In like manner the state is the unit to which we are subordinated.
These constitute two examples of responsibility and subordination which are necessary to the {13} acquirement of civilization, of happiness and of the rewards of life.
Wherever the state has presumed to enter too far into the conduct of the family it has overstepped its bounds and that particular civilization has degenerated. Wherever the family has presumed to give up its subordination to the state and gather unto itself the responsibility through special privilege, that particular state has begun to die.
In modern civilization it is as impossible to conceive of a state without the unit of the family, as it is to consider groups of families without something that we call a state. It is ludicrous to think of a strong and virile nation composed of one hundred million bachelors. We must go back to the feudal days of the middle ages to get a picture of the family without a state.
In other words, a man, to approach happiness, must have his family in support of which it is his privilege to take off his coat and work, and--if fate so decree--live; and he must have his country's flag in honor of which it is his privilege to take off his hat, and--if need be--die.
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Love and patriotism--these are the names of two of the sturdy beams of the house of civilization.
These old familiar laws have been brought forward again by the outbreak of the Great War. There is a letter in existence written by a young soldier who volunteered at the start, a letter which he wrote to his unborn son as he sat in a front line trench in France. It tells the whole great truth in a line. It says: "My little son, I do not fully realize just why I am fighting here, but I know that one reason is to make sure that you will not have to do it by and by." That lad was responsible for a new family, and was the servant of his state--and he began his approach to the great happiness when he thought of writing that letter.
It will be well for us to remember these simple laws as we proceed.
Fifty-eight years ago these laws and several more like them were just as true as they are now. Fifty-eight years hence they will still be true, as they will be five thousand eight hundred years hence. Fifty-eight years ago--to be exact, {15} October 9, 1860--there was born up in New Hampshire a man child named Leonard Wood, in the town of Winchester, whence he was transferred at the age of three months to Massachusetts and finally at the age of eight years to Pocasset on Cape Cod. This man child is still alive at the time of writing, and during his fifty-eight years he has stood for these elemental truths in and out of boyhood, youth and manhood in such a fashion that his story--always interesting--becomes valuable at a time when, the Great War being over, many nations, to say nothing of many individuals, are forgetting, in their admiration of the new plaster and the wall paper, that the beams of the house of civilization are what hold it strong and sturdy as the ages proceed.