versity men and of universities themselves, the great names in the literature of Germany are names found on the university rolls. One can not forget, moreover, that in the year 1775 the Earl of Chatham paid, in the House of Lords, a most eloquent tribute to the intellectual force, the literary sympathy, and the decorum of the state papers recently transmitted from America, papers then lying upon the table of the House of Lords, which proved that the little colleges of the American colonies had served to constitute those colonies not only an integral part of the civilized world, but had also made America a member of the republic of letters. (Tyler's History of American Literature, vol. 2, p. 310.)

But one is also more impressed with the general truth that the university represents and prepares the general condition out of which a national literature grows. The university teaches men to study themselves; it promotes self-reflection. The university teaches men to study nature; it promotes observation. The university teaches men to study history; it promotes wisdom. Self-reflection, observation, and wisdom are the materials out of which literature is developed. "While I was musing the fire burned, then spake I with my tongue." Scholarship may not be literature, but without scholarship there would not long be a worthy literature in any nation; and the university is the mother of scholars and of scholarship. Learning may not be literature; but it is the brick kiln, or at least the clay pit, from which the house of literature is built; and the university is the mother and nurse of learning. The university represents all that man has aspired unto and failed to reach and also all that he has achieved. The university promotes those spiritual conditions of largeness of intellectual vision, of purity of heart, of dignity of conduct and of social relationship-conditions for the creation and the growth of literature. The university represents those atmospheres and relations of both the individual and the whole community which are necessary to the progress of the literary art.

Yet one is obliged to confess that the effect of the forces of the American university on American literature in recent decades is not so great as in the earlier. From the discipline of a single college, and from the tuition of a single teacher of English in this college, were reared such writers as Emerson, Andrew P. Peabody, Oliver Wendell Holmes, Charles Sumner, John Lothrop Motley, Richard Henry Dana, James Russell Lowell, Henry D. Thoreau, Edward Everett Hale, Thomas Wentworth Higginson, and Charles Eliot Norton. At the present time in this college, having many teachers of English, no such personalities or writers are appearing. What is the reason that under the great Channing so many great writers appeared and that at the present time so few great writers are appearing? One scholar declares that the reason lies in our neglect of Greek literature. But the reason is more fundamental. The reason lies in the absorption of men in things material.

A most important function of the university in a democratic, as, indeed, in any government is its duty of promoting research. What is technically known as research is simply the inquiry for truth. This inquiry is pursued for its own sake. Truth for truth's sake is the great rallying cry of research in the last decades. This research is, of course, pursued systematically. The enlargement of human knowledge respecting man and respecting the world in which he lives has been the endeavor of man ever since he has known or reasoned at all. Two great periods of investigation has the race passed through, been impressed by, and used. One was the Renaissance, and the other began fifty years ago and is still continuing. The Renaissance had relation primarily to the world of man; it was humanistic. The present awakening has relation to the world of nature; it is scientific. When one thinks how long man has lived in the world, daily seeing the sun rise and set, nightly beholding the stars move in their orbits, impressed by the phenomena of light and darkness, of heat and cold, of forces

and of facts, it is a surprise that his knowledge of the material world is so inadequate, superficial, narrow. But the world is still comparatively unknown.

Man himself still is hardly better known than the exterior world. Even that most manifest part, his body, is still the object of prolonged inquiry. As a physiologist has lately said:

Although we have a considerable acquaintance with the gross structure of the body, this is by no means complete. Microscopical investigations, especially of the nervous system, promise rich results of great practical importance. Our knowledge of the physical and chemical structure of the cell is still very crude, although these form the basis of its life and functions, and therefore of the functions of the entire body. What we know of these functions is restricted to their ultimate mechanical, chemical, or structural phenomena. The mechanism by which these phenomena are brought about is an almost complete mystery to us, although the greater number of investigators who have penetrated most deeply into this question consider that its solution is not impossible. (The Needs of Medical Research, by Prof. Torald Sollman. Western Reserve University Bulletin, Nov., 1902, p. 133.)

If the body of man is still so unknown, what shall be said regarding the ignorance on the part of man of his own spiritual organization?

For the better knowledge, therefore, of the world without and of the world within, scholars should devote all their powers and attainments. For such devotion are necessary, first, the love for truth as truth; second, the undying passion for searching for truth, and, third, the conditions necessary for finding the truth. The conditions necessary for finding the truth are, (a) the giving to the scholar time, (b) freedom from interruption, (c) freedom from care as to his material support, and (d) ability to coordinate and to concentrate efforts in research. investigator from whom I have already quoted says:

As the

Organized cooperation may be expected to prove as beneficial in scientific research as it has proved in commercial enterprises and in similar directions, by supplying a graded system which will obtain from every man the best work which is in him; by preventing wasteful competition and enterprise along unprofitable lines, and by effecting a saving of plant, material, and opportunities. This organization of research would naturally and gradually follow the other improvements which I have suggested, and is in no way revolutionary. The larger laboratories throughout the world have tended toward such organization as the principles which have been exposed in the preceding pages were more and more clearly recognized and as the means for carrying them into effect were provided.

