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renews his youth is an exception, but even here the anchorite has no part in the principal adventure.

Few of the incidents in the Gaelic tale bear the least likeness to those in the “True History." Both tales tell of innumerable strange and gigantic beasts, birds, and men, certainly, and the island that was surrounded by the sea, like a high cliff, suggests Lucian's analogous impossibility—the cleft in the sea crossed by a bridge of water. Also, in both tales, women more than humanly beautiful detain the adventurers—with better intentions, apparently, in the Gaelic tale. But the greatest similarity in the two tales is the wildness of imagination which is common to both. Maeldun is content to wander only on the sea, while Lucian's heroes voyage even among the heavenly bodies, but it is difficult to decide which writer surpasses the other in extravagance of invention. Perhaps the Gaelic author may be admitted to be possessed of the more delicate imagination; certainly he employs the suggestion of mystery with great skill. Lucian's romance is more explicit in details and contains marvels that are grotesque rather than suggestively fanciful, like the net from the silver column in the Irish story. But the decision as to which story is the cleverer, or the more artistic must, of course, be left to individual preference.

Like the “True History,” “The Voyage of Maeldun" became to a certain extent the model for later tales of the same type in Gaelic literature. A much later story, purely Christian in atmosphere, which is adapted from it, is “St. Brandain's Voyage.” The story of Maeldun's

" wanderings appears in English literature in Alfred Tennyson's “Voyage of Maeldun,” which is based upon an incomplete English version of the original.

Lucian's avowed purpose in the “True History” is to entertain and instruct. The Gaelic author wrote for the same end, for “The Voyage of Maeldun” is brought to a close in the following passage:"Now Aed the Fair [Aed Finn), chief sage of Ireland, arranged this story as it standeth here; and he did so for a delight to the mind, and for the folks of Ireland after him.”

It is interesting to note the different manner in which Lucian and Aed Finn relate their stories. The Irishman describes the greatest of his wonders quite seriously and casts not a single doubt upon the miraculous circumstances surrounding the anchorites. He is the devout and marvel-loving Celt. Lucian, on the contrary, skeptical and sophisticated, spares neither philosophers, nor poets, nor heroes in his satire. His description of the Isle of the Blest secures him many opportunities of presenting ridiculously some of the most famous characters of antiquity.

The fact that this wonder-voyage type of literature should develop, apparently quite independently, in two sections of Europe so far distant from each other confirms rather interestingly what the popularity of travelers' tales from Marco Polo to W. H. Seward has tended to prove—the unappeasable thirst of the human mind for accounts of the strange and wonderful. Both tales have attempted to satisfy this craving, and the proof that neither Gael nor Greek succeeded badly is that their romances have not yet lost their interest even for modern readers.



Graduates of this Commencement, I shall not long detain you with my remarks, but I must express the joy of the University in you. Do not forget this day and hour; the pride in you of those who have come here today to see you graduate. The recollection will help you on many occasions. Do not fail today to enjoy the sense of having fulfilled your purposes, completed your courses, and succeeded. Do not minimize the value of your diploma. Some people are given to underestimating its value, but this is a pretty sensible old world and you will find no testimonial better than that of this expression of confidence in you which the University today bestows. As I shall dismiss you today from the embrace of this institution and bid you go out and follow the long paths that will take you all over the world, I wish to address to you a few words about freedom and its place in our lives.

As a people, we have placed freedom very high. It is written on all our emblems; our flag is the flag of freedom; our arms, the bird of freedom; and unquestionably freedom is the particular quality of American life and organization. People coming here from older and more closely organized societies feel this and respond to it amazingly. Yet today freedom is a far less controlling ideal than formerly. Lord Bryce, who in the fullness of experiences and dignities has just published a work on modern democracies, expresses well the character of our time. “The ideal of happiness," he says, may change from that of birds wantoning in the air to that of bees busy in carrying honey to the common hive. We perceive that the enthusiasm for liberty which fired men's hearts for a century or more from the beginning of the American Revolution down to our own time has now grown cool. The dithyrambic expression it found in the poets and orators of those days sounds strange and hollow in the ears of the present generation, bent on securing, with the least possible exertion, the material conditions of comfort and well-being.

I think there is plenty of evidence in support of Lord Bryce's judgment. The peoples and leaders for the moment have turned from the old ideal of freedom toward other goals. They are prepared to sacrifice freedom in order to obtain these other ends; but I bid you, as my parting word, to love freedom; to defend freedom; to set it higher than any other condition of existence. I do this with confidence because I believe that God created freedom, and I believe that God has placed it higher than human well-being. How else can we explain the old dilemma of the prevalence in the world of evil? The Heavenly Father permits evil because to suppress it would be to destroy freedom; therefore his solicitude for freedom must be greater even than his purpose to extinguish evil. God is freedom-ubi spiritus domini ibi libertas.

Government as it should be exists that men may have freedom. There is no freedom in savagery and barbarism. There is no freedom in anarchy or the absence of government. Freedom exists only where government exists and where it has as its fundamental aim the protection of men in their freedom. Governments today are strongly tempted to suppress freedom in the pursuit of two other ends: the regulation of morals and the control of economic competition. I suppose none of us here

would deny that government has a duty both to protect the moral integrity of the community and to limit excessive competition, but a government's part is a restricted one, and when it gives itself free rein, it dissolves the strong will and self-reliance of men, on the one hand, and it degrades men into serfdom, on the other. This reactionary spectacle of Russian Bolshevism merits condemnation on EVERY ground, but particularly because it has so ruthlessly suppressed freedom in favor of power.

Guard your own freedom as you mingle with men and as you seek to succeed. Guard your freedom first, let me say, against patronage. How many men and women we see pressing here and there, building fences, petitioning support, making themselves clients and dependents of peoples of all sorts, under whose will they must henceforth live. Oh, do not ask, do not accept such bonds of obligation! Owe nothing to any man! Pay your debts! Accept no help which puts you under improper obligation! Of all the degrading and disgusting enslavements through which men and women forfeit their freedom, patronage is perhaps the most calamitous, as it is the most ridiculous of them all.

Do not sacrifice your freedom for position. High and responsible position is greatly to be coveted. It is, or should be, the main object of your ambitions. But whatever position you win or assume, I charge you not to let it impair your freedom. Don't be a job seeker. Do not cling to a job. Do not let yourselves grow into the feeling that you are dependent upon a place. Never retain a position, no matter how considerable the satisfaction and the dignities which it affords you, longer than you can retain it with full self-respect and without sacrificing your freedom.

Finally, I bid you to regard self and freedom. All of us are, in a greater or less degree, the slaves of self. All of us have tastes, appetites, indulgences, which we

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