 Gamin (or Gannia), Abra- 
 ham, 
 
 Green, John, Sergeant, 
 Garrett, John, Sergeant, 
 Gibbons, Samuel, 
 
 Glenn, David, 
 
 Graham, James, 
 
 Guess, John, 
 
 , Gratiott, Jean, 
 
 Green, James, (died), 
 Gaines, John, 
 
 Hardin, Francis, 
 
 Horn, Christopher, 
 
 Hooper, Thomas, (died), 
 Honndsler, Charles, 
 
 158 
 
Hollis, Joshua, 
 
 Hoffman, Jacob, 
 
 Harrison, Richard, 
 
 Hazard, John, Sergeant, 
 Humphries, Samuel, 
 
 Holmes, James, 
 
 Huff, Phillip, Matross, 
 Hopkins, Richard Matross, 
 Hant, Henry (killed), Ser- 
 geant, 
 
 Hite, George, 
 
 Ham, Jeremiah, 
 
 Harrison, James, Gunner, 
 Hays, Thomas, 
 
 Huin, William, Corporal, 
 Higgins, Barney, 
 
 Hammet, James, (died), 
 Hart, Miles, 
 
 Hays, James, 
 
 Halber, Francis, 
 
 Hicks, Mordeci, (died), 
 Hawkins, Sam’l, Corporal, 
 Horton, Adin, 
 
 Hawley, Richard, 
 
 Hicks, David, Sergeant, 
 Hall, William, 
 
 Howell, Peter, 
 
 Heywood, Benj., 
 
 Hendrix, Andrew, 
 
 House, Andrew, 
 
 Head, James, 
 
 Heldebrand, James, 
 
 Hico, Peter, Sr., 
 
 Hico, Peter, Jr., 
 
 Hatlar, Christopher, 
 
 Hatcher (or Hacker), John 
 Isaacs, John, 
 
 Irby, David, 
 
 Johnston, John, 
 
 Jewell, John, 
 
 Jarrell, James, 
 
 Johnston, Edward, 
 
 Jones, Edward, 
 
 Jones, (or Johuns), Mathew, 
 
 Jewell, Charles, 
 
 Jamieson, Thomas, Ser 
 geant, 
 
 Jones, John, 
 
 Jones, David, 
 
 Johnston, Samuel, 
 
 Joines, John, Sergeant, 
 Kellar, Isaac, 
 
 King, George, 
 
 Kennedy, David, 
 
 King, Nicholas, 
 
 Kincaid, James, 
 
 Kendall, William, 
 
 Kirkley, James, 
 
 Kirk, Thomas, 
 
 Kerr, William, 
 
 Kidd, Robert, 
 
 Key, George, 
 
 Key, Thomas, 
 
 Kemp, Reuben, 
 
 Kina, Christopher, 
 Lunsford, Anthony, 
 Lunsford, Mason, 
 
 Lunsford, Geo., 
 
 Lasley, John, 
 
 Laughlin, Peter, 
 
 Lovell, Richard, 
 
 Levinston, George, 
 
 Luzader, Abraham, 
 
 Lenox, Thomas, (killed), 
 Lewis, Benjamin, (killed), 
 Larose, Francis, 
 
 Laventure, J., Sergeant, 
 Laflour, Pierre, 
 
 Lamarche, Louis, 
 Lamarche, J. B., 
 
 Lamarche, Bramvard, 
 Laviolette, Baptist, 
 
 Leney, Thomas, Gunner, 
 L’Enfant, Francis, 
 
 Laform, John, 
 
 Lavigne, Joseph, 
 
 Laviolette; Louis, 
 
 LaBelle, Charles, 
 
 iS9 
 
Levey, John, 
 
