University of Virginia Library

CHAPTER XIII

Commencement—Addresses and Banquet—Session
1872-73

Wednesday was beautiful, clear and hot, but its diversified
entertainments served to veil all personal discomfort. In the
morning, 11 o'ck, we met in the Public Hall to hear a memorial
address on our late Professor Gessner Harrison, by Rev.
John A. Broadus. Up to that day I knew little of Professor
Harrison except through his Latin Grammar—An Exposition
of Some of the Laws of the Latin Grammar, Harper Brothers,
1852—a work of which Professor Peters had spoken several
times in class with a commendation that led me to purchase
and use a copy with decided benefit. I further knew that Professor
Smith's wife was a daughter, and had seen around the
University another daughter, Miss Harrison, afterwards the
wife of Professor Thornton, and a son whom I thought about
thirty years of age.

On this occasion the portrait of Professor Harrison, belonging
in the library, was suspended over the stage amid
evergreens and flowers; the stage was filled with professors
and visiting dignitaries, and the main floor with an attentive,
intelligent audience. After prayer by our new Chaplain, Rev.
Samuel A. Steel, the Hon. B. Johnson Barbour, a short and
rather compactly built gentleman of about sixty, then President
of the Alumni Society, arose and in a deliberate conversational
style said: "The Alumni are to honor themselves in
honoring a great and good man—great in the fullness of his
knowledge and good in all that constitutes the true Christian

gentleman. At the request of the Alumni, their honored
brother has come with full knowledge and filial love to tell the
story of his noble life. I take pleasure in introducing Rev.
John A. Broadus, of the Southern Baptist Theological Seminary."

I had never seen or heard Dr. Broadus before, but later had
the good fortune to attend several sermons and lectures, and to
meet him socially. On that day he appeared about forty-five
years of age, five feet eight inches high, and to weigh one
hundred and fifty pounds. He had a fine suit of black hair
parted well to the left and worn a trifle long, short chin and
side whiskers of similar shade slightly sprinkled with gray—
no moustache; his forehead was broad and full, but not high,
which inclined to give the square upper face; nose shapely,
well-proportioned with full apex; mouth and lips of good size,
the latter when closed indicating firmness, resolution and positiveness;
voice clear, sonorous, of abundant volume and
depth, easily filling the remotest part of the Hall. His dress
was of the provincial black broad-cloth, coat-skirt closed in
front and of moderate length; turned-down collar and small
black cravat hand tied. He arose without hestitation and was
absolutely at ease in reading his manuscript in a serious style
for more than an hour. To me there was something pleasant,
yet sad, in his face—even his voice and every slight gesture,
for these were few, seemed to carry an element of pathos and
seriousness, a deep feeling for the personality under consideration.
I recognized from the start that it was no ordinary
man speaking or being spoken of, so quietly sat near the front
to imbibe the beautifully expressed thoughts. Mr. Bayard,
who sat upon the stage in my easy view, pronounced it the
finest panegyric to which he had ever listened, and I a youth
was made almost to realize that Gessner Harrison had been a
part of and inseparable from my own life.

I shall never forget how realistic he portrayed in smooth,
rounded sentences the outer and inner life of his great teacher
—one of the three first medical graduates of the University
(1827), who, in addition to and coexistent with his professional
studies, pursued and mastered Latin and Greek to such
a phenomenal degree under that great scholar George Long—
the University's first professor of Ancient Languages—as to

be considered by him, when recalled to England for the professorship
of Greek in the University of London, his only
worthy and suitable successor—a preference when conveyed
to the Board of Visitors that found a speedy and favorable
recognition. Nor can I pass out of memory the vivid description
of that great man's kind and gentle nature, gifted intellect,
scholarly attainments, generous impulses, self-sacrificing character—his
life mainly for others, his death for another, his unstinted
endeavors for the stimulation of thorough scholarship,
his very blood for bettering the University he so loved and
cherished during the thirty or more years of active and continued
service, in much of which he discharged so satisfactorily
the additional and onerous duties of Chairman. Who of those
present can fail to recall portions of that masterly effort?

He fell amid the storm of war. Three years earlier and
the death of Gessner Harrison would have stirred the whole
South but he fell almost as unnoticed as falls a single drop into
the stormy sea. To this day it is sometimes asked by intelligent
men where the famous professor is, and what he is doing.
Already when he died the hearts of men were becoming filled
with the love of our great military leaders, that love which
afterwards grew into an absorbing passion—inter arma silent
litterae. And so it is likely that the young of to-day can
scarcely believe, the old cannot without difficulty recall, how
widely known, how highly honored and admired, how warmly
loved, was the mere civilian, the quiet and unpretending Professor
of 1859. It is surely worth while, then, not only out of
respect for his honored memory, but for our own sake, and for
sweet learning's sake, that we should spend an hour here, so
near to his old lecture-room, to his home, and his grave, in
reminding ourselves and telling to all whom our voices can
reach what a man he was, and what a work he performed . . .

