school.

The social stratification of the South prior to the Civil War has been briefly described by an eminent publicist, Dr. Albert Shaw, in his recent work on "Political Problems of American Development:" "The slavery system lifted perhaps one million white people to the position of a favored class, and led to the neglect and relative decline of the South's most valuable possession, namely, its five or six millions of plain white people of old American stock, who have very little property and few advantages. For the great majority of the four million negroes, slavery meant an immeasurable improvement in their lot, when compared with their condition in Africa. In any just estimate, the disadvantaged people for whom the philanthropists and reformers of the North should have lifted up their voices were not the slaves, but the disinherited and neglected masses of white population."

Now, in this educational crusade we are seeking, not privileges for a class nor the happiness of the individual alone, but the well-being of society as a whole, and especially the development of the "poor whites," who were once ground between the upper millstone of aristocracy and the nether one of slavery. After all, is not the common man the great asset of democracy? The inspiration of this revival came long ago to an apostle upon the housetop at Joppa: "God has showed me that I should call no man common." We are invoking every agency of civilization and progress to raise the neglected white people of the South to industrial prosperity, social efficiency and independence in political action. Confidence in the capacity of the average man is the creed of this crusade.

The bond of union in democracy is likemindedness. It is identity in habit, in modes of thought, in sentiment and aspiration that bind people together under a free government and make for social order. "Can two walk together except they be agreed?" is a fundamental in democracy, which is a form of fraternalism. In the olden time a State might be composed of many diverse elements in race, custom and self-interest, as they were held by force in common subjection to a single sovereign. But in democracy the cohesive principle is sympathy, each citizen recognizing himself as a member of one body, in which if one

member suffers, all suffer. Democracy, accordingly, revealed novel cleavages in the old political organization. It grouped the several peoples anew, not according to the ambition of a particular monarch, but according to the subtle affinities that gave effect to the bonds of union in each nation. Hence, nationality followed hard upon the heels of democracy, as effect flows from cause. Fraternity of feeling came to mark the boundary of every State, intensifying the consciousness of national unity and setting free locked-up energies in the joyous discovery of a people's personality and its mission among mankind. It was this electric force of nationality that transformed the map of Europe in the nineteenth century, unifying according to racial instinct Italy, Germany, Holland, Belgium, Greece, Roumania and Norway. And it is this same force which is to-day acting as the dissolvent of the polyglot empire of Austria-Hungary, each nation of which wishes to set up housekeeping for itself and live under its own vine and fig tree.

Now, the bane of slavery was that it engendered differences in economic conditions, social customs and political ideals in the two sections of our country. The evils of slavery did not end with the slave. Indeed, its discipline was a stage toward his development. The danger in the "peculiar institution" was that it separated the South from the rest of the country by sectional idiosyncracies, and, therefore, paralyzed the effect of those spiritual affinities which constitute alone the real bonds of a modern nation under democracy.

Education is the most effectual means of unifying our people. It at once breaks down social caste in the South and assimilates us in habit and sentiment with all other sections of our common country. The school releases the South from isolation and makes for a national spirit.

If the people are to rule progressively, there must be a party of action and a party of criticism. The one is as essential as the other. The proof of this appears in the excellence of the English government which has made the function of criticism. the prime duty of the opposition party, and vested it with dignity and power. If eternal vigilance is the price of liberty, it is to be had only by the free and frank discussion of all public

issues. What the bastile was to the absolute monarch, that and more is gag rule to the boss or the political machine. Owing to slavery with its repressive influences before the war, and owing to the dominance of a single party since that time, the South has suffered from a lack of free discussion of public matters and from the absence of independent action in politics. Yet the task of the Southern statesmen after the war was a most serious one, and right nobly did they face it, deserving thereby the gratitude of all friends of Anglo-Saxon civilization.

Democracy is the act of combining the common judgment of the citizens. For them to form an enlightened judgment, discussion is necessary; and for them to express the judgment thus formed, independence in action is essential. The chief ingredient of every vote should be reason and conscience, not tradition nor blind loyalty to party solidity. Identity in spirit and diversity in opinion are both desirable in democracy; the first for stability and the second for progress. Party solidity in the South has been the hey-day of the demagogue, who boasts of his sectionalism as a substitute for patriotism.

