association takes place, second in the developing consciousness of the persons engaged in the process-this is the human reality, and all knowledge of human conditions is abortive in the degree in which it fails to fill out a complete expression of this reality.

Let us suppose the savage man A, and the savage woman B, of the horde X. Their wants are few. Food is plenty. B supplies it for A, who eats till he is satisfied and treats his food-getter with tolerable gentleness. But the food grows scarce. The horde breaks up into foraging pairs. A and B wander beyond their usual haunts, and encounter the savage man C of horde Y. They had never met before. To an impartial observer there is little to distinguish the savage A from the savage C. Up to date all the ferocity which we associate with the word "savage" may have been dormant in both. In each other's presence new factors of stimulation and response begin to operate. Each wants food. Each wants the woman. Each wants to eliminate the other. Treating the woman as merely a passive factor, we have in action rudiments of the universal process of association, viz., antithesis of individuals, stimulus of one by the other through the medium of common or conflicting wants, self-assertion by the opposing individuals, resulting reconstruction of the individuals themselves. That is, they fight, one prevails, and is transformed from a socially indifferent personality into a master; the other yields, and is transformed from a socially indifferent personality into a slave. The group is changed from a diad into a triad. Both A and B, we may suppose, become subject to C, while the relation of neither A nor B to C is precisely identical with the previous relation of A and B to each other.

This process of individual and group reaction, remaking both the individuals and the groups, extends from the savage group of two or more to the most comprehensive and complex group of groups which ultimate civilization may develop. It is incessant. It is perpetually varying. It is the main movement, within which migrations, race-mixtures, wars, governments, constitutions, revolutions, reformations, federations, civilizations, are merely the more or less important episodes, or situations, or factors. This whole process is the supreme fact within the reach

of human knowledge. It is the final interpreter of each and every lesser fact which may attract human attention. Since this process, from beginning to end, from component to completeness, in its forms and in its forces, in its origins, its variations, and its tendencies, is the subject-matter which sociology proposes to investigate, the relation of every other science to sociology is fixed, not by the dictum of any scientist, but by the relation which the subject-matter and the methods of other sciences bear to knowledge of the entire social process.

To make the point more precise, we may distinguish the work of sociology in turn from that of ethnology, of history, and of economics. Before passing to these specifications, or illustrations, we must provide for all necessary corrections of the personal equation. We will not assume, whether to the advantage or the disadvantage of either science, that any single man, still less a single fragment of his work, fairly represents the whole of his science. We will not even venture to assume that our use of the material to be cited for illustration gives all the credit due to the writer from which it is taken. His own views of the final correlation of that material with other subjects of knowledge may be quite unobjectionable. Our purpose is merely to illustrate the point that the same objective material may, in the form in which it appears in a given version of one of these sciences, have no interest for sociology whatever, or, on the other hand, it may be viewed in such relations as, at one and the same time, to furnish subject-matter for one of these sciences and also for sociology. To express the case from the point of view of desirability, as I see it, and of ultimate adjustment, as I predict it, there will presently be no apparently statical dualism or multipleism between the subject-matter of the other human sciences and sociology. When every student of human life realizes that the reality which he tries to know is a one, not a many, each will regard the material of his immediate science, not as belonging to his science instead of belonging to another science, but as being to some extent the common material of several sciences, or at most as held in trusteeship by his science for its final use in the complete science.

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In this spirit I would cite for illustration, first, the little book, Deniker's The Races of Man.3 The author states his purpose as follows: "My object. . . . has been to give ... the essential facts of the twin sciences of anthropology and ethnography." (Preface). In carrying out this purpose a chapter each is devoted to the following subjects: "Somatic Characters;" "Morphological Characters; Physiological Characters;" "Ethnic Characters;" "Linguistic Characters;" "Sociological Characters" (a chapter each on "Material Life," "Psychic Life," "Family Life," and "Social Life"); "Classification of Races and Peoples; " "Races and Peoples of Europe;" "Races and Peoples of Asia; "Races and Peoples of Africa; Races and Peoples of Oceania;" "Races and Peoples of America."

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Without passing judgment upon the expressed or implied correlations in which the author views this material, we may repeat our abstract propositions in terms of the particulars which he schedules. If there be a science or sciences that are content to discover, describe, compare, and classify such details as these, and therewith to let the matter rest, such sciences may be credited with a preserve of their own, from which sociology holds itself unconcernedly aloof. With these details, simply as details, or merely as foils reciprocally to display each other as curiosities, sociology has no manner of interest. If the items thus considered are the subject-matter of any science, sociology is not likely to disturb either its possession or its title.

On the other hand, every one of these details has occurred somewhere along in the course of the process in which rudimentary men and rudimentary human associations evolve into developed personalities and complex associations. With the whence, and the how, and the why, and the whither of this process sociology is supremely concerned. If any of the details in question can be brought into such visible relation with this social process, and in the precise measure in which they can be made to shed light upon the process, they come within the ken of sociology. Thus the most spectacular detail, like a racial peculiarity, or a ceremonial anomaly which remains unaccounted for, may be the chief

'London, 1900.

pride and the center of attraction in an ethnological museum. It would have no value at all for sociology. If, however, it could be made to yield never so slight evidence about the facts, or the forms, or the forces, or the conditions, or the laws of the social process, to just that extent it would come to be the common material of sociology and of the science which exhibits it in the

museum.

In the same way we may distinguish between the object of attention in sociology and the subject-matter beyond which certain types of mind do not pry in studying history. Let us refer to one of the most respected among English historians. In his Constitutional History of England, Vol. I, chap. ix, "The Norman Conquest," Bishop Stubbs presents the subject under the following minor titles: "Complex Results of the Conquest;" "State of Normandy;" "Growth of Feudalism; Feudal Ideas

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'As I have implied above, the point of view which we are explaining assumes that when studies of the social reality are properly centered, we shall no longer speak as though the ethnologists were studying one thing, the historians another, the economists another, the sociologists another, etc., etc. We shall perceive that, if we are using a valid method, so far as we are actually contributing to real knowledge, rather than practicing an art, or indulging in play, we are in fact all studying the same thing. Our particular task will require primary attention to certain fragments or aspects of the one thing. It will always be understood, however, that our results have to be completed by assimilating, within the entire report, the whole made up by correlation of the results of all research. Accordingly I am trying to avoid a use of language which carries the old implications. I do not want to say, "ethnology deals with this subject-matter, history with that, economics with the other, etc." I want to say rather that certain material with which historians concern themselves may be treated by the historians in such a way that it satisfies no general human interest, and for that reason has no value for the sociologist. That same material may be treated by other historians in such a way that, so far as it goes, it both explains and is explained by the whole social process. If the former occurs, there is no fellowship between such nistorians and the sociologists. If the latter is the case, the names "historian" and "sociologist" would be appropriate merely as indicating where the two types of scholars respectively place the primary emphasis in their work. The historian would be he who puts most stress upon discovering the facts of past situations. The sociologist would be he who puts most stress upon the correlation of these facts with knowledge of the social process in general. This line of cleavage between types of historians was brought out very clearly in a discussion at the joint meeting of the American Economic Association and the American Historical Association at New Orleans, December, 1903 (vide Proceedings of the American Economic Association, Third Series, Vol. V, No. 1, Part II).

of the Conquest;""National Policy of William;" "Introduction of Feudal Usages;" "Maintenance of Old Forms;" "Results of Changes of Administrators;" "Subordinate Changes: in Judicature, in Taxation, in Ecclesiastical Affairs;" "Transitional Character of the Period."

We are citing an author who is among the least liable to the charge of belonging to the former of the two types just indicated.5 We are not criticising his work, but abstracting from it, for purposes of illustration, a series of familiar topics which may be treated by either of two contrasted methods. On the one hand, if the items in the series were treated by the one type of historian, a minimum of relationship would appear between either of them and the others, or anything else. Each topic would be discussed very much as a landscape painter snatches from an environment an "effect" and puts it on canvass. Volumes full of such detached, impressionistic sketches would go no farther toward making a science of history than an equal bulk of description of detached pieces of rock, culled from different parts of the world, would go toward making a science of geology. No one with the least impulse toward generalization can imagine that information of that fragmentary sort is science. It may be worth getting for other purposes than science, and individuals may be as well within their rights in busying themselves with this sort of litter, as those who really devote themselves to science. In itself, left in the uncriticised, unorganized, heterogeneous condition of facts set side by side, with no discrimination of relative worth, information about the past is of no more scientific value than the same number of miscellaneous items in the newspaper today.

In the modern literature classed as "history" we accordingly find quaint and curious information in all stages of organization, from a minimum to a maximum of coherence. Our argument is that sociology has no part nor lot with the type of history which is content to find out facts and there rest its case. Like all genuine - science, sociology is not interested in facts as such. It is interested only in relations, meanings, valuations, in which facts reappear in essentials. One fact is worth no more than another, if its corre"Vide note, p. 291.