It is indefensible that in the face of incidents of our history such as these Californians should be ignorant of the lives and experiences of those who preceded them on this coast. The history of their experiences is a part of the history of the nation, and the record of the achievement of the empire-builders of this coast is one that inspires civic pride and a reverence for their memories. Why should the story remain practically unknown? Why should every little unimportant detail of the petty incidents of Queen Anne's War, and King Philip's War, and Braddock's campaign be crammed into the heads of children who until lately never heard the name of Portolá? The beautiful story of Paul Revere's ride is known to everyone, but how many know the story of the invincible determination in the building of Ugarte's ship[[8]]? William Penn's honest treatment of the Indians is a household word to people who never knew of the existence of Gálvez or Junípero Serra. The story of the hardships of the New England pilgrims in the first winter on the "stern and rock-bound coast" of Massachusetts, is not more pitiful than that of the fate of the immigrants at Donner Lake. The thoughtful magnanimity of Captain Philip of the "Texas" in the moment of victory, in the sea-fight at Santiago, when he checked his men "Don't cheer, boys; the poor fellows are drowning"—is enshrined in the hearts of Americans that never thrilled with pride at Commodore Sloat's solemn and patriotic proclamation upon landing his sailors to hoist the colors at Monterey, a proclamation as fine and dignified as a ritual, that should be committed to memory, as a part of his education, by every schoolboy in California[[9]]. Longfellow's "Courtship of Miles Standish and Priscilla" is found in every book of declamations, and Bret Harte's poem of the tragic love story of Rezánov and Concha Argüello in complete editions of his works[[10]]. Why herald the ridiculous attempt of Rhode Island to keep out of the Union, and not acclaim the splendid effort of California to break into it?

The importance to any community of its local history being incorporated in the national story in its proper proportion and perspective cannot be overestimated. When in all the ten volumes of Thomas B. Reed's magnificent collection, entitled "Modern Eloquence," we find but one speech that was delivered in California, and that, while the ancient and admired anecdotage of Chauncey Depew is printed in detail, the flaming eloquence of E. D. Baker is absolutely ignored, and the only discourse reported of Thomas Starr King is one that he delivered in Boston, it is time for the dwellers on these Western shores to ask themselves whether these things have all happened by accident, or whether the older commonwealths of this country have been moved by a pride in their history and in their traditions to take such measures for their preservation and for the promotion of their publication as to put us to shame.

Let me not be misunderstood. I would detract nothing from the glory of other sections of the country. I would minimize nothing of any State's accomplishment. Some of them have a record that is almost a synonym for patriotism. Their tradition is our inheritance; their achievement is our gain. Wisconsin cannot become a veritable workshop of social and economic experiment without the nation being the beneficiary. New England does not enrich her own literature without shedding luster on the literature of the nation. They and theirs belong also to us and to ours. Least of all, do I forget the old Bay State and her high tradition—State of Hancock and Warren, of John Quincy Adams and Webster, of Sumner and Phillips and Garrison and John A. Andrew, of Longfellow and Lowell and Whittier and Holmes. Her hopes are my hopes; her fears are my fears. May my heart cease its beating if, in any presence or under any pressure, it fail to respond an Amen to the Puritan's prayer: "God save the Commonwealth of Massachusetts."

But if they belong to us, we also belong to them. If their traditions belong to us, so also our tradition belongs to them. We should simply strive that California shall be given her proper proportionate place in the history of the country. We do not find fault with them for having taken the means of heralding abroad their story—we commend them for it. We point to their activity so as to arouse our own people from their amazing inaction. What have we of California done to collect, preserve and diffuse information relating to the history of our State? And what have other commonwealths done?

The California State Historical Society, first organized in 1853, and incorporated in 1876, was in active existence from 1886 to 1894, and published some valuable historical material, including Father Palou's "Noticias," Doyle's "History of the Pious Fund," Willey's "History of the College of California" and some interesting papers of Martin Kellogg, George Davidson, Bernard Moses, William Carey Jones and T. H. Hittell. From that time it has had no active existence. There has not been a meeting of its board of directors since 1893, and since then most of them have died. It has no maps and no manuscripts, and its library of 500 printed volumes was stored away in San Francisco, in the basement cellar of the gentleman who is still nominally its president, until two years ago. It never owned a building in which to do its work, was never endowed, and to all intents and purposes has been dead for twenty years.

