or call forth the powers of the rank and file. To be the mother of soldiers, it must sound a call to arms. To bring forth heroes, it must itself be heroic.

The war showed us how a great national purpose can bring us life. I doubt whether any other national undertaking can give us that experience to the same degree. War is, I suppose, the pursuit upon which the social instinct itself, in its extension beyond the limits of the family, was formed. Society, in its last analysis,— the residuum that would be left after everything possible had been abstracted-is the war band, and I doubt whether its full reaction, the thoroughgoing social orgasm, can take place apart from war.

Fighting is to the individual also an essential spiritual item. He also was largely built around this instinct. Chivalry is still the code of ethics that most appeals to our imagination. Contest is the common element in the majority of our individualistic as well as of our great team games. The states and empires, whose citizens have shirked military service, have disappeared, and their downfall has been due as much to moral deterioration as to military defeat. The fighting qualities have in all ages been closely identified with manly virtue. We are so committed to this instinct, both as citizens and as individuals, that we cannot reach full stature without its exercise.

Are we then to adopt war as a permanent and necessary means of spiritual life, a fixed requirement of moral hygiene? Most peoples in the past have gone on this assumption, but for us today, the point does not bear arguing. War, apart from its manifest abominations, its infringement of liberty and suspension of democracy and law; apart from its permanent lowering of human possibilities, especially in the production of the warlike virtues by the killing off of the best and bravest,—in addition to all these evils-has failed to show itself an emancipating pursuit. The story of Sparta in the old world and of Germany in the new, the moral degeneracy of both herald of their military downfall, affords sufficient testimony upon this point. The god of war himself has turned his back at last upon his too abject worshipers.

We have seen the beginning of what is partly the same thing among ourselves in the moral reaction-return to normalcy, like the dog returning to his vomit-that has succeeded the more or less inevitable war hysteria.

The reason for this bad moral effect of war is that it is too exclusive. Madame de Staël said that war spoils conversation, and that is a profound as well as witty criticism. We are not all primarily fighters. None of us are fighters and nothing else. We have need of other methods of expression. War may find a use for the poet and the artist and the thinker in writing war songs, or painting camouflage, or finding more lethal poisons. Kreisler was found useful in interpreting the music of a shell. But we can find a better use for Kreisler. Our human nature is a harp of many strings and war touches most of them too little or too roughly.

The warlike virtues, moreover, can be cultivated apart from war, as they are cultivated even by the warlike nations in time of peace. War itself was originally and instinctively a seasonal occupation like baseball. The young Indian braves danced the war-dance and took up the warpath in the spring. It was in the spring that the perpetual private wars of the Middle Ages were begun—an old campaigner of Philip Augustus' time sneers at those knights whose warlike sentiments were only for the winter months. Our own youth feel the same impulse and can be trusted to follow there interpretation of the warpath in the spring, and again in the fall until snow flies, if we will give them half a chance.

In mature life we can preserve the element of contest in the very form of team competition-though not of the most satisfying sort-if we will make our industrial organizations into teams with true participation by their individual members.

Whatever as a state we undertake, we can put through in a courageous and chivalric spirit. There are dragons enough if you are looking for them, and a sufficient supply of human subjects who need a little even of the ancient treatment, to satisfy the most exacting.

As to war itself, the readiness is all. I do not mean preparedness-that vicious circle in which each nation seeks only to go a little faster than its neighbor, until all the moral landmarks disappear in general vertigo-but moral readiness to risk life and all for country when true occasion calls. To keep the fighting spirit alive among us, if there is no other help, our pacifists can be relied upon-those unconquerable champions who put the "fist" into their very misleading name.

If war is not the angel of liberation that we are seeking, where shall we look for him?

There was a city once which, in little more than a century, from a body of about one hundred and fifty thousand to one hundred and eighty thousand citizens-approximately equal to the population of Scranton, Pennsylvania, or Worcester, Massachusetts-produced about half the genius that the world has seen. Within its walls, in that brief space of time, there was traced out the nearest approach we have to the spiritual outline of a man. In Athens, not simply more than elsewhere but in many thousand times its due proportion, the human mind and spirit were set free.

It was in Athens that man's great constituting purposes, as soldier, thinker, creator of the beautiful, were more devoutly followed by the state than in any other place at any time. So devout was public reverence for these purposes that each was worshiped as a god-as Ares, Apollo, Pallas Athene. The stage at Athens was an instrument of public worship. The office of architecture was building the temples of the gods, that of sculpture the construction of their images. The Parthenon was the Athenian Temple of the Virgin, Praxiteles' Olympian Zeus, the chief of all the gods, invoked by Hellas as patron of its athletic sports. Athens demonstrated how much of human genius may become incarnate where the public dimension is added to its constituting aims. She so hungered to render these their fitting service that, as in the myth of Orpheus, her very stones rose up and made her beautiful.

Shall we then follow Athens as our model? If following her were morally possible to us it would be a choice devoutly to be considered, but there is one thing in which we must depart from her example. The leisure through which Athens wrought her miracles was based on slavery. For us, on the contrary, the one constituent purpose of humanity which we must stand for above all others, the one which this conference especially represents, is nurture, the promotion of the fullest life of all. And it is to this purpose, especially, that our nation must, in my opinion, be dedicated, if it would save the lives of its citizens or its own life.

Such a purpose would give expression to an instinct older than fighting, the desire for wisdom, or the love of beauty; the mother instinct-almost as strong in man as it is in woman-that is as old as life. The adoption of nurture as a leading aim would fittingly mark the recognition of woman in our political affairs.

Such a proposal is far from new. The spiritual welfare of the citizen was the object of the state as laid down both by Plato and by Aristotle. The service of all

men is the great commandment of the world's two greatest religions; it was the inspiration of the Puritan movement and is the accepted aim of democracy everywhere. As a doctrine it is in fact a commonplace.

But the serious, practical carrying out of this purpose would be revolutionary. What are the main steps it would involve? First, we would clear away the outstanding obstacles to life. Within the first year our county prisons would be abolished; we should have made full provision for the care and segregation of the feeble-minded; tuberculosis, the white plague, and other diseases would be on the way toward extermination; typhoid, the especial political disease, would not exist. We should have made a revolution in our politics. Our police, to cite one instance, would be permitted by those higher up seriously to undertake the stamping out of vice and crime. Above all we should have begun to take our public education seriously; to pay real salaries to teachers even where not forced to do so by political pull; to cut down classes to a size that can be taught; to make appointments for other than geographical qualifications. As a general strategical measure of prevention, we should have already drawn a line at the public school which no preventable disease nor mental nor physical disability should pass.

Democracy, seriously applied, could I suppose, within a few years, not indeed literally abolish poverty and crime, but so reduce these ancient enemies that they would not be recognizable. At least, there is no reason to suppose it could not do so, for as yet the beginning of such experiment has not been made.

To the objection that such drastic action for human betterment is "playing at providence" our answer would be: "Gentlemen, we are not playing at providence, we are working at it. We believe that love is as proper an instinct to be obeyed as any other. We believe that service of one's fellow-men deliberately, systematically, upon the largest possible scale, is as legitimate a form of action, and as much in accordance with the divine will, as eating, or doing business, or giving smaller and less effective help."

In the carrying out of these and other changes, we shall adopt a lesson from the war. Not merely in the receiving of ministrations but in the devising and conferring of them we shall leave no one out. Every employer will be a teacher and every business a school; every working man a contributor to management and methods. The home exists for nurture; it is the institution created to this end. Every person may contribute to the life of all he meets by the standard and expectation that he has of them. All wield the compelling power of example, most potent in those who bravely face the hardest tasks, such as meeting sickness and defeat. This I believe is the most important item in democracy: the attitude that all are wanted; no one's contribution is despised.

It is here that we atone for the necessary cruelty of competition. Suppose you connot compete; you still have as much a duty and a place as any man, and may stand as near the center of the public purpose as any other. Equality in membership, equal moral responsibility, beneath all differences in the form of service, extends the saving value of demand to all.

But we shall not, like war, be tyrannous in our command. The community will call on every citizen to serve its purposes because it knows that they are also his. It will call as with a trumpet blast of peace, but it is to the still small voice within, to the great purpose as it is whispered to the man himself, that it will speak. It will,

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if well inspired, call even for better service than it knows, invoke great rebels-a Socrates or a greater than Socrates-who shall interpret its own cause so nobly that the people will shrink from serving it. And it will pray that it may not crucify its prophets when they are found.

From the war, also, we shall learn to demand the fighting virtues and shall give our boys and young men the opportunity, now largely lacking, for their lawful cultivation.

