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the higher educational needs of a democratic people. They must provide their own. Institutions of higher learning that are utterly democratic must spring from the people themselves, must rest upon their support, must be at once the expression of and the stimulus to a higher civic consciousness of privilege and of duty. Democratic society owes it to itself to find thus an adequate expression for its educational ideals.

President Pritchett, in his report on the Carnegie Foundation for the Advancement of Teaching, places upon the state institutions of higher learning a very high value. He says:

The older American colleges in the days of their weakness sought and obtained a measure of state aid. All these institutions, however, as the difficulties of political connection became evident, chose the alternative of private control and support, a form of distrust of democracy not common in a republic. The state university deserves the credit of launching its bark upon this sea. It has endured the storms of political interference and the dangers of party politics and has come safely into smoother waters. Today it is the most encouraging feature of popular government which the states of our Union have to show. It is true that the state institution is indebted in large measure for this development to the example of the private independent university and college. None the less it stands today the best evidence we have to offer of the outcome of an enlightened appeal to the intelligence and patriotism of our various commonwealths. For this great service, not alone to education, but to practical democracy, all citizens of our country owe a debt to the statesmanship of those who planned these universities, and most of all is recognition due to the army of teachers who have given their lives in them to the cause of democratic education.

The states have responded to the rapidly growing demands for higher education by increased appropriations for buildings and equipment and annual support. In ten of the states of the Middle West and the West the annual income of their state universities has increased in the last ten years from the total $1,689,200 to $4,577,700. Instead of drawing the conclusion which President Pritchett does, that all private beneficence should be withheld from state institutions of learning, it would seem to me to be much the sounder conclusion and policy that state institutions, thus resting upon the people and being utterly democratic and receiving increasingly large appropriations, should be supplemented by private beneficence. There is no better guardian of trust funds for higher educational purposes than the state itself, and no more fruitful soil and no freer atmosphere for growth of scientific and cultural influences, such as private munificence can foster, than the state institutions of higher learning. There are some things the state will be very slow to do, if indeed it ever does them, and one of these is anything like an adequate provision, if indeed any provision, for retiring allowances of teachers. The erection and endowment of halls of art, libraries, guild halls, gymnasiums, athletics, provision for scholarships for worthy young men and women without means, the building of dormitories or student homes, the erection and endowment of Christian Association buildings, student club houses, the erection of permanent and worthy memorials, the endowment of chairs for scientific research, the pensioning of teachers who have devoted their lives to one of the

noblest services of the age; these are some of the ways in which private munificence may most fittingly supplement and complement the higher educational work of the state, and such expressions of confidence and enthusiasm can but have stimulating and helpful influence upon the state support of its own. educational work.

But let us beware of an extreme secularizing of higher education. It is commonly accepted as an established principle in our political organization that state schools, maintained at public expense, shall not be under any distinctive denominational or sectarian influence or control. So well established is this policy that the warmest adherents to it are those who themselves are loyal, staunch members of some body of the Christian church. And the last to show treachery or distrust of this principle of the separation of the church and the state would be churchmen themselves. But to draw the conclusion of an extreme secularism would be both unsound and suicidal. There are certain fundamental principles of religion that may not be ignored. in any organized expression of civic activity. Even the courts must recognize this in the form of oath which they administer. And if it were possible for a community of teachers and of students, of trustees and of officers, in any institution of higher education in a democracy utterly to forget God, that institution would certainly atrophy and wither away as the branch that is separated from the root. The possibility of freedom in matters of religious opinion and practice, of strength and unity of conviction as to fundamental religious conceptions, is one of the noblest ideas issuing into clear conviction in this democratic era.

Higher education springing from a democratic people and resting upon them is comparatively a new thing. There is perhaps no finer illustration of the first principle of the ethics of democracy than is the existence of institutions of higher learning in a democracy. It may be doubted whether at any time the actual majority of a people would voluntarily and intelligently impose upon themselves a sufficient burden of taxation and of care to found and maintain such institutions. There have always been, and probably may always be, many who demur, who declare from a narrow and selfish standpoint that it is unjust that they should be taxed for the gocd of others, who question whether the state has any obligation to provide the facilities for higher education at least, and it is probably true that the sheer intellectual inertia of a large majority of citizens would leave forever undeveloped the possibilities of higher education but for the masterly leadership of men of ideas and of ideals. Ideas and ideals must create policies and command majorities even at times almost against their wills. And there is no finer tribute to the ethical power of democracy than the actual existence of great universities and colleges in this democratic West.

It must also be recognized that stimulating and upbuilding influences in education, as elsewhere, come down from above. The high schools and secondary schools have had no such organizing, stimulating and upbuilding

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influence as that of the universities and the colleges in establishing, as the latter have, standards and ideals to which the secondary schools might aspire. The secondary schools in turn have had their beneficent influence upon the primary schools, and so from the higher institutions of learning to the primary grade and the kindergarten radiating influences have been wholesome and uplifting and organizing. From the laboratory of research and from the library of the student have come the organizing influences that have given. coherence and purpose and energy to the entire people.


At once the stimulus and the peril of modern scientific research has been the fact that the results of research have often proved commercially advantageous. It must be confessed that one of the strong incentives for the support of science at the hands of the state has been the belief that the results would be profitable. One of the arguments that always has weight with a legislative committee is the argument that education and research pay. And this suggests one of the extremely interesting phases of higher educational interests in a democracy. Science and culture may no longer withdraw in monkish seclusion from the world of affairs. Industrial efficiency is one of the important results of higher education. It is the business of science to help men in the struggle for existence, to teach them the potencies of the soil and of the air, and to teach them to conserve fertility of the land and to have a conscientious care concerning the exhaustion of the soil. Men never have, and probably never will, come to a high state of civilization, of moral and intellectual life, where the pastures are scant, the soil thin, and the people hungry. They who make two blades of grass grow where but one grew before, and who teach how to coin from the sunshine and the dew an extra ton of butter-fat for a ten-acre field, are blessing the world with the material possibilities of advancement and progress. And they who make industry interesting and lift toil above drudgery are among the world's great benefactors.

But wherever and whenever a money value attaches to the process and results of research there is also peril. Will a democracy keenly alive to commercial values be patient with its servants of research, leave peaceable the atmosphere of scientific and academic freedom? Will the search for truth be still the guiding star of those rare minds capable of intellectual exploration and discovery? This is an inquiry not yet fully answered, nor can it be until maturer results have been reached in the development of higher education. There is as yet lacking both patience of spirit and thoroness of method. Our growth has been too rapid and there is, as yet, too much of the eager alacrity and impatience of a young republic for us to know what can be done or what shall be for the fostering of research. Here, as elsewhere, in all higher ranges of service there is scope and need for commanding leadership.

Closely akin to this inquiry is another, namely: Is democracy favorable to the enthusiasm of the scholar? In all ages that history pronounces great,

the scholar has stood forth with torch in hand to guide men to the fountains of living waters and to the serene heights of intellectual and spiritual outlook and inspiration. The scholar's place is always in the van and his home is in the rugged heights. Other men may lie down to sleep in the furrows which they have plowed and by the heaps of metal which they have dug from the mine, but the scholar, like the Christ, seeks the mountainside and the night and the silence, and when he comes to mingle with the people and to put his hands to his daily task, it is with a touch of power. His soul grips the commonplace and transfuses it with the light of the spirit. It is of the scholar that Browning sings in "A Grammarian's Funeral":

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Will democracy banish the scholar and the scholarly spirit or will it foster and honor both? This question, too, is not yet fully answered, nor is the answer certain. But to men of faith and of optimism it seems certain that spiritual values will not be ignored, but rather that in a democracy princely spirits will come more truly to their own than in any other form of society, and that as kings and princes and priests in the old Hebrew economy were selected from the people and anointed for their tasks, so shall the scholar in a democracy be anointed for his task. Democracy must have its scholars, its intellectual leaders, its spiritual guides, and as the Hebrew nation based its ideas of social service and efficiency in its consciousness of God, so must democracy rest its spiritual and intellectual life back upon the granite of the spiritual and intellectual Eternal. Democracy must not only be intelligent and ethical, but it must be fundamentally religious. To build upon any other foundation is to build upon the sand.



Ladies and Gentlemen:

[Stenographic Report]

When I was asked the other day to take part in this meeting of the National Educational Association, it was with the understanding that I should give

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you only ten minutes of informal talk, and that is all I could hope to do. The subject which has engrossed so much of my life is so large, and embraces so much, that it would take weeks to lay it before you in anything like detail.

You have millions of children to educate; I have only some three hundred thousand, but a good many of these are grown up, which makes the task rather difficult. The Indian is an adult child. He has the physical attributes of the adult with the mentality of about our fourteen-year-old boy. One of the great difficulties that we have met in dealing with the problem presented in his case has been the failure of the two races to understand each other. Our race has been misled to a very large extent by the two extreme views that we get on the opposite sides of the continent. The eastern view, usually termed the philanthropic view, is that the Indian is a perfect being, and that it is the business of the white race to keep him alive by giving him everything in sight. At the other extreme stand the group of persons who insist that the Indian is a poor creature, a mere cumberer of the earth; and the white men who hold this view, when they get to the last degree of generosity and benevolence, treat him as they treat a dog to whom they throw a bone to keep him from starving.

And so, between the philanthropist on the one hand and the eminently "practical" citizen on the other, with a little interlarding of the old school geographies, we obtain a very extraordinary view of the Indian. One of the things we are taught in our school books, for instance, is that the Indian has no sense of humor-that he is a grim and morbid soul. My friends, there never was a greater mistake in the world. No people have a keener sense of humor than the Indians. Around their camp-fires at night I have heard them tell funny story after story, and the laughter has kept up as long as there was anyone awake to respond.

A year or two ago I was visiting the Klamath reservation in Oregon and had the Indians at a council. I had only recently appointed a new superintendent there with the duties of an agent, and I said to them:

My friends, while I have seen a great many things here which I like the way you build your houses, the way you cultivate your fields, the way you care for your cattle, the self-dependent spirit you show-still, there are certain things I should like you to improve in. I have given you a first-rate agent, who takes the greatest interest in your affairs. I selected him because he had done so well everywhere else, and I know that he is doing well for you, too. But since I have been here and living in his house, I have observed that at any and all times, waking or sleeping, he is subject to your demands. When we are at the table at meals, you call him out; when he is just ready to go to bed, you call him down stairs; and all for business which could have been transacted earlier in the same day, or could just as well go over until the morrow. Now, my friends, an agent, like everyone else in this world, must have some time to rest!

Then I paused a little, to let the idea sink in; the corner, who spoke a little English, piped out: the time!"

when an old man over in "The last agent rested all

We also hear that the Indian is dishonest. People tell you that you must

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