The Philistine

In Short

The Philistine is a monthly literary periodical launched in East Aurora, New York, in 1895. It serves as the manifesto and voice of the "Society of the Philistines," a group of writers and thinkers who reject the rigid, self-important morality of the Victorian era. The magazine is a blend of sharp, often irreverent essays, poetry, and biting editorial commentary. It has survived as a historical touchstone because it captures the brash, iconoclastic spirit of the American Gilded Age and the emerging movement toward artistic and personal independence.

The Story

The narrative arc of The Philistine is not one of characters or plots, but of an intellectual insurgency. It begins by establishing an identity through conflict, positioning itself as a "periodical of protest." The magazine’s central argument is that the term "Philistine"—often used by elite critics to label those who lack refinement or intellectual depth—should instead be reclaimed as a badge of honor for the honest, independent thinker. From the opening pages, the tone is established as conversational, witty, and intentionally provocative.

The magazine’s progression is marked by a series of attacks on the "Chosen People" of letters: the humorless clergy, the self-appointed academic authorities, and the "scribbling rabble" who adhere to the stifling standards of traditional criticism. The editor, Elbert Hubbard, leads this charge by rewriting biblical and historical narratives to favor the "Philistines" of the ancient world. He casts them not as the enemies of civilization, but as the sturdy, productive laborers who valued land, family, and freedom. In contrast, he portrays the biblical Israelites as a "howling, cowardly" mob, using their history to illustrate a broader critique of mass movements and institutional dogma.

The arc continues through a variety of literary forms. There are fables that mock the desire for "civilization" at the expense of freedom, poems by figures like Stephen Crane that explore themes of brotherhood and the suffering of the individual, and stories like "The Little White Black Bird," which serves as an allegory for the loneliness of being an outsider. These pieces are interspersed with "Side Talks," where the editor addresses current events, literary feuds, and petty grievances with a mix of genuine insight and deliberate antagonism.

The movement toward the ending is a continuous, repetitive cycle of assertion. The magazine concludes—or rather, pauses—by reinforcing its commitment to the "widest, freest and fullest liberty for Individuality." The ending does not promise a victory over the "Chosen People," but rather a state of perpetual engagement. It declares that the true Philistine is one who seeks to express their personality in their own way, regardless of the "tipstaffs of letters" who try to reduce human experience to a formula. By the final page, the reader is left with the sense that the protest is not a means to an end, but a way of life. The final advertisements and announcements for further Roycroft publications suggest that the mission is ongoing, with the editor continuing to define, defend, and profit from his iconoclastic brand of independence.

How It Unfolds

The declaration of independence The magazine opens by defining its purpose, establishing a "Society of the Philistines" dedicated to liberty in art and good fellowship. It immediately sets the tone by quoting The Merchant of Venice to challenge those who sit still in the face of stifling tradition.

The reinterpretation of history The editor takes the reader back to ancient Philistia, arguing that the biblical "Chosen People" were actually a disruptive mob compared to the peaceful, industrious Philistines. This serves as a foundational myth for the magazine’s own rejection of current societal gatekeepers.

The battle of wits Through a series of essays and "Side Talks," the publication attacks contemporary critics and literary figures who uphold rigid morality. It uses humor, personal letters, and satirical anecdotes to demean those who try to dictate how others should think or write.

The celebration of the outsider Interspersed with the polemics, the magazine features fiction and poetry that focus on the individual’s struggle against loneliness and conformity. These pieces provide a softer, more reflective counterpoint to the aggressive editorial tone.

The call to action The final section of the periodical shifts toward a promotion of the "Roycroft" lifestyle, encouraging readers to purchase limited-edition, handmade books and join the society. It frames the act of reading and supporting the magazine as a direct participation in a necessary cultural revolution.

The People

The central figure is the editor, Elbert Hubbard, who acts as the mouthpiece and primary provocateur. He is a man who values "individuality" above all else, using his position to settle scores and define a new, self-styled philosophy. He is constantly at odds with the "Retired Clergyman" and other "Great Obscure" figures who represent the rigid, humorless traditionalism he despises.

Alongside him is the poet Stephen Crane, whose contributions bring a deeper, more artistic perspective to the magazine. Crane’s presence adds a veneer of genuine literary weight to the project, suggesting that the "protest" is grounded in real talent rather than just contrarianism.

Then there is the "Retired Clergyman," an antagonist who writes to the editor to complain about the magazine’s "infidelic" nature. Hubbard uses this figure as a foil, holding him up as the perfect example of the narrow-mindedness the Philistines are fighting against.

Finally, there are the "scribbling rabble" and the "academic professors"—faceless, collective antagonists who represent the status quo. They are portrayed as "beadles of letters" who want to reduce life to a "geometrical theorem." By the end, the reader sees Hubbard as a man who has managed to turn his antagonism into a successful, self-sustaining business, while his opponents are left looking like the very figures of fun he claims them to be.

In Its Own Voice

"Why should a man whose blood is warm within, sit like his grandsire cut in alabaster?"

This epigraph from The Merchant of Venice sets the tone for the entire periodical, challenging the reader to reject static, lifeless tradition.

"In Literature he is a Philistine who seeks to express his personality in his own way."

This line, from Elbert Hubbard’s defining essay, provides the movement's central, radical creed for any reader interested in artistic autonomy.

"A mob is the quintessence of cowardice—a dirty, mad, hydra-headed monster, that one good valiant St. George can thrust to the heart."

In his historical revisionism, the editor characterizes mass movements as inherently cowardly, elevating the individual as the only true hero.

What It's Really About

The Philistine is an argument for the supremacy of the individual over the collective. It questions whether society’s "chosen" experts—be they clergy, critics, or academics—actually possess any authority to dictate moral or artistic standards. The text probes the tension between the "civilized" world, which it views as hypocritical and restrictive, and the "pagan" or "Philistine" world, which it associates with freedom, humor, and personal authenticity. It asks if the labels we use for "outsiders" are actually reflections of our own fear of difference. Ultimately, it is a defense of the right to be self-reliant, to create one's own truth, and to find value in life’s mysteries rather than in the "algebraic formula" of conventional thought.

Why Read It Today

Readers who enjoy the history of American journalism, the evolution of intellectual counter-cultures, or the sharp, biting wit of nineteenth-century polemics will find this work fascinating. It provides a raw, unfiltered look at the energy of the 1890s, capturing a moment when the "modern" impulse was beginning to clash with Victorian sensibilities.

However, reading the book today requires patience. The prose is deliberately confrontational and frequently relies on a specific, period-bound sense of humor that may feel alien or even off-putting to a contemporary audience. The author’s aggressive stance toward biblical figures and his habit of dismissing any critic he dislikes can feel repetitive. Furthermore, the magazine is a product of its time, reflecting attitudes and rhetoric that are deeply embedded in the social hierarchies of the 1890s.

Despite these challenges, there is an undeniably infectious energy in its defiance. The writing is precise, confident, and unapologetic. What stays with you is the sheer audacity of the project—the way it turns a term of insult into a brand of pride. For anyone curious about the roots of American self-help or the history of "indie" publishing, it is a vivid, uncompromising piece of literary history that forces you to decide for yourself whether you are a follower of the mob or an independent seeker of truth.