 Lyon, Jacob, 
 
 Long, William, 
 
 Lyons, John, 
 
 Lockhert (or Locket), Pleas- 
 ant, 
 
 Lockhart, Archibald, 
 Laubran, — ., 
 
 Lasant, Joseph, 
 
 Lapoint, Louis, 
 
 LaCasse, Jacques, 
 
 LaFaro, Francis, 
 
 Lafarton, Francis, 
 
 Logan, Hugh, 
 
 Lewis, James, 
 
 Missie, Bernard, 
 
 Murry, Edward, 
 Montgomery, John, 
 McDermott, Franciss, 
 Mayfield, Micajah, 
 
 Mayfield, James, 
 
 Mayfield, Isaac, 
 
 Morris, Jacob, 
 
 Maid, Ebeneezer, (killed), 
 Mayfield, Elijah, 
 
 Morn, John, Sergeant, 
 McMickle, John, 
 
 Morris, James, (died), 
 Miller, Abraham, (killed), 
 Corporal, 
 
 Montgomery, John, 
 Montgomery, William, 
 McLockland, Charles, 
 
 Marsh, John, 
 
 Mathews, Edward, Sergeant, 
 Morgan, Charles, Sergeant 
 and Gunner, 
 
 McGuire, John, 
 
 McIntosh, James, 
 Marsionville, Mar de, 
 
 Monet, J. R., 
 
 Maidone, J. B., 
 
 Manisette, M., 
 
 Mason, Charles, Sergeant, 
 
 Mulby, William, Gunner, 
 Marr, Patrick, Corporal and 
 Sergeant, 
 
 McMichaels, John, 
 
 McMullen, James, 
 
 Mustach, — 
 
 Malroof, Joseph, 
 
 Moran (or Mauran), Peter, 
 McClure, Patrick, 
 Merriweather, William, 
 Miller, John, 
 
 Murry, William, 
 
 Martin, Charles, 
 
 McDonald, David, 
 
 Marshen, Nathaniel, (died), 
 Murphy, John, 
 
 Meadows, Josiah, 
 
 Murry, Thomas, Sergeant, 
 Milton (or Wilton), Daniel, 
 McClain, Thomas, 
 
 Munnrony, William, Ser- 
 geant, 
 
 Munrony, Sylvester, 
 McQuiddy, Thomas, 
 McDaniel, Thomas, 
 McDonald, James, 
 
 Martin, Elijah, 
 
 Munmilly, Joseph, 
 
 Manous, Joseph, 
 
 McKin, James, 
 
 Martin, Solomon, 
 
 Malbeff, Joseph, 
 
 McKinney, John, 
 
 Moore, John, 
 
 Martin, Pierre, 
 
 Monet, William, 
 
 Moore, Thomas, 
 
 Marshall, William, 
 McDonald, Thomas, 
 
 McGann, John, 
 
 Newton, Peter, 
 
 Nelson, Enoch, 
 
 Nelson, John, 
 
 Nelson, John, 
 
 160 
 
Nash, Franchis, 
 
 Neal, John, 
 
 Nare, Conrad, 
 
 Nobbs, Mark, 
 
 Onslow, Charles, 
 
 Oakley, John, 
 
 Oliver, John, 
 
 Oharro, Michael, 
 
 Oaker, Samuel, 
 
 Oliver, Lewis, 
 
 Owditt (or Odett), Lewis, 
 Ofin, James, 
 
 Oliver, Turner, 
 
 Ozburn, (or Ozbom), Ebe- 
 nezer, 
 
 Parker, Edward, Sergeant, 
 Partwood, Page, Sergeant, 
 Perie, William, Sergeant, 
 Patterson, John, 
 
