The Old World in the New The Significance of Past and Present Immigration to the American People — Reading Notes

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Ross, Edward Alsworth, 1866-1951 Project Gutenberg 2015 Not confirmed
Immigrants -- United States; Noncitizens -- United States; United States -- Emigration and immigration Readers of public-domain and historical texts
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Words 64,291
Reading time 280 min
Text sections 13

The catalog record for The Old World in the New The Significance of Past and Present Immigration to the American People — Reading Notes provides practical reading context through 64,291 words, 4 hr 40 min estimated reading time, and 13 detected text sections.

The text analysis averages about 19.9 words per sentence, while the detected sections provide another way to judge how the source is divided.

Project Gutenberg metadata also associates the work with “Immigrants -- United States,” connecting these edition facts with the source record’s subject description.

Edward Alsworth Ross's 1914 study of immigration to the United States, examining the traits and impacts of various ethnic groups through a sociological lens, with a preface that frames the tension between humanitarian ideals and national interests.
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Government was slow to strike at the infamous traffic, for, as was urged in Parliament, "the plantations cannot be maintained without a considerable number of white servants."

Dr. Johnson deemed the Americans "a race of convicts," who "ought to be content with anything we allow them short of hanging." In the first century of the colonies, gallows'-birds were often given the option of servitude in the "plantations." Some prayed to be hanged instead. In 1717 the British Government entered on the policy of penal transportation, and thenceforth discharged certain classes of felons upon the colonies until the Revolution made it necessary to shunt the muddy stream to Botany Bay. New England happily escaped these "seven-year passengers," because she would pay little for them and because she had no tobacco to serve as a profitable return cargo. It is estimated that between 1750 and 1770 twenty thousand British convicts were exported to Maryland alone, so that even the school-masters there were mostly of this stripe. The colonies bitterly resented such cargoes, but their self-protective measures were regularly disallowed by the selfish home government. American scholars are coming to accept the British estimate that about 50,000 convicts were marketed on this side the water.

It is astonishing how quickly this "yellow streak" in the population faded. No doubt the worst felons were promptly hanged, so that those transported were such as excited the compassion of the court in an age that recognized nearly three hundred capital offenses. Then, too, the bulk were probably the unfortunate, or the victims of bad surroundings, rather than born malefactors. Under the regenerative stimulus of opportunity, many persons reformed and became good citizens. A like purification of sewage by free land was later witnessed in Australia. The incorrigible, when they did not slip back to their old haunts, forsook the tide-water belt to lead half-savage lives in the wilderness. Here they slew one another or were strung up by "regulators," so that they bred their kind less freely than the honest. Thus bad strains tended to run out, and in the making of our people the criminals had no share at all corresponding to their original numbers. Blended with the dregs from the rest of the population, the convicts who were lazy and shiftless rather than criminal became progenitors of the "poor whites," "crackers," and "sandhillers" that still cumber the poorer lands of the southern Appalachians.

Probably no stock ever came here so gifted and prepotent as the French Huguenots. Though only a few thousand all told, their descendants furnished 589 of the fourteen thousand and more Americans deemed worthy of a place in "Appletons' Cyclopedia of American Biography." In 1790 only one-half of one per cent. of our people bore a French name; yet this element contributed 4.2 per cent. of the eminent names in our history, or eight times their due quota. Like the Puritans and the Quakers, the Huguenots were of an element that meets the test of fire and makes supreme sacrifices for conscience' sake. They had the same affinity for ideals and the same tenacity of character as the founders of New England, but in their French blood they brought a sensibility, a fervor, and an artistic endowment all their own.

It was likewise a sturdy stock, and in the early days of the settlement it was no unusual thing for parties to walk from New Rochelle to church in lower New York, a distance of twenty-three miles. As a rule they walked this distance with bare feet, carrying their shoes in their hands.