We will, like Athens, call men to freedom as the servants of the true and the beautiful. We will, with all our power, fight our present industrial slavery to the machine; will do our best, through making each worker a member of the team, through the preservation of competition, through insistence by the consumer upon true workmanship and on aesthetic values, to make the daily task expressive. We will, in every city and every town and every country district, so organize our leisure time that men may, in drama, music, architecture, in their sports and in their avocations, find compensation for the sterilizing of their working hours. We will, through the development of parks, of libraries, and art museums, above all through the return of the humanities to our public schools, render public observance to these ends.

And we will serve these ends in a religious spirit. We will learn from Athens that truth and beauty are not secondary but are to be reverently pursued as attributes of the divine. We will not lead the citizen to seek his own perfection in the service of these ends. What made the war life-giving was that our lives were of no importance in its presence. What made the art of Athens the liberator of genius was that to Athens art was religion; the citizen lost himself in service of the god. There is no more disheartening pursuit than culture. Here as always the only path to life is through the losing of it. God, from the first, created man in his image and man will never be the handiwork of any power less divine.

Chivalry, search of the true and the beautiful, service of the true life of all-these ends our national purpose shall prescribe. But for us in America, at least, the greatest of these ends is service. "The main enterprise of the world for splendor, for extent, is the upbuilding of a man.”

We must say to the public of this country: We are not putting this service of the fuller life in every citizen before you as a purpose that you may espouse or may reject. This purpose is not submitted for your choosing. It has already chosen you. The choice is, for America and for democracy everywhere, a matter most literally of life and death. For democracy, hitherto, and increasingly at the present moment, has frankly disappointed its friends. As a fighter it was successful; but now that its emancipation has been won-now that it holds the stage and the disturbing element has been ejected, now that the curtain is up and the audience waitingit hesitates, stammers, and seems to have nothing to propose; or it falls back upon abstractions such as, do your duty, serve God, be American.

In this country, especially, we suffer from this suspended purpose. We are an idealistic people without an effective or concrete ideal, lacking in the great life-giver of all- —a public purpose. We still like to use the formulas of a strenuous and righteous fight, to talk about Armageddon and the like. And for a time, in political campaigns, we feel a false exhilaration, as if we were really fighting for a cause. But when the day after election brings the morning newspaper, we know in our hearts that nothing in particular has happened, and that a new tariff, some supposed aid to business,

will comprise the whole result. And we are sick in consequence. Foreigners often call us money-grabbers, but we are not such in our hearts. If we were money-grabbers truly and believed in it, we might be saved. But as it is, money is only a consolation, and a very poor one. We are a people homesick, lost, with something on our minds that we have not expressed. If we talk of money and business, it is because we have forgotten our part and can think of nothing else to say.

We must be true to our purpose of promoting the more abundant life of every citizen. In order truly to serve this purpose, we must serve also those ideals of the true and the beautiful in which, as well as in the service of his fellows, the life of man consists. America, by calling all its citizens to this inclusive service, may become for its citizens the greatest human power for evoking life.

"And thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul and with all thy mind, and with all thy strength: this is the first commandment, "And the second is like, namely this, Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself."

DIVISION V-THE FAMILY

CASE-WORK METHODS IN LEGAL EDUCATION

Joel D. Hunter, General Superintendent,
United Charities, Chicago

When I left Chicago this morning my main intent was to hear Dean Wigmore address this session of the conference. As your chairman has said, a painful and sudden illness has prevented his attending. I am glad to speak, not in Dean Wigmore's place, but simply to relate the observations of an outsider concerning the way in which the Northwestern University School of Law has been using the case work method in legal education.

For a number of years the Northwestern School of Law, as did a few other law schools, asked the law students to volunteer their services to the Chicago Legal Aid Society, and many of them did so. The students did valiant service, which in turn was of advantage to themselves. However, the law school gave the students no university credits for the time spent as volunteers; nor were reports of their service required by the school. About two years ago, in Chicago, the Legal Aid Society and the United Charities were amalgamated. I need not give you the reasons for this amalgamation. It would be out of place in this discussion. Shortly after this consolidation was brought about, the United Charities and the Northwestern School of Law signed a contract relating to legal education. Under this contract the law school promised to do certain things, and the United Charities promised others. The law school promised to require every Senior student in the school to devote ninety hours during the Senior year to the legal clinic. For this the student was given thirty hours' credit. In addition, the law school agreed to assign one of its faculty as advisory counsel to the Legal Aid Bureau of the United Charities. This professor was to come three times a week to consult with the attorneys of the Legal Aid Bureau and give advice concerning the practice and procedure of the society. There were two reasons for this. The first was to supervise the students in their work, and the second was to make sure that the