University of Virginia Library

CHAPTER XXV

University Training, Selection and Criticism

So often we hear from even the knowing—it makes little
difference where a young man receives his educational training,
for after all it is in the man—that many accept it as a
self-evident fact, failing to accord the expression serious
thought as well as to discriminate between the half and whole
truth. If the saying ever found earnest recognition it never
was by the youth of our land when preparing for his specific
college or university, or during attendance thereon, for then
a loyalty to his own, indeed a positive preference, pervades
his nature that challenges the admiration of matured elders
conscious of its sophistry. The young man then is apt to
think that all he enjoys is best—institution, professors, laboratories,
museums, gymnasium, athletic-grounds and teams,
even local girls, climate and domestic service—all possibly
except board. Certainly that no other in quality quite compares.
To think that his professors of Latin, Greek and
Math. are without equal, despite the honest belief that they
assign the most severe and cruel tasks and demand for each
the strictest account, might seem a trifle irrational, and yet it
conforms to facts.

As he drifts out, however, upon the expanded sea of experience
and observation, coming here and there in contact
with fellow-men—brilliant, capable, talented, towering along
with himself towards the accepted summit of the various
honorable pursuits; those still remembering much of their

French, German, logic, ethics and psychology, and using them
with best results when opportunity presents—he no longer sees
through a glass darkly, but realizes the truth, that all institutions
do some good work and turn out good products. After
all it must be borne in mind that the degree of success attained
in life, as measured by the world, determines unfortunately
what the man is, and by many persons that institution might
be considered best which yields relative to her numbers the
most graduates conforming to this standard of public opinion.
Inasmuch as it would be impossible to reach undeniable conclusions
along this line according to merit, not a few prefer
judging institutions by their equipment—able faculty, research
laboratories, fine buildings, writings and discoveries—
believing a tutelage in such an atmosphere not only healthful
but conducive to an after life of contentment and happiness,
possibly prominence. As a fact some students knowingly and
purposely do not seek the best institutions—desiring certain
training as a means towards a livelihood at the smallest monetary
consideration, regardless of the literary surroundings
and culture that so often make for the greatest comfort and
satisfaction in a well-ordered career. Such men believe that
they need only certain useful facts and principles; that the
cheaper and quicker these can be obtained the better, and that
any good institution, of which there are many, will answer
their purpose. But if the more subtle advantages of an educational
training are to be recognized and sought—something
beyond the mere familiarity with essentials of language,
science, philosophy and professions—great differences will be
found to exist between the fountain heads of knowledge, and
the wisest individuals realizing this make fewer mistakes in
preference and selection.

If any university could guarantee to all her matriculants
future monetary prosperity—gain—and that without excessive
effort, then so far as other institutions are concerned,
"Othello's occupation would be gone." The truth is, that
some men in their chosen paths will attain success and others
failure, irrespective of where they were educated, and between
these extremes the most important point—often determined
by chance—is that of having selected the college or university
which in each case will tend towards making success the

greatest and failure the least. Many of us have seen now
and then foolish persons with a college experience without
which they certainly would have been all the greater fools, and
to these especially the choosing of an institution best calculated
to strengthen weakness and to control peculiar talents is of
utmost concern. A diploma seems to imply wisdom and to
sharpen the expectation of all things educational, and that
institution's product which evades the detection of vacant
spots is singularly fortunate. The selection, therefore, in
spite of seriousness, lamentably falls too frequently upon the
young men themselves—parents even evading direct influence
—and at a time when most of all a firm, convincing word
would count for much good.

It would be presumption in those that are disinterested to
assume the roll of adviser to young men, knowing nothing of
their characteristics and little of other institutions than the
one from which they graduated. Indeed, in this day thoughtful
college-bred men hesitate to give advice in such matters
unless appealed to seriously and time be allowed for analyzing
inherent conditions. One must be chary of the idle prattler
with opinions and advice always on tap, free gratis, for usually
they are worth, not what they may cost you if accepted, but
what you paid for them—nothing. In my student period I
proclaimed the University's praises in an unstinted manner,
seeing in her much to commend and little to condemn, but
with the larger experience of years in institutional work and
general observation an intelligent conservatism has replaced
gradually the more volatile and willful enthusiasm of youth,
causing a certain reserve in influencing and directing others
along lines that, although believed best, may not be followed
knowingly and successfully.

