Our Foreigners: A Chronicle of Americans in the Making — Reading Notes

The Mercantilist Lens and the 'Door' Metaphor

Orth’s first chapter, 'Opening the Door,' reveals a governing metaphor that shapes the entire narrative. He describes the 'door of the wilderness' opened by Englishmen in the seventeenth century, and later chapters track its gradual closing. This is not a neutral image: it implies that immigration is something to be controlled, a gate that can be opened or shut. Orth roots this in sixteenth-century mercantilist thought, where nations sought 'self-sufficiency' and gold. The catalog subject 'Emigration and immigration' might suggest a balanced survey, but Orth’s language is often evaluative. He writes of the 'sheer tidal force' of earlier migrations and later of 'racial infiltration' (chapter title). The door metaphor allows him to frame immigration policy as a matter of national interest rather than individual opportunity—a perspective that aligns with the book’s publication in 1920, just after World War I and the restrictive Immigration Act of 1917.

German Immigration: From 'Forty-Eighters' to Factory Workers

Orth’s treatment of German immigration is the most detailed in the excerpts, and it shows his method of distinguishing between 'good' and 'bad' immigrants. He praises the 'Forty-eighters'—political refugees of 1848—as leaders who 'considered it an honor to become American citizens.' Carl Schurz is cited as an example, and Orth notes that these Germans established newspapers, schools, and colleges while maintaining 'German customs.' Yet he also records a telling quote: 'Only when his beer is in danger does the German-American rouse himself.' After 1870, Orth claims, the character of German immigration changed: fewer peasants and intellectuals, more industrial workers. He cites a Lutheran pastor to argue that 'not one in a thousand' emigrated for political reasons after 1870. The later arrivals are described as arrogant, criticizing their new home, and displaying 'provincial egotism.' This shift allows Orth to argue that the 'spirit' of immigration matters more than numbers—a claim that relies on his own periodization and selective evidence.

Assimilation as a One-Way Process

Throughout the excerpts, Orth assumes that assimilation means adopting American language, law, and political institutions. He writes that German 'national idiosyncrasies have been modified and subdued by the gentle but relentless persistence of the English language and the robust vigor of American law.' The phrase 'gentle but relentless' suggests a natural, inevitable process, but Orth also notes conflicts—over the 'Continental Sabbath' and beer-drinking. He quotes Frederick Kapp, who said that those who 'cared to remain German should remain in Germany.' This binary—become American or stay home—leaves little room for hyphenated identities. The catalog subject 'Immigrants' might imply a focus on the immigrants themselves, but Orth’s narrative is more about the nation’s response to them. His chapter titles—'The Irish Invasion,' 'The Teutonic Tide,' 'The Oriental'—use collective nouns that reduce diverse groups to single, often threatening, forces. The book’s subtitle, 'A Chronicle of Americans in the Making,' suggests a process of creation, but Orth’s chronicle is as much about the makers as the made.

Orth’s book is best read as a primary source on early twentieth-century attitudes toward immigration, not as a neutral history. His metaphors, periodization, and selective use of contemporary testimony reveal a writer deeply engaged in the debates of his time. Readers interested in the construction of American identity will find rich material in his contrasts between 'desirable' and 'undesirable' immigrants, and in his assumption that English language and American law are the ultimate arbiters of belonging. The excerpts offer a window into how one chronicler framed the story of 'Americans in the making' at a moment when the door was closing.

There’s a quiet ache in Orth’s book, watching old loyalties soften into memory. It reminded me of those street children, their own fierce independence so fragile. I found myself holding both stories at once, the way you hold a photograph you’re not quite ready to put down. Child Labor in City Streets — Context and Discussion lingered beside it, a different kind of making.