Anthropology: As a Science and as a Branch of University Education in the United States

In Short

This work is a pedagogical proposal written to convince late-19th-century American university administrators to treat anthropology as a formal, rigorous science. It moves from defining the scope of the field to providing a detailed, multi-year curriculum for students. By outlining the necessary laboratories, libraries, and fieldwork, the author argues that the study of humanity is the "crown and completion" of all other sciences. It has lasted as a fascinating time capsule, documenting the intellectual optimism and classification systems of a pivotal moment in the development of modern social sciences.

The Story

The narrative begins with an urgent call to action. The author observes that while European universities have already embraced the systematic study of humanity, American institutions remain largely uninitiated. He addresses university presidents and patrons directly, arguing that anthropology is not merely an auxiliary subject but the essential key to understanding history, law, medicine, and social organization. He posits that society has long relied on "a priori theories" or tradition to govern itself, but that future political and ethical structures must be built upon the cold, hard foundation of scientific research.

After establishing the necessity of the field, the author transitions into a structural defense of the discipline. He systematically carves out the domain of anthropology, dividing it into four distinct pillars: Somatology (the physical, biological study of man), Ethnology (the analysis of social development and mental history), Ethnography (the descriptive, geographic study of peoples), and Archaeology (the reconstruction of humanity’s deep past). By separating these, he creates a comprehensive map that allows an academic institution to see how a singular department could cover such a wide breadth of human experience.

The arc continues into the practical requirements for mastery. The author insists that anthropology is an experimental science, not a theoretical one. He describes the creation of a "Laboratory of Man," where students must handle physical specimens, study the evolution of tools, and learn to document languages. He emphasizes that reading is insufficient; one must practice the "manual dexterity" of the researcher. He concludes by providing an exhaustive, granular syllabus. This includes everything from the study of cranial measurements and muscular systems to the categorization of primitive religions and mythologies. He even supplies a suggested reading list of contemporary European and American authorities, providing a roadmap for any institution willing to establish a chair in the subject. The text ends with his hope that by organizing the science into a uniform nomenclature, he has provided the necessary scaffolding for future scholars to build upon.

How It Unfolds

The case for the crown. The author begins by framing humanity as the ultimate measure of all knowledge, positioning the study of our own species as the essential foundation for every other branch of learning.

The shift toward science. He contrasts his proposed methodology with outdated, traditional approaches to history and sociology, arguing that empirical data must replace guesswork in governing human affairs.

The four-part map. He organizes the vast subject matter into a clear, hierarchical taxonomy, defining the roles of somatic, ethnographic, ethnological, and archaeological study to ensure the field is manageable for university instruction.

The call for laboratories. Moving from theory to practice, he argues that a department is incomplete without physical spaces for dissection, material analysis, and the classification of human artifacts.

The concrete syllabus. He provides a complete, top-down outline of required lecture topics and technical skills, establishing a professional standard for what a student should know after completing a major in the subject.

The People

The text is largely driven by the author, Daniel G. Brinton, who speaks as a seasoned academic and pioneer. He views himself as a bridge between the established European schools—particularly the work of Paul Broca in Paris—and the burgeoning intellectual landscape of the United States. Brinton acts as a guide, constantly pushing back against the inertia of traditional university boards that prioritize established classics over the "new" science of man.

He highlights the efforts of his contemporaries, such as Franz Boas and Frederick Starr, framing them as the vanguard of a movement that is already beginning to take root in places like Clark University and the University of Chicago. He also credits Major J. W. Powell and the Bureau of Ethnology for setting a standard for research. These figures are not characters in a plot but, rather, representatives of a professional standard that Brinton wishes to standardize across all American higher education. They are the "docents" and "professors" who represent the new, rigorous scientific class he hopes to see multiply.

In Its Own Voice

"Man himself is the only final measure of his own activities."

This serves as the author’s primary thesis for why the study of humanity must be elevated to the highest status in university education.

"Anthropology is not a theoretical science; it is essentially experimental and practical, a science of observation and operative procedures."

Brinton uses this to justify his insistence that universities must invest in physical laboratories and field-work, rather than treating the subject as a purely literary endeavor.

What It's Really About

The core argument is that human society is a phenomenon governed by natural laws that can be identified through observation. The author is obsessed with the idea of "systematic study"—the transition from armchair philosophy to a laboratory-based discipline. The underlying question is whether a society can truly understand its own future—in governance, ethics, and health—without first grounding its knowledge in the anatomy and deep history of the human species. It is a work about the professionalization of knowledge, asking how we turn a chaotic, sprawling interest in human behavior into a structured, academic "science of man."

Why Read It Today

Readers interested in the history of ideas will find this book particularly rewarding. It provides an unvarnished look at how late-19th-century scholars organized the world into categories of "races" and "civilizations," a process that is both illuminating and challenging to modern sensibilities. You will feel the author’s genuine, infectious excitement for establishing a new field of study; there is a tangible sense of a man laying the first stones of a foundation he believes will change the future of education.

The language is precise, formal, and occasionally dry, typical of 19th-century academic writing, but it remains remarkably clear. Be prepared for the period-typical attitudes that permeate his classification systems—he writes with the confidence of a Victorian scientist, which can feel jarring today. However, if you want to understand the origins of modern anthropology or how the university curriculum as we know it began to incorporate the study of human origins and culture, this book is an essential, albeit demanding, source. It is best enjoyed by those who appreciate seeing the raw architecture of a discipline being built in real-time, even when that architecture is colored by the limitations of its time.