Certain of these four (a) (b) (c) (d) conditions are not infrequently found existing in men of inherited or acquired riches. One of the most useful investigators of electricity has, through the practical results of his investigations, made himself a rich man. He uses the leisure which his riches allow him to enjoy in theoretical investigation. One of the most useful astronomers is using inherited wealth in building observatories in remote parts of this country and in foreign parts as well. The number of such independent investigators will undoubtedly increase. But the peril attending research done under these conditions is that it will be spasmodic, in method unsound, and also unworthy of the time and money spent upon it. The field chosen for investigation, too, may not be worth investigation. The investigations, too, may not be conducted in wisdom. Investigations have been carried on, and of course are still carried on, by independent researchers who depend on some regular vocation for their support. This method was approved of by John Stuart Mill and was followed by this great thinker for himself. But this method is open to the objection of duplication and of amateurishness. Research is severe toil, or ought to be, and it can not be done but as an avocation. Either the research suffers or the researcher suffers. Therefore, be it said, the best method for inquiry after truth is found in and under the university. The university is a collection of trained workers. Each worker helps every other worker; inspiration is gained. The university represents the materials for the

study of all truth; truth is a unity, and the truths of one department bear closo relation to the truths of many other departments; proportion is secured. The university sets before the researcher investigation as a duty and also as a part of the birthright of academic freedom. Indolence or indifference should have no power over him, and his work should be done in freedom. He should be trusted, and he should be trusted because he is worthy of trust. But it may be said that the university may be unwise in the conditions with which it surrounds the investigator; it may be arbitrary in the commands or suggestions which it lays upon him. It is certainly true that all the advantages for research do not rest on the side of the university. In general it may be said that in England most researches have been conducted privately, and that in Germany most researches have been conducted under the auspices of a university. Charles Darwin at Down, on his own estate, an estate difficult to reach or to go from, moving the world from his little laboratory, is the type of the normal English searcher for truth. Immanuel Kant, at Koenigsberg University, occupying a professorship, lecturing to a few students, moving in the free atmosphere of scholarship, writing his blind books which are yet to open the eyes of mankind, is the type of the German searcher for truth.

The duty of research in the United States is urgent. The peril of a democracy is that it will search for truth not for truth's own sake, but for the sake of what truth will do or bring. It makes investigation into electricity to get light, or heat, or power, not to discover the laws, nature, and relations of electricity. But be it said, truth is primary, and the search for truth for its own sake is a primary duty. The great thinker who gave as a reason for his passion for the theory of numbers that it is a pure virgin that never has been and never can be prostituted to any practical application whatsoever, represents the type of the wisest investigator. This lesson of the value of truth for its own sake is a lesson that every democracy should learn. It is a lesson which the university is of all human forces best fitted to teach a democracy. Democracies, too, are naturally fickle. The search for truth, therefore, should be conducted under the most stable and permanent of all human institutions-the university.

This conclusion is practically embodied in the most important agency for research ever founded, the Carnegie Institute. The larger share of its immense annual income, approaching a half million of dollars, is devoted to the prosecution of investigation by university professors. From this foundation richest results may with reason be expected.

The university also bears a very direct relation to what is called the Government. For the American Government, as a distinct institution, the American university should do three things: First, it should aid in disseminating a sound idea of the nature of government; second, it should, as a process of carrying forward the Government, make plain that government by parties, the natural method in a democracy, is a means and never an end; third, it should train men who may become worthy officers of the State.

The university should train gentlemen who may become worthy officers of the State. It may educate men for service of two sorts: The one kind is the clerical and the less arduous administrative type. Such is the training given to the young Englishmen who are to occupy positions of a clerical grade in the colonial service. The training is valuable and leads to resulting values in the interest of the Government and of humanity. The other kind of training is less direct, and yet it is the more valuable as it is the less directly immediate in its purpose. It relates to general preparation for the most important administrative and executive places. It is a preparation which is general. The primary purpose of such a preparation is identical with the primary purpose of education. It seeks to make each man a thinker, a weigher of evidence, and judge of relations. It does not fit one to become a Presi

dent or a legislator or a member of the supreme court. It desires simply so to train the intellect, as well as all the other parts of one's nature, that the man, if chosen President or legislator or appointed judge, shall do the work belonging to the position with efficiency and satisfaction. It looks upon government in its higher relations as first a means and second an end. Government in its lower relations is first an end and secondarily a means. No nation has had a diplomatic corps of so noble a character or of so great fitness for diplomacy as has had England. She has had no school for this training. She has had schools for the training of men for the clerical and subordinate positions of the various colonial boards, but the men whom she has called into her service and the service of humanity of large relationships have been trained as gentlemen, as scholars, and as thinkers at her universities. Through such a training these men have been best fitted to consider and to perform the special business committed to them. In a democracy it would be useless, and to some extent ridiculous, to seek to train men for the higher positions of government. Such training would sacrifice a noble elevation of mind and a fine sense of universal relationship to mere professional narrowness and technical effectiveness. In government, as in certain other of the largest interests of mankind, the specialist or the expert is not the man of the largest wisdom or the most permanent serviceableness, important or necessary as are the services which the expert and the specialist render in most departments of life. For government is not a realm for specialities. The qualities which constitute a good legislator are the simple qualities of sound judgment and interpretation. The qualities which constitute a good secretary of the treasury are the same qualities which constitute a good banker or a good fiduciary trustee. In preparing men for the highest places in and through the government, let the university be content with making the thinker. Once able to think, the special problems submitted to an administrator for his solution he will solve with ease, and the special duties imposed for his doing he will do with satisfaction to others and with facility for himself.