Some years ago in conversing with one of my University
contemporaries—one who not only took her high honors but
has attained enviable distinction in his chosen profession, law
—the subject of educating the youth was introduced, when I
casually remarked: "Of course you will send your son to
our old University!" And great was my surprise in receiving
this reply: "Not if I have anything to do with it." Upon
further inquiry, he, with an emphasis indicating previous
thought, frankly continued: "I think the course in law given

there in my day unnecessarily comprehensive in many respects
and woefully deficient in others. During my twenty-five
years of experience with the business world I have found
much she taught useless and much she did not teach useful—
a truth which I believe can be verified by many. One had to
work so hard there to get so little of the practical—that out
of which the living comes. They need an entire recasting of
the teaching matter, a fact that applies to other departments,
notably the academic with which I also was connected." Thus
I gathered his attitude—that in spite of retaining a fondness
for the University he considered her requirements excessive;
that she taught too thoroughly, thereby tending chiefly to
make teachers. Shortly thereafter, while spending a portion
of my summer at the seashore, I came often in contact with
a prominent judge—a graduate of Princeton—who one day
affirmed having a son preparing for college, and upon my remarking,
"of course he will go to Princeton," a reply came
that was also a surprise: "By no means—it is one of the
last institutions in the country to which I would willingly send
a young man." Upon my further inquiry he continued:
"Why, when I entered Princeton thirty years ago the young
instructors and adjuncts assigned to teach me Latin, Greek
and Math., during the first three years, knew scarcely more
about those subjects than I, so it was not until my senior year
that I came in touch with fully matured professors—inspiring,
knowing teachers. My son shall attend an institution that
has one capable professor to teach each branch, and by whom
it will be taught him from beginning to finish. In my opinion
Princeton has turned out during the last generation only two
men beyond the ordinary—John K. Cowen and Woodrow
Wilson, the latter even a divided product—and an institution
with her opportunities, wealth and numbers that can produce
no better record is undeserving the support of its intelligent
alumni." Here I found a good son dissatisfied with a
mother's training, regarding it except one year superficial and
puerile—strange to say, just the antithesis of the complaint
cited against my own University. While this element of
depreciation of and dissatisfaction with one's own is a genuine
human weakness that tends sometimes to make us disavow
a preference to "bear those ills we have than fly to others that
we know not of," yet so far as institutions are concerned these
personal differences of opinion and valuation generally have a
law of compensation that establishes an equilibrium, thereby
happily preventing anywhere a perceptible negative reaction.

I am often asked: "If you had a son would you send him to
the University of Virginia?" And to this I always have the
one reply: "That would depend entirely upon his natural
abilities, characteristics and inclinations"—following with
such explanations as time and necessity demand. There are
at least three types of sons I would hesitate to send there—unfortunately
numerous in this age—all weaklings, undeserving
of kind and considerate parents, and from them a liberal expenditure
of money, as usually they reflect little credit upon
the institution, parents or themselves. First.—Those wishing
without hard mental work—that which only can develop
mind—the credit of a college education through the aid of
favoritism, high-priced tutors and coaches, all tending to produce
a temporary stuffed tortoise, a creature of some facts,
little sense and less reason. Second.—Those in their boyhood
somewhat incorrigible and defiant of discipline, that so
needed to bring them into acceptable manhood, as without it
they will never be able to discipline others—tendencies that
can better be subverted by a military school training, after
which the broader development of the University might be
of great advantage. Third.—Those, fortunately few, desiring
to go through college just for the name or éclat it might
bestow—not for the honor hoped to be conferred upon it by
virtue of their own creditable career and useful life. The
University of Virginia need lay no claim to serving such
veritable sycophants, for her mission is in a more exalted
direction.

It is the grateful son of honest purpose, studious habits,
erudite mind, in a degree self-centered personality—not
younger than eighteen—that feeds best at her shrine. These
will profit by and reflect most the value of her nurturing care
—to whom no institution in our fair land can offer more
congenial opportunities for thorough knowledge or greater
possibilities for furthering satisfactorily the broader development.

