University of Virginia Library

Centennial of the University of Virginia

1. THE FIRST DAY

The opening day of the Centennial was devoted mainly to religious
services. The first public meeting was held in Cabell Hall in commemoration
of the religious contribution of the University. A somewhat
more formal function, with academic procession, was the Vesper
Service on the same day, followed at night by the Organ Recital, the
first exercise in the new open-air theatre. The day's program was as
follows:

Tuesday, May 31st

       

11.00 A.M.	Exercises in Commemoration of the Influence of the University of Virginia in the Religious Life of the Nation. Cabell Hall. Address by the Reverend William Alexander Barr, '92, D.D., Dean of Christ Church Cathedral, New Orleans. Invocation by Reverend B. F. Lipscomb, D.D., of Charlottesville
	The anthems were sung by the Albemarle Choral Club, directed by Arthur Fickenscher, Professor of Music, University of Virginia
6.00 P.M.	Vesper Services. Cabell Hall. Sermon by the Reverend Henry van Dyke, D.D., LL.D., D.C.L., Murray Professor of English Literature, Princeton University. Invocation by Reverend George L. Petrie, D.D., of Charlottesville. The music was by the Albemarle Choral Club, directed by Arthur Fickenscher, Professor of Music, University of Virginia
8.30 P.M.	Organ Recital, by Humphrey John Stewart, Mus.D., Municipal Organist of San Diego, dedicating the Amphitheatre, gift of Paul Goodloe McIntire ('79)

ADDRESSES ON THE FIRST DAY

RELIGION AT THE UNIVERSITY OF VIRGINIA

By William Alexander Barr, D.D.

If by education is meant, in a general way, the enterprise of fitting the
youth of a country, through the medium of definite and directed effort, to
meet the issues of adult life in the most efficient and satisfactory manner:—
then we may say that educational methods were known to the ancient world.

Leaving apart such practices as obtained in behalf of the mental discipline
of the young among the early peoples of the Orient, we find formal
educational methods embedded in the very structure of the Greek and
Roman civilizations.

The Greek conception of the value of a man's life, in the most cultivated
centers like Athens, consisted in an estimate of his fitness to be of use to the
city-state. It was sought to effect this end through the study of art and
literature and the systematic training of his body through the means of
gymnastics.

In the earlier history of the Romans we find the attempts at education
much ruder and more insufficient, but as the empire grew in enlightenment
and power it borrowed much from the Greeks and, in its riper civilization,
developed a system of education. As however the Greek civilization was
already decadent, it proved to be the form rather than the spirit of its culture
which was taken over and the study of rhetoric and philosophy deteriorated
rather than advanced under their course of development.

When Christianity came into the world it confronted this decaying
civilization and its adherents not only hesitated but definitely questioned
the attitude they should assume towards the classical culture. Should they
use what they found as a medium for their own education and development,
or should the pagan culture be swept entirely aside as an evil thing and unworthy
of those to whom the true light had shined? But as is readily understood,
this question resolved itself. Christianity revealed at once its ability
to transfigure all that it touched, so that the commonest things, when penetrated
with its light, assumed a new beauty and a transcendent meaning.
In a very real sense, then, it was able to change the so-called "profane learning"
of the ancient world into sacred learning. From the first, too, Christianity
in its contact with the things of the world, betrayed an inherent
selective principle by means of which it was able to choose from the pagan
learning all that was fine and noble and reject what was unwholesome and
puerile. And thus it came about, in the process of time, that the little flock
entered into its kindgom: the Christian church became the patron of education
and scholarship and, under her guidance, great universities grew up
all over the world.

Centennial Medal

The Christian university has represented the highest type of education
as it has the best scholarship that the world has known. This eminence
that has been attained by Christian scholarship it is not difficult to account
for. That selective principle to which I have just referred accounts for
much. From the first, and all along its history, it has chosen the best of
that which was in the world and has shown the same wisdom in dealing with
the investigations that scholarship has been making all along its path. This
is particularly true of intellectual activity in the physical realm. With all
that has come to it in the nature of discovery it has been able to sift out that
which was of permanent worth and to reject that which was spurious or
ephemeral. Its mission in the intellectual world has been to prove all
things and to hold fast to that which was good. Out of the chaff it has perpetually
sifted the good, the beautiful and true and to those it has tenaciously
clung.

Moreover, Christianity was destined to work out the loftiest ideal of
scholarship because of its inherently progressive spirit. Just because it
carried with it the touchstone for determining what was good and true, it
could advance with perfect assurance upon all unexplored territory and thus
perpetually extend its body of knowledge. It made the intellectual enquirer
perfectly free. He felt himself in his Father's house where all things
were his because he was Christ's and Christ was God's. So he can still
always advance because he is freed from superstition and fear. His natural
attitude is one of looking forward. His is an inheritance of promise, of hope,
of expectancy. He is bidden to forget the things that are behind and reach
forward to the things that are before. Thus he is equipped for the highest
functions of scholarship in investigating, in testing, and in classifying and
arranging. He works with his face towards the sunrise. He is thrilled not
so much with what has been as with what shall be. He realizes that his is a
flying goal. His is the inspiration of an abiding vision of the revelation of
new truth, of the unfolding vistas of new fields of knowledge.

But while the eager and fearless forward gaze has been the glory of
Christian scholarship, it has preserved along with it a due reverence for the
past and a just appreciation of its value to the present. And any so-called
scholarship that would entirely break with the past and disregard its estimates
must eventually become frivolous and fantastic. It is self-evident in
any specific department of intellectual discipline, as in mathematics for
example, that the profoundest genius of the world could make no worthy
contribution to the advancement of the science if he declined to treat with
the findings of the past and undertook to build up for himself the whole
fabric from its foundation. Even if one possessed the necessary faculty,
life is all too short for the accomplishment of such a task. It is in accepting
the results of the past that one makes true progress in the present. The

same thing is true, of course, as to scholarship in general. It is by picking
up the standard where our predecessors have dropped it that we may hope
to carry it some distance towards the heights of victory. The best scholarship
is then wisely conservative as it is fearlessly progressive. It reflects
that the present has its roots in the past and that it must always be interpreted
in the light of that past. The face is indeed turned to the future, but
all the while the feet are planted firmly upon the past.

So long then as scholarship is Christian it will be characterized by true
conservatism. In this it only profits by its earliest lesson, that we press
most effectively towards the future prize as we cherish the precious inheritance
of those who have wrought in the light that shines in Him who lived
and died for men.

It is this Christian scholarship that has found its expression in the
universities that have existed over the world for hundreds of years, and it
was for the advancement of Christian scholarship and Christian education
that universities grew up in this country. Indeed the oldest of our universities
had their beginnings as denominational colleges. It was chiefly for the
training of their own ministry that they were brought into being.

Thomas Jefferson, however, entertained a broader conception of what
a university should be. He thought it should be carried on under the
auspices of the state and minister to the educational needs of all the people
without regard to any religious distinctions whatever. In his proposal for
a university, he aimed no blow at any religious influence that might be
fostered by it. The blow was at sectarianism only: at the religious tests
and shibboleths which he conceived as obstructing the most effective work
of an educational institution. Surprise has sometimes been expressed that
there should have existed at any time, among the people, the impression
that the University of Virginia was irreligious or even non-religious in its
character. But under the circumstances it could hardly have been otherwise.
Jefferson was known to be liberal in his religious views and, a hundred years
ago, Liberalism carried with it the suspicion of practical unbelief. A hundred
years ago, moreover, impatience with sectarianism was easily interpreted
as a want of sympathy with the Christian Faith itself. The founder
of the University himself complained of the report that the influences of the
institution were opposed to all religion and called it a calumny. Let us
believe, however, that it was through no vicious motive that such charges
became current, but through a misunderstanding of the freedom and toleration
which were contemplated in all matters of religion.

As a matter of fact we know that so far as concerns the religious influence
of this institution, from its very inception the wind has always
blown in a single direction. In his plans Mr. Jefferson himself suggested
that there should be space for a building to be used for religious worship

under what he called "impartial regulation." In the meantime two of the
best rooms in the main building were to be set apart for the purpose.

Here then, at the very outset, he not only revealed his sympathy with
religious influence, but set the stamp of his approval upon the provision by
the state of a place and equipment for religious worship. As a matter of fact
such an engagement was entered into by the state. It was fulfilled in something
of a round-about way, providing first for a room in the building and
later, in lieu of the permanent provision of a building, making a fixed contribution
to the expenses incident to maintaining stated services.

Mr. Jefferson insisted only that the whole affair of the religious activity
of the University should be wholly voluntary. Religious services were to be
sustained by free-will contributions and no one was to be compelled to attend
such services. All was to be left to the individual conscience. But it
must not be overlooked that he went out of his way to say that every reasonable
influence might be exerted to persuade the young men to avail
themselves of these privileges which would "instil in them the principles of
virtue."

While on this subject let me take occasion to say that by this time it
should be known far beyond the confines of this university that Mr. Jefferson
expressed the hope that the various religious bodies would establish
theological seminaries in the neighborhood. In this he thought of the benefit
they might derive from the use of the University library as well as its courses
and scholastic functions; as also the mutual uplift to be realized through the
interpenetration of the faculties and students.

This suggestion was but another indication of that shrewd practical
sense that marked the great statesman. The Presbyterians of the North
know only too well the advantage that has inured to them through the long
affiliation of their seminary with Princeton University. In the same way,
Union Seminary in New York profits immeasurably from its proximity to
Columbia University and its terms of reciprocity with that institution.
And who can doubt that if this suggestion had been heeded there would
have grown up here a great community to shed luster incalculable upon the
church, the state, and the general cause of education? But while this hint
was not acted on, his general religious attitude became rooted in the consciousness
of the institution.

Under any circumstances, in its past history the University of Virginia
could never have been anti-Christian or even non-Christian. It was essentially
Virginian and Virginia has been a Christian commonwealth. Indeed
the whole Southern people were practically a Christian people and out of
Christian homes and Christian churches came the men who thronged its
halls. But be it repeated once again, from the beginning there was no
attempt to discourage religion, but only to make it free. In this respect the

earliest wishes have been realized. Throughout the whole history of the
religious activities of the University of Virginia they have been a free-will
service.

The earliest devotional exercises of which we hear are the prayer-meetings
that were held in the various pavilions of the faculty. The University
was formally opened in 1825 and these prayer-meetings must have been
inaugurated, if not at the opening, at least in no very long time thereafter.
But the matter of regular religious services at the University became a
growing concern with the members of the faculty and three years after the
formal opening, that is to say in 1828, they made an appeal, not as an organized
body but as individuals, to the pastors of the several churches in
Charlottesville. The latter consented to arrange a system of weekly services
and accordingly, in the same room in the rotunda that was used for lectures
in law, mathematics and languages, these pastors, so far as we know, faithfully
fulfilled their agreement as best they could with very inadequate
provision.

As time went on, however, those most interested felt that the system
was inadequate to the needs of the institution and determined upon the
voluntary support of a chaplain who should give all his time and strength
to a University ministry. He was called for a period of one year when he
was obliged to give place to a representative of a denomination other than
his own. Up to the year 1837 they continued to use the same room in the
Rotunda. But in that year, upon the vote of those interested, one of the
professors drew up a petition which set forth not only the desirability of a
building suitable for religious purposes, but also declared that this poorly
equipped room could accommodate not more than half of the student body.
For some reason this petition failed of presentation to the Board, but it is
supposed that its contents became known. At all events during that year
the south-east room of the Rotunda was converted into a chapel.

From the year 1833 to that of 1848 chaplains continued to serve each
for a single year. They were carefully taken in order from the four denominations
of the State, that is to say from the Baptist, Methodist, Presbyterian
and Episcopal. In the latter year the term of service was made
two years instead of one. So these four churches supplied the chaplains in
order down to the year 1896. In the fall of that year the chaplain-elect
conducted one service which proved his last as well as his first: he was overtaken
by death in the following week. This unexpected issue was the
occasion for discontinuing the old system. In that year it was abandoned
for another.

When one considers what must have been an inherent difficulty in finding
good men who were willing to fall out of line in their own churches to
accept the chaplaincy for so short a term, it is surprising that the system

yielded results so satisfactory through the long period of sixty-three years.
Few mistakes appear to have been made and these not of great moment.
On the whole they formed a long line of intelligent and consecrated men and
in not a few instances their high character and gracious influence abide to
this day as a delightful tradition in the life of the University. For many
years the beautiful church on the lawn, erected by voluntary contributions,
has stood as a monument to the service of the chaplains and the free-will
method of religious endeavor in this institution of learning.

But the history of the progress of religious worship in this university
cannot be appreciated without reference to a particular movement which
had its rise as early as 1858. I refer to the organization of a branch of the
Young Men's Christian Association.

That was a year in which the religious feeling was greatly quickened
among Christian communities over the world. This had extended to the
churches in Charlottesville and had been much felt among the students of
the University. Previous to this epoch there had existed an organization
among the students known as the "Society of Missionary Inquiry." The
avowed aim of this society was not only the cultivation of the Christian
graces in its members, but also the furtherance of genuine missionary activity.
So for a number of years prior to the formation of the Young Men's
Christian Association, student prayer-meetings, initiated and maintained
through their own efforts, were held regularly on Sunday afternoons: a
Sunday school for white children and one for negroes were kept up in the
college buildings and the students went out into the Ragged Mountains, to
the county Poorhouse and other places to conduct Sunday schools and teach
religion as occasion might offer. The society under which these activities
went forward, rather seemed to regard itself as a branch of the work of the
college chaplain, feeling responsible to him as its head and looking to him
for approval.

But for a considerable time it had been felt that the various religious
activities might be better coördinated and the avenues for usefulness multiplied
by the organization of a college branch of that fellowship among
young men which was already becoming well known in the life of many of
the larger cities of England and America. It was in the early summer of
1858 that several meetings were held with this interest in view and in the
opening of the ensuing college year, the first college branch of the Young
Men's Christian Association was launched. That it was indeed the first
has, I think, been conclusively shown in the paper of Dr. Hugh McIlhany
on the subject which was published some years ago. In the case of the rival
claim it was found that the society in question became a part of the Young
Men's Christian Association only in recent years. For many years it was
but a college religious society such as existed in numerous institutions. But

at this place it was formally determined to take the first step in this direction.
The constitutions of the Associations of London and Boston were secured
and with them as models the constitution of this branch was carefully drawn.
The object of the Association, as stated in this constitution, was "the
improvement of the spiritual condition of the students and the securing of
religious advantages to the destitute points in the neighborhood of the
University." Its organization seemed to prove effective from the first. It
provided for a "standing committee," consisting of twenty members at
the least. These were selected from the various boarding houses of the
University and, in the words used by the Association itself, they were expected
to "exert themselves to interest their respective districts in the
objects of the Association and labor to induce all suitable young men to
connect themselves with it; to endeavor to bring their fellow students under
moral and religious influences by securing their attendance at prayer meetings,
and also to take in charge all contributions for benevolent objects."