 Potter, James, 
 
 Patterson, William, 
 
 Pulford, John, 
 
 Payne, Adams, 
 
 Priest, Peter, 
 
 Pritchett (or Pritcher), Wil- 
 liam, Corporal, 
 
 Pittman, Buckner, Sergeant, 
 Pupin, N., 
 
 Purcell (or Pursley), Wil- 
 liam, 
 
 Penett (or Penit), Joshua, 
 Panther, Joseph, 
 
 Peilat, Charles, 
 
 Parisienne, Baptiste, 
 
 Pepin, John, (killed), 
 
 Penir, Jessee, (killed), 
 Puncrass, Joseph, 
 
 Puncrass, Francis, 
 
 Peltier, Joseph, 
 
 Peguin, Francis, 
 
 Powell, Micajah, 
 
 Payne, William, 
 
 Pagan, David, 
 
 Potter, Ebenezer, 
 
 Peaters, John, 
 
 Phillips, Henry, 
 
 Piggot, James, 
 
 Parault, Peter, 
 
 Pickens, Samuel, 
 
 Petter, Joseph, 
 
 Poores, Archer, Fifer, 
 
 Ross, John, Sergeant, 
 
 Ryan, Andrews, Sergeant, 
 Rubido, Francis, (died), Ser- 
 geant, 
 
 Ruddell (or Riddle), Corn 
 lius, 
 
 Ryan, Lazarus, Sergeant, 
 Ramsey, Jas., Sergeant, 
 Rector, John, Sergeant, 
 Roy, Julien, Sergeant, 
 Ranger, J. B., Sergeant, 
 Robertson, John, Sergeant, 
 Ross, James, Sergeant, 
 
 Rice, John, Sergeant, 
 Rogers, David, Sergeant, 
 Rogers, Joseph, 
 
 Rutherford, Larkin, 
 Richards, Lewis, Sergeant, 
 Richards, Dick, 
 
 Robinson, Richard, 
 
 Ross, Joseph, Corporal, 
 Roberts, Benjamin, Ser- 
 geant, 
 
 Roberts, Eliab, 
 
 Russell, Benjamin, 
 
 Randal, Robert, 
 
 Roberts, Joseph, 
 
 Rushare, Francis, 
 
 Rabey, Cader, 
 
 Riley, Patrick, 
 
 Rubido, James, 
 
 Rollison, Wm,, (died), 
 Shepherd, Peter, Corporal, 
 Shepherd, George, 
 
 Smith, William, 
 
 Slaughter, John, Sergeant, 
 Shoemaker, Leonard, 
 
 161 
 
Saunders, John, Guide 
 Smith, Joseph, 
 
 Setzer, John, 
 
 Slack, William, 
 
 Snellock, Thomas, 
 
 Smithers (or Smothers), 
 John, 
 
 Smith, George, 
 
 Smith, Josiah, Gunner, 
 Shank, John, 
 
 Shank, Jacob, 
 
 Dills, Samuel, Corporal, 
 Smith, David, 
 
 Smith, Randall, 
 
 Spencer, John, 
 
 Searay, John, 
 
 Smock, Henry, 
 
 Ship, William, 
 
 Snow, George, 
 
 Seare, William, 
 
 Siburn, Christopher, 
 Sennett, Richard, 
 
 Scates, David, 
 
 Savage, Bryan, 
 
 Stobali, Thomas, 
 
 Sowers, Frederick, 
 Slaughter, George, 
 
 Shannon, William, 
 Stephenson, John, Sergeant, 
 Stephenson, Samuel, 
 
 Savage, Dominick, 
 
 Soverims, Ebenezer, Ser- 
 geant. 
 