The present educational revival in the South has done much to quicken free inquiry as to economic and political affairs and has offered in every State a forum for the discussion of common concerns. The sound political instincts of our people have asserted themselves anew under these favorable auspices. Education has become the platform of the party of progress. The school, the public library, the rural mail delivery, the daily paper, telephone, and better roads are common agencies in energizing the intelligence of the masses of the people and making them restive under the servile control too often exercised by professional politicians. An idea is surcharged with activity, as a drop of dew contains expansive energies. The school radiates creative ideas and influences, quickening the initiative of the people and breaking up the dead uniformities in opinion and action.

A prime lesson for the leaders in this movement to learn is, in standing for the real interests of the people, not to be afraid of the politician. He frightens at his own shadow. We have gone far enough in this progressive work to find that out. Our experi

ence in this regard recalls a remark of that brilliant French nobleman, Montesquieu: "At first, I had in most cases a puerile dread of the great; as soon as I had found them out, I began almost immediately to despise them."

Government used to mean a monarch, courtiers and warriors, diplomacy abroad and political intrigue at home - something of splendor that dazzled from afar the eyes of mankind. But to-day the State is absorbed in the life of the people. Especially is this the sphere of rightful action for a commonwealth in our Union. Virginia, for instance, sends no ambassadors to foreign courts. She has no navy. There is nothing at Richmond that smacks of the regal. On the contrary, our State is trying to improve the farms, make good roads, open the mines, protect the oyster industry, quicken manufactures, insure social order, care for the helpless, and train the young. Politics has become domestic, and identical with the welfare of the masses. Long ago that prophet of the nineteenth century, Mazzini, said, "Every political question is becoming a social question."

Whether or not it be true that the Federal power is encroaching upon the sphere of the State in affairs of National import, it is certain that the Commonwealth is localizing its activities and setting its own house in order. This is a happy augury. If we had formerly put more emphasis on States' Duties, we should not have had to spend our blood and treasure in behalf of States' Rights. We have been made too often the football of outside issues. Our public men are becoming again shepherds of the people. Now, among these homely tasks of a democratic government, none is superior to the training of the youth. "The chief business of constructive politics is to make sure of the future through the training of the young and the transmission of ideas." Education is the biggest business Virginia has on hand. The State spends more money on its schools than on any other interest, and employs more people as teachers than all other officials. The payroll of the school is the largest item in Virginia's budget. The changing sphere of the State is strikingly illustrated by the fact that to-day women, as teachers, constitute the most important body of public servants in the employ of the Commonwealth.

This educational revival is rooting self-government anew in the neighborhood. Community effort has been its keynote. Jefferson said: "Those wards, called townships in New England, are the vital principle of their governments, and have proved themselves the wisest invention ever devised by the wit of man for the perfect exercise of self-government, and for its preservation. . . . . Divide the counties into wards." Such is taking place to-day. This tendency has shown itself especially in two ways. First, by local school improvement leagues, which are made up of the citizens of the community, and which have as their end the betterment of the neighborhood school. More than three hundred such leagues have been planted in Virginia, and they are found numerously in many other Southern States. In the meetings of these leagues many aspects of local life come up for discussion and review. The school is thus becoming the nucleating centre of social activities for the Southern community. Secondly, local taxation involves self-help and community control - essentials in democracy. The sole basis of a solid public school system is local taxation. Of the eighteen million dollars spent upon her schools, Massachusetts raises ninety-six per cent by local taxation. The South is recognizing this principle. Five years ago, North Carolina raised in school taxes less than $16,000. The past year it has raised about $450,000. Such an advance registers, like a thermometer, not only the citizens' zeal in education, but also the increased vitality of community government. Last year Virginia raised by local taxation for the schools $1,303,900, which was an increase for the past five years of $318,000, or an advance of twenty-four per cent. The present year will make a far finer exhibit. Not a few communities in Virginia have raised their local taxes to the maximum under the Constitution. Should we call this taxation? The word usually suggests what a citizen pays for a negative benefit, such as the maintenance of courts, policemen, and other governmental expenses. Taxes for the schools, on the contrary, are an investment for the individual and for the community. Every dollar put into the right sort of education brings its return at home in the increased initiative, skill and intelligence and moral power of our people.