The early history of the Association shows remarkable prosperity. In
no long time the attendance upon the religious exercises had increased to a
wonderful degree and each Sunday found as many as fifty young men
actively engaged in the Sunday schools round about or in missionary work
in the surrounding country. For the first two years its enrollment was large
and in these early days it opened a library for general use. From the first
it commanded the adherence of students whose character and ability gave
them influence in the University community. Very soon after its organization
its career was sorely disheveled by the shock of the Civil War. During
those awful years the fires at the Institution almost went out. But through
them all the flame of the Young Men's Christian Association, though flickering,
continued to burn, and when the halls of the University filled up again,
it was ready to renew its life in the various activities it had originally undertaken.
Through many years it held on its course and influenced for good
the young lives that were touched by it. Naturally as to its position and
influence amid the changing scenes of university life, it met with vicissitudes.
But eventually, in the providence of God, the evolution of circumstances
placed it upon a permanent base and gave to it a commanding eminence.

The voluntary system of worship, with its chaplains in residence, had
resulted in the erection on the grounds of a church building between the
years 1883 and 1885. After the building of this chapel the same system
continued in force up to the year 1896. We have seen that in that year the
chaplain who had just been elected and was beginning his term, suddenly
died. As this event left no chaplain either in fact or in prospect, the thought
of those in authority recurred easily to a subject which had been under consideration
at various times, and it was finally determined to follow the
example of many other institutions by calling a young man to be Secretary

of the Young Men's Christian Association and at the same time to act as a
sort of college pastor and to arrange for Sunday chapel services by clergymen
invited from a distance.

In the fall of 1900 was begun the practice of keeping the visiting clergymen
in residence for the period of a month instead of a single Sunday. I
recall that it was my privilege to inaugurate this experiment in spending
here the opening month of that session. Two services were held each
Sunday in the chapel and, in the same place we had prayers every afternoon
in the week at five o'clock. During the week I had the opportunity of mingling
familiarly with faculty and students. As I look back through the years
I am conscious that among the large number of happy visits made to this
greatly loved spot, the memory of none is more tenderly cherished than of
this one to which I advert. I believe, however, that the difficulty encountered
in finding men who could arrange their affairs so as to make so protracted
a stay was very great and the undertaking did not long survive.

In 1896, then, instead of securing a chaplain to replace the one who had
died, the first General Secretary of the Young Men's Christian Association
was called. From this period the organization entered upon a more vigorous
life than it had ever known and assumed a new position of influence among
the students of the University.

In 1902 the late Dr. Hugh McIlhany was travelling Secretary for the
International Committee of the Young Men's Christian Association. He
became much interested in the University Branch, conceiving that it occupied
a position of peculiar importance. The subject of a concentrated and
sustained effort to provide a suitable and worthy building had already been
broached and, a vacancy occurring at this time in the office of local Secretary,
he was glad to accept the position and entered upon a period of five
years of fine and fruitful service. Several acres of favorably situated land
had already been secured for this purpose. Through the persistent effort of
the new Secretary in availing himself of the influence of persons prominent
in the operations of college associations, in no very long time Madison Hall
arose, beautiful to the eye and invaluable for its end. This building was the
gift of Mrs. William E. Dodge, of New York. It was dedicated on October
18, 1905, on which occasion the invocation and benediction were offered by
men who were of the founders of the Association in 1858. Nothing in the
construction and equipment of this building was left undone that could
contribute to its efficiency in serving the purposes it was designed to fulfill.
It was opened with a library of one thousand well-selected volumes.

As was expected, this building became at once the religious headquarters
of the University and it has served a noble purpose during the years
of its existence. While complaint may at times be made that the growing
power and position of the Young Men's Christian Association have interfered

with the religious activity connected with the chapel, yet we fancy no
one would care to reëstablish that activity if the price demanded were the
lessening of the efficiency of the work represented by Madison Hall.

It should be mentioned in passing that in October, 1908, the fiftieth
anniversary of the creation of the University Young Men's Christian Association
was impressively celebrated. Thirty of the original members still
survived in that year and nine of them were able to be present and participate
in the ceremonies of the occasion. In the morning a sermon was
preached on the benefits of coöperation as exemplified in the Young Men's
Christian Association, and following the sermon an historical sketch of the
Association was read. At four o'clock in the afternoon a service of song was
held in Madison Hall at which brief addresses were made by various representative
persons. In the same place in the evening was held a service
reminiscent in its character at which addresses were made and letters were
read from old members who were unable to be present. On Monday morning
a service was held in the old post-office building which was originally
Temperance Hall. It was in one of the upper rooms of this building that the
University Branch was organized in 1858. And here was photographed a
group of the founders in attendance.

But no survey of the history of religious influence at the University
would be adequate without attention to one of the most significant of its
movements: a movement which resulted in the establishment of a school of
Biblical Literature as a constituent part of the institution.

As far back as the year 1892 a missionary board of one of our denominations
began the execution of an idea with which it had been for some time
concerned. It provided funds to sustain a so-called "Bible Lectureship" at
the University of Michigan. This was in pursuance of the purpose of establishing
such lectureships at state universities in general. Unless I am
mistaken only four of these came into existence and, in order of time, the
University of Virginia was second. This lectureship simply threw a competent
Bible instructor into the institution to go at his own charges and find
subjects for tuition as best he could. It could do no more. State universities
not only declined to make any provision for the study of the Bible, but
some of them had direct legislation against it. It was found by those who
had the work in hand that students who were driven from day to day with
work required by those who would win degrees, had to be extraordinarily
earnest if they were to choose voluntary study no matter what the nature,
where it would require regular appointments and count for nothing upon
their college work. However it may have been at other places where the
experiment was tried, it is certain that the results of the lectureship at this
university were not such as to encourage the lecturer or those most interested
in the outcome of the effort. As a consequence the friends of the movement,

within a few years, fell vigorously to work to transform this lectureship into
a professor's chair. At the outset and on its face this enterprise seemed
almost fantastic, but in the event, through the generosity of friends combined
with the liberal policy of the Board which had given the lectureship, a
fund was raised for the endowment of this chair. In 1909 final steps were
taken to make it one of the regular schools. As in the case of the other
schools, its work is elective, but like them also this work is accepted in the
attainment of a degree. The history of this chair has been one of growing
prosperity and popularity. Its courses are open to graduates as well as those
of the academic schools and, as the incumbent is told upon his induction
that it is desired that he conduct, under the auspices of the Young Men's
Christian Association or otherwise, Bible classes for those unable to take the
regular work, it will be seen that every facility is provided for those who wish
to study the Bible. Indeed if a student wants nothing to do with the Bible
it may be said that he is obliged to go a long way around in order to avoid it.

May it not be said, in the same way, that throughout the whole career
of this university, if a student has wanted no contact with religion, he has
been compelled to go a long way around in order to avoid it. For to the
influence of those activities that have been described must be added that of
the many members of the faculty who have been shining lights in their
generation and have made these walls more sacred because they lived and
wrought in them. Many of them not only exhaled the atmosphere of a life
hid with Christ in God, but they spoke the words of this life with power.
Across the years there come to us the voices of McGuffey and Cabell, of
Minor and the Davises, of Kent and others as those of great defenders of the
truth and distinguished preachers of righteousness.

In this address I have refrained from the mention of individual names
excepting where they were virtually necessary to the story. And this
because I felt that time would fail me to tell of the valiant part played by
the many heroes of our history. But as we touch the subject of the Christian
influence of members of the faculty, I may be permitted to speak of one who
as student and teacher has been with his Alma Mater through the greater
part of her history, who has seen generation after generation as they came
and went and whose presence in the evening of life continues to be the benediction
it has always been. None who has been associated for long with the
University but has been glad that it was given him to know Dr. Francis
Smith.

A tree is known by its fruit and we believe that in their attitude towards
religion the alumni of the University of Virginia are hardly behind those of
other educational institutions. They have occupied positions of eminence
in all the walks of life and frequently have been as marked for their Christian
allegiance as their intellectual ascendency. Large numbers of them, moreover,

have occupied places of honor and leadership in the various branches
of the Christian ministry and have gone with the Gospel to all the corners of
the globe. From China and Japan, from India and Africa and from the
islands of the sea rise the voices of devoted men and true who hail this university
as their Alma Mater. Truly her voices is everywhere heard and her
line has gone out into all the world.

Let us pray for her prosperity and peace. May she be in the future, as
in the past, a city set on a hill. May she so command the devotion of her
sons that her efficiency shall be greatly increased. Above all, by God's good
grace may she so keep her gaze fixed upon the hills from whence cometh her
help that in the future, as in the past, there may issue from her many streams
to make glad the city of God.

A PROPHECY OF AMERICA

By Henry van Dyke, D.D., LL.D., D.C.L.

And their nobles shall be of themselves, and their Governor shall proceed
from the midst of them. Jer. 30: 21.

This prophecy of a divine charter for democracy has been strikingly
fulfilled in the history of the United States of America. Twenty-eight
Presidents have led the republic, all good men, and several of them great
men,—a better record than any royal house can show for the same period.

This proves that the so-called divine authority of kings is certainly not
superior to the providential guidance of the people's choice in producing
worthy rulers. Doubters of democracy, take note! Popular election is not
an infallible method. But for the highest office it works better than the
mechanism of princely marriages.

Another thing about the Presidents of the United States is significant
and not generally known. Every one of them, with a single exception, has
come from pre-revolutionary American stock,—those plain people who
crossed the ocean when a voyage meant more than a mild adventure in seasickness,
to face the perils of a vast wilderness, and to win liberty and
living for themselves and their children.

This proves that though our country may have become to some extent
a "melting-pot," the American hand and spirit still direct the process of
fusion. So may it be until by common education and united work the last
hyphen is melted out, and a mighty people emerges owing an undivided
allegiance to America and to God!

Of all our Presidents not one was more emphatically American than
Thomas Jefferson. He has been called the "Father of Democracy." He
would have preferred, I think, to be called its son. Born of its blood and

Academic Procession to Vespers, First Day of Centennial

nursed upon its milk, he was a lover and a leader, a truster and a defender
of the plain people of his land.

True, he also loved France. But from 1776 to 1921, a grateful love of
France has been one of the qualities of real Americanism.

True, he was an educated man, familiar with the philosophy of liberty,
and well-read in its ancient and modern literature. But it was not from
books that he drew his faith. It was from the soil whence he sprang and the
folks among whom he was bred and brought up. Contact with them enlightened
him, convinced him, inspired him. He knew that they were trustworthy,
fit to rule themselves, and he was determined that they should do so.
For their liberties he was willing to fight, in time of war, against foreign
oppression. For their rights he was willing to contend and work in time of
peace, against domestic oligarchy and the domination of the money power.

It was on this issue that he came to the presidential chair, and for this
he was mistrusted and abused by those who were not liberal enough to
understand that, in a free country, the only conservative force is an equalhanded
justice. Popular government; no class privileges; personal liberty
within the bounds of common order; home rule for all the States, not separate
but indissolubly united; a nation strong by virtue of the strength of its
component parts; sound finance instead of kiting; trade not stifled by artificial
barriers; and peace, so far as in us lies, with all mankind,—these were
Jefferson's ideas. By them he led the young Republic for eight years, and
gave to her future course a direction which, pray God, will never be permanently
altered.

He was an idealist, of course. All our great Presidents have been that,
and all of them have been reproached for it. But somehow or other these
idealists, men of the tribe of that dreamer Joseph, have had the faculty of
making many of their dreams come true. And if by reason of the jealousy
of their brethren they do not realize at once all their lofty ideals, they have at
least the knowledge that heavenly lights have shone upon them:

Without the vision the people perish. Our true leaders have not been controlled
by narrow considerations of self-interest, but by the loftier view of a
"People guided by an exalted justice and benevolence," by the larger hope
of "America first," not only in wealth and power, but also in the councils
of the nations for the peace of the world. This has been the star of our
Presidents from Washington to Wilson. This we trust will be the leading
light of our present honored Chief Magistrate.

The positive and practical achievements of Thomas Jefferson are not

always remembered. Careless of his own fortune to the point of negligence,
he had an ideal of financial integrity and solvency for his country by virtue
of which he was able to pay off thirty-three million dollars of public debt,—
a sum as large for those days and conditions as thirty-three billion would
be for the United States of to-day. He had a vision of what he called "an
Empire for Liberty," and by the peaceful means of purchase he expanded
our national territory from the Alleghanies to the Rocky Mountains, from
the Great Lakes to the Gulf of Mexico. He was the first to propose a League
of Nations to enforce peace in the Mediterranean, and, though his scheme
did not go through as planned, he was also the first to send an American fleet
into foreign waters to put down the pirates of North Africa. He said truly,
"Peace is our passion," and therefore he was willing to fight in its defense.
He was opposed to "entangling alliances," because he wanted something
larger,—a coöperation of all nations for the good of the world and the
progress of mankind.

Such were the ideals and aspirations of this eager and enthusiastic man.
If he sometimes made mistakes in working them out, that was only human.
It is better to be sometimes mistaken than to be all the time dead.

Let us turn now for a moment to consider the three things by which he
desired to be remembered: that he wrote the Declaration of Independence,
and the Statute of Virginia for Religious Freedom, and that he was the Father
of the University of Virginia.

Mark you, these are in a way very simple things. They are not glittering
political or military victories; they are triumphs in the realm of the spirit;
they are pure offerings on the altar of Liberty.

Mark also, and mark it well, they are not disconnected and haphazard
things. They are closely and inevitably woven together in the unity of the
spirit and the bond of peace. They are made of one stuff and dedicated to
one purpose.

The Declaration of Independence is a profoundly religious document;
a gospel of human rights as conferred by God, and therefore inalienable, and
a definition of human government as deriving its divine authority from the
protection of those God-given rights.