 St. Michaels, — 
 
 St. Mary, Baptiste 
 Sigonier, Francis, 
 
 Sworden, Jonathan, 
 Severidge, John, 
 
 Sharlock, James, 
 
 Spillman, James, 
 
 Trent, Beverly, Sergeant, 
 Tuttle, Nicholas, 
 
 Tygard, Daniel, 
 
 Trantham, Martin, 
 
 Taylor, James, 
 
 Turpin, Richard, (killed), 
 Thompson, James, 
 
 Triplett, Pettis, 
 
 Trillis, Griffin, 
 
 Taliaferro, Richard C., 
 Thomas, Edward, 
 
 Taylor, Edward, 
 
 Taylor, Benjamin, 
 
 Tolley, John, 
 
 Tyler, William, 
 
 Tolley, Daniel, 
 
 Taylor, Abraham, 
 Thorington, Joseph, 
 Thompson William, Cor- 
 poral, 
 
 Taylor, Thomas, 
 
 Underhill, James, 
 
 Vrushiner, Thomas, 
 
 Villiers, Francis, (killed), 
 Sergeant, 
 
 Villard, Isaac, 
 
 Veale, Peter, 
 
 Whitehead, William, 
 Whitehead, Robert, 
 
 White, Randal, 
 
 Whit, Robert, 
 
 Welton, Daniel, 
 
 Whitten, Daniel, 
 
 Ward, Thomas, 
 
 Watlers, Lewis, 
 
 Watkins, Samuel, 
 
 Williams, John, 
 
 Waters, Barney, 
 
 Walker, John, Sergeant, 
 Wheat, Jacob, 
 
 Wallace, David, 
 
 Whitacre, David, 
 
 White, William, 
 
 Waggoner, Peter, 
 
 Wood, Charles, 
 
 Wheel, Jacob, 
 
 Wilkenson, William, 
 
 Wray, Thomas, 
 
Wash-bowl and Pitcher Used by Washington, Relics in D. R. Chapter. 
 
Ward, Lewis, 
 
 Williams, George, 
 
 Wisner, Christopher, 
 Wheeler, John, 
 
 Waddington, John, 
 
 Wright, William, 
 
 Wethers, Benjamin, 
 
 West, John, 
 
 White, Randolph, Sergeant, 
 White, John, 
 
 Workman, Conrad, Sergeant, 
 
 Wenrate, — 
 
 White, Laden, 
 
 Williams, Zachariah, 
 Williams, Daniel, 
 Wilson, John, Sergeant, 
 Wray, Thomas, 
 
 Yates, Isaac, 
 
 Young, John, Sergeant, 
 Zuckledz, William, 
 Zimmerman, Frederick, 
 
 165 
 
EXTRACT FROM CONSTITUTION OF 
 ILLINOIS STATE SOCIETY OF THE 
 DAUGHTERS OF THE REVOLUTION 
 
 ARTICLE I. 
 
 NAME. 
 
 The name of this Society shall be the Illinois 
 Society of the Daughters of the Revolution. 
 
 ARTICLE II. 
 
 OBJECTS. 
 
 The objects of this Society shall be to keep 
 alive among its members and their descendants 
 and throughout the community the patriotic spirit 
 of the men and women who achieved American 
 Independence ; to collect and secure for preserva- 
 tion the manuscripts, rolls, records, and other 
 documents relative to the War of the American 
 Revolution, and to provide a place for their pres- 
 ervation, and a fund for their purchase; to en- 
 courage historical research in relation to such 
 Revolution, and to publish results; to promote 
 and assist in the proper celebration of prominent 
 events relating to our connection with the War of 
 the Revolution, and to promote social intercourse 
 
 166 
 
and the feeling of fellowship among its members, 
 and to provide a home for and furnish assistance 
 to such as may be impoverished, when it is in 
 its power to do so. 
 
 ARTICLE IV. 
 
 Section i. — Membership. Any woman resi- 
 dent of State of Illinois shall be eligible to mem- 
 bership in The Illinois Daughters of the Revolu- 
 tion who is above the age of 18 years, of good 
 character and a lineal descendant of an ancestor 
 who 
 
 (1) was a signer of the Declaration of Inde- 
 pendence, a member of the Continental 
 Congress, or a member of the Congress, 
 Legislature, or General Court of any of the 
 Colonies or States ; or 
 
 (2) rendered civil, military or naval service 
 under the authority of any of the thirteen 
 Colonies or of the Continental Congress ; or 
 
 (3) by service rendered during the War of the 
 Revolution became liable to the penalty of 
 Treason against the government of Great 
 Britain : 
 
 provided that such ancestor always remained loyal 
 to the cause of American Independence. 
 
 Any person eligible to membership address, 
 MRS. HANNAH O. HOOPS, 
 2957 Michigan Boulevard. 
 167