When we look beyond the Rockies, however, we begin to appreciate the work that is being done by the State historical societies organized for the purpose of collecting, preserving and diffusing historical information concerning their respective states. The statistics outside California, unless otherwise indicated, are down to 1905. The Massachusetts and Pennsylvania societies are prototypes of the privately organized and endowed organizations of the Eastern states, which, without official patronage, have attained strength, dignity and a high degree of usefulness, while Wisconsin, Minnesota, Iowa and Kansas similarly stand for the State-supported institutions of the West. Twelve societies or departments own their own halls—those valued at $100,000 or over, being Wisconsin, $610,000; Iowa, $400,000; Pennsylvania (1910), $340,000; Massachusetts, $225,000; and Kansas, $200,000. Thirteen are housed in their respective State capitols, seven are quartered in State universities, and six are in other public buildings. The largest State appropriations are: Wisconsin (1910), $31,000; Minnesota, $20,000; and Iowa (1910), $12,000. The Massachusetts, Pennsylvania and Wisconsin societies are, of course, the wealthiest in endowments; possessing, respectively (1912), $420,600, $170,000, and (1910), $63,000 in vested funds. The largest libraries are Pennsylvania (1910), 285,000 titles; Wisconsin (1910), 332,000; Massachusetts (1912), 170,000; Kansas (1910), 191,000; and New Hampshire (1910), 117,500.

Only a little less important in degree are a large number of historical societies which represent some town or section. For example: The Essex Institute of Salem, Massachusetts, with its income of (1913) $15,000, library of 400,000 titles, and building valued at $175,000; New York (City) Historical Society, with 1057 members, endowment fund aggregating $236,000, yearly income of $12,000, and a building costing $400,000; the Chicago Historical Society, with a library of 130,000 titles, housed in a $185,000 building and supported by endowment funds aggregating $111,814; the Long Island Historical Society of Brooklyn, with (1912) 102,500 titles in its own building; the Western Reserve of Cleveland, with 60,000 titles in a $55,000 building; the Worcester (Massachusetts) Society of Antiquities, housing 110,000 titles within a building valued at $50,000; and the Buffalo Historical Society, which has a library of 34,000 titles in a $200,000 building and receives a municipal grant of $5,000 and incidental expenses per annum. These are simply the most highly endowed. Every important town and city in those sections of the country are represented. In the State of Massachusetts alone, there are, besides its State Historical Society, thirty-six local historical societies, all of them alive and active and doing good work. The only historical societies worthy of the name in California, outside of the institution I shall refer to later on, are the Historical Society of Southern California, in Los Angeles, with a membership of fifty, now owning a library of 6,000 titles, housed in the Museum of History, Science and Art in Exposition Park, owned by the county, with the publication of eight volumes of local history to its credit, and the Archeological Institution of the Southwest, also of Los Angeles, the latter institution, however, being not exclusively a historical society.

I submit to you, as Californians, whether this is a record in which we can take any pride. With the exception of the pitiful attempts of its loyal friends from time to time to revive the California Historical Society, absolutely no organization work whatever, except what has lately been initiated at Berkeley, has been done by any public institution to promote the publication of California history or the collection of material therefor. With a history such as ours, with its halo of romance, with its peculiarity of incident, with its epoch-making significance, is it not a burning shame that our people have not long ago, either through private endowment or through public institutions, taken as much pride in the preservation of our history as its makers did in the creation of it? Is it not time that civic societies in every section of this State should combine and work together for the creation of a public sentiment which will support and uphold any institution that will strive to perpetuate the record of the history of this great commonwealth?

Though there has been no sustained or organized effort on the part of the State, or of any community in the State, to recognize the duty of collecting and preserving the priceless records of its historical growth, yet, by the luck that often attends improvidence, we have the nucleus of a library which goes far toward offsetting our culpable indifference.

One of the great fires that swept San Francisco in its early stages just missed the Bancroft Library, then at the corner of Merchant and Montgomery streets. The later fire that burned the building on Market Street, near Third, next door to the History Building, again barely missed the Bancroft Library. And when it was moved to the building especially constructed for it at Valencia and Mission streets, the great conflagration of the 18th of April, 1906, just failed to reach it. In this State it had remained for a private individual, by his life work, to collect and preserve a library that to the State of California is almost priceless in value. This magnificent library the State of California has recently purchased and installed in the California Building, at the State University, where its usefulness is being developed by the Academy of Pacific Coast History, an association organized in connection with the history work of the University. By a series of happy accidents, then, we are in a position to start with as great a nucleus of its historical data as any commonwealth ever had. There remains the great work of cataloguing and publishing, rendering available to the investigation of scholarship this mass of original data, and the State should immediately provide the liberal fund necessary for the mechanical and clerical administrative work.