But how shall men understand their rights and learn how to use them
wisely in harmony with the rights of others, unless they are taught to see
clearly, to reason rightly, and to will nobly? Popular education is the first
and greatest need of a republic. Without wisdom and discretion the sovereign
people are but as a flock of sheep or a drove of wild asses. Therefore
he that supports schools and establishes colleges is a strengthener of the
foundations of democracy.

But that will not be so if education is controlled and dominated by external
authority, by the enactments of political senates or the decrees of

ecclesiastical councils. The mind of man must be free to seek, to find, to
embrace and to follow the truth, by observation in science, by reasoning in
philosophy and government, and by conscience in religion. There is no
other way, nor is there need of any other. An opinion enforced is a foreign
body in the mind and never becomes part of it. A creed imposed is a treason
to faith, a mockery of piety, and an offense to God. He has seen fit, in His
great school of life, to make religion an optional course and worship a voluntary
exercise. Therefore religious liberty is essential to the doctrine of
Christ, who said, "if any man will come after me let him deny himself, and
take up his cross, and follow me." Jesus would have only willing disciples,
and to them He promises, "Ye shall know the truth and the truth shall
make you free."

My brethren, the fundamental convictions of Jefferson are in harmony
with the spirit of Christianity, which is a democracy of souls under the
sovereignty of God and the leadership of Christ. In these latter days we
have special need to revive these convictions and hold them fast, for the
safety of the republic and the welfare of religion.

Secret and dangerous heresies are at work in our times. We are in peril
of forgetting that the main object of government is not the imposition of
national uniformity, but the protection of the individual in his rights of life,
liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. We are in peril of forgetting the
supreme importance of common education in a democratic state. With our
lips we do reverence to it, but in our deeds we are apostates. We are spending
more for fleets and armies than for schools and colleges. We are paying
our plumbers and carpenters more than our teachers. We are blindly allowing
a generation, white and colored, to grow up on our land, ten per cent. of
whom can neither read nor write, and forty per cent. of whom have no real
conception of the fundamental rights and duties of freemen. The republic
is not safe under such conditions. To breed ignorance is to beget disaster.
We must reverse our course. We must devote more of our wealth and effort
to the education of our people than to any other national purpose. We must
cultivate "preparedness" not only for the exceptional emergency of war, but
also and more resolutely for the permanent and normal demands of peace.
We must build our national defenses in the character and intelligence of our
young manhood and womanhood. The pestilent diseases of Bergdollism and
Brindellism must be extirpated. Not only our schools and universities but
also our homes must be places of training for the serious responsibilities of
American citizenship. Fathers and mothers, as well as teachers must take
their part in the building of those living, spiritual bulwarks of enlightenment
and patriotism by which alone our country can be safeguarded from the
ruinous revolts of ignorance, the bold assaults of demagogues, and the insidious
usurpations of gilded arrogance.

And what of religion, that sustaining and restraining power, that sense
of a personal relationship between man and God which ennobles every daily
duty and inspires every noble sacrifice? Never has our country needed it,—
pure, potent, undefiled,—more than she needs it to-day. Materialism,—
wealth—worship in the form of pride or in the form of envy,—ungodly
devotion to the things that perish in the using is the vice of the age and the
enemy of the republic. Without religion democracy is doomed.

But how shall we revive religion, how sustain and spread it? By
authority and power, by pains and penalties for unbelief, by stricter censorship
of opinions and conduct, by compulsory worship and blue law Sundays?
Nay, beloved, never was faith fostered, nor church prospered, by such
means. "Conscience is God's province." With the first table of the Ten
Commandments civil government has nothing to do; only with the second
table is it concerned. What man does to his fellowman law may regulate;
how he stands with God is his own affair. Sunday is a beautiful park wherein
the state keeps order that the people may find rest: the Sabbath is a holy
Temple in the park, wherein those who will may enter to find the joy of
worship.

My friends, what we need is not less devotion to Christianity, but more
confidence in it. It is not a weakling demanding shelter, nourishment,
propaganda from the state. It is a vigorous, God-reliant religion, manly in
its strength, womanly in its tenderness, sure that Christ is the love of God
and the power of God unto salvation. It was born in the open air; it was
taught on the lake-shore and the mountain-side; it travelled the dusty road
on foot and clasped hands with every seeker after God; its supreme, triumphant
sacrifice was offered on a green hill, beneath the blue sky, among
sinners and for their sake. Get back to that, tell men that, live by that, and
Christianity will revive to bless democracy and make it safe for the world.

2. THE SECOND DAY

The exercises of the second day of the Centennial consisted of the
presentation of greetings by delegates from other institutions, the
dedication of a tablet memorial to alumni who died in the World War,
a reception to delegates and other guests at the President's House,
and the acting of the Pageant in the Amphitheatre. The program
of events on this day follows, with the text of all the formal addresses
except those by the Governor of Virginia and the President of the
University of Missouri, the manuscripts of which were not furnished
the committee by the speakers. The complete text of the Centennial
Pageant is included. The greetings from a few universities and
scientific societies are printed or reproduced in facsimile, and the
official list of delegates actually present is added.

Wednesday, June 1st

 

11.00 A.M.

Reception of Delegates and Presentation of Greetings from Institutions. Cabell Hall

The Order of the Procession, Wednesday Morning

BAND

I

DELEGATES FROM INSTITUTIONS IN FOREIGN COUNTRIES

DELEGATES FROM INSTITUTIONS IN THE UNITED STATES

II

THE PROFESSORS OF THE UNIVERSITY IN REVERSE ORDER
OF OFFICIAL SENIORITY
FORMER PROFESSORS OF THE UNIVERSITY

III

THE ALUMNI TRUSTEES OF THE UNIVERSITY OF VIRGINIA
ENDOWMENT FUND
THE TRUSTEES OF THE MILLER FUND
THE VISITORS OF THE UNIVERSITY OF VIRGINIA
FORMER VISITORS OF THE UNIVERSITY OF VIRGINIA
FORMER RECTORS OF THE UNIVERSITY
THE RECTOR OF THE UNIVERSITY
THE GOVERNOR'S MILITARY STAFF
THE GOVERNOR OF THE COMMONWEALTH OF VIRGINIA
THE PRESIDENT OF THE UNIVERSITY

The Order of Exercises: Cabell Hall

THE HERALD

               

Address of Welcome:	The Governor of the Commonwealth of Virginia, the Honorable Westmoreland Davis, '85, LL.B.
Address of Welcome:	The President of the University of Virginia, Edwin Anderson Alderman, D.C.L., LL.D.
Response:	The President of the College of William and Mary, Julian Alvin Carroll Chandler, Ph.D., LL.D.
Response:	The President of the University of Missouri, Albert Ross Hill, Ph.D., LL.D.
Response:	The President of Harvard University, Abbott Lawrence Lowell, LL.B., LL.D.
Response:	His Excellency the French Ambassador, Jules Jusserand, LL.D.
Largo from Serse (Handel)	Mrs. Charles Hancock at the Organ
Presentation of Greetings, by the Delegates, from Institutions Represented

Recession

 

3.00 P.M.

Ceremonies by the Alumni of the University of Virginia who served in the World War, in dedication of a Tablet memorial to their comrades who died in Service. South Front of the Rotunda

Master of Ceremonies
Lieutenant-Colonel John Abram Cutchins, '03

           

Invocation:	Chaplain Beverley Dandridge Tucker, Jr., '02
Presentation:	Captain Alfred Dickinson Barksdale, '15
Unveiling:	Miss Bobbie Conrad, daughter of Captain Robert Young Conrad, '10, who was killed in action, France, October 12, 1918
	Miss Sallie Merrick Kite, daughter of Sergeant Charles Clement Kite, '07, who was killed at ChâteauThierry, June 26, 1918
Acceptance:	John Stewart Bryan, '95, Rector of the University of Virginia
Address:	Gabriel Hanotaux, Commandeur de la Légion d'Honneur

   

5 to 6 P.M.	Reception to Delegates and Invited Guests by President and Mrs. Alderman. The President's House
8.30 P.M.	"The Shadow of the Builder." A Pageant presented in the Amphitheatre

ADDRESSES ON THE SECOND DAY

ADDRESS OF WELCOME TO THE UNIVERSITY

By President Alderman

Governor Davis has welcomed you to the Commonwealth of Virginia.
I shall not seek or hope to add to the graciousness of that welcome, but I
may venture to focus its friendliness upon this particular spot in the Commonwealth—this

University which here to-day inaugurates this celebration
of remembrance and hope in commemoration of the One Hundredth Anniversary
of its birth, and which I take leave to describe as the highest intellectual
achievement of an old and distinguished American state. It was
founded by a lover of human freedom whose political philosophy was based
upon absolute faith in the ultimate wisdom and integrity of trained men.
Guided by sincere scholars who held that faith in their thinking and lived it
in their lives, stamped with opulent beauty of form and girt about with fair
landscapes and encircling hills, it has been at work during one century, distinguished
above all other centuries, perhaps, for its fruitful pursuit of
justice in society and truth in science. In peace and in war, amid all the
vicissitudes that beset free men threading their way to higher destinies, here
it has stood a steadfast thing of force and dignity striving to augment the
forces of nature and to ally them to the uses of mankind, to mix beauty with
strength in the framework of democracy, and to establish in the life of the
great republican experiment enduring standards of personal integrity and
public virtue. What contributions it has precisely made to American civilization
belong to the educational history of the nation, and these have been
recently set forth with sympathetic skill and faithful accuracy by a distinguished
son of this University. We have yielded to this very human
impulse, characteristic of institutions as well as of men, to mark a milestone
in an endless career, not primarily to recite the glories of the past but to
envisage the responsibilities of the future. We recognize in this air the
ethical binding force of that reverence for the past without which there can
be no true continuity in human institutions. We believe indeed that all
healthy growth somehow proceeds out of the tissues of ancient strength,
but our enthusiasm is for the future and our vision is a vision of potential
youth of this and other ages pressing forward to carry on the work of an ever
better world.

In behalf of the Governing Bodies and Faculties of the University of
Virginia, I, therefore, welcome you to this birthday festival: Delegates of Universities
and Colleges, representatives of Learned Societies and Foundations
in this and other lands, guests of the University, and in a way of peculiar
affection, sons of this mature and vigorous mother, those whom the years
have whitened, those who bear the work of the world in the middle period,
and these young scions who climb about the knees of Alma Mater in love
and gaiety. I am aware that thousands of miles and centuries separate
you in space and time. Institutions are represented here to-day which were
venerable when our continent lay unknown in these western seas, while
others have sprung into life in answer to the cry of democratic need in the
last decade; but, nevertheless, it is as a homogeneous family that I welcome
you—a brotherhood of cultural force and endeavor, a fellowship of scholars,

blood kin in intellect and purpose, holding the promise of the future as they
have yielded the fruit of the past. Whatever we have to offer of personal
affection and esteem, of historic significance, of memories of old eager
teachers who showed to by-gone generations "the high, white star of truth,"
of present hope and intent, is yours, my colleagues.

We who now serve these Virginia altars are heartened by your presence
and sympathy, enlightened by your counsel and stimulated by your example.
Standing upon the lintels of a new age, the University of Virginia is as of
old still glad to learn and glad to teach. Like Ajax praying for light to see
his foeman's face on the darkness of the Trojan plain, we humbly ask
Almighty God for strength and opportunity to face whatever is before us
with enlightened minds, organized wills, and uplifted hearts.

RESPONSE BY PRESIDENT CHANDLER OF THE COLLEGE OF WILLIAM AND MARY

We are deeply grateful to His Excellency, the Governor of Virginia, and
to the President of this University for their eloquent words of welcome. We
thank them sincerely for giving us the opportunity to be present at this
renowned institution as participants in this history-making celebration. On
this centennial occasion it is a privilege to speak for the colleges of Virginia.
We rejoice that our University, through a hundred years of activity, has
contributed so much to the educational development of the State, and has
furnished so many leaders to Virginia and the United States. We are deeply
grateful that its centenary does not mark old age and a decline, but a ripening
into vigorous youth, giving promise of a period of more useful activity
and of wise promotion of education in many fields. No words of mine can
depict the deep sense of pride that we have in this institution.

On such an occasion one can but think of educational conditions before
the founding of the University. At the opening of the Revolution there was
but one institution of higher learning in Virginia, the College of William and
Mary, then nearly one hundred years old. But with the Declaration of
Independence, an impetus was given to higher learning, for it was generally
thought that in a Republic all men participating in its affairs should be
trained for the performance of their rights as citizens. The further desire to
prepare men for service to the church and to society in general, resulted in
the beginnings of Hampden-Sidney in Prince Edward County, and Liberty
Hall at Lexington, later Washington College, and still later Washington
and Lee University. These three institutions, William and Mary, Hampden-Sidney,
and Washington and Lee are the only Virginia institutions of college
grade antedating the University of Virginia.

George Washington had dreams of a national university, and in his will

he bequeathed fifty shares of stock in the Potomac Company for the endowment
of a university to be established within the District of Columbia. To
Washington College, he likewise made a gift of stock with the hope that at
Lexington would be maintained an institution which would prepare young
men for the national university. Washington's idea of a university was a
national school of politics and administration. According to Herbert B.
Adams, "It was an idea born of the old College of William and Mary, where
capitol and college faced each other, and where the statesmen of Virginia had
been trained for their great work of liberating the colonies and of framing the
Federal Constitution. The idea of a national university grew in Washington's
mind with his own official connection as Chancellor of William and
Mary."

Before Washington became an advocate of a national university,
another great Virginian was urging the establishment of a university for his
own State, "although there was nothing provincial in his advocacy." He
conceived of a university separated from politics and located in a small town
where young men would not be subjected to many temptations—an institution
around which there would cling something of a monastic spirit—a
university bearing marks of an educational system found at Geneva and at
Oxford and Cambridge. This great Virginian was Thomas Jefferson, who is
justly entitled to be called the "father of the University of Virginia."

This University, to quote again Herbert B. Adams, "is clearly the
lengthened shadow of one man. But William and Mary College was the
Alma Mater of Thomas Jefferson. There at Williamsburg, in intimate
association with a Scotch professor of mathematics and philosophy, with a
scholarly lawyer (George Wythe) and with the Governor of the Colony,
Thomas Jefferson received his first bent towards science and higher education,
towards law and politics—the fields in which he afterwards excelled.
Jefferson's first idea of a university for Virginia is inseparably connected
with his proposed transformation of William and Mary College, of which, as
Governor of the State, he became ex officio a visitor in 1779."