There was nothing very striking in the appearance of young
Gessner Harrison when he came to the University. He was
rather below the middle height, with a low forehead, and a head
whose general shape was quite an exception to the rules of
Phrenology; his lips were too full for beauty, and the face
altogether was homely, with one exception—his dark eyes were
sincerely beautiful and expressive. In truth, that eye would
express, all unconsciously to him, not only meditation, but

every phase of feeling; and, as the years went on, it seemed to
a close observer to hide, in its quiet depths, all he had thought,
all he had suffered, all he had become—the whole world of his
inner life. Those fine eyes, which were, no doubt, a little
downcast when he first diffidently met the Professors. with
the ruddy cheeks which had pleased the school-girls, and a voice
most of whose tones were quite pleasing and some of them
exceedingly sweet, made no small amends for his general
homeliness. . . .

Gessner Harrison and his brother would neither visit or
study on Sunday, so when, in alphabetic sequence, they received
from Mr. Jefferson their invitation to dine with him on
a certain Sabbath, they wrote declining the honor, with full explanation
of their strict training and a hesitation to displease
their father. At this instance of filial piety Mr. Jefferson, in
a note to them, expressed much gratification, and insisted that
they come on a certain week-day. They went, were received
with singular courtesy and spent hours of great enjoyment,
being, as the Faculty, in a tribute to Mr. Jefferson's memory
the following year, said had often been true of themselves—
instructed and delighted by the rare and versatile powers of
that intellect which time had enriched with facts without detracting
from its luster, and charmed with those irresistible
manners which were dictated by delicacy and benevolence. . . .

There is something sublime in the spectacle of an unpretending,
quiet, but deeply earnest and conscientious man,
with the classical education of a great commonwealth or of
the whole States, resting upon him, and slowly lifting up
himself and his burden towards what they are capable of reaching.
It was thus that Gessner Harrison toiled and suffered in
this University for thirty-one years. And not in vain. During
the latter years of this period, he was accustomed to say
that pupils were coming to him from the leading preparatory
schools with a better knowledge of Latin and Greek than
twenty years or so before was carried away by his graduates.
It is marvelous to our older men, when they remember how
generally and in how high a degree the standard of education
was raised in Virginia and in the South, between 1830 and
1860. Let it never be forgotten that the University of Virginia
did this; and there is no invidious comparison in saying

that, far beyond any other man, it was done by the University
Professor of Ancient Languages. His two scholarly successors
have often remarked—we hardly know how we could get
on at all if it were not for what Dr. Harrison did before
us. . . .

In his teaching Dr. Harrison promptly turned away from the
existing English methods of classical instruction—viz., teaching
the mere facts of Latin or Greek usage as facts and strove
after the rational explanation and philosophical systematization
of these facts. Hence, he turned with lively interest to
what the Germans were beginning to do—using it as materials
and encouragement for his own laborious studies. He had already
been several years at work when the modern Science
of Language had its birth and fully recognized that one had to
learn Sanskrit in order to understand and explain the classic
languages. This is now universal among respectable professors,
but for years and years it was applied in this University
alone of American institutions. In fact, he was pushing these
applications when they were still unknown in the teaching
of English Universities, and existed at only a very few points
in Germany. . . .

It may be added that as a lecturer, Dr. Harrison's style,
though peculiar and having obvious faults was much better
than in writing. He had not a ready command of expression;
and his first statements of an idea were often partial, involved,
and obscure. But he perfectly knew—a thing not very common—when
he had and when he had not, made himself clear,
and never relinquished his efforts until the greater part of his
audience saw clearly. He made constant use of the blackboard,
often drawing quaint diagrams to assist the comprehension
of the abstractions of syntax and he enlivened attention by
frequent and apparently spontaneous gushes of homely humor,
as racy as it was peculiar. . . .

For nothing was he more remarkable than his robust common
sense—that which he applied not merely to common
things, but to his philological studies. The inductive method
of inquiry means common sense, as opposed to mere speculative
theorizing, and he studied language in a plain, common-sense
way. Along with this he had a very sound judgment, so when
he thoroughly understood a question and had patiently considered

it, his judgment was exceedingly apt to be correct, and in
this those who knew him had the greatest confidence. His examination
of all questions, in study or practical life, was
marked by patient thinking, that sublimest of intellectual virtues;
and his studies were all conducted with the steady industry
which ought to be so common but is so rare, which is the
condition of accurate scholarship of all substantial and symmetrical
knowledge. It is true that in apparent contrast with
these qualities, he appeared given to procrastination—due to
his being overworked. He possessed great courage, both physical
and moral, and was as unflinching as a rock. He had an
unutterable contempt for sham and pretentiousness, and himself
never failed to speak and act with sincerity and candor. He
had a generosity of nature in the broadest sense, and that beautiful
delicacy which we so much admire in women—delicate
consideration for the feelings of others, and delicate tact in
sparing their feelings, even when something difficult or painful
has to be said. His family-relations were simply charming.
His daughters—and that is one test of a man's character—
regarded him not with mere ordinary filial admiration and
affection, but with unutterable reverence, and, at the same time,
a passionate fondness. His sympathies were as prompt and
as tender as a woman's, and from him all friends sought counsel
when in trouble and never in vain. Nor did he wait to be
sought, as upon a newly arrived family it was his delight to
call and extend pleasantries of conversation as well as material
comfort. A foreigner with apparent good was given countenance,
and the wounded Union soldiers, brought to the University
after the first battle of Manassas, were visited repeatedly
in their dormitories by him, who, although then only
himself a visitor there and intensely Southern, administered
to their wounds and their spiritual good. . . .

With such abilities and attainments, and such a character,
it is not strange that Dr. Harrison so powerfully impressed
himself upon his pupils. Not only the hundreds of those who
are now professors or other teachers, but many who are occupied
with matters widely remote from Latin and Greek, are
still constantly recalling his favorite ideas and characteristic
expressions, and, what is of more consequence, their minds
have taken shape and their characters borrowed tone from its

influence. In every grade of teaching it is even more important
to consider what your teacher is than what he knows. Two
years more and it will be fifty years since the University of
Virginia was opened. In this checkered half-century it has
achieved results which, considering all the difficulties of the
situation, form a just occasion for wonder and rejoicing.
A truly great institution of learning cannot be created in a
short time. It must grow; must gradually form its atmosphere,
gather its association, hand down its honored names and inspiring
traditions. The life we have been considering is, perhaps,
more closely connected than any other with the history
of this University and the constitution of its prestige. But
Gessner Harrison is only one of the many noble men who have
spent their strength in advancing its usefulness and building
up its reputation. The noblest legacy they have left us is this
—that the very genius of the place is work. No professor or
student of susceptible soul can establish himself here without
feeling that there breathes through all the air this spirit of work
—a noble rage for knowing and for teaching. This is the glory
and the power of the institution which boasts so many illustrious
names among its Visitors, its Faculty, and its Alumni.
And let it be the last word spoken here to-day concerning
Gessner Harrison, spoken, as it were, in his name to the professors
and the students of the University he loved so well
—Sirs, Brothers, "fear God and work."

Dr. Broadus married for his first wife a daughter of Gessner
Harrison, and, therefore, in the dual relationship of pupil
and son-in-law was fitted singularly, perhaps, beyond all
others, for correctly unfolding the life of one bound by such
close and affectionate ties. His admiration and reverence
for the man never diminished, in fact increased with years,
and when he came to dedicate what might be termed his
master work—Commentary on Matthew—it was in these
words: "To the cherished memory of Gessner Harrison, M.D.,
for many years professor of Ancient Languages in the University
of Virginia. At your feet I learned to love Greek, and
my love of the Bible was fostered by your earnest devoutness.
Were you still among us, you would kindly welcome the fruit
of study, which now I can only lay upon your tomb; and
would gladly accept any help it can give towards understanding

the blessed word of God, the treasure of our common Christianity,
whose consolations and hopes sustained you in life and
in death, and went with you into the unseen and eternal.

Wednesday night—Joint Celebration. This annual entertainment
was the result of the combined efforts of the two
literary societies, Jeff. and Wash., and had for its chief attraction
an address by some distinguished personage—this year
by Senator Bayard, of Delaware. Here also I was one of the
marshals aiding as best I could in disposing satisfactorily—
an impossibility—of a more than comfortable number to fill
the Hall, many, myself included, having to take refuge in the
windows. The colors of the two societies, having their respective
mottoes inscribed in gold letters hung over the stage
in graceful folds, while on the stage sat the professors and
other eminent gentlemen, including Gov. Walker, Ex-Gov.
Swann, Rev. Dr. John A. Broadus, Rev. Dr. J. L. M. Curry,
Thomas Jefferson Randolph, Lieut-Gov. Marye, Hon. B.
Johnson Barbour, etc. After prayer by Dr. Curry, the speaker
was introduced in a few well-chosen sentences by Mr. William
Cooper, S. Ca., Chairman of the Joint Committee.

Mr. Bayard arose with a pleasant smile, first addressing
himself, with a slight bow to the stage occupants and then the
audience. He was in the regulation evening dress, and held
in his hands a very thin black portfolio containing the manuscript
of his address, which he untied and opened as he advanced
towards the small stand placed for its support. To this
he referred frequently, reading page after page, but occasionally
gave emphasis to favored and telling passages in delightful
extemporaneous oratory. He stood erect, being at least six
feet one inch high, forty-five years of age, and weighing two
hundred pounds. His shoulders were broad, thick and square;
face clean shaven, bearing in repose a kind, gentle expression;
nose well-developed, slightly of the Roman type; mouth and
lips of good size; eyes bluish-gray, bright and penetrating;
complexion clear, healthy, bordering on the sanguine; hair
abundant, chestnut-brown, parted well to the left and slightly
long. His subject was, "True education and personal honor,"

and throughout the hour he delighted every one present
by his clear resounding voice, well-accentuated English, noble
and lofty sentiments. We can only include here a few excerpts:

The duty here commenced is to cease only with your lives
—and your efforts should be to discipline your reasoning
powers; to raise higher and higher the standard of excellence;
to enlarge your sympathies with the most gifted minds of all
ages; to learn the history of what man has been and has done,
as the evidence of what he may be and can do. These are
paths in which the further you advance the more worthily
will you deal with the gifts of reason, thought and language—
of leisure and opportunity. Latin and Greek now and ever
will continue to form the essential basis of a truly liberal education
and the only sound basis for an accurate comprehension
of the two requisite modern languages—French and German;
and whilst language continues to be the organ of human
thought and human influence, they will be necessary to every
system of higher education.

The lever, pulley, wedge, screw, wheel and axle, and incline
plane, form the basis of all mechanical arts, and all power arranged
in defiance of, or in disregard of these simple primary
principles, will be in vain; so likewise in this life of ours, in
all our social and political relations, in order to proceed with
usefulness and safety our action must be based upon true principles.
You will soon be called from these calm shades into
the turmoil of active life where you must deal with, and have
effect upon the passions, interests, vices and virtues of your
fellow-men. Do not forget or underrate your responsibilities,
as you are "select men," to whose custody severally a "talent"
has been entrusted; it is yours, not alone for safe keeping, but
for increase. It must be employed; if idly laid away, judgment
of condemnation will be pronounced against you. A nation
cannot be elevated in its culture and character from below, but
from the upper table-lands of thought, feeling and knowledge;
and hence arises the grave importance of the example set by
those in authority to the people, and which, for better or for
worse, will insinuate itself into the mass.

The low morals, manners and habits of a ruler may filter
down and degrade his countrymen, so that succeeding rulers

University—Randall Dormitory

(Erected 1899)

may be chosen through depraved judgment and sentiment.
The effect of a complicated mass of machinery in full motion
is similar to that which you will experience upon your entrance
into the busy workshop of human affairs. You will be constantly
mistaking effects for causes, weaknesses for powers,
and shams for realities. But experience will enable you to discern
the true conditions upon which human affairs are transacted.
As in physics so in human government, a few primary
principles, certain and necessary virtues must be found
and observed, or the objects for which government was ordained
among men can never be accomplished. The founders
of our government were truthful, honest, constant, frugal, industrious
and brave—adversity had been their nurse—and
naturally they based their organic laws on these principles, so
that they became its motive power, the inspiring sentiment of
the entire scheme. And it is upon the preservation and constant
exercise of these simple virtues of the founders that the
happiness and safety of our country depend. It was designed
for a people like themselves, totally unfit for a people unlike
them, and any attempts to engraft upon it a government of
different ideas and principles can be but the commencement
of loss, sorrow, and certain failure. If our Constitution has
been irreparably invaded, it has been because the virtues which
gave it birth have fallen into disuse, and the hands and brains
of the invaders have been actuated more by hatred than a
love of justice, by a love of gain than a love of truth, and by a
fear of temporary local discontent rather than the courage
necessary to enable them to stand by their duty. Virtuous
qualities, which alone can create and keep a State, are personal
and individual, and when possessed by leaders influence the
masses, but above these virtues floats that fine aroma of sentiment
and character—personal honor—delicate and sensitive
yet more powerful than armies, without marketable value
yet outweighing all things purchasable, undefined and perhaps
undefinable, but always accurate, the first born child of good
faith and kindly feeling, which guides good men when their
mental powers are obscured by doubt, and to deny the existence
of which would involve the degradation of the human
species; this is the moral conscience of the great, occupying
the place of virtue, and gives birth to the noblest deeds. These
essential qualities are in great danger of falling into disuse
in the government of this country, since now the real governing
powers are not those which are apparent, owing to the system
of incorporation being so widely extended as to allow the
aggregation of wealth, consequently power, in the hands of
certain artificial persons, as contradistinguished from natural
persons, thereby enabling them to exert an influence not contemplated
by our constitution of government, which bids fair
to build up a power behind the throne greater than the throne
itself, and to control the States and the general government
by the creatures of their own laws. While our system nowhere
warrants the execution of political power by a corporation,
yet, in fact, corporations do hold, through their agents and
members, political powers at this day never dreamed of by
the founders of our government, and but little comprehended
by the people of our time. A nation devoted to money-getting
must rely upon mercenaries to protect its wealth, and ofttimes
falls a prey to the very baseness it has invoked to its aid.
And such, I fear, is one of the greatest difficulties which you
will be called upon to meet—the regeneration, purification and
elevation of our political system. No one virtue is a greater
necessity in human society than simple truth; surely no social
crime is more dangerous than a lie, and the man who utters it,
or palters with the truth, should be considered a public enemy,
unworthy of any post of honor or profit. Truth in the historian,
ruler, legislator, and the affairs of men is the keystone.
Do not accustom yourself to consider debt only as an inconvenience—you
will find it a calamity. Let it be your first care
not to be in any man's debt. Happiness flows from constant
industry; labor is the creator of all the benefits we enjoy;
there is no cure for low spirits like being at hard work, and
never was there more need for it than now and here in the
South. But great as is all the scattered wealth of Virginia,
you have a moral inheritance infinitely greater and more
valuable, in the memory and character of the great and good
men whose forms have once again been clasped to the breast
of the land that gave them birth, and which so many of them
died to defend. "We would not give our dead Lee for any
living soldier," is the proud response of every true Virginian.
And what wonder? Even he, conscientious as he was able,
and modest as he was brave, was never so powerful in life
as now in death. His pure spirit, freed from earthly contact,
speaks in tones of gentle admonition to us all—aye, to all. Let
me, then, leave you with him, in the hope that all may emulate
his illustrious example and attain his greatest ambition:

After the applause had subsided from this very acceptable
address, Professor Holmes announced the fortunate winner
of the Magazine Medal, and conferred the same upon Mr. R.
T. W. Duke, Jr., Va., who in a few minutes' speech delighted
the audience with brilliant thoughts and beautiful delivery—
gifts which in later years have grown so much brighter and
made him the distinguished Virginian that he is.

At the conclusion of these exercises as the audience began
dispersing, I recognized it a favorable time for presenting
myself with congratulations to Mr. Bayard. Some days
before I had received from my uncle, Ex-Gov. Robert J. Reynolds,
of Delaware, a very warm letter of introduction, which
was in my pocket, and while waiting and watching for a pause
in the almost ceaseless hand-shaking, I happened to see Professor
Venable beckoning to me from the stage, and as I
responded to his summons he carelessly placed his arms around
my shoulders, saying: "I want you to meet your Senator and
Gov. Swann, who are now talking together and stopping with
me." A moment later in presenting me he added a word of
pleasantry, "This is the only Blue Hen's chicken we have had
during the present session." After a courteous bow and a
hearty shake of the hands, I supplemented the personal introduction
with Uncle's letter, which Mr. Bayard hurriedly read,
then expressed pleasure in having his State represented by a
nephew of one he so highly esteemed. His manner towards
me was thoroughly cordial and friendly while that of Ex-Gov.
Swann was correspondingly reserved—almost frigid. We
conversed for five or more minutes, until the Hall was cleared,
drifted out behind the crowd, and in bidding good night he
expressed the hope of another interview before returning
northward.

Thursday Morning—Commencement or Final Day. At 10
o'ck. the students assembled on the Lawn in front of the
Rotunda, where they and others formed in line and order—
Board of Visitors, Faculty, Alumni, graduates, proficients,
those of distinction, and the general body—and proceeded to
the Public Hall, where the diplomas of varying rank were to
be conferred. The exercises were opened with prayer by Rev.
S. A. Steel, after which the Chairman, Professor Venable,
called in turn the names of the successful candidates in each
department, who, one by one, responded by walking upon the
stage to receive from his hands the evidence of their hard-earned
honors. This distribution continued for, at least, an
hour, and after a half hour's intermission, slightly beyond
midday, the Alumni, friends, and students again assembled in
the Hall to hear the annual address by Ex-Gov. Swann, of
Maryland. After an invocation by Rev. Dr. John A. Broadus,
the Alumni Society's President, Hon. B. Johnson Barbour, introduced
the speaker in a happy manner: "It affords me great
pleasure that one of our most distinguished and busy members
has thrown off the mantle of toil for a brief spell in order to be
with us to-day to play the major part in these exercises. He
comes to us no stranger—a Virginian by birth, a Marylander
by adoption, who in his affiliated State has been the recipient
of unusual confidence and honors, since he has occupied many
of the most exalted positions in the gift of his people—
President of a great railroad, banker, legislator, Mayor of a
great city, Governor, Senator, and Congressman. I take great
pleasure in introducing the Hon. Thomas Swann, of Maryland."

Mr. Swann arose deliberately, bowed slightly, and advanced
to the small stand upon which he placed his printed manuscript,
and, with eyes seldom diverted read closely its context for
nearly two hours. His personality was well-calculated to
impress the youthful as being somewhat phlegmatic and sluggish,
possessing a sanguine temperament, about sixty years
of age, beyond the average size—weighing possibly two hundred
and twenty pounds—broad square thick shoulders, large
straight face without angles, lower portion full; forehead broad
and prominent; eyes clear with deep orbits; nose straight and
well-formed; moustache and beard heavy, the latter of good

length, hair abundant and parted well to the left. He had
a stern positive look, deep sonorous voice, but articulated
rather indistinctly, somewhat muffled, allowing those in the
remote distance to catch easily the sound but not the clear
interpretation. We include here a few excerpts:

Education, freedom to all men, and the unrestricted blessings
of religious toleration, comprise the immortal legacy,
which Thomas Jefferson, the author of the Declaration of Independence
bequeathed to his countrymen. I must not, however,
overlook, as co-laborers in the great field of human progress,
the cherished names of Washington, Madison, Henry,
Monroe and others, now sleeping within your borders, whose
fame is interwoven with the glory and renown of the whole
country, as well as the triumphs of free government throughout
the world. The Federal Constitution was not the result
of untried experiment, and at that early period of our existence
it was not easy to define where the powers of the Federal
Government ended, and at what point those of the States began.
The framers of the Constitution looked to no contingencies
as possible to spring up from this source, nor did they
believe that any conflict of jurisdiction was ever likely to occur.
In guarding against centralization they retained the local
jurisdiction of the States, but did not provide with equal explicitness
for the dangers to which they were exposed under
a just and equitable construction of the powers of the States
in their claim to unlimited and absolute sovereignty. Could
this adjustment have taken place at that early day, what sacrifice
of life and wealth would have been avoided.

The condition of the world now points to a steady advance
of all those improved ideas which have marked the progress
of free government heretofore. England, France, Germany,
Spain, and other countries, are fast yielding to new and more
liberal theories of government, through a desire to recognize
the growing power of the people, who insist that the past
errors of the world be corrected. The Roman government was
the first to strike the mask from the false theories and corruptions
which had so long prevailed, but flushed with greed for
conquest and dominion her ambition knew no bounds, until
the dying admonition of Augustus came as a warning against
their mad career of universal dominion. Our American Revolution

was the next advance of popular (Republican) Government,
when it made its last grand rally, long after Carthage,
Greece, and Rome had yielded to the corruptions of a licentious
age and existed only in the magnificence and grandeur of
their ruins.

The arguments against territorial enlargement, and the
danger of expansion in a Republic, has already been refuted
successfully. The theory of Hamilton and Montesquieu—
that a Republic should have a small territory, or it cannot
exist—in our experience has been proven obsolete and erroneous,
since steam, telegraphy, electricity, eager exchange of
scientific, mechanical and industrial thought, tend to annihilate
space and to bring distant points together. The Monroe
doctrine—that no foreign potentate or power will again be permitted
to acquire a foothold upon this Continent with institutions
hostile to our own—was then, and continues now, the living
test of American statesmanship in controlling the destinies
of this whole continent. Even Canada, the established stronghold
of Great Britain, must sooner or later yield to the inevitable
laws of progress, and I need not ask how such a struggle
is likely to terminate? Cuba and Mexico in due time will follow
the same example. The advantages of our institutions,
climate, soil, and the incalculable wealth of our agricultural
and mineral resources have made the march of empire continuous—oceans
have been chained together while men have
been sleeping, by the increasing pressure of inevitable expansion.
Our natural possibilities are beyond computation, and
always at ready command, so that hostile invasion would be
absolute madness. With inducements held out, and the irritations
convulsing the Old World the close of this century may
find us with a hundred million souls, and large territory for
increased numbers. Our people have achieved astounding
success in the mechanical arts, practical inventions, navigation,
agriculture manufacturing, mining, and the various uses of
applied chemistry. Our signal service anticipates heat and
cold, protecting persons and property against dangerous surprises.
How far these developments are to go before reaching
a culmination is hazardous to conjecture, but certain it is that
the future is more full of hope than the past, prosperous as it
has been.

We are destined to become the strongest maritime power of
the world, as the territorial policy of England will prove a
source of weakness and cause the scepter she now holds to fall
into our hands. Our scientific fortifications and coast defences
make us impregnable, and limit our warfare to the sea. We
recognize the need of no foreign power as a support, being
absolutely self-reliant and entirely independent of all. We
need concern ourselves little whether our advance march meets
with interference, or whether a large standing army and
navy be maintained, as under all circumstances, without the
least delay, all contingencies can readily be met from within.
The American people will submit hereafter to no compromise
of freedom. Her foundations have been laid broad and deep,
and they will be strengthened as the claims of humanity and
universal equality, in all nations and among all people struggling
for liberty, may demand our sympathies. With such an
inheritance we are not without responsibility for increased vigilance,
that our duties are not overlooked or treated with indifference,
for we are admonished by the experience of all
ages, that the tendency of human power has ever been to steal
from the hands of the many to the few. The States must
ever constitute a most important and conservative agency in
our complex system, and must be protected in the exercise of
all the rights secured to them by the Constitution, as the surest
means of protection against anarchy and usurpation. The
transfer of the powers of the States to the central government
cannot fail to lead to the most perilous results, if permitted to
go on, and even to complication in the end, which may effect
the duration of the Republic. The people cannot watch with
too much jealousy this tendency to consolidation in a government
like ours.

To-day under a common flag, with the past forgotten and
every star in its appropriate sphere, we may be permitted to
rejoice together in that glorious future which I have endeavored
feebly to foreshadow. Thanks to Almighty God,
we are still Americans, all; and the fiat has gone forth
throughout this land, that the heritage bequeathed to us by
the blood of our fathers can never be permitted to pass into
other hands.

Scarcely had the echoes of applause ceased from Mr.

Swann's address when loud and repeated calls were made for
Gov. Walker, then the chief executive of the State, who,
without hesitation, advanced to the front of the stage and
expressed something beyond delight in being present at the
Commencement. That his public duties were many and while
this attendance might be considered one, he accepted it far
more as an unalloyed pleasure; that according to his conviction
there were only three institutions in our country to which the
friends of highest learning could look with confidence, and this
University is one of those—the only one in the South, etc.
We undergraduates of the academic department were impressed
less favorably with Mr. Swann's address than that of
Mr. Bayard's—a fact, no doubt, largely due to the two subjects,
the one somewhat heavy and appealing to the legal and historical
mind, the other more buoyant and susceptible of easy
digestion and assimilation by the average student. At the
same time there was a great difference in the manner of delivery
and personality of the two men—Mr. Swann with a cold
austere inanimate expression, a deep monotone voice softened
and modulated seldom, and that upon a subject, and at
an hour, little calculated to inspire a high degree of appreciation;
Mr. Bayard, the evening before, with a natural vein of
humor, pleasantry, younger life, and timely smiling, indicative
of an inspiration from the occasion, as though joyed and in
sympathy with the surrounding atmosphere he breathed. Beyond
this, however, the record of the two in public life bore
strong contrast, that which was known to most of us—Mr.
Bayard had always championed the "Southern Cause," and
whether in or out of office never failed in effort to ameliorate
the suffering and to lighten the yoke of adversity thrust upon
her people; Mr. Swann had been loyal to the Union, had little
sympathy with the South's struggle for freedom and independence,
had been the Republican governor of Maryland, near
the close of the Civil War, when most of her honorable citizens
were disfranchised owing to their southern sentiments,
and while Governor had abandoned the severe radical principles
of Republicanism for those of Democracy, then gaining
ascendancy—a sagacity resulting in his being sent to Congress
by his new affiliated party, having just been re-elected the previous
fall for a third term. In spite of these youthful impressions,
however, his address was pronounced by those of maturer
years to have been timely, encouraging, and handled
masterly without giving the slightest offence—indeed, with
the realization of intervening occurrences it was filled with
prophetic visions.

About 4 o'ck. that afternoon the Alumni assembled at
Massey's dining hall, north end of West Range, for the
annual banquet, which extended over a number of hours—
far into the night—when also came into being the student's
farewell function of the session—Final Ball—which was
held in the Rotunda (Library room) and for whose pleasures
most of our social contingent had not only remained over
but had been instrumental in having present their own and the
other fellows' sisters, in whom they took more than a passing
interest. In addition to this influx of fair strangers came
others—annual pilgrims to the Mecca, who, from previous
years' experience, accepted gladly renewed invitations to visit
professors' and other families to whom they had the good
fortune of being connected by ties of relation or friendship.
It was a season when every one at the University, and many
in Charlottesville, kept open house, dispensing hospitality
without reserve, thus contributing easily with the local debutantes
nearly a hundred fair ones, possessing in high degree
grace and charm—mostly ultra-dressed and bedecked with a
profusion of jewels and flowers—that gave a brilliancy and
redolence singularly delightful. Truly it was here that stout,
chivalrous and manly hearts met, charmed, courted, loved and
won fair maidens—the beauty and pride of famed Southland.

During the few hours between dinner and supper I made
ready for leaving on the late train (1.45 A. M.), storing for
safety the several room articles to be used in subsequent years,
packing my two trunks and grip, and sending these to the
depot in Charlottesville to await checking upon my arrival
near train time. After taking supper, the last meal served at
the dining hall that session, several of us assembled in a fellow-student's
room on West Range, and while chatting there
over our parting, those not to return, our likely vacation
doings, etc., we all decided to go around to the Ball Room to
see its degree of readiness—decorations, metamorphosed condition,
cleared for foot rather than head action, illumination,

etc.—and en route we purposely passed the Alumni banqueting
hall, which had windows down from the top and curtains
to veil the lower sash, thereby cutting off most of the public
gaze. Attracted, however, by the audible speaking and noise
within we ventured upon the small porch on the north front
of the hall, and slightly opened one of the double doors in
order to see more and not be seen. Professor Southall was
responding to a toast in a most eloquent manner, and as he
neared the finish, Professor Venable, seeing the door ajar and
portions of several faces in the darkness, arose from his table
and came over towards us in order—we thought to close the
door—to invite us within as partakers of the good things he
and they had already enjoyed ad nauseam. At first we hesitated,
but he was so insistent, in fact commanding, that there
was nothing to do but accept, consequently the six or eight
of us filed in and seated ourselves at one of the round tables
to the right of the door, where in a few moments he assigned
two waiters, whom he directed to look after our comfort by
serving as much as desired of the bountiful overflow. For
more than an hour we enjoyed to our heart's content the
tempting viands spread before us, some even imbibing the
sparkling wines that seemingly flowed continuously as from
a bubbling fountain. But beyond the precious morsels for the
body came that delightful wit and humor of the speakers for
the mind—surely a happy combination, and one the more appreciated
since it came as a complete surprise, and to me a
first introduction to postprandial delights.

When nearing the close, shortly after 9 o'ck, I approached
Professor Venable, who stood with a party of gentlemen in
conversation, to bid him good-bye and to express thanks for
this last evidence of generous hospitality, whereupon he laughingly
remarked: "One good turn deserves another; won't you
see that Senator Bayard and Gov. Swann get to my house
safely? I will be detained here with the Governor (Walker)
and a Committee for fifteen or twenty minutes, after which
I will join them." Of course I was only too delighted to accede
to the request, and at once acquainted the two gentlemen
of the service assigned me and that I awaited their pleasure.
I dare say that Professor Venable well-remembered my refusal
of wine at his own table, and felt in a measure relieved in having

University—Medical Class

(1876-77)

FACING 268

found one who, without fear or favor, could act as pilot
to those that had smiled too often in the face of Bacchus. On
the way we three, perforce, were very close friends, but it
remained for me to do most of the talking, until by slow
steps we had nearly reached Jeff. Hall, and the movements
of the distinguished were becoming more unsteady, when Gov.
Swann had coherent presence of mind to say: "Why Senator!
If this were day strangers seeing us might think our irregular
gait due to excessive drink rather than to the very
uneven pavement." Over this they chuckled not a little, thinking
possibly thereby that the innocent had been deceived. I
must confess to a sense of relief when I had landed safely my
precious charge at their destination. Since then it has been
my good fortune to meet Mr. Bayard a number of times,
the last shortly before his death, 1898, when our conversations
were most entertaining and enjoyable, as his vast experience
and knowledge of people and places; extraordinary memory for
names, faces, dates and instances; affability and sincereness;
fluency and ready inclination to have others share his knowledge,
rendered him always a charming personality, a courtly
gentleman, an unforgetting friend. I never saw Mr. Swann
after bidding him farewell that night. He died near Leesburg,
Va., July 24, 1883, and two days later was buried in Greenmount
Cemetery, Baltimore. Near noon of his funeral day
I happened to be walking down Charles Street, and when
approaching Saratoga Street saw a hearse and several carriages
drive up in front of Old St. Paul's Church. It was a
beautiful day, not excessively hot, so I patiently waited the
entrance into the sanctuary of the cortège with its few attendants,
and inquired of an officer standing near, whose
funeral it was, only to receive the surprising reply: "Governor
Swann's." Out of respect to his memory and our slight acquaintance
I entered the church and remained until the service
was concluded, and while there could not help being impressed
with the fact—how transient is greatness! For a man in life
to have sustained to the State and city, during so many years,
such close relationship, to have occupied the many exalted
positions of trust and confidence—gifts of corporations as well
as of the people—now in death to be allowed to go to his
final rest followed by a mere handful of mourners and friends
seemed truly sad, yes, almost incredible, but such was the
irony of fate. That night after leaving these two gentlemen
at Professor Venable's I went to the Library, where finding
the Ball in full swing, I remained until 1 o'ck, then hastened
to the depot for my homeward train—thus ended my first
session.