When seeking settlers for his new colony, William Penn gained much publicity for it in Germany, where he had a wide acquaintance. The German Pietists responded at once, and a stream of picked families mingled with the English Quakers who founded the City of Brotherly Love. The first Germans to come were well-to-do people. Nearly all had enough money left on arrival to pay for the land they took up. In 1710, however, there arose in parts of Germany a veritable furor to reach the New World. The people of the ravaged Palatinate became agitated over the lure of America, and ship after ship breasted the Delaware, black with Palatines, Hanoverians, Saxons, Austrians, and Swiss. The cost of passage from the upper Rhine was equal to $500 to-day; but a vast number of penniless Germans got over the barrier by contracting with the ship-owner to sell themselves into servitude for a term of years. These were known as "redemptioners," and their service was commonly for from four to six years. Before the Revolution not fewer than 60,000 Germans had debarked at Philadelphia, to say nothing of the thousands that settled in the South.

Edward Alsworth Ross opens The Old World in the New with a pointed dialogue between himself and an unnamed social worker who sees immigration as a force spreading democratic ideals worldwide. Ross counters this vision by insisting that the nation's future—its standards of living, institutions, and ideals—must not be sacrificed for the benefit of 'pent-up millions in the backward lands.' This preface establishes the book's central tension: the pull between humanitarian sympathy for immigrants and a protective concern for American society. Ross writes as a sociologist at the University of Wisconsin, and his language throughout is analytical, often blunt, and grounded in contemporary racial theories.

A Sociologist's Argumentative Voice

Ross's prose is direct and argumentative, frequently using contrast to sharpen his points. In the preface, he sets up a social worker's idealistic view—'a wind that blows democratic ideas throughout the world'—only to undercut it with his own priorities: 'I am not of those who consider humanity and forget the nation.' This rhetorical strategy recurs throughout the excerpts. He characterizes groups with sweeping assertions: the Jew 'loves without romance and fights without hatred,' while the Yankee 'can meet the Jew on his own ground' due to shared rationalism. Such statements reveal Ross's reliance on broad ethnic typologies, a common approach in early twentieth-century sociology. The voice is confident, even combative, as when he dismisses charges of bigotry by claiming that what is 'disliked in the Jews is not their religion but certain ways and manners.'

Shifts in Pace: From Abstract Principle to Vivid Anecdote

The narrative pace varies markedly between sections. The preface moves slowly, building an abstract argument about national versus humanitarian obligations. In contrast, later passages accelerate with concrete examples: General Grant's wartime order to 'refuse all permits to Jews to come South,' the 'sky-rocket careers' from peddler to banker, and the claim that 'charity agents say... Hebrew cases... cost them more.' These anecdotes inject immediacy and a quasi-journalistic tone. Ross also uses reported speech—'the genial editor of Vorwaerts, Mr. Abram Cahan, tells me'—to ground his claims in contemporary testimony. The effect is a work that oscillates between sociological generalization and vivid, sometimes jarring, particularity.

Recurring Patterns in Characterizing Immigrant Groups

Ross repeatedly frames immigrant traits in terms of tenacity, adaptability, and economic behavior. The Jews are described with a cluster of attributes: 'great tenacity of purpose,' 'stiff-necked,' 'flexible and rational,' and 'wonderful adaptability.' He notes their reliability as insurance policy holders and their stubbornness as strikers. The Irish are mentioned only briefly, in contrast to Jewish 'personal loyalty or hostility.' Yankees receive a 'cousinly feeling' due to shared Hebraic roots. These characterizations are not neutral; they carry evaluative weight, as when Ross notes that 'the line is drawn against the Jews in hotels, resorts, clubs, and private schools' and that this 'cruel prejudice... appears to spring out of contemporary experience.' The excerpts do not reveal how Ross treats other groups, but the pattern of linking economic roles to ethnic stereotypes is clear.

Readers should approach The Old World in the New as a primary document of early American sociology, noting how Ross's language and pace serve his argumentative goals. The book's value lies less in its conclusions than in its revelation of the assumptions and rhetorical strategies that shaped public discourse on immigration a century ago. Pay attention to how Ross balances statistical or observational claims with moral framing, and consider what voices—immigrants themselves, for instance—are absent from his account.

There’s something achingly familiar in Ross’s worry about who belongs, that old hinge between compassion and fear. It made me think of a quieter, starker plea from across the sea, where poverty wasn’t a matter of national character but of raw survival. I kept returning to that other book in my mind, The Bitter Cry of Outcast London An Inquiry into the Condition of the Abject Poor — Background and Themes, and wondered if every generation simply relearns the same ache.

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