of human life.

It remains to add that, hitherto, anthropology has devoted most of
its attention to the peoples of rude--that is to say, of
simple--culture, who are vulgarly known to us as "savages." The main
reason for this, I suppose, is that nobody much minds so long as the
darwinizing kind of history confines itself to outsiders. Only when
it is applied to self and friends is it resented as an impertinence.
But, although it has always up to now pursued the line of least
resistance, anthropology does not abate one jot or tittle of its claim
to be the whole science, in the sense of the whole history, of man.
As regards the word, call it science, or history, or anthropology,
or anything else--what does it matter? As regards the thing, however,
there can be no compromise. We anthropologists are out to secure this:
that there shall not be one kind of history for savages and another
kind for ourselves, but the same kind of history, with the same
evolutionary principle running right through it, for all men,
civilized and savage, present and past.

* * * * *

So much for the ideal scope of anthropology. Now, in the second place,
for its ideal limitations. Here, I am afraid, we must touch for a moment
on very deep and difficult questions. But it is well worth while to
try at all costs to get firm hold of the fact that anthropology, though
a big thing, is not everything.

It will be enough to insist briefly on the following points: that
anthropology is science in whatever way history is science; that it
is not philosophy, though it must conform to its needs; and that it