I wish it were possible at this time to review the full significance of the
year 1779 in the educational history of America. Speaking briefly, in this
year, the College of William and Mary took the name of university, established
the honor and elective systems, introduced the teaching of modern
languages, and established a school of law and a school of medicine. These
steps in American education, introduced through the influence of Jefferson
and the two Madisons, have revolutionized higher education in America.
However, Jefferson's bill of 1779, in favor of transforming William and
Mary into the University of Virginia, failed of passage because William and
Mary had been the college of the established church and the various denominations
represented in the Virginia Legislature would not vote public

money for such an "establishment, however noble and worthy. Non-sectarianism
was one of the deepest foundations in the political establishment of
higher education in Virginia." It was much easier, therefore, for Mr. Jefferson
and his friends to establish a new institution.

In a letter of 1814 to Peter Carr, President of the Board of Trustees of
Albemarle Academy, Jefferson wrote: "I have long entertained the hope
that this, our native State, would take up the subject of education, and
make an establishment, either with or without incorporation, into that of
William and Mary, where every branch of science deemed useful at this date
should be taught in its highest degree." In this letter Mr. Jefferson outlines
a plan for the elementary schools preparatory to the "general" schools,
which in turn should prepare for the professional schools, incorporated in
the university.

In 1817 a bill barely failed in the General Assembly to establish a complete
system of primary schools, academies, colleges, and a university. This
bill proposed that the trustees or visitors of the then existing colleges of
William and Mary, Hampden-Sidney, and Washington should be invited
to become a part of this system.

Jefferson's conception of a University of Virginia was a place where all
branches of useful sciences could be taught and where men could be trained
for the professions. He said: "To these professional schools will come the
lawyer to the school of law; the ecclesiastic to that of theology and ecclesiastical
history; the physician to those of the practice of medicine, materia
medica, pharmacy, and surgery; the military man to that of military and
naval architecture and projectiles; the agricultor to that of rural economy;
the gentleman, the architect, the pleasure gardener, the painter, and the
musician to the school of fine arts." He also favored a school of technical
philosophy and said: "To such a school will come the mariner, carpenter,
shipwright, pump-maker, clock-maker, mechanist, optician, metallurgist,
founder, cutler, druggist, brewer, vintner, distiller, dyer, painter, bleacher,
soap-maker, tanner, powder-maker, salt-maker, glass-maker, to learn as
much as shall be necessary to pursue their art understandingly, of the
sciences of geometry, mechanics, statics, hydrostatics, hydraulics, hydrodynamics,
navigation, astronomy, geography, optics, pneumatics, acoustics,
physics, chemistry, natural history, botany, mineralogy, and
pharmacy."

It was not intended that this university should be a school of aristocracy
but a seminary of learning to which men preparing for all professions or
vocations would come. The marvel is the vision of the great master mind.
Founded on so broad a conception, the University may be expanded as the
needs of the people demand and as our civilization changes.

Speaking for my own college and the other Virginia institutions of

higher learning—state, private, and denominational—we exult in the
original conception of the founder of this University, a conception looking to
instruction in all fields of useful knowledge, and we pledge to the University
our assistance in the promotion of education for the State.

The raison d'être of a State university was well expressed by President
Burton in his inaugural address when he said, "The function of the State
university is to serve the State and through the State to serve the nation and
the world." Through the hundred years of its life the University of Virginia
has clearly demonstrated that this ideal is the goal of its ambition.
Its usefulness is being expanded daily by its recognition that much of
college work in the State should be done by institutions already chartered
and giving standard degrees. This does not mean that the University should
discontinue its college work but should insist, as it does, upon higher standards
both for entrance and graduation. The sister institutions are further
gratified that the University is holding firmly to Jefferson's desire to establish
a correlation between the University and colleges of such a character
that the colleges will become "feeders" to the University. This ideal is
vital to all, but it calls for strenuous efforts to develop extensively the graduate
departments of the University. The growth of the University is of
paramount importance to the State and such plans as look to the expansion
of the schools of engineering, education, business administration,
law, and medicine; to the establishment of a bureau or bureaus of investigation
and research, and to extension courses within reach of the people in
various parts of the State, are gratifying evidences of the broadening influence
of this institution of which we are so justly proud. We know that
all these movements demand large expenditures for equipment and for personnel,
but we believe that the people of Virginia are ready to be taxed for
all progressive proposals on the part of its University.

Mr. President, coming from an institution that is the Alma Mater of
the founder of the University, and speaking for it, speaking for Washington
and Lee University which owes, to a certain extent, its development to the
gift from the great Washington, speaking for the ancient college of Hampden-Sidney
and for the State institutions and the other institutions of higher
learning, which have been established since the University of Virginia, I
bring on this joyful anniversary greetings and expressions of grateful appreciation
of the wonderful influence upon learning that this institution has
exerted in the State and nation. We realize that this University has in
many ways ministered faithfully to the educational needs of our State and
country. We appreciate the high ideals that you and the Board of Visitors
have for this institution. We delight in its growth and expansion. We
rejoice in the prospects for an increase in its endowment and facilities. On
this Centennial anniversary we declare to you our readiness to coöperate

(From left to right) President Chandler, of the College of William and Mary; Ambassador Jusserand; President Lowell, of Harvard
University; President Hill, of the University of Missouri; Rector Bryan, of the University of Virginia

with you in your ambitions and in the superb efforts that are being made to
promote culture and to prepare men and women for leadership in the State,
the nation, and the world. We are yours to command for the accomplishment
of the cherished purposes for which this University was established,
for in those purposes we have an abiding faith.

RESPONSE BY PRESIDENT LOWELL OF HARVARD UNIVERSITY

It is a privilege to speak for the endowed universities of this country
at the celebration of the one hundredth anniversary of the University of
Virginia, founded by the philosopher-statesman, and architect as well.
Here he lived during the struggle for independence, whereof he wrote the
charter; and here he returned after his labors for the new-born nation, in
France, as Secretary of State and as President. In his later years of well-earned
repose he lit here a beacon to diffuse the light of learning he held
needful for the people he had served so long.

The examples of such far-sighted men as he, have been followed, until
to-day, a host of lights are shining over our whole country from shore to
shore. The oceans that guard our land are the only things upon the planet
that man does not, and cannot, change—symbols of eternity, eternally in
movement and eternally at rest. In this they typify the human spirit, unchangeable
yet ever changing; and the universities, which embody that
spirit in its most refined and keenest form, should ever be centers both of
continual movement and of rest.

Bound together in a common cause, quickened by a common aim,
faithful to a noble trust, our universities and colleges are constantly calling
with their bells throughout this broad land—calling to one another to serve
the needs of the present time, and to prepare the way for generations yet to
come.

Your bells have called, and we, representatives of the great brotherhood
of scholars, have come to pay our tribute of respect to this university, venerable
in years, but ever young;—more vigorous and more youthful as the
years roll on. We come to tell you of our faith that, large as have been her
services in the century that is past, the University of Virginia, in the century
that lies before us, will be greater in works, in influence and in renown.

RESPONSE ON BEHALF OF FOREIGN UNIVERSITIES BY HIS EXCELLENCY JULES
JUSSERAND, FRENCH AMBASSADOR TO THE UNITED STATES

I am most happy that it is my privilege to answer on this auspicious day
and to offer congratulations, on behalf of foreign institutions, among which
are those of France.

The French feeling for the founder of the University of Virginia was of
the warmest. Jefferson had studied our philosophers, spoke our language
and spent five years among us as the diplomatic representative of the newborn
American Republic. The sympathy was reciprocal. "I do love this
people with all my heart," he wrote from Paris to Mrs. John Adams in 1785.
The early prospects of our own Revolution filled him with joy, and he took
pleasure later in recalling those feelings, when the first guest from abroad,
Lafayette, was received by your University, and dined in your hall, with
Jefferson and Madison in 1824. In the letter pressing him to visit what he
calls "our academical village," Jefferson reminded this early friend of
America of the far-off time, when, one evening they, with some "other
patriots, settled in my house in Paris the outlines of the constitution you
wished."

Secretary of State, he saluted the birth of our first Republic in the
warmest terms, assuring us that the citizens of the United States considered
"the union of principles and pursuits between our two countries as a link
which binds still closer their interests and affection." This union of principles
and affections, after half a century of republican institutions in
France, is closer now than ever before, as was evidenced, not by words, but
by momentous deeds in the recent glorious past.

When the longing for independence had been fulfilled in this country,
the longing for the spread of knowledge became preponderant among the
leaders of the nation. I wish, Jefferson said, our people would "possess information
enough to perceive the important truth that knowledge is power,
that knowledge is safety, that knowledge is happiness." An immense country
with untold possibilities was to be developed; and two conditions for
success were indispensable: on the one hand, the pluck, energy, clever understanding
of fearless pioneers; on the other, knowledge. The nation had the
first, not the second; it realized, however, its lack and its chiefs resolved
that the gap should be filled.

Peace was not yet signed, and Independence, just won, had not been
consecrated, when, as early as 1782, "the President and Professors of the
University of William and Mary," that famous institution where both
Washington and Jefferson had studied, the honored mother of the most
famous of the literary societies, the Phi Beta Kappa, sent to Rochambeau,
still in America, an address couched, they said, "not in the prostituted
language of fashionable flattery, but with the voice of truth and republican
sincerity," saying: "Among the many substantial advantages which this
country hath already derived and which must ever continue to flow from its
connection with France, we are persuaded that the improvement of useful
knowledge will not be the least. A number of distinguished characters in
your army afford us the happiest presage that science as well as liberty will

The French Ambassador, Dr. Henry van Dyke, and Other Notables

acquire vigor from the fostering hand of your nation. . . . You have
reaped the noblest laurel that victory can bestow, and it is perhaps not an
inferior triumph to have obtained the sincere affection of a grateful people."
It was a fact that in Rochambeau's army one general was a member of the
French Academy, Chastellux, chief of staff, a great friend of Jefferson, and
that Rochambeau himself was able to use Latin in order to talk with learned
men in America ignorant of French. This Virginian suggestion was the
beginning of an intercourse which has expanded considerably since, to the
advantage of America, of France and of other countries.

For the solution of the problem and the spread of knowledge in the
United States, the two leaders, happened to be the chiefs of the two political
parties, federalists and antifederalists, unanimous however on this question,
both twice presidents of the United States; both sons of Virginia, George
Washington and Thomas Jefferson. The two had dreamt a dream that
was not to be fulfilled in the way they had imagined. They wanted a National
University, ranking above all others, and giving only instruction of
the highest order. Washington bequeathed to the institution that was, he
thought, to reach one day that rank, the shares of the Potomac and the
James River companies which he had received as a gift from his native State
and which he never intended to apply to his own uses. Jefferson, when
President, proposed to Congress in his sixth annual message the resumption
of the same plan, and as subsidies would be expected from every State he
recommended the vote of an appropriate amendment to the Constitution.

The National University was not to be, but the University of Virginia
was to be and now is, greatly improved, increased and invigorated. With
what love and devotion he fostered it, all know. It was his last great service
to his country, one of the only three he allowed to be mentioned on his tombstone,
where he is described as the "father" of this same University. He
had indeed for her a fatherly love; describing it as "the last of my mortal
cares," paying attention to every matter of importance and also to every
detail; anxious about the selection of professors, the attendance of pupils
and the style of architecture. Abroad, he wrote with pride "they have immensely
larger and more costly masses but nothing handsomer or in chaster
style." Professors were sometimes in those far-off days the cause of
trouble; he complains of some who teach Latin and pronounce it in such a
way that you do not know whether they are not speaking Cherokee or
Iroquois. Students too have their faults, or had in those times, but all told,
the undertaking is a success, and with pride again he could write "A finer
set of youths I never saw assembled for instruction."

We feel confident that if he were to appear suddenly among us to-day,
and have a look at the successors of those he knew, he would use the very
same words.

He conceived, even from the first, that, although for certain branches of
learning, he had to depend on professors from abroad, yet American universities
could even then be of use to European youths. In 1822 he wrote to a
friend of his who was American minister in Lisbon that the young people from
over there might come with profit, and get "familiarized with the habits and
practice of self-government. This lesson is scarcely to be acquired but in this
country, and yet, without it, the political vessel is all sail and no ballast."

This was indeed the lesson that without the need of any university, it is
true, or of any teaching other than those of events and examples, all those
enthusiastic young men who had come from France to fight for American
independence took home with them. At the time of our Revolution they
were foremost in asking for equality and for the abolition of privileges,
Lafayette, first among them and Rochambeau with him, Marquis and
Count though they were.

Now the fight for knowledge is won. While continuing to learn,
America can also teach; she is one of the nations in the vanguard of civilization
as regards learning and discoveries. Her universities, libraries, laboratories,
scientific periodicals are the envy of more than one foreign nation.
She not only receives professors from abroad but sends out some of her own,
who are received with open arms—and open ears. They say things worthy
to be remembered and they increase the respect and sympathy every liberal
nation owes to theirs.

An even more telling proof that the problem is solved and that America
has come to her own in the matter of learning, is the high appreciation in
which are held, in every country, the medals, prizes or other tokens of
appreciation she may choose to bestow. Those tokens sometimes are the
sign not only of her appreciation of merit but of her inborn warm-heartedness
and generosity, as when, the other day, having heard that the discoverer of
radium possessed no radium she presented a gramme of the rare substance
to Madame Curie, the presentation being made at the White House by the
Chief of the State, in a speech that went to the heart not only of the illustrious
lady but of the whole of France.

To all this, foreign institutions render homage: they are glad to think
that their good wishes for you are sure to be fulfilled. What a man like
Jefferson founds is certain to prosper; and it is a good omen for the University
of Virginia that the man who secured her charter was also the one
who wrote the Declaration of Independence.

A FEW REPRESENTATIVE GREETINGS

Out of a large number of greetings only a score, because of space limitations,
are included in this volume. The original copies of all greetings may
be seen in the University Library.

Greetings from the University of Cambridge

L'UNIVERSITÉ DE PARIS À L'UNIVERSITÉ DE VIRGINIE

L'Université de Paris vous apporte, en ce jour mémorable du premier
centenaire de votre Université, ses compliments et ses voeux.

Un professeur étranger se sent de suite à l'aise parmi vous et dans l'enceinte
de votre "campus," car il n'oublie pas que vos premiers collaborateurs
furent précisément des étrangers, arrivés comme lui d'Europe. Dès
ses débuts, et, pour ainsi dire, avant la lettre, l'Université de Virginie réalisait
ainsi cette liaison intellectuelle et scientifique entre l'Amérique et l'Europe,
qui ramène aujourd'hui près de vous les délégués des Universités sœurs.

L'Université de Virginie s'est fait, dans le pays américain, une réputation
de charme irrésistible: je ne sais pas une autre Ecole, aux Etats-Unis,
dont ses "alumni" parlent avec autant de tendresse émue. Assurément, la
beauté des bâtiments et la douceur du climat ne suffisent pas à expliquer
cette attraction, car il ne manque pas de constructions magnifiques et de
sites choisis dans la liste des Universités américaines. Il faut, pour expliquer
le charme que vous exercez, admettre qu'il y a quelque chose de plus que des
causes ordinaires, et ce quelque chose semble bien être l'esprit de votre
fondateur qui se transmet, révéré et enrichi, de génération en génération.

Pour l'exprimer d'un mot, cet esprit de Jefferson, c'est l'esprit moderne
dans son sens le plus généreux et le plus large. L'idée qui a été déposée dans
vos murs avec la première pierre et la première truelle de ciment, c'est l'idee
essentiellement moderne de l'égalité devant l'instruction. Sans doute, une
université ne peut pourvoir à toutes les phases de l'enseignement, puisqu'elle
s'adresse à une élite déjà préparée. Mais l'idée de l'instruction universelle
qui hantait Jefferson dans le bouillonnement de ses jeunes années, était si
féconde, encore qu'irréalisable à son époque, qu'elle a comme déposé un
rayon de grâce et d'attirance dans le berceau de votre Université naissante.
Lorsque les projets, prenant corps lentement, à travers les difficultés administratives
et financières et les compétitions géographiques, se furent
fixés dans l'esprit de Jefferson et des hommes de bien qui furent ses collaborateurs,
on dut sans doute constater qu'une restriction avait été opérée,
et qu'à l'enseignement universitaire était seulement dévolue la tâche d'assurer
la culture "de la science à un haut degré." Mais en même temps,
l'idée primitive reparaissait dans une formule indiquant le but à poursuivre,
à savoir donner à chaque citoyen une instruction "en rapport avec ses ressources."
Ainsi, dans votre pays à peine installè dans sa jeune liberté, une
Université se fondait, tâtonnant à travers mille obstacles, mais guidée par ce
fanal qui jamais ne s'éteint, le souci de former l'âme populaire.

Voilà l'idée clairvoyante et généreuse qui a groupé vos disciples et qui
pénètre de sympathie pour vous vos visiteurs du Vieux-Monde.

Sans doute, la joie que nous éprouvons à nous joindre à vos fêtes ne
nous fait pas oublier à nous autres universitaires français, la terrible épreuve
que nous venons de traverser et l'hécatombe qui a fauché, parmi notre
jeunesse, les rangs les plus lourds d'espoir. Elle ne nous fait pas oublier non
plus le magnifique et généreux élan qui, parti de vos universités, a placé
votre pays à nos cotés dans la lutte suprême. Mais nous savons aussi que
la vie ne s'arrête pas à cause des deuils, et que l'herbe continue à verdir sur
nos tombes même les plus chéries. Le flot des générations nouvelles monte
sans s'arrêter les degrés qui mènent à nos salles, et nous savons que nous
avons la charge de guider sans faiblir l'âme de ceux d'aujourd'hui et de
ceux de demain, exactement comme si notre patrie ne venait pas d'être
bouleversée par l'ouragan. Le passé, nous ne l'oublions pas, c'est notre bien
à nous, c'est notre deuil sacré; mais nous ne voulons pas nous en laisser distraire
dans notre vision de l'avenir.

Laissez-moi donc vous assurer, Monsieur le Président, que l'Université
de Paris est, sans arrière-pensée, profondément heureuse de fêter avec vous
aujourd'hui votre anniversaire de joie et votre grand élan d'espérance. Le
spectacle de la jeunesse et de la vigueur de votre Université est bienfaisant
pour nous, car ces vertus nous garantissent que vous comprenez comme
nous l'aspiration commune qui doit nous unir, celle de préparer, pour nos
pays respectifs et pour le monde, un avenir de lumière où la science règne,
pacifique et large,—et en même temps un avenir de génerosité scientifique
répudiant à la fois l'esprit de domination et l'esprit d'orgueil, qui sont la
négation de la recherche, telle que la conçoivent de libres citoyens.

The President, Fellows and Faculty of Yale University send
their greetings to the University of Virginia, and congratulate its officers
and alumni on the completion of one hundred years of distinguished service
to the cause of the Arts and Sciences. They recognize that no American
University has had higher standards for degrees than the University of
Virginia, and that few institutions have done so much to train men to take
their part as leaders of citizenship in the Nation and its constituent commonwealths.
Intimately identified as it is with the immortal name of Jefferson
and with many men prominent in literature, scholarship, and public life,
such as Poe, Maury, Kane, Wilson, Davis, Gildersleeve, Tucker, Minor and
Venable, the institution has an unchallenged position in the front rank of
that small group of historic universities of national significance and influence.
The University has fully justified its founder's purpose as interpreted by

President Madison "to make it a nursery of republican patriots, as well as
genuine scholars."

The officers of Yale University have rejoiced at the progress made by
this ancient University "born of the union of human enthusiasm and civic
impulse" during the brilliant administration of President Alderman, and
hope and believe that it may serve the Commonwealth of Virginia and the
Nation with equal distinction during the generation to come.

In the necessary absence of President Hadley,

Rev. Anson Phelps Stokes, D.D., Secretary of the University,
has been duly appointed Yale University's delegate and will present these
greetings and congratulations.

[The University of Liège]

ILLUSTRISSIMÆ UNIVERSITATIS VIRGINIANÆ PRÆSIDI

S. P. D. Rector Universitatis Leodiensis

Pergratum fuit mihi collegisque meis, quod ex litteris tuis nuperrime
allatis didicimus, Universitatem, quæ in Virginia floret, annum ab origine
sua centesimum feliciter exactum propediem ineunte mense Iunio per quattuor
dies solemniter celebraturam. Vos iuvabit in memoriam revocare,
quæ magna percentum annos peregit Universitas vestra, quæ tam variæ et
multiplicis eruditionis luminibus in præterito illustrata est atque adeohodie
illustratur, quæ tam numerosæ iuventuti doctrinæ beneficia quotannis
impertit, ut trans Oceanum innotuerit et inter insignissimas litterarum et
scientiæ sedes iam numeretur. Nos iuvat collegis transmarinis, studiorum
communium vinculo nobiscum consociatis, toto animo gratulari.

Quod nos quoque vestri gaudii participes esse voluistis, gratias vobis
quam maximas agimus: nisi Oceano interposito et itineris longinquitate, nisi
exeuntis anni academici officiis et Universitatis nostræ instaunrandæ cura
essemus impediti, quæ per plus quam quattuor annos Transrhenanorum
barbaria desolata nunc demum pace parta reviviscit, legatum ad vos trans
Oceanum mittere placuisset, vestræ lætitiæ testem et participem futurum
qui vobis nostrum omnium nomine præsens gratularetur: nunc absentes
vobiscum sacra vestra celebrantibus lætabimur vobisque omnia fausta fortunataque
precati, exoptamus ut Universitas vestra Virginiana vitam tam

feliciter, tam præclare inchoatam per plurima sæcula in dies illustrior persequatur.
Vale.

Dabam Leodii Belgarum
anno MIMXXI die Mart. X

UNIVERSITATIS LEODIENSIS

Rector

Questo Rettorato, dispiacente che le presenti condizioni non gli consentano
di intervenire alla solenne celebrazione dell'anniversario della Fondazione
di codesta illustre Università, mentre ringrazia sentitamente per il
gentile invito, manda la sua cordiale adesione alla cerimonia, anche a nome
di questo Corpo Accademico, ed esprime i migliori e più fervidi auguri per
la prosperità di codesto Ateneo.

Con particolare osservanza.

RECTOR ET SENATUS UNIVERSITATIS CAROLINÆ PRAGENSIS
ALMÆ ET ANTIQUISSIMÆ UNIVERSITATI VIRGINIENSI

S. P. D.

Cum lætus ad nos nuntius allatus esset Universitatem Virginiensem,
quæ inter Universitates Americanas insignem locum obtinet sacra sæcularia
celebraturam esse, summo affecti sumus gaudio. At dolebamus, quod
propter itineris longinquitatem aliasque horum temporum difficultates
legatum ad sollemnia clarissimæ Universitatis celebranda mittere non possumus.

Quantopere autem Universitas nostra Carolina perenni flore inclitæ
Universitatis Virginiensis lætetur, his litteris declarare volumus.

Itaque quando illi dies festi Almæ Matris Virginiensis, qui erunt ex
pridie Kalendas usque ad a. d. III. Nonas Junias huius anni, advenient,
Universitas nostra celeberrimam Universitatem Virginiensem optimis
ominibus prosequetur exoptans, ut ad litterarum artiumque incrementum

Greetings from the University of Athens

atque ad salutem patriæ suæ totiusque generis humani utilitatem per multa
sæcula floreat, crescat, augeatur.

Datum Pragæ Kalendis Martiis anni MCMXXI, qui est ab Universitate
nostra condita quingentesimus septuagesimus tertius.

BROWN UNIVERSITY

Providence, R. I.

The Corporation and Faculty of Brown University extend to the University
of Virginia, on its hundredth anniversary, greeting and felicitation.

No institution of the higher learning has affected American education
more vitally and fruitfully than the University of Virginia. Your original
ideals and purposes were distinctly different from those animating the
colleges and universities of the North, and because you were different you
have helped us all.

More than seventy years ago the great president of Brown University,
Francis Wayland, seeking to effect certain changes in New England education,
was drawn to the institution founded by Thomas Jefferson. On returning
from his memorable visit he wrote his famous "Report to the Corporation"
of 1850, which was like the sound of a trumpet echoing through
the quiet valleys of New England. From that day Virginia began to make
its notable educational contribution to the Northern States.

We of Brown University greet you at the beginning of your second
century. May increased resources bring only increased devotion to the
early purpose of your distinguished founder, and may the fraternal interchange
of ideals and methods among American colleges grow with the growing
years.

OHIO STATE UNIVERSITY

The Ohio State University felicitates and congratulates the University
of Virginia upon the happy and honorable completion of One Hundred
Years in the service of Higher Education and expresses the hope that the
Centennial Exercises may deepen the interest in the Old Dominion and to
the Country rendered in the Century now past by the distinguished men
who have constituted the Faculty.

The Alumni have taken a high place in the history of the Country
representing in many instances the most distinguished citizenship of the
Nation. The spirit of the scholar has never departed since the illustrious

founder, Thomas Jefferson, laid the foundations of American Scholarship
devoted to the public service.

The University of Virginia in a very real sense a monument to his genius
is at the same time a testimonial of the men whose untiring energies have
sustained the ideals of Jefferson.

The President, Trustees and Faculty of Ohio State University greet
with enthusiasm their colleagues in the University of Virginia and have
commissioned Professor Rosser Daniel Bohannan, Class of 1876, University
of Virginia, and for thirty-four years Professor of Mathematics at Ohio
State University, to bear these greetings and to represent the University
in the Centennial exercises.

By the authority and direction of the Trustees of The Ohio State University,
Columbus, Ohio.

THE ROYAL SOCIETY OF LONDON

The Royal Society of London sends to the University of Virginia
its most cordial congratulations on the Hundredth Anniversary of its
Foundation.

Its long roll of alumni contains the names of many who have enriched
Natural Science and other branches of knowledge, of many who have advanced
the cause of learning, of many who have played a distinguished part
in affairs of State. Through these men the University of Virginia has contributed
to the intellectual heritage of the English-speaking race, and to the
civilization of the whole world. That the future of the University of Virginia
will be no less illustrious than its past is the sincere hope and confident belief
of the Royal Society of London.

THE SMITHSONIAN INSTITUTION TO THE UNIVERSITY OF
VIRGINIA

Greeting

On the occasion of the centennial celebration of the University of Virginia,
the Smithsonian Institution most heartily congratulates the University
on its hundred years of prosperity and usefulness, its long line of
achievements in broadening knowledge in the learned professions, and on its
rolls of teachers and students bearing so many names of men of eminence
whose lives have honored their university and their country.

The Smithsonian Institution, founded for the increase and diffusion of
knowledge among men, extends to the University of Virginia its well wishes
for an even greater usefulness in the field of learning during future centuries.

THE LIBRARY OF CONGRESS TO THE UNIVERSITY OF
VIRGINIA UPON THE OCCASION OF ITS ONE
HUNDREDTH ANNIVERSARY

The most of the greetings conveyed to-day are from sister institutions
of learning. This, from a library, cannot claim quite equal rank; for a
library, though it contains certain of the elements of an institution of learning—an
essential apparatus, and, in a sense, a faculty—lacks others equally
essential; it neither prescribes a system of studies nor imposes authority in
their process, with deliberate selection, towards a definite end. Its greeting
cannot, therefore, bring the sympathy of a like experience in identical
problems.

But the Library so-called "of Congress" has a concern for learning far
beyond its immediate privileged constituency. It is a library "for research";
it has a paramount interest in the promotion of that research—everywhere—
whose end may be the widening of the boundaries of knowledge. And its
effort is to extend its resources freely and fully in aid of this. It does so
chiefly through the Universities; and its interest is keen in the prosperity
and progress of these. Having, itself, the duty to conserve and make useful
the records of the past, it especially rejoices in an institution who so persistently
honors and links itself with the past as does the University of
Virginia.

In addition to these general motives it has a unique sympathy with this
occasion from the fact that the universality of its collections and the seriousness
of its aims are preëminently due to Jefferson himself. The very foundation

of its present collections was Jefferson's own library; it was Jefferson
who named it "The Library of the United States"; and it was the comprehensiveness
of his selection, the largeness of his view, and his confident faith
in a democracy of learning, that, establishing thus early its character and
purpose, have assured its development into a library truly "national." It
therefore shares with you the shadow of the great Founder.

May that Shadow never grow less!

VANDERBILT UNIVERSITY TO THE UNIVERSITY OF VIRGINIA

Greetings

To the University of Virginia, now celebrating the Centennial of her
founding, Vanderbilt University sends greetings and congratulations.

The rare beauty of buildings and grounds, the high standards and ideals
of scholarship, the adoption from the beginning of the principle of freedom
of electives, and the maintenance by the student body of the honor system,
have rightly won for her the admiration and praise of all American institutions.

The prestige of past achievements is the surest guarantee of her future
success.

That she may command the resources necessary for the extension of her
work and influence is the earnest wish of her younger sisters, who covet the
privilege of coöperating with her in the making of a greater nation.

GREETINGS:

In her Centennial Year
Celebrated May 31st, to June 3, 1921,
to the
University of Virginia
the first in America to grant a scholarship to
students from the
University of Belgrade
which was shattered in the World War,

Our greetings are sent to you officially through
Rosalie S. Morton, M.D., of Virginia,
the Founder and Chairman of the
International Serbian Educational Committee
from
our Executive Committee, Advisory Board, and the
students who are now studying in schools, colleges
and universities from Vermont to Texas and from
Massachusetts to California with heartfelt gratitude
and appreciation of the world comradeship
of
American educators, among the greatest of whom
for all time, Serbia honors the name
of
Thomas Jefferson

A LETTER TO THE UNIVERSITY OF VIRGINIA FROM THE
RICE INSTITUTE

In accepting the invitation of the Rector and Visitors and the President
and Faculty of the University of Virginia requesting the presence of a delegate
from the Rice Institute during the exercises in celebration of the one
hundredth anniversary of the founding of the University to be held on
Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday and Friday, May the thirty-first to June
the third, nineteen hundred and twenty-one, the Trustees and Faculty of the
Rice Institute have pleasure also in announcing the appointment of Mr.
Stockton Axson, Litt.D., L.H.D., LL.D., Professor of English Literature, to
represent on so auspicious an occasion in the history of University education
in America the youngest of educational foundations in the South, and to
bear to the University of Virginia, Alma Mater of men and of universities,
cordial greetings of congratulation and good-will from the Rice Institute, a
university of liberal and technical learning founded by William Marsh Rice,
and dedicated by him to the advancement of Letters, Science and Art, by
instruction and by investigation in the individual and in the race of humanity.
And these cordial greetings carry also grateful recognition of several
reminders of his ancient university which an alumnus of Virginia may discover
in the environment of the new institution in Texas: a campus site of

spacious dimensions and a comprehensive architectural plan of dignity and
distinction; the spirit of research and teaching housed in a home of extraordinary
beauty as well as of more immediate utility, and the features of the
founder of the University of Virginia cut in stone among the effigies of its
patron saints in the more humane letters, ancient and modern, and the
fundamental sciences, pure and applied; a society of scholars seeking solutions
of the universe of thought and things, and a guild of students living a
common life under the restraining influences of an honor system of self-government:
these reflections of academic traditions that flourished in
Virginia's early history: and Faith and Freedom: here the freedom of the
plains, as there the freedom of the mountains: here, as there, faith in the
capacity of human intelligence to find in human experience firm foundations
of hope for the human spirit: and here as there, the freedom vouchsafed by a
heavenly vision of service towards which men may well press forward,
heartened by whatever of progress our civilization may have already
achieved towards Justice, Security, Tolerance, Knowledge.

LIST OF DELEGATES

Delegates from Institutions in Foreign Countries

University of Paris

Professor Jules Legras

University of Oxford

Professor Beverley Dandridge Tucker, Jr.

University of Cambridge

Professor Ernest William Brown

University of Saint Andrews

Mr. William John Matheson

University of Geneva

His Excellency Marc Peter

University of Edinburgh

Professor John Kelman

The Royal Society

Professor Ernest William Brown

University of Christiania

Mr. Arne Kildal

University of Toronto

Professor Wilfred Pirt Mustard

Queen's University

Professor Samuel Alfred Mitchell

The Queen's University of Belfast

The Reverend John Edgar Park

Victoria University of Manchester

Professor John William Cunliffe

University of Belgrade

Mrs. Rosalie Slaughter Morton

Delegates from Institutions in the United States

Harvard University

President Abbott Lawrence Lowell

Professor Archibald Cary Coolidge

The College of William and Mary

President Julian Alvin Carroll Chandler

Saint John's College

President Thomas Fell

Yale University

The Reverend Anson Phelps Stokes

American Philosophical Society

Professor John Campbell Merriam

University of Pennsylvania

Acting-Provost Josiah Harmar Penniman

Princeton University

President John Grier Hibben

Professor Thomas Jefferson Wertenbaker

Columbia University

Professor John Bassett Moore

Brown University

President William Herbert Perry Faunce

Rutgers College

President William Henry Steele Demarest

Dartmouth College

Professor Douglas VanderHoof

American Academy of Arts and Sciences

Mr. Robert Simpson Woodward

Washington and Lee University

President Henry Louis Smith

Hampden-Sidney College

Professor James Shannon Miller

The University of the State of New York

The Honorable Charles Beatty Alexander

University of North Carolina

President Harry Woodburn Chase

Bowdoin College

The Honorable Wallace Humphrey White, Jr.

Library of Congress

Mr. Herbert Putnam

University of South Carolina

President William Spenser Currell

United States Military Academy

Major Robert Henry Lee

University of Maryland

Professor Thomas Hardy Taliaferro

Professor Gordon Wilson

Union Theological Seminary, Virginia

Professor Thomas Cary Johnson

Centre College

Dean John Redd

The George Washington University

Professor Mitchell Carroll

Amherst College

Professor William Jesse Newlin

Western Reserve University

Mr. Robert Algar Woolfolk

Lafayette College

President John Henry MacCracken

Randolph-Macon College

President Robert Emory Blackwell

The University of Richmond

Professor Samuel Chiles Mitchell

University of Delaware

President Walter Hullihen

Haverford College

President William Wistar Comfort

Wake Forest College

Professor Benjamin Sledd

Union Theological Seminary, New York

President Arthur Cushman McGiffert

Mount Holyoke College

Professor Margaret Shove Morriss

University of Michigan

Professor Morris Palmer Tilley

Mercer University

The Reverend Henry Wilson Battle

Medical College of Virginia

Mr. Eli Lockert Bemiss

University of Missouri

President Albert Ross Hill

Professor George Lefevre

Virginia Military Institute

Colonel Hunter Pendleton

Hollins College

President Martha Louisa Cocke

The Citadel

Colonel Oliver James Bond

University of Mississippi

Mrs. Anna Abbott McNair

Professor Alexander Lee Bondurant

Ohio Wesleyan University

The Honorable William Van Zandt Cox

United States Naval Academy

Professor Charles Alphonso Smith

Smithsonian Institution

Mr. Charles Greeley Abbot

The College of the City of New York

Professor Charles Baskerville

The University of Wisconsin

Mr. Charles Noble Gregory

Roanoke College

The Honorable Lloyd Mileham Robinette

The Pennsylvania State College

Professor Albert Henry Tuttle

The University of the South

Professor Samuel Marx Barton

Vassar College

Mrs. John Scott Walker

Iowa State College of Agriculture and Mechanic Arts

Brigadier General Edward Albert Kreger

National Academy of Sciences

Rear-Admiral David Watson Taylor

Swarthmore College

Miss Mary Elizabeth Pidgeon

Gallaudet College

Vice-President Charles Russell Ely

Cornell University

Former President Jacob Gould Schurman

Professor Thomas Leonard Watson

Worcester Polytechnic Institute

Mr. Allerton Seward Cushman

Lehigh University

Professor Harvey Ernest Jordan

University of Kentucky

Professor Graham Edgar

West Virginia University

President Frank Butler Trotter

Professor Charles Edward Bishop

Bureau of Education

Professor George Frederick Zook

The Johns Hopkins University

President Frank Johnson Goodnow

University of California

Mr. Frederick Leslie Ransome

The Hampton Normal and Agricultural Institute

President James Edgar Gregg

The University of Minnesota

Dean Thomas Poe Cooper

The University of Nebraska

Professor George Bernard Noble

Purdue University

Dean Charles Henry Benjamin

Boston University

Professor Ralph Lester Power

The Ohio State University

Professor Rosser Daniel Bohannan

Syracuse University

Mr. Clarence Norton Goodwin

University of Cincinnati

President Frederick Charles Hicks

Professor Harris Hancock

University of Arkansas

President John Clinton Futrall

Virginia Polytechnic Institute

Professor John Edward Williams

University of Oregon

Mr. Clyde Bruce Aitchison

University of Nevada

Mr. James Fred Abel

Vanderbilt University

Professor Edwin Mims

American Association for the Advancement of Science

Professor Samuel Alfred Mitchell

Mississippi Agricultural and Mechanical College

Mrs. Anna Abbott McNair

Bridgewater College

Professor Frank James Wright

University of Texas

Professor Robert Emmet Cofer

The John Slater Fund

President James Hardy Dillard

University of South Dakota

Mr. Herbert Sherman Houston

Mississippi State College for Women

Mrs. Anna Abbott McNair

Miss Emma Ody Pohl

State Normal School for Women, Farmville

President Joseph Leonard Jarman

Leland Stanford Junior University

Mr. Roger Topp

The Jewish Theological Seminary of America

Acting-President Cyrus Adler

Catholic University of America

Dean Aubrey Edward Landry

National Geographic Society

Judge Richard Thomas Walker Duke, Jr.

Teachers College

Professor William Heard Kilpatrick

Randolph-Macon Woman's College

President Dice Robins Anderson

Virginia College

Miss Gertrude Neal

Sweet Briar College

President Emilie Watts McVea

Carnegie Institution of Washington

President John Campbell Merriam

General Education Board

The Reverend Anson Phelps Stokes

University of Florida

Mr. William Kenneth Jackson

Harrisonburg State Normal School

Professor John Walter Wayland

Professor Raymond Carlyle Dingledine

The Rice Institute

President Edgar Odell Lovett

Professor Stockton Axson

The Rockefeller Foundation

The Reverend Anson Phelps Stokes

Southern Methodist University

Professor John Owen Beaty

American Council on Education

Mr. Samuel Paul Capen

THE UNVEILING OF THE MEMORIAL TABLET TO WORLD WAR HEROES

Invocation offered at the Dedication of the Memorial Tablet by Reverend
Beverley D. Tucker, Jr.

Almighty and everlasting God who art the author and giver of life, and who
in all the ages past hast inspired the sons of men with a sense of their heritage
to become sons of God; we yield Thee hearty thanks for this our Alma
Mater, who under Thy divine guidance has been a maker and molder of men.

We give Thee thanks for our fathers who, in a former day, went forth
from this place to give their lives for home and country. We give Thee
thanks for these our brothers who, in this latter day, went forth in this same
exalted spirit that freedom might not perish from the earth. We commend
them, O God, to Thy fatherly care and protection, and pray that their
names emblazoned here may shine in our hearts as the stars forever, that the
cause for which they died may yet through us prevail.

O Thou strong Father of all nations, draw all Thy great family together
with an increasing sense of our common blood and destiny, that peace may
come on earth at last, and Thy sun may shed forth its light rejoicing on a
holy brotherhood of peoples.

We ask it all in the name of Him, who is the perfect Son of Man and
the eternal Prince of Peace, Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

REMARKS OF THE PRESIDING OFFICER, LIEUTENANT COLONEL CUTCHINS

(Introducing Captain Barksdale)

It is a beautiful and an inspiring thought that the first assembly of the
alumni of the University of Virginia, returning to celebrate the completion
of Alma Mater's one hundred years of service to State and Nation, should
be for the purpose of doing honor to, and perpetuating the memory of, those
former students of the University who gave their lives in order that the
ideals for which their Alma Mater always had stood might endure, and who,
by their death, exemplified the daily teachings and the loftiest traditions of
this University.

No graver charge can be lodged against any country than that it is ungrateful
to those who have fallen in its defense, or neglectful of the obligation
to perpetuate their memory. That the names of those immortal sons of
Virginia who willingly have given their lives in order that that civilization,
for which the University of Virginia has stood for a century, might be perpetuated
for unnumbered centuries yet to come, shall not go unrecorded and
unhonored, is due to the zeal, the loyalty and the patriotism of the classes
of 1918, 1919, 1920, and of the Seven Society. Those classes and that
society have earned not only the thanks of the great body of the alumni,
but they have earned as well the thanks of the countless thousands of Virginia
students who in the years that are to come will walk these paths, and,
walking here, will stop to read the names of that immortal company, and,
reading, will be inspired to go forth and so conduct themselves in the world
of men that the cause of civilization may be advanced, and that they too,
in time, may merit and win the thanks of Alma Mater.

One indeed treads upon sacred ground when one attempts to interpret
to the living the voices or the wishes of those who have passed beyond, but
I make bold to say that if that silent company who are to-day bivouacked
"on fame's eternal camping ground" could give expression to their sentiments,
they would bid me say that it is a source of satisfaction to them that
this Tablet Memorial is to be presented in their honor by one who himself
has inhaled the smoke of battle, one who himself has engaged in hand to
hand conflict with the foe, and one who has borne the seemingly endless
vigil of the long nights before the days of battle.

That my old comrade of the 29th Division, who will present this beautiful
tablet to-day, meets fully those requirements I personally can testify.
Nor need I give personal testimony, for the government of the United States
has recognized that fact officially, by awarding him the Distinguished Service
Cross for three separate acts of exceptional gallantry on three different
days of battle.

It is therefore with much pleasure that I present Captain Alfred Dickinson
Barksdale, who now will present this Tablet Memorial to the University
of Virginia.

ADDRESS OF CAPTAIN A. D. BARKSDALE, PRESENTING THE MEMORIAL TABLET

Thousands of miles away upon the friendly bosom of a sister republic
lie these heroic sons of Alma Mater. Filled with the loftiest ideals known to
mankind these modern Argonauts sailed three thousand miles to engage in
the mightiest conflict since the creation, and with their fellows they cast
their deciding weight into the balance on the side of humanity.

In that vast cataclysm which so recently enveloped the earth many
there were who made sacrifices, who gave of their time, of their means, of
their blood—but these have given their all; they have given their lives.
Only a few short years have passed since they in the fullness of their strong
young manhood were capable of standing here as we stand and feeling that
thrill which contact with this noble old Jeffersonian structure always inspires.
It seems as if it were but yesterday when they moved among us,
and made life brighter by their presence. But to-day their places are vacant
and we are gathered to honor their memory. From far and near we have
gathered to print their names in everlasting bronze upon the walls of this
Rotunda. But nothing that we do here or can ever do will add anything to
their glory. Their names have been ineradicably enrolled upon the great
American Roll of Honor. Those of us who knew them will always bear their
memory fresh in our hearts until we are called over yonder. But our days
are numbered and as we grow old and fulfill our allotted span we shall wither

Tablet Memorial Unveiled on Second Day of Centennial

as the grass. "They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old; age
shall not weary them nor the years condemn. At the going down of the sun
and in the morning we will remember them." When we are gone generations
yet unborn will honor them. I know of no more priceless heritage to
one entering these portals than to be able to point to this tablet and say,
"I am descended from one of these."

In the early days just after America had aligned herself upon the side
of freedom and right, throughout the land there was a feeling of uncertainty
whether or not we Americans untried in war were capable of withstanding
the fierce onslaught of the Hun. The whole world stood anxiously watching
to see how Americans would stand the test. How they went through their
trial by battle, how they underwent their baptism of fire is now writ large
upon the glorious pages of the history of the world. And we are gathered
here to-day to place upon the walls of our University the names of her sons
who gave their all that their country's honor should be unsullied and to
show the world that Americans could still die for their country.

Since we cannot fathom the infinite we can never know why the grim
reaper as he stalked over the battlefields and army camps chose these.
Sometimes it seems as if it were all wrong; that only the best were taken;
that there must have been some great mistake somewhere up in the infinite.
But I think not. One night on the bank of the Meuse just after dusk, when
the guns were roaring and the shells were crashing everywhere, and the
whole world seemed in an uproar and confusion, I chanced to turn my eyes
upward and in the heavenly firmament above, countless myriads of stars
shone down upon the earth beneath; each one in its accustomed place unmoved,
unperturbed and imperturbable. Then over me surged the consciousness
that somewhere there was a Supreme Being who ruled over the
battlefield, who guided the destinies of mankind, and directed everything
according to His infinite plan, and although at times it seems that since the
war both nations and people have grown more selfish and subject to petty
jealousies, surely such sacrifices could not have been for naught. If we keep
faith with those who lie beneath the poppies, surely the world will be a better
place because of their sacrifices.

It was my privilege to serve with one of those whose names are written
on this tablet, Robert Young Conrad. In a few minutes his daughter, who
has never known the depth of her father's love and whose little body will
never be held in her father's strong arms, will assist in the unveiling. Together
we marched through the black night of October 7, 1918, to our position
in advance of the French lines from whence we were to attack at dawn.
The gloomy, drizzly night which disspirited many rather heightened than
dampened his spirits. "The very night for us," he said, "we can get ready
without being observed." Arrived at our position we lay down for a few

hours' rest on the wet hillside. Before the first rays of morning light he
called to me that it was time to place our troops in order of battle. As the
day slowly broke I could hear him calling to his men and placing them in
their respective positions. At dawn the roar of our barrage and the shrieks
of the shells overhead burst upon our ears. At zero hour he moved off in the
midst of his men and I could hear him calling to them with words of encouragement
and cheer. When the shells of the enemy's counter barrage
began to fall I could see him here, there and everywhere strengthening and
encouraging his men. Finally he disappeared over a hill and I never saw
him again. Hearing that one of his platoons had been halted by a murderous
machine gun fire, without a moment's hesitation he hastened to lead them
in the charge and fell mortally wounded. He was carried unconscious to
the rear and died in the little village of Glorieux, near Verdun. Aye, at
Glorieux, he met death gloriously.

It would take too long to recount the daring and unselfish exploits of
all of them, but whether they were called when soaring above the clouds as
Jim McConnell or while in the execution of some more prosaic task, in the
death of each one of them surely there is a glory incomparable. Free from
all that is mean and petty they went to meet their Creator inspired by the
noblest impulses known to mankind. They were taken at the high tide, at a
point where regard for self sunk into nothingness, and devotion to the cause
reigned supreme. "Don't bother with me, go ahead," murmured one of
them with his last conscious breath.

Although they loved life they did not fear death. Doubtless all of us
when filled with the romance of youth have read with bated breath of heroes
who met death with a smile and wondered what sort of divine clay they
were molded of. But we need wonder no longer, for here is the roll of Virginia's
sons, our brothers, in whom were inculcated the principles of right
and justice and duty, so that when the call came, they did not hesitate but
hastened cheerfully to lay down their lives, and if they had any regret it
was for those they loved and left behind.

Death is always a solemn thing and perforce sad, but for these, our
fallen comrades, we should repress our tears and rather let our souls swell
with pride in the glorious heritage they have bequeathed to their Alma
Mater. No one of these generous unselfish souls would ever wish sorrowful
tears shed for him. I believe that Alan Seeger, that valiant American who
also lies over there, expressed the wish of each of these when he said:

Mr. Rector, we present to you for the University this tablet "in memory
of the sons of this University, who gave their lives for freedom in the World
War." May its presence here always be an inspiration to Virginia's sons
and may it stand forever as a proof that amongst the sons of this University
'tis counted a glorious thing to die for one's Country.

ADDRESS BY JOHN STEWART BRYAN, RECTOR OF THE UNIVERSITY, ACCEPTING
THE TABLET

On this porch, a little more than half a century ago, were gathered
students in whose ears still sounded the drums and tramplings of the War
Between the States.

There, in graven bronze, are five hundred and fifty names of those who
marched forth under the flag of Virginia, and died in the defense of their
homes. Here are the memorials to their fourscore younger brothers who in
their day and generation heard the shrill bugle, and gladly followed the call
of duty.

The sad sagacity of age has taught us that nothing built with hands
can "hold out against the wreckful siege of battering days," and yet we
place this tablet on the walls of this century-old Rotunda in response to a
wish that lies deep in the heart of humanity. That desire to enshrine beloved
memory beyond the changes and chances of time is one that has come to all
men everywhere. Every heart has its inner shrine. To the university's
great altar we bring to-day this frail barrier against the engulfing tides of
oblivion. Size is not the measure of our memorial. The Pyramids of the
Nile have no such spiritual import as the most obscure cross in Flanders
field. And who can compute the power that gave this tablet its long roll of
the Knights of the University, the champions of pure liberty, the Galahads
of pure manhood?

When those boys were born, the possibility of international conflict
belonged to the limbo of

and war seemed as far removed from the peaceful course of their lives as
volcanoes are from the calm Blue Ridge. As those young men grew up, they
saw nearly one half of our revenue being spent for works of peace, and now
95% is poured out for war, past, present and to come.

What was it in those boys that throbbed in response to the drumming
guns? Why was it then that those boys heard in these quiet shades the
blare of the war trumpet, when older and wiser heads still dreamt of peace?
What was it that called into instant action their aptitude for command and
their instinct for war? It was the glorious atavism in the blood of men
whose fathers and forefathers endured pain, darkness and cold at Valley
Forge, or stormed the heights of Chapultepec, or set new standards for military
genius and personal bravery at Chancellorsville and Gettysburg. The
blood that gave that type is coursing in the veins of Virginia. The inspiration
that controlled those lives is still potent.

Experience could have seen that those great spirits needed but the
revealing touch of death's finger to show that like their elder brothers of
Virginia blood they, too, when

Heredity alone will not explain the achievements of these sons of the
University. It was blood, yes, but it was training; it was heredity, but
heredity developed by environment; it was the soul of the South and the
traditions of the University of Virginia that made perfect those gentlemen
unafraid. It was not the Prussian drill master, but the Virginia school
master, that inspired those students and fortified their souls and liberated
their intellect. Those boys lived in the last unpoliced institution on earth.
No guardian was set over them here at the University, except the guardian
of conscience; they were tried and tested by the unwritten code of gentlemen;
they were electrified by the powerful spiritual currents that flow unimpeded
through the halls and arcades of this great school. No law bound them
except the law of honor, and by their lives, as by their death, they proved
again that an ideal is not only the most noble, but also the most useful
possession that an institution may give or a nation receive. They had
eaten the bread of Virginia in which lived transubstantiated the soul and
body of the whole nation. They found that to be a gentleman was at once
the crown and the sanction of life, and they showed by their willingness to
die that the certainty of sacrifice is the guerdon of greatness.

The glory that radiates from that tablet is the glory of the spirit of the
University of Virginia. The shining faces of those sacred dead have caught
the light of honor, and that flame will never perish from the earth while the
memory of their deeds endures.

Nor is the radiance theirs alone. Its light is upon us, too, for we who
stand here this afternoon are in a very real sense members of that mystical
body of Virginians who, living and dead, have fashioned the soul of this
Commonwealth. By ties of blood, by the unifying influence of race and

The Unveiling of the Tablet Memorial to World War Alumni

tradition, by the welding force of a common ideal, by the impress of the
same youthful enthusiasm awakened and amplified at the University, our
hearts are one with theirs. We grasp with an appreciation that far transcends
any power of reason what it was that made their lives luminous and
their deaths not in vain.

We dedicate this tablet, and with swelling throats and uplifted hearts
we turn again to the common tasks of daily life. That bronze memorial
stands immobile and silent; of itself it can do nothing; it is we alone, and our
lives alone, that can make it a vitalizing force. It is we, and we alone,
professors, alumni, students and citizens, who can surcharge that noble
scroll with an ever renewing energy. And this we can do by so living that
the spirit of those youths shall never be a stranger in these halls. For only
the souls of the living can make and keep the University a congenial home
for the souls of the dead.

This is no easy task. Our right to claim companionship with those
shining exemplars must be won in conflict with the hosts of darkness, even
as theirs was won. In the reeking trenches of France, in sweating camps,
and silent hospitals, across barbed-wire, and under the whirlwind of shrapnel
or the thunderclap of T. N. T., the sons of the University won their right to
be brothers in arms with the mighty men of all ages, who, from Thermopylæ
to Château-Thierry

Many of us were not in uniform. Oh, never mind the reason, for each
heart knew its own bitterness when the angel with the flaming sword passed
by; but all of us can be brothers in spirit with those whose virtues we revere,
and whose names we commemorate to-day. Like them, we can face our
duty without flinching; like them we know what high adventure America
sought in entering the war, and for them, as for ourselves, we can repel the
base slander that America made her stupendous effort not to save her soul,
but to save her skin!

It is not the expenditure of Forty Billions; it is not the long rows of
75,640 silent dead that sleep in Belleau Woods and elsewhere in France,
that mark the full extent of the price we paid. Ah, no! America's contribution
is not in shot-torn troops, but in shattered ideals; our loss is not in men
and money, but in morale and faith. And the mere fact that such a calumny
on the ideals of a great nation could be uttered by an ambassador who has
continued unrebuked at his post is evidence enough that what America is
suffering from is not poverty of goods, but destitution of spirit.

And this tablet we dedicate to-day—if we ourselves do not keep faith
with those who died for the soul of America—will not be a memorial, but a

mockery and if we are not baptized with the baptism of those we commemorate,
we will stand not as brothers, but as blasphemers before

The souls of those men are here, radiant with imperishable glory, leading
the way with strong exulting wing where we, with slow tread, must follow.

How shall we name them all, and how shall we discriminate among
those equals in valor of purpose and fortitude of execution? We cannot
choose or pick among that chivalry—when all are calling to us to "Be true
to the nation, be true to Virginia, be true to the spirit of the University,"—
and by God's good grace, we will!

REMARKS OF THE PRESIDING OFFICER, COL. CUTCHINS, INTRODUCING THE
FRENCH AMBASSADOR

As long as memory lasts, and whenever men and women shall gather
together in any part of the world for the purpose of memorializing the names
or the deeds of those who participated in the World War, there is one name
that, above all others, will be in every mind—the name of France—France,
glorious and immortal!

On the beloved soil of our own Virginia there are scars, long since healed,
that mark the burial places of soldiers of France who stood shoulder to
shoulder with the soldiers of America when America was fighting for her
liberty and for her existence as a nation; on the sacred soil of France there are
scars, not yet healed, that mark the burying places of countless thousands
of the sons of America who laid down their lives more than a century later to
preserve not only the liberty and the national life of France, but to preserve
civilization as well. These scars indicate ties which neither time nor circumstances
can sever.

It is indeed a happy coincidence that to this memorable ceremony at
the University of Virginia, founded by Jefferson who, afterwards, was sent
as an ambassador of the United States to France, there has come the distinguished
Ambassador of France to the United States, to do honor to the
memory of those sons of Virginia who have fallen in the greatest cause for
which man ever has fought. He has graciously consented to express to us
the sentiments of his countrymen on this occasion.

I have the honor and the pleasure to present His Excellency, M. Jusserand,
the distinguished Ambassador of France to the United States.

[Note by the Editor.—As the eloquent address of Ambassador Jusserand
was entirely extemporaneous, it was, unfortunately, not reported. The
Ambassador very graciously consented to speak at the last minute in the
absence of M. Gabriel Hanotaux who had hoped to be present.]

THE CENTENNIAL PAGEANT

THE SHADOW OF THE BUILDER

By Mrs. Frances O. J. Gaither

Foreword

W. M. Forrest,
Chairman, Pageant Committee.

This pageant is the farthest possible remove from the historical pageant
that seeks to visualize the development of an institution by a series of
tableaux or floats reflecting various important episodes of its life. It has
also chosen another way to reflect the spiritual element of the University's
life than by the insertion in the pageant of allegorical interludes, or by an
accompanying masque. It is a narrative of the way that Thomas Jefferson
planned his University, both the body of it and the soul of it. About the
struggle to get nothing but the best builded into the material structure of
the University there is woven a simple but compelling drama. Nerving the
great dreamer to make no compromise with the people who wanted something
cheap and quickly put to work, nor with his own ardent desire to see
the University open and at its task, were his visions of the young life yet to
throng its colonnades.

So into the story of a single day in the University's opening history
the author of the pageant has packed all the hopes, and dreams, and struggles
leading up to that day, and all the fruition of those hopes and dreams and
struggles flowing down through a century of life. It was the day when
Lafayette was entertained at the unfinished University upon his return, in
old age, to the land to which in youth his sword had helped to give freedom.
It was also the day upon which the Father of the University was confronted
by the fact that his determination to have nothing but the best for his buildings
involved another long delay, a new struggle with popular opposition
and with the legislature to get more money. At every crisis of the debate
with himself and others over this matter during the long day, compromise
was made impossible to Jefferson by the visions he saw of youth—beautiful,
ardent, truth seeking, honor loving, joyous, sacrificial youth, as it yet should
live and be trained in the University. And so the decision to have his
capitals of Carrara marble ended his struggle, and forever determined that
his University would content itself with no less than the best, cost what it
may.

That the dreams of the old philosopher should be expressed in terms of
Greek life is fitting. From classical architecture he drew inspiration for his
buildings. The democracies of the Greek cities helped him in all his work
and hopes for a free people. The untrammeled soul of Socrates gave him an

ideal for the professors of his new temple of learning, and the beauty loving,
truth seeking youths of Athens were such men as he fain would see crowding
the colonnades and pavilions of his own athenæum.

As the alumni and friends of the University of Virginia watch the
unfolding of this pageant-drama they will not find its artistic harmony
marred by any intrusion of historical scenes, such as the meeting wherein
the honor system was inaugurated by faculty and students, nor the marching
away of the student soldiers of 1861 or 1917, nor yet of the athletic struggles
nor the Easter time festivities of their college days. Yet in looking upon the
scenes wherein Socrates and his pupils discourse of the ideals of youth, and
the young men, in solemn ceremonial before the altar, consecrate themselves
to honor and truth, there must stir anew in the heart of every beholder
that passion for truth and honor which has been the soul of the University
throughout its century of life. And in song and dance to the accompaniment
of martial music will be revived again the memories of those days
when the men of the University met the acid test of patriotism and went
forth to battle and to die upon the fields of Virginia and of France.

Likewise will the echoes of bygone athletic combats and the festal
strains of far-off Easter and Finals' revels resound in the corridors of memory
as the dream figures of the pageant strive for the mastery, and mingle in
their dances of youth and love. Nor will any fail to catch the vision into the
true heart of youth flashing out from those scenes where the lads, engaged
in high converse upon truth and the dedication of life to art and philosophy,
to toil and battle, are instantly diverted to dancing and revelry by the sight
of their "Helen of a thousand dreams."

It was a far cry from that scene a hundred years ago where Jefferson
struggled for the best for his University to the moment when that University
gave to the cause of world freedom its many valiant sons. But it all seems
shadowed forth amid the rising walls of a new temple of learning and freedom
when Jefferson and Lafayette met and the flags of America and France
mingled. None then could see when the khaki clad hosts of America would
speak through the lips of their commander to the spirit of the old Marquis
of France saying, "Lafayette, we are here." But a Jefferson could know that
his athenæum, for which nought but the true and the good would suffice,
would not fail to have ready, in every hour of the world's need, heroes of
peace and heroes of war whose service would be all the more whole-hearted
because they had whistled and danced and sung while pursuing truth and
honor amid the cloisters and colonnades of the University of Virginia.

Overture and Interludes composed by Mr. John Powell.

Music for Songs, composed by Mr. George Harris, Jr.

Solo and Duet Dances, composed by Mr. Alexander Oumansky.

Scenes on the Moving Picture Screen from the University's Early History

1. (Upper left) Alumni Secretary Crenshaw Directing Scenes

2. (Upper right) Italian Workmen Carving a Capital

3. (Center) Jefferson and LaFayette Pledge Each the Other's Health

4. (Lower left) Laying of the Corner-stone

5. (Lower right) Making the Confederate Flag

Director of Pageant and Composer of Group Dances, Miss Emma Ody Pohl.

Assistant Director, Miss Grace Dorothy Massengale.

Dramatic Director, Mr. William Harrison Faulkner.

Musical Director, Mr. Arthur Fickenscher.

Music by the Washington Concert Orchestra. Conductor, Mr. Herman
Rakemann.

The Cast

     

Jefferson	Mr. William Mentzel Forrest
Cornelia, his granddaughter	Miss Gladys Gunter
Lafayette	Mr. William Hall Goodwin

     

Cabell	Visitors of the University	Mr. George Oscar Ferguson, Jr.
Madison, ex-President of the United States		Mr. Robert Henning Webb
Monroe, President of the United States		Mr. George Bordman Eager, Jr.

                         

Raggi, an Italian stone-carver	Mr. Francis Harris Abbot
Brockenbrough, the proctor	Mr. Bruce Williams
Gorman, a workman	Mr. Henning Cunningham Nelms
A Voter	Mr. John Jennings Luck
Workmen	Ladies and gentlemen of the community
People of Virginia
Local Dignitaries
Staff of Lafayette
Phædrus, a youth	Mr. Staige Davis Blackford
Lysis, his comrade	Mr. Dorsey Bland
Socrates	Mr. Richard Heath Dabney
An Athenian Girl	Miss Nina Weeden Oliver
A Priestess	Mrs. Sylvia Faulkner

             

Dancers	Miss Augusta Alexander	Miss Emily Massengale
	Miss Daphne Baggett	Miss Katharine McGrath
	Miss Frances Bahin	Miss Hettie Newell
	Miss Belle Bond	Miss Rebecca Pegues
	Miss Marguerite Briscoe	Miss Edith Reid
	Miss Josephine Campbell	Miss Eola Williams
	Miss Eugenia Howell	Miss Frances Woodward

         

Maidens	Young ladies of the community
Temple Attendants
Flute Players	Students of the University
Men of Athens
A Host of Youths

THE SHADOW OF THE BUILDER

Prelude

High buildings, drenched with light, flank an amphitheatre where,
to festival music, gather the alumni of the University of Virginia. Beyond
a green lawn dimly shows the façade of a low building. When the people
have assembled, the music changes, the lights all about grow dim, and the
façade ahead whitens into beauty. Against it forms with increasing distinctness,
the shadow of the Galt statue of Thomas Jefferson. And then the
shadow fades, leaving only its pedestal, a real, unfinished Corinthian capital
of coarse stone.

(Across the lawn come workmen. They fall to work; and as they pound
their hammers and scrape their trowels, they sing:)
(Gorman, a workman of great stature, coming up from the lawn, goes
to the blunt, half-shaped capital and inspects it in mock appreciation.)
GORMAN

Copied right out of one of Mr. Jefferson's pretty picture-books, every
leaf curled just so.

A WORKMAN
(Laying down his trowel and smiling sarcastically.)

But Signor Raggi is an artist, Gorman. He's no clumsy American
stonecutter with thumbs for fingers.

(Gorman leans against the stone and, lighting his pipe, indulges in un-

---

59

couth mimicry punctuated by puffs of smoke. His audience drop
tools and relax into attitudes of enjoyment.)

GORMAN

Ah, Signor Jefferson, how the American stone is brittle. It crumbles
like cheese. In Italy, signor—

(Such acclaim and laughter greet the intonation of this evidently familiar
phrase that Gorman's voice is quite drowned; and only the exaggerated
shrug of his great shoulders carries on the imitation. Raggi,
a stone-carver of Leghorn, comes lightly up the steps from the lawn,
blithely whistling a scrap of opera melody. He is a nervous person,
whose jaunty breeches and scarlet cap atilt, stamp him as alien as his
every syllable, liquid, vivacious.)

RAGGI

Good-morning, signori. You rest? Signor Gorman entertains you with
a bit of pantomime. Yes? (He does not seem to notice that his airy greeting
meets but surly, half-articulate response.)
I must warn you: I have passed
the proctor.

(He smiles at the general scramble to resume work.)

GORMAN
(Alone scorning to stir.)

Mr. Brockenbrough knows we are not loafers—Mr. Jefferson, too.

(Raggi resumes his whistling, softly, and falls to chiselling the capital.)

RAGGI

Pardon. Just a little aside, signor, you delay my chisel.

GORMAN

Delay? Hm. And you trying stone from every quarry in Virginia for
nearly twelve months—at so much a day.

(Raggi's chisel slips. A sliver of stone cracks off and goes rattling to
the floor. He whirls upon Gorman, mallet uplifted, face dark with
anger.)

RAGGI

Me, an artist! You accuse!

(Brockenbrough comes up from the lawn and steps between them. He
is evidently weighted with a thousand cares.)

BROCKENBROUGH

What is this?

RAGGI

An infamy on my art! A cruel infamy!

GORMAN

Mister Raggi has spoiled another capital.—But he is used to that.
Why should he get excited?

(A shadow falls upon them, the natural, morning shadow of Thomas
Jefferson who has come silently up the steps at the end of the terrace.
Jefferson is a tall, old man in an old-fashioned, snowy stock, and suit
of homely gray broadcloth. Before his steady gaze Gorman drops
his eyes swiftly and turns away. The workmen doff caps in ready
respect.)

JEFFERSON

Ah, Gorman. Good-morning, Mr. Brockenbrough. More trouble,
signor?

RAGGI
(The angry attitude relaxing, his tone dropping to a plaint.)

Madonna! The coarse stone, like cheese. I but tap it once, so. Crack!
The work of weeks gone.

(Cornelia, the granddaughter of Jefferson, following him, exclaims with
sympathy at Raggi's ill luck. She is a wistful young person with
great earnest eyes and she carries, as if it were most precious, a great
portfolio in her arms. Going to the rough-hewn stone, she lays the
portfolio down and touches with her finger tips the scar.)

CORNELIA

Is it quite spoiled?

BROCKENBROUGH

Chop off the curl of the leaf, Raggi. It will never be noticed—thirty
feet aloft.

RAGGI
(Appealing to Jefferson in a shocked tone.)

It will never be noticed. Yes? I shall—chop it?

(Jefferson's only reply is a slow, sympathetic smile and an almost imperceptible
shake of the head. He turns with a smile to the men at
work and at the same time speaks to Brockenbrough.)

JEFFERSON

No holiday, Mr. Brockenbrough, even to welcome Lafayette!

BROCKENBROUGH

Every hour counts so—with all these buildings under way.

JEFFERSON

But it is here our neighbors of Charlottesville are coming to honor Lafayette.

(Brokenbrough dismisses the men with a gesture. Pouring down on
the lawn they clap each other on the back like hulking schoolboys
turned out for the day. Raggi lingers uncertainly. Jefferson extends
a hand to Cornelia.)

My dear, let us give Mr. Brockenbrough the specifications and drawings
we promised him.

CORNELIA
(Opening the big portfolio with immense precision and giving several
drawings to Brockenbrough.)

All except the Temple of Fortuna Virilis. That I have to shade.

JEFFERSON
(Smiling indulgently.)

We are as jealous of presenting our conception in true artistic form as a
Raphael, Mr. Brockenbrough.

(Brockenbrough smiles, too, and bows his thanks to the serious young
artist, but his manner is quite abstracted from the pleasantries of the
moment.)

BROCKENBROUGH
(Anxiously.)

Doesn't the work drag, sir?

JEFFERSON

Why, Mr. Dinsmore is putting up the modillions in his pavilion.

BROCKENBROUGH

At last. But Mr. Perry can't go on with the foundations of his until
he has blasted that rock out of the way. Mr. Ware has not begun to burn
his bricks. And now this! (He touches the capital with the sheaf of drawings.)

JEFFERSON

Remember, Mr. Brockenbrough, we are building not what shall perish
with ourselves but what shall remain to be respected and preserved through
other ages. If we do not finish this year or next or even in our life—

BROCKENBROUGH

But the months pile up so and I want to see the University open.

JEFFERSON

And I—if I might live to see it on its legs, (His voice trails wistfully
into mild humor,)
my bantling of forty years' nursing and growth, ah, then,
my friend, I could sing with serenity my "nunc dimittis."

(Brockenbrough seems much moved. He clears his throat twice and then
abruptly changes the subject.)

BROCKENBROUGH

Shall I have Raggi try to redeem this—

JEFFERSON
(Firmly.)

No.

BROCKENBROUGH

—or put him to helping Gorman hack out those door-sills?

JEFFERSON
(Smiling at Raggi's movement of horror.)

Not on Lafayette's day. Wait. Some of the Visitors of the University
will be here. Let us have their advice.

(Brockenbrough goes off. Raggi comes forward eagerly.)

RAGGI

In Italy, signor, we use such coarse stone only for paving or for—how
do you say?—what the big Gorman hacks out, ah, door-sills. The feet do
not care. But the eyes, signor, the eyes are different. They look up to
the capital. It is the crown of the house. It must be fair. It must be
delicate, white—

(He breaks off with a gesture of despair at the futility of English words.)

CORNELIA

Like clouds.

RAGGI
(Gratefully.)

She understands. The capitals for your beautiful academy, signor,
should be of marble.

JEFFERSON

Marble! (He begins a gesture of negation, but the suggestion plainly
fascinates him. Back of them dawns an other-worldly light. Jefferson looks
straight ahead of him, but his eyes are illumined. Cornelia's gaze, too, seems
to change and soften. Raggi, alone unconscious of the vision, leans absently
against the rejected stone. Shadows move through the radiance behind them,

The Pageant: Jefferson and his Granddaughter

shadows of such figures as might wreathe a Greek vase. There is the sound of
foot-falls as light as falling leaves, a strain of far-heard pipes and timbrels.
Then the shadows vanish, the light fades, and the timbrels are still.)
No, Signor
Raggi, no. Go before you tempt me!

(He paces away along the terrace. Raggi goes off, but Cornelia follows
Jefferson.)

CORNELIA

Marble capitals would be beautiful. (Shadows move again, and then the
lovely shapes that made them, dancers, beautiful, undulating. When they are
gone, Cornelia sighs gently and insists, half in statement, half in puzzled query,
looking up into Jefferson's face.)
And marble would be best. (Jefferson only
smiles at her and leads her back toward the rejected stone where he seats her on
the little campstool which up to now has masqueraded in whimsical wizardry
as Jefferson's cane. She as by habit sits down to begin drawing. Her movements
are absent, and even as her hands busy themselves with the paper her eyes
follow Jefferson. He again walks away along the terrace. When he has reached
the far end, she repeats her puzzled words.)
Marble would be best.

JEFFERSON
(Halting to turn and look back at her as she sits, eyes grave, pencil
poised.)

But, my dear, how the very word would reverberate in legislative halls.
Consider Mr. