Others preferred to study the problem on a large scale, especially as shown in the economic development of the country. But there could be no necessary difference between the conclusions thus reached.
One curious fact, which has always been overlooked in the history of economics in our country, shows how purely partisan was the idea of a separation of the two schools. The fact is that the founder of the historic school among us, the man who first introduced the idea, was not Ely, but David A. Wells. Up to the outbreak of the civil war, Mr. Wells had been a writer on scientific subjects without any special known leaning toward economies; but after it broke out he published a most noteworthy pamphlet, setting forth the resources of our country for carrying on war and paying a debt, in terms so strong as to command more attention than any similar utterance at the time.
This led to his appointment as Special Commissioner of Revenue, with the duty of collecting information devising the best methods of raising revenue. His studies in this line were very exhaustive, and were carried on by the methods of the historic school of economics.
I was almost annoyed to find that, if any economic question was presented to him, he rushed off to the experience of some particular people or nation--it might be Sweden or Australia--instead of going down to fundamental principles. But I could never get him interested in this kind of analysis.
One of Professor Ely's early movements resulted in the organization of the American Economic Association. His original plan was that this society should have something like a creed to which its members were expected to subscribe. A discussion of the whole subject appeared in the pages of "Science," a number of the leading economists of the country being contributors to it. The outcome of the whole matter has been a triumph for what most men will now consider reason and good sense. The Economic Association was scarcely more than organized when it broke loose from all creeds and admitted into its ranks investigators of the subject belonging to every class.
I think the last discussion on the question of two schools occurred at the New York meeting, about 1895, after which the whole matter was dropped and the association worked together as a unit.
As Professor Ely is still a leader on the stage, I desire to do him justice in one point. I am able to do so because of what I have always regarded as one of the best features of the Johns Hopkins University--the unity of action which pervaded its work. There is a tendency in such institutions to be divided up into departments, not only independent of each other, but with little mutual help or sympathy. Of course every department has the best wishes of every other, and its cooperation when necessary, but the tendency is to have nothing more than this. In 1884, after the resignation of Professor Sylvester, I was invited by President Gilman to act as head of the department of mathematics. I could not figure as the successor of Sylvester, and therefore suggested that my title should be professor of mathematics and astronomy. The examinations of students for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy were then, as now, all conducted by a single "Board of University Studies," in which all had equal powers, although of course no member of the board took an active part in cases which lay entirely outside of his field.
But the general idea was that of mutual cooperation and criticism all through. Each professor was a factor in the department of another in a helpful and not an antagonistic way, and all held counsel on subjects where the knowledge of all was helpful to each.
I cannot but think that the wonderful success of the Johns Hopkins University is largely due to this feature of its activity, which tended to broaden both professors and students alike.
In pursuance of this system I for several years took part in the examinations of students of economics for their degrees. I found that Professor Ely's men were always well grounded in those principles of economic theory which seemed to me essential to a comprehension of the subject on its scientific side.
Being sometimes looked upon as an economist, I deem it not improper to disclaim any part in the economic research of to-day. What I have done has been prompted by the conviction that the greatest social want of the age is the introduction of sound thinking on economic subjects among the masses, not only of our own, but of every other country.
This kind of thinking I have tried to promote in our own country by such books as "A Plain Man's Talk on the Labor Question," and "Principles of Political Economy."
My talks with Professor Henry used to cover a wide field in scientific philosophy. Adherence to the Presbyterian church did not prevent his being as uncompromising an upholder of modern scientific views of the universe as I ever knew. He was especially severe on the delusions of spiritualism. To a friend who once told him that he had seen a "medium" waft himself through a window, he replied, "Judge, you never saw that; and if you think you did, you are in a dangerous mental condition and need the utmost care of your family and your physician."
Among the experiences which I heard him relate more than once, I think, was one with a noted medium. Henry was quite intimate with President Lincoln, who, though not a believer in spiritualism, was from time to time deeply impressed by the extraordinary feats of spiritualistic performers, and naturally looked to Professor Henry for his views and advice on the subject. Quite early in his administration one of these men showed his wonderful powers to the President, who asked him to show Professor Henry his feats.