A second work which the higher education may accomplish for the government relates to parties. In a prosperous democracy public attention is usually fixed on the party in power, and upon this power as an end and as a good in itself. This consideration is of the nature of a transference of the interest which belongs to an end to the means for securing that end. This transference is not unnatural, for one becomes so accustomed to the party as a necessary method or means for carrying on the government that one is soon led to believe that the party is the government itself, and even that in extreme instances the government exists to perpetuate and enrich the party. The university is therefore to impress upon the people the truth that the parties exist in order to give the most efficient government, and that that party only has special rights to be in power which gives the most efficient government. Therefore the universities have been a silent factor in political affairs. They have been concerned not only to maintain a sound and efficient government--they have been, and are, the most eager to remove any political party which has become weak while it has been trying to govern. In the United States the universities have been the most conservative element in preserving the present Government as a republic. They would be, of all classes, the most averse to a monarchy of any sort; but no body of citizens would be more eager to dislodge a political party which had proved itself to be incapable.

The answer to the third question which I suggest also clear and simple. The university is to declare and emphasize the idea that civil and political government is only one of the organizations into which humanity forms itself for the sake of securing its own highest purposes and privileges. Its categories are the common principles which constitute the best of life-honesty, capacity, and faithfulness. So human are these relations, so high are its aspirations, so powerful its members,

so fundamental its principles, that the university, concerning itself with all men and all things, may and must relate itself to the government as an inspiring, instructing, and constructing force.

The university also may render vast service by conserving the institutions of society. A republic is in peril of being concerned with movements. The great results of the Middle Ages are still found in institutions. Institutions are the foundations and supporters of a lasting republic. The first in importance and in time of all these institutions is the family. Following it is the church, and by the side of the church in significance is the civil power. The civil power may be interpreted at once as a condition and as a force. As a force it aids the people in their pursuit of good of all kinds. As a condition it promotes the endeavor of the people themselves for securing desired utilities. To these institutions as institutions, and also as embodying historic conditions, and also as representing the great movements of a prolonged past, the university bears a close relation. It is to be an interpreter of their significance to the present age. It is to impress their teachings and historic valuations upon the present age. And it is also to seek to adjust them to the service of a new world in a new time.

In mentioning other relations of the university in a democracy, the writer contents himself with the consideration of one further relation most comprehensive and definite. It refers to the relation of the university to the training of personality. In relation to personality the university should accomplish four things-it should make (1) the scholar, (2) the thinker, (3) the gentleman or the lady, and (4) it should unite all these creations and truths into noblest character.

A prosperous democracy is prone to neglect scholarship. A prosperous democracy is primarily concerned with itself. A prosperous democracy is concerned with the present and the future. Scholarship is concerned with the past for the sake of the present. A prosperous democracy is concerned with effects, which may primarily be applied to the external senses. Scholarship is concerned with intellectual relationships. A prosperous democracy is in danger of being intoxicated with itself. Scholarship is humble and reverent. A prosperous democracy makes its own achievements its primary appeal to the will and to the heart. Scholarship makes its primary appeal to the intellect. A prosperous democracy interprets itself in terms of long and square and avoirdupois-miles, acres, and tons. Scholarship interprets itself in terms of knowledge-books, truth, and learning. But a prosperous democracy, in its heart of hearts, knows that to secure highest results it must unite intelligence with its material qualities. It bears no antagonistic mood to scholarship. It merely suffers scholarship. It is indifferent to scholarship. But, in its highest moods, a prosperous democracy unites itself with and cooperates with scholarship.

The function, therefore, of the university in making the scholar is a most important one. For scholarship is the living expression, in the midst of democratic materialism, of the worth of ideas. Scholarship also represents the unity of life to a people who are inclined to forget that there has been a past and who interpret the future in terms of vagueness or of dread or of both. The scholar unconsciously teaches the lesson of self-forgetfulness in an age which is wrapped up in its self-consciousness. The scholar is a daily incarnation of the truth that the unseen things are the eternal things and the seen things merely temporal. The scholar suggests that there are other standards of measure than the tables of cubic measure, and other solids than those that are measured by avoirdupois, and that qualities imponderable are the weightiest and the most precious.

A similar function the university performs for a prosperous democracy in making the thinker. If the scholar is the possessor of the house of knowledge, the thinker is the keeper of that house and the one who is most able to assess it at its true value. In a prosperous democracy the scholar may not be regarded as an