XIV.

Speech at the Opening of the Civic Forum at Carnegie Hall, New York City, November 20, 1907.

We have gathered here to install a new station for the distribution of currents of influential opinion. If we were to ask what is most needed to attain the ideals of democracy, apart from those moral virtues which must condition all else, we probably should desire for its citizens the highest capacity for accurate judgment and the freest opportunity for the discussion of public questions. For the former we look to education, not forgetting the great school of experience to whose discipline and variety of instruction in this land of opportunity we owe perhaps in largest degree what is called the common sense of the American people. For the discussion of public questions we rely chiefly upon the press and the platform.

It is unfortunate, however, that public discussion is so frequently perverted by self-interest,

by the temptations of popular agitation, and by the exigencies of heated political campaigns. It is a delightful thing to give truth the chance to emerge in sober discussion where only truth is sought. The American people are poorly represented by large type and flaming headlines. Their mood is not reflected by the shrieking appeals of orators upon the hustings. In the main they are a thoughtful and canny people, truth-loving and desirous to get at the heart of things. Appeals to reason are more cogent than many think, and nothing is more encouraging than the indications everywhere of an intense desire to secure accurate information and to form correct opinions. It is significant that conferences for the interchange of opinion and the debate of public questions are constantly multiplying; and I congratulate this city upon the opportunities which will be afforded by the new lyceum which is now opened.

It has been suggested that in these few introductory remarks-which will be far from disputatious, for the principles in the application of which I am most interested are so simple and obvious that they admit of no dispute-I should say something regarding the idea of public office.

Matthew Arnold tells us that conduct is three-fourths of life. Certainly the administration of office is at least three-fourths of political life. And if we could secure the administration of every office in accordance with its obligations and in adequate fulfilment of the fair intent of the Constitution and statutes creating it, we should find almost all our problems solved. That which is right in our system of government would appear revealed in the beauty of perfect adaptation, leaving no excuse for the use of legislative drugs to cure defects caused by lack of administrative exercise, and on the other hand such imperfections as existed would stand out in such bold relief as to leave little room for doubt as to the necessary remedy.

But it is to be expected that the frailties of human nature should be exhibited not less but rather more in our political relations-in view of the many temptations to which they give rise-than in other activities in which they are made so familiar. We are only men, and nothing human is alien to the public officer. He may be somewhat steadied by responsibility and safeguarded by precedent; he may be to some extent sanctified by some worthy tradition or inspired by some noble example.

But in general the administration of office will reflect the average virtues and failings of the community.

We must, therefore, constantly emphasize official obligation and ever hold up to view the true democratic ideal of office. We suffer to no slight extent from the survivals of notions of office which are entirely foreign to our governmental system. For example, there continually persists the notion of power drawn from ancient despotism converting in a small way, and as opportunity may offer, the servants of the people with defined duties into their would-be masters acting with arbitrary disregard of obligation. More common, however, is the feudal notion of allegiance to some chance lord or sub-lord by whose grace the office is believed, and frequently truly believed, to be held. From this point of view the people are recognized only to the extent necessary to capture the requisite majority of votes. But for all other purposes the conduct of office is determined by the will of some individual or group of individuals to whom the incumbent owes his temporary distinction.

But most mischievous of all perhaps is the idea derived from the American love of achievement and individual success. It is so commonly

expected that every opportunity will be availed of to the utmost to promote the success of the individual who has the opportunity. It is American to get on in the world and to let no chance escape; and so it is not regarded as a matter for surprise but rather the action is too readily condoned, that a man will make use of office, not of course in the manner usually called corrupt and which would bring him within the observations of the penal code, but in every other way to further his individual fortunes.

Now, against the notion of arbitrary power, against that of subservience to any authority other than his constituency, against every use of official opportunity for personal ends, the American people must set the democratic ideal of office, and for their own protection must hold their representatives strictly accountable for every departure from it. The democratic idea of office is that it is a place of designated service; that the officer is not chosen to give him opportunity for personal advantage, but to do certain things defined in the Constitution and statutes to the best of his ability because it is necessary that those things should be done and well done for the benefit of the people.

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