Although the latter generally avoided all contact with such men, he consented to receive him at the Smithsonian Institution.
Among the acts proposed was that of making sounds in various quarters of the room. This was something which the keen senses and ready experimental faculty of the professor were well qualified to investigate. He turned his head in various positions while the sounds were being emitted. He then turned toward the man with the utmost firmness and said, "I do not know how you make the sounds, but this I perceive very clearly: they do not come from the room but from your person." It was in vain that the operator protested that they did not, and that he had no knowledge how they were produced.
The keen ear of his examiner could not be deceived.
Sometime afterward the professor was traveling in the east, and took a seat in a railway car beside a young man who, finding who his companion was, entered into conversation with him, and informed him that he was a maker of telegraph and electrical instruments.
His advances were received in so friendly a manner that he went further yet, and confided to Henry that his ingenuity had been called into requisition by spiritual mediums, to whom he furnished the apparatus necessary for the manifestations. Henry asked him by what mediums he had been engaged, and was surprised to find that among them was the very man he had met at the Smithsonian. The sounds which the medium had emitted were then described to the young man, who in reply explained the structure of the apparatus by which they were produced, which apparatus had been constructed by himself.
It was fastened around the muscular part of the upper arm, and was so arranged that clicks would be produced by a simple contraction of the muscle, unaccompanied by any motion of the joints of the arm, and entirely invisible to a bystander.
During the Philadelphia meeting of the American Association for the Advancement of Science, held in 1884, a few members were invited by one of the foreign visitors, Professor Fitzgerald of Dublin, I think, to a conference on the subject of psychical research. The English society on this subject had been organized a few years before, and the question now was whether there was interest enough among us to lead to the organization of an American Society for Psychical Research.
This was decided in the affirmative; the society was soon after formed, with headquarters in Boston, and I was elected its first president, a choice which Powell, of Washington, declared to be ridiculous in the highest degree.
On accepting this position, my first duty was to make a careful study of the publications of the parent society in England, with a view of learning their discoveries. The result was far from hopeful.
I found that the phenomena brought out lacked that coherence and definiteness which is characteristic of scientific truths.
Remarkable effects had been witnessed; but it was impossible to say, Do so and so, and you will get such an effect. The best that could be said was, perhaps you will get an effect, but more likely you will not. I could not feel any assurance that the society, with all its diligence, had done more than add to the mass of mistakes, misapprehensions of fact, exaggerations, illusions, tricks, and coincidences, of which human experience is full. In the course of a year or two I delivered a presidential address, in which I pointed out the difficulties of the case and the inconclusiveness of the supposed facts gathered. I suggested further experimentation, and called upon the English society to learn, by trials, whether the mental influences which they had observed to pass from mind to mind under specially arranged conditions, would still pass when a curtain or a door separated the parties. Fifteen years have since elapsed, and neither they nor any one else has settled this most elementary of all the questions involved. The only conclusion seems to be that only in exceptional cases does any effect pass at all; and when it does, it is just as likely to be felt halfway round the world as behind a curtain in the same room.
Shortly after the conference in Philadelphia I had a long wished-for opportunity to witness and investigate what, from the descriptions, was a wonder as great as anything recorded in the history of psychic research or spiritualism. Early in 1885 a tall and well-built young woman named Lulu Hurst, also known as the "Georgia magnetic girl,"
gave exhibitions in the eastern cities which equaled or exceeded the greatest feats of the Spiritualists. On her arrival in Washington invitations were sent to a number of our prominent scientific men to witness a private exhibition which she gave in advance of her public appearance. I was not present, but some who attended were so struck by her performance that they arranged to have another exhibition in Dr. Graham Bell's laboratory. I can give the best idea of the case if I begin with an account of the performance as given by the eye-witnesses at the first trial. We must remember that this was not the account of mere wonder-seekers, but of trained scientific men.
Their account was in substance this:--
A light rod was firmly held in the hands of the tallest and most muscular of the spectators. Miss Lulu had only to touch the rod with her fingers when it would begin to go through the most extraordinary manoeuvres. It jerked the holder around the room with a power he was unable to resist, and finally threw him down into a corner completely discomfited. Another spectator was then asked to take hold of the rod, and Miss Lulu extended her arms and touched each end with the tip of her finger. Immediately the rod began to whirl around on its central axis with such force that the skin was nearly taken off the holder's hands in his efforts to stop it.
