THE CHOICE OF A VOCATION:

THE CLAIM OF THE MINISTRY OF RELIGION UPON THE ATTENTION OF YOUNG MEN

I have always believed that it is a piece of presumption for any man to undertake for another the selection of his life work. That selection may be successfully made only by the one who will himself have the work to do. There are occasions, however, when counsel upon this important subject may not be out of place; when, for example, one who has covered not less than half the road which those who are about to begin the journey will have to travel may venture to offer for the benefit of his younger brethren, who are now at the starting-point of their pilgrimage some suggestions to guide them on their way. One of the most important of these occasions is at the end of a college career. At the time of his graduation from college the young man is accustomed to look out upon a universe which has been tinted with the colors of the rose. He has usually been informed by one or another of the commencement orators that the world is waiting to receive him, that it stands as it were, with open arms and a welcoming smile ready to admit him into any sphere of activity to which his studies have pointed the way.

Then, after commencement, he begins to look about him in order to decide which one of the

various learned professions he shall honor by casting his lot with it. He has been led to believe that great opportunities will lie at his door the moment he receives his parchment and steps out upon the stage of life, the highest product of Twentieth Century culture, a college graduate. But when, after a short period of rest, from his final examinations, he turns from the roseate picture which has been held before him by the baccalaureate preacher or the valedictory orator, and seeks some special work which is suited to his particular attainments, he meets his first great disappointment. He then learns, perhaps for the first time, that the world is not standing with open arms waiting for graduates of colleges, and he even conceives the suspicion in some cases that it may not be waiting for anyone at all. The world seems, indeed, to be entirely satisfied with its existing rate of progress, and not to be in any way concerned about the future career of the latest product of academic culture. A number of years ago, when upon a visit to the city of Boston, I called to see a college friend at his office on Tremont Street, three years after he had received his degree in law. He came of a good Boston family, had been an able student and had spent seven years at Harvard. So when I entered his sanctum it was with pleasant anticipations of finding him surrounded by his clients, engaged in the successful practice of his profession.

He sat there, however, quite alone, with his

feet upon the desk and an expression of resignation on his face; and when I asked him how he enjoyed the practice of law, he replied: "Well, Southworth, to tell the honest truth, it is not what it was cracked up to be." And when I found that he had been sitting in an attitude of similar expectancy for three weary years, waiting for the clients who had not come, I was unable to controvert his statement. The world seems not to be waiting for anyone in particular during these strenuous modern times. Lawyers are frequently obliged to wait for clients and physicians for patients and teachers for positions; but I have yet to hear of an American city which has been compelled to advertise in the newspapers for more doctors or lawyers, and I have never yet learned of a vacancy in the teaching force of a reputable school for which there did not at once appear a goodly number of applicants. I speak of these callings, moreover, only by way of illustration; for they are not more seriously overcrowded than the other walks of life. The fact is that a man who fills a long-felt want in this Twentieth Century has to make a place for himself. Happy is he who succeeds in creating for himself the right place; who discovers, in other words, some niche that he can fill in this varied universe better than any other human being.

It might be well, if there were time, to call the roll of the various callings which now have some proper claim upon the attention of college men.

Since, however, the space at my disposal does not suffice, I shall ask you instead to consider with me the three professions to which college men in the past have most largely turned, namely: law, medicine and the ministry, and then pass to the consideration of some of the principles which should guide us in the selection of a life-work, whatever that work may be. You will naturally expect me to present more fully the claims of the calling with which my own lot has been cast. I shall try, however, to be fair, and to interpret each vocation in the light of its largest possibilities and its foremost representatives.

Looked at, therefore, in its largest sense, what is the office of the law and the function of the lawyer? It is, is it not, to do what he can to regulate human conduct according to principles of justice at least so far as externals are concerned? In a free country men are left to regulate their conduct largely for themselves so long as they do not infringe upon the rights of their neighbors. Since, however, laws are necessary even in such a country as this in order to prevent injustice and the oppression of the weak by the strong, lawyers come into existence whose function it is to interpret the law and help in its administration. Justice, in other words, is the great word of the lawyer. To create a condition in human affairs in which justice shall be triumphant, is the end and aim of his activity.

Thus the dignity of the lawyer's calling takes

its rise from the fact that that calling is bound up in our thought with the majesty of the law itself, with the protection it offers the weak against the strong, with the punishment it metes out to the criminal and the vindication it gives to him who has been wrongfully accused. The high-minded attorney may take satisfaction in the fact that he is at his best a minister of justice, that through his efforts an eternal principle is vindicated, that by virtue of what he does in the performance of his daily task, the ties which bind man to man are knit more closely together and society becomes a more perfect and a more stable thing.

Such is the conception of the law and the lawyer's function at its highest. There is, however, unhappily, in this noble calling, as in other spheres of human activity, a wide gulf between the lawyer's vocation as it is in actual experience and this conception of what it would seem that it ought to be. For, although the law is concerned with the infallible, eternal principles, the lawyer is compelled to deal with altogether fallible human beings. Though he may be himself supremely desirous that the right shall prevail, his services are frequently subsidized by individuals or corporations who are interested only that their side shall win. Ideally he is working with the loftiest motives and for the holiest ends. Practically he finds himself enlisted altogether too often under the banner of some soulless cor