Such an unqualified statement would be of little value without

proof—found in the special conditions that cluster around
and characterize that University life:

First.—Its tendency to create self-reliant and self-resourceful
men—but seldom those of haughty independence. From
the day of entrance one was thrown upon his own responsibility—compelled
to look out for himself, to do his own thinking,
studying, planning, selecting and making companions,
perchance friends. There was little time for assisting or
conferring with one another as each was busy solving his
own troubles, taking the keenest pride in obtaining unaided
results. There were no coaches or tutors for rendering the
immediate path easier and the future shorn of its best intellectual
usefulness. We had no money for such, consequently
they could not exist—indeed, each individual became his own
tutor by the hardest work and application, cultivated his own
gray matter and furrowed his own brain sinuses, thereby preventing
their ready obliteration. Each investigated and researched
for himself, soon being convinced that he was nothing
or something—able to stand alone without the prop of
others; each carved a name among his fellow students, no one
did that for you—it may have been high or humble, but you
had yourself alone to commend or condemn for the record.
In a degree this system of individual working without assistance
or conference has a negative side—tending to make
for selfishness, doing the best for self and self alone, unfortunately
a quality that sooner or later unencouraged asserts
itself conspicuously in most persons. But all things considered
it redounds possibly in far greater good than harm
to the young man by making him at so early an age a capable
thinker, a self-reliant and self-assertive personage—ready to
take his position in the world of labor and battle for his rights
meritoriously.

Second.—Its total freedom from hazing or anything
verging towards it—a custom so prevalent at many institutions,
but always as cruel and wicked as it is pernicious and
unmanly. Here one went his way according to pleasure,
without meddling or being meddled with—the first and fourth
year men recognizing no distinction from point of residence
or experience, all being the same in the eyes and respect of
each other. This, however, is no more than would be predicted

from the traditional inheritance of the place—that each
student was accepted to be a gentleman and so held to account.
Fancy if you please any set of men interdicting others
from wearing silk-hats, carrying canes or gloves, or living
at certain desirable places, and you will witness a degree of
legal resentment decidedly unpleasant. Our students, in spite
of the home-life and college spirit from domiciling together,
were just as observant and defendant of the inherent rights
of one another as are men in the broader social world, tolerating
not the slightest encroachment upon manly prerogative—
all was his that the laws of the land granted, irrespective of
age or position; none could have more. It is difficult to think
seriously of one or more reasonable gentlemen desiring to
humiliate, humble, insult or injure another by inflicting personal
harm or abridging inalienable freedom or pleasure, but
when it comes to a body of immature boys, without sufficient
reason and control, influenced and inflamed largely by irrational
impulses, the proposition is different—most anything,
often the unexpected, can happen. It is the difference between
a man and a boy institution that is here to be emphasized
in favor of the University, where the more mature minds
prevailed and controlled—such as could best profit by her
higher teaching. Even the more youthful and buoyant, from
contact with elders and severe tasks, lost all inclination to
plan and effect crusades against the comfort and dignity of
others, so that it was only during the first few days of the
session, in the absence of accumulated work, that we ever
heard of "dykes"—escorting with fire-brands, horns, bells
and vocal demonstration a calacoist (one who visits ladies) to
his destination. I recall two of my years in which even successful
"dykes" did not occur, only several attempts wherein
the innocent prey sagaciously deluded the knowing pursuers.
These callithumpian parades were void of harm, as the subjects
were usually untouched, often entered into the spirit of
the fun, and were taught a wholesome lesson—the wisdom
of keeping one's own counsel and the absurdity of beginning
a university career with social rather than studious inclination.

Third.—Its honor system in so many phases, especially on
examinations, where it afforded so much ease and comfort to

Proctor, M. Green Peyton, B.A., C.E., at sixty
1828-1897

See page 455

FACING 478

the professors, who, during those long hours—9 o'ck, A. M. to
9 o'ck, P. M.—paid little or no attention to what was going on
around them, but sat reading books, magazines or papers, or
saying an occasional word in undertone to a congenial colleague,
who never forgot each other on those trying ordeals.
It likewise brought complete satisfaction to the students,
who recognized that none was trying to get through by
hook or crook—all on the square—each desiring credit only
for that which he honestly deserved. No one ever hinted at
or wanted advantage over others, and had it been offered
without fear of detection or with a monetary bonus, I am confident
that at least nine-tenths would have declined it. Not
that I believe we were better than many young men elsewhere,
but as the very life of the place seemed fashioned upon a code
of honor—an inheritance of years—the entire student community
imbibed the contagion, becoming averse to all things
tricky or unfair, and swearing vengeance against those who
violated a sacred trust or vow. There prevailed an absolute
loyalty to the sentiment, "United we stand, divided we fall,"
and all pledged their honor, yes, their lives, to uphold its
observance—to see that "no guilty man escaped." The
signing of a pledge, therefore, at the conclusion of an examination
paper, that which all had to do, meant exactly what
the words implied—nothing more or less. The violation of
this honor code carried a penalty no one felt equal to bear—
to leave the University at once under student escort, without
consulting the authority or pleasure of Faculty or Visitors.
While this may appear anomalous and doubtful to the unfamiliar,
yet all who have brushed up against that student-life
can testify to its accuracy, and the stranger by visiting
can witness with appalling surprise its beautiful operation. In
my day no one fell from grace, but in previous years several
had been unfortunate, and their example lingered as a veritable
ghost.

Fourth.—Its direct professorial contact—the complete
absence of instructors, adjuncts and assistants of doubtful
knowledge and experience. She believed that her reputation
demanded and her students deserved the best, and fortunately
only such were sought to give instruction—all alike were
taught from first hands, thus reducing to a minimum the

possibility of error in thought, judgment, word or expression.
Everything came from a master mind in so far as years of
careful study and investigation could create, and so far as
acts and statements went we grew almost to believe in their
infallibility.

Fifth.—Its student personnel and contact, which, being of
so high a type, conduced to forming the better and broader
character. The cream of the South was assembled there as
well as the good of other sections, affording a composite social
and friendly set, free from the slightest manifestation of a
difference in caste or quality. No separation or alienation existed
through religion, family, politics or money—for in our
minds all kinds of faith appeared good, all families furnishing
University students stood high, all political parties had redeeming
principles—indeed, despite ours being mostly democratic
we wisely repressed anything offensive to those who
differed—and all kinds of riches were desirable, not indispensable,
for there the poor, poorer and poorest, for none had
wealth, apparently knew no distinction—if they did a charitable
disposition prevented overt display in word and act. The
pompous and arrogant son of wealth had not yet arrived, so
luckily we were beyond the pale of his demoralizing influence.
As a fact none of us was poverty stricken, but all
wisely thought themselves not far removed, consequently
husbanded well their resources and made best their opportunities—that
which contributed largely towards the highest
standard of scholarship. The daily association with such an
honorable body of young men could not be otherwise than
helpful and inspiring, as it reflected so much that was good,
so little that was evil. It is true we had a few exceptions to
this ideal substantial type, for during one of my years I distinctly
remember hearing a distinguished gentleman, the
father of a student, boldly affirm: "I would rather see the
Devil than docility in a young man, an abundant instead of
a scanty sowing of wild oats—as both must come into the
lives of all who make something of themselves, and the
sooner the bad is got out of the system and the settling
process assumed, the better." His son was of the rollicking
kind, after the father's liking, and while his University
career was certainly desultory under passive parental encouragement,

the intervening years have not sufficed for
reaping the crop of his early seeding. Another distinguished
man's son with whom I was identified closely at the University
possessed a similar tendency for a dissolute and
reckless course, but realizing, fortunately, his self-dependency
and the necessity of study, saw his erring way, ere too late,
so that he seemingly sowed without reaping. In spite of
this expressed opinion of the father in question I contend that
both of these young men would have been stronger factors
in the world had they have started and ended with simpler
habits. As a fact this small percentage of such individuals
among us students did little harm beyond themselves, as their
irregular doings were out of public gaze and therefore without
flagrant example.

Apart from the many superior advantages of the University
it may be pardonable to mention several negative observations—those
self-evident to every alumnus and preventive of
the most perfect inspiration and idealism.

First.—As to the honor system. Although this has such
a strict observance throughout the student-life there, it even
possesses an element of weakness—the lack of subsequent
permanence. How is it that young men "live, move and
have their being" in this supposed purer atmosphere—where
the manifestation of justice and the defense of honor at
every step is maintained—upon getting out into the world
often find the sentiment not a veritable graft or inoculation
of their nature for thinking and acting always honorable?
One might think that a residence amid these lofty incentives
would so implant rectitude and right-doing in its votaries as
to disincline them ever afterwards from taking advantage of
questionable opportunities and their fellow-men. While it is
highly gratifying to know that the great majority, especially
those whose student-life extended over a period of years,
stand ever firm in the original faith— true to the ideals she
fashioned and imparted—yet it is correspondingly sad that
some have perverted their careers by the exercise of justice
and righteous acting only when conducing to personal interest
and profit. Some are known to have been willing
partners in disreputable schemes, suspicioned by many, trusted
by few and scathed by the public press; others have had either

too little or too much ambition for advancement, and in failure
have leveled themselves far lower than pride or decency
should have permitted. One, a contemporary of mine—indeed,
an occasional chum—fell so far as to die in the penitentiary a
few days prior to completing a long service; another, whose
attendance came some years later, went so far as to pay the
penalty of his crime upon the gallows, and others could be
mentioned who have sadly strayed from maternal moorings.
In the light of our student environment, the laudable examples
of our worthy instructors, and the ennobling atmosphere that
breathed into our manhood "the soul of life," it seems "passing
strange" that she could have produced a list of base traducers
whose gifts and opportunities were ample for continuous
righteous action and the absolute safeguarding of self,
alumni and honored mother from the stigma of lawless acts.
While we might expect such to be the product of some institutions,
yet here, the nursery and brooder of the honor system,
where it is preached and practiced continually, it becomes a
sad commentary that even a few are destined to waywardness
and to simulate the preacher's sons—go wrong in spite of
wholesome example..

Second.—As to the honor men. Although some who seemingly
profited most by her teaching while students have gone
forth into various pursuits to gain and reflect measureable
distinction, the far larger percentage of those making the
greatest impression upon their times only enjoyed her advantages
one, two, or at best three years—leaving her
threshold without an academic degree. Indeed, in some
instances only several of the separate schools have been passed
through—a training scarcely supposed at the time sufficient
to suggest great expectations. And yet the graduation from
a single school need not be valued lightly, especially when I
recall one of my associates in Latin—an A. B. of Lehigh
University—remarking unsolicitously: "Of the two diplomas
I prefer that just taken; it represents so much more." Of
course I am unable to appreciate fully the significance of the
remark, but he was emphatic in its declaration. As a rule
the academic degree men of most colleges and universities are
the more receptive and refulgent, but this, strange as it may
seem, is not true with those trained at the University of Virginia.

Not that her academic degree men in any way prove
failures, although this may happen, but their number is so
insignificant compared with the non-degree men—those simply
seeking special knowledge along the line of supposed need
and preference—that the latter contribute to her a far larger
sum-total of prestige and renown. It is lamentable now
and then to see her higher degree men as second-rate lawyers,
ordinary newspaper reporters, principals of small academies,
or failures in the commercial world—seeming satisfied to take
life easily after so much drudgery at hard study. Even
many of those graduating in her professional schools with the
attainment of prominence have done so not solely through her
guidance, as many legal lights previous to entering that department
received a bachelor or master degree from another
institution, while not a few of the brightest medical stars
have not been content with her degree alone, but have gone
elsewhere for supplementary clinical courses, thus causing
in each case to be attributed to several institutions conjointly
the laying of that foundation which brought success and
honors.

Third.—As to the fealty of the Alumni, I do not believe
there exists an institution where the college or university
spirit dominates more thoroughly the student life, making
every one while there not only loyal sons but many staunch
friends. Among the hundreds of Alumni that I have met
during the intervening years only a few have failed to express
entire satisfaction with her methods and received training—invariably
emphasizing the retrospect with pleasant
associations and episodes. Even though this be true it is
certainly very evident that in some instances there has been,
as we drifted into various callings, an unmistakable decadence
in the ardent fervor of youth. As men move forward in
finance and position they not infrequently incline to look
askance at their period of comparative smallness, sometimes
openly assigning little or nothing to instructors and institutions—that
success has been due solely to ego, whereas in
reality other powers sat behind the throne. I once approached
a millionaire, suggesting aid in behalf of the University,
only to receive the cold, curt reply: "I owe her
nothing—paid my tuition, have my receipts, honors are

easy." Such a man must have had a very brief contact,
profited little thereby and feel conscious wherein lay the fault.
He certainly would not do much to further her interest or
to strengthen friendly ties among the ordinary body of alumni
—not even attend, unless possibly as central figure—an annual
banquet. He is a spoiled child suffering with nervous prosperity—for
in reality his mother has been too kind, and he,
like all poorly disciplined, fails to recognize filial gratitude.
But this gentleman is not alone in his self-centered attitude,
as we observe the senator, the judge and others in high social,
political and financial positions often breathing the same
cold air—to have been resting on a cooling-board since leaving
the altar whose emanations made possible their elevation.
Indeed, former professors—from whose lips profitable wisdom
has been accepted by hundreds who would delight in
paying them grateful homage in their ripening years—have
been known to be conspicuous by absence at local alumni banquets
and other functions remindful of the pleasant by-gones.
All such may have ambition in keeping with the policy of a
certain prominent physician who one day seriously told me he
attributed his success largely to social retirement and restricted
conversation with patients—ergo, to become great in
others' eyes, keep busy, quiet and seclusive. This spirit of independence
and indifference on the part of that contingent
which has done so much for itself, in which the rest of us have
so much pride, tends to weaken the great possibilities of our
Alumni. Can it not be overcome by some manner of means?
Can we not unify ourselves in at least all things pertaining to
the good of our University? If so, far larger will be the
benefits accruing to her and more favorable the impressions
abiding with us.

Apart from these observations made since student days, of
apparent defects that might with advantage be corrected, it
is only fair to state that during several of my years at the
University there was considerable talk about the rigidity,
inflexibility and severeness of her requirements, and that even
lengthy articles appeared in the Magazine kindly criticising
the same and offering suggestions for what the student-writers
regarded as needed and urgent improvement. Thus to
quote from one—University Reform: The desire for knowledge

has completely been supplanted here by the desire for a
diploma, which seemingly has become the first thought—
any incident and convenient knowledge being second. Nothing
is more dwarfing to the mental powers which are
converted into a machine with one function to perform—
answering three-fourths of the questions on examinations.
Since here my aim has been to seek out the prominent students,
those truly original and independent, having minds of their
own, and I can count upon my fingers those whom I judged
to have a cast of power and profundity—few gifted with
originality, capable of developing thoughts and converting
them into a connected whole. Their thoughts are often like
the stars of the heavens—brilliant and beautiful, but isolated
and of little use to give light; unlike the sun, able to pour
forth a flood of light and illumine that with which they come
in contact. Another kind of man is even more rare here—
the investigator—who proposes to himself problems to solve
and subjects to investigate, carrying their study beyond the
limits of the text and lectures. Men may not be original,
profound and powerful, but they can be observant and inquiring;
they can look into the nooks and corners of science,
philosophy, life and religion, and find much that is yet unopened
that would yield to a little common sense. For some
of these problems great and brilliant powers are required, but
for many—such as make knowledge profitable, entertaining
and useful—only ordinary intelligence is needed. Most of
our graduates who keep up their literary pursuits do so only
in the school-room as village pedagogues; some get into high
schools, but only a few attain to college and university professorships.
They make excellent instructors, sufficiently
learned for their purposes, but they took it with them upon
leaving the University and have dispensed it yearly without
diminution or addition. Their intellectual integrity was attained
when they received their diplomas, and from that
moment all their growth ceased. Our alumni rarely investigate,
write books, and their additions to knowledge or literature
are small. Is this due to the University system or to
individual capacity? Both are defective. The habit of seeking
diplomas above all other things is due in many instances to
poverty, in others to contagion. To get a diploma often
means to get a position, which results in a rigid confinement
to what is required and a total abstinence from everything
else.

These developing habits of mind cannot be over-estimated,
as they are the ultimatum of all culture, and the more perfect
their attainment the more valuable and useful the man. Investigation
is nothing more than the application of principles
and tests, the habit of throwing facts into critical relations and
observing the results. This in some is a gift, but a man
ever so gifted in this direction, without cultivation, is nothing,
and any person who can be called intelligent has sufficient to
be made useful and pleasant. A man having attained these
principles of truth can go forward into new regions and new
subjects with the power to discriminate between good and
evil, the true and false. These principles apply not only to
the fields of science, but to various business pursuits, enabling
one to let go professional strings and rely upon his own judgment.
He can forsake the servile conformity to the intellectual
force of another—he has the power to advance within
himself. Pursuing an education but missing these principles
renders the vast knowledge an incubus and a gorge. They
can tell you the opinions of others but "I think" is unknown
in their vocabulary. The recognition of these investigating
principles has given the wonderful impulse to modern inquiry,
for within the last fifty years almost as much accurate
knowledge has been collected as during the previous six
thousand. These principles were developed first by scientists,
then caught by philosophers, theologians and inquirists, all
entering fields of knowledge which were unthought of, deemed
utterly unapproachable, only to expose facts which will ever
be the wonder and delight of the human race.

Something must be done at our University to correct this
weakness if she is to maintain her position as the ultimate
educational institution of the South. These principles must be
incorporated and that prominently in its course of instruction,
for this age is very impatient of the useless and inefficient,
and its veneration for antiquity is small—an institution exhibiting
only past usefulness will elicit but little sympathy and
support in this day. There is here a want of intellectual
freedom and encouragement of thought—that is, a higher

encomium is bestowed upon mere labor than upon intellectual
power.

Whatever the principles of the University may be theoretically,
when practically applied they tend to crush rather
than foster mental originality, independence and investigation.
Our professors put forth untiring efforts to explain
and logically connect every part of their courses, so that the
attentive student gets a true idea of the subject, but the climbing
to the greatest heights produces nothing but weariness if
every foot-print is marked for us. Much smaller ascents conducted
by ourselves would give us far greater confidence and
teach us more useful lessons. One becomes wearied in following
the thoughts of the professors, having only to attend
to what is pointed out to him, and becomes satiated, even disgusted.
He has to gulp down the immense selections from
the vast fields of knowledge which the professors present,
and digest them as best he can, that as a friend suggests, "it
is a wonder he does not die just before he gets through."
The habit of being led gradually grows upon us, and at last
unfits us to take a single step unless our next foot-print is
marked—this having taken hold upon a man his doom is
certain.

All men do not wish to study the same subjects—some prefer
one thing, some another, and all should not be compelled
to pursue the same things. This is the weight which many
students here feel—they would gladly do more work than
required, if they could only distribute it as they wished. We
need the profound spirit of philosophy and freedom pervading
the German universities, and if it can be introduced we shall
be able, in spite of our poverty, to compete with any institution
of this country. An effort can overcome and correct,
at the expense of natural elasticity, this defect, but how?

Introduce thesis writing in all senior classes as one of the
requirements for graduation in each school, letting there be at
least three of these, whose entire value shall be one-third of
the possible hundred. This would cultivate a spirit of true
philosophical investigation, and reduce the length of examinations,
which now is fourteen hours, a period that is brutal and
prohibitable by law. This capacity for contending with the
present examinations shows nothing but an iron constitution

and hardihood of the student, and the questions he can answer
under the most untoward circumstances—often making sick
the delicate students in the preparation. That our graduates
should be untrained entirely in composition is an unpardonable
deficiency.

Another writer complained about extending the respective
collegiate courses thus: This high standard of scholarship
confers the greatest advantage upon those whose only capital
for the future is based upon success in their academic course
—who, investing nearly all their means in an academic education,
desire to accumulate the greatest amount of knowledge
not under the influence of the noble Baconian maxim, "Knowledge
is power," but under the more vital principle, "Knowledge
is bread." Too many of us hope to earn a livelihood by
teaching. Colleges are more for those of average intellect,
as men of superior qualifications will find no trouble to succeed.
A college should aim at the divine theory, "the greatest
good for the greatest number." Our object is to succeed here
in getting diplomas, as they bring recommendations and situations.
Those who enter the University hoping to acquire a
liberal education—a term which we know will cast only a
shadow of meaning to many, but to others it is not the less
real and substantial—encounter those intending to become
teachers who believe in the essential feature of passing examinations,
which now has become public sentiment, and that
those seeking only a liberal education are under the ban of
moral condemnation if they come here in our midst upon the
principle to stand no examinations, although far from idle in
their studies. They lose caste. He must either study very
hard to the exclusion of whatever else may have claim upon
him or drop through like a dead weight. One is clever in
proportion to one's powers of remembrance and endurance.
If you fall short you are considered a nondescript—one who
has to bear the brunt, but yet under normal conditions he
ought to constitute the backbone of this University. It is he
who ought to constitute the leavening of the whole, but now
he is pushed out beyond the pale and must bear and suffer
in injurious silence. We are so much occupied with mind-cultivation
that all else seems insignificant and unworthy, but
it needs more than mind to battle our personal welfare in life.

Janitor, Uncle Henry Martin, at seventy
1825—

See page 457

FACING 488

We should have been located near a large city to prevent becoming
a little world unto ourselves. In the law department
instead of two years it should be more. What is to be gained
by the process of cram?

As a result of these articles the editors of the Magazine in
one of its numbers made this comment: "We object to this
system of hot-house training so long in force at this University.
We have too much cramming. The object of education
is culture; information, experience and instruction are
the collateral issues of education—some of the many means
which bring about educational training. A man of culture
is one with quickness of perception and happiness of expression,
and correct and delicate taste—the synonym of refinement,
which unless spontaneous is a plant of slow growth and
tender constitution, likely to be killed by too much culture as
it is to be dwarfed by too little. To develop this faculty is
a slow, long-continued and careful course of study, which
will bring one in contact with the great masters and standard
writers, and will lead him to draw to himself what he can of
their spirit—this will acquaint him with a correct appreciation
of the beautiful, the true and the good. Time is essential for
culture, and culture is the proper end of education, therefore
our system here of allowing a raw clod-hopper to take a full
ticket in a year and to graduate in law, medicine, etc., is
absolutely preposterous. Who would employ such when skill,
knowledge and address were needed? We should require
fixed standards of age and of scholarship—preliminary examinations
in every academic school. A two or three year
alumnus is one of taste, training and address, while a man
of one year is a youth as much characterized by the absence
of these qualities as by the awkward presence of their opposites.
The fewer of the latter we have the better for us."

I do not believe that any of these short-comings, as alleged
by students, found the slightest recognition by those in power
and authority during my years at the University. Later,
however, many changes were made, some in accordance with
these earlier complaints—enlarging the curriculum, giving
latitude in studies leading to academic degrees, and requiring
longer attendance for graduation in professional schools.

Be the effect of these articles upon other students what it

may, they were timely and fruitful to me, inasmuch as the
thesis proposition became the initiative of an effort to improve
English composition and to foster modestly historic research
—to the extent of becoming a correspondent to one of my
home newspapers, Delaware Gazette, whereby at convenient
intervals communications of one, two or three columns appeared
under the various headings: A University as Founded
by Jefferson; Monticello—the Home of Jefferson; Memorial
of Colonel Thomas Jefferson Randolph; Colonial Homes in
Albemarle County; College Secret Fraternities; Commencements,
etc. I do not think, however, that the majority of
students were captious critics, in sympathy with these writers,
but rather held up our prevailing methods and high standard
as redeeming features—that of which to be proud and beyond
criticism.

We certainly recognized that geniuses were born—not made;
that any college community could possess only a few; that
most of us were without minds of great originality, unable to
become exceptional investigators irrespective of developing
processes used, and that our only salvation lay in each cultivating
as best he could his own garden—inherent soil—making
it an actual storehouse of general or specific knowledge.
Our ambition appeared to be in "doing the best and leaving
the rest." Few speculated on the distant morrow. I for one
did little of that, being satisfied with troubles present without
borrowing from the future, realizing it was for me always to
be ready to meet duty and to discharge it—an invaluable lesson
in educational training. I admit we had an ungovernable
thirst for diplomas, but, after all, the pride was more in the
knowledge we thought they represented than in the sheepskins
themselves. The requirements were high and the examinations
most searching—unnecessarily so—but we knew that
to be the spirit of the place, possibly its greatest asset. The
fact is, "a little knowledge is a dangerous thing," and there
is only one way to master a subject—to know it. The University
courses simply unfolded the great truths of each department
and anything short of that would have been undesirable,
indeed deplorable. The examinations contained nothing easy
or moderately so; on the contrary the most difficult and intricate
points were included, thereby requiring most thorough

preparation in advance as well as careful thought and reasoning
on the day of trial, amid conditions—high mental pressure
and apprehension—little calculated for best results. Fancy,
if you please, after enjoying Professor Smith's delightful
talks and experiments on mechanics, dynamics, hydrostatics,
acoustics, heat and light, and expecting on examination not
less than three problems—sufficient if wrong to prevent one
passing—encountering ten mathematical enigmas, one for
each block, which to work and prove required that many
hours, and you have the character of those tasks. Success
after such a contest was a source of much temporary pleasure
but always saddened by the many companions who fell on the
wayside.

As I look back from such a remote distance upon my University
training, in full consciousness of its strength and
weakness, I can but emphasize above all others the one characteristic
of the institution that implanted itself upon my
nature and has stood me for greatest good—her aim at thoroughness,
deep-seated treasures, the truth, the whole truth, and
nothing but the truth; an aversion to everything shallow, deceptive
and superficial. If one carries away from her, and
he must if he be a thoughtful student, that wholesome lesson
and continues to apply it in the details of his vocation, be that
what it may, he will find that he could have afforded better to
sacrifice all things else within that training, even the learning,
for that can be recovered by the same goodly spirit—faithful
application. Men may go there for only one or two years,
may have graduated previously or afterwards from reputable
institutions, for which the kindest feelings are maintained, but
they will never disclaim having worshiped at her shrine or deny
a certain pecuuliar gratitude for her student-life, dominated so
thoroughly as it is by that priceless inheritance of the older
régime, which to-day the world most needs and commends
itself to all alike as man's best and safest living principle—
an honest struggle for thoroughness and truthfulness.