A heavy man being seated in a chair, man and chair were lifted up by the fair performer placing her hands against the sides.
To substantiate the claim that she herself exerted no force, chair and man were lifted without her touching the chair at all. The sitter was asked to put his hands under the chair; the performer put her hands around and under his in such a way that it was impossible for her to exert any force on the chair except through his hands.
The chair at once lifted him up without her exerting any pressure other than the touch upon his hands.
Several men were then invited to hold the chair still. The performer then began to deftly touch it with her finger, when the chair again began to jump about in spite of the efforts of three or four men to hold it down.
A straw hat being laid upon a table crown downwards, she laid her extended hands over it. It was lifted up by what seemed an attractive force similar to that of a magnet upon an armature, and was in danger of being torn to pieces in the effort of any one holding it to keep it down, though she could not possibly have had any hold upon the object.
Among the spectators were physicians, one or more of whom grasped Miss Lulu's arms while the motions were going on, without finding any symptoms of strong muscular action. Her pulse remained normal throughout. The objects which she touched seemed endowed with a force which was wholly new to science.
So much for the story. Now for the reality. The party appeared at the Volta Laboratory, according to arrangement. Those having the matter in charge were not professional mystifiers of the public, and showed no desire to conceal anything. There was no darkening of rooms, no putting of hands under tables, no fear that spirits would refuse to act because of the presence of some skeptic, no trickery of any sort.
We got up such arrangements as we could for a scientific investigation of the movements. One of these was a rolling platform on which Miss Lulu was requested to stand while the forces were exerted.
Another device was to seat her on a platform scale while the chair was lifting itself.
These several experiments were tried in the order in which I have mentioned them. I took the wonderful staff in my hands, and Miss Lulu placed the palms of her hands and extended them against the staff near the ends, while I firmly grasped it with my two hands in the middle.
Of course this gave her a great advantage in the leverage. I was then asked to resist the staff with all my force, with the added assurance from Mrs. Hurst, the mother, that the resistance would be in vain.
Although the performer began with a delicate touch of the staff, I noticed that she changed the position of her hands every moment, sometimes seizing the staff with a firm grip, and that it never moved in any direction unless her hands pressed it in that direction.
As nearly as I could estimate, the force which she exerted might have been equal to forty pounds, and this exerted first in one way and then in another was enough to upset the equilibrium of any ordinary man, especially when the jerks were so sudden and unexpected that it was impossible for one to brace himself against them. After a scene of rather undignified contortion I was finally compelled to retire in defeat, but without the slightest evidence of any other force than that exerted by a strong, muscular young woman. I asked that the rod might be made to whirl in my hands in the manner which has been described, but there was clearly some mistake in this whirl, for Miss Lulu knew nothing on the subject.
Then we proceeded to the chair performance, which was repeated a number of times. I noticed that although, at the beginning, the sitter held his fingers between the chair and the fingers of the performer, the chair would not move until Miss Lulu had the ball of her hand firmly in connection with it. Even then it did not actually lift the sitter from the ground, but was merely raised up behind, the front legs resting on the ground, whereupon the sitter was compelled to get out. This performance was repeated a number of times without anything but what was commonplace.
In order to see whether, as claimed, no force was exerted on the chair, the performer was invited to stand on the platform of the scales while making the chair move. The weights had been so adjusted as to balance a weight of forty pounds above her own. The result was that after some general attempts to make the chair move the lever clicked, showing that a lifting force exceeding forty pounds was being exerted by the young woman on the platform. The click seemed to demoralize the operator, who became unable to continue her efforts.
The experiment of raising a hat turned out equally simple, and the result of all the trials was only to increase my skepticism as to the whole doctrine of unknown forces and media of communication between one mind and another. I am now likely to remain a skeptic as to every branch of "occult science" until I find some manifestation of its reality more conclusive than any I have yet been able to find.
[1] Prowe: Nicolaus Copernicus, Bd. ii. (Berlin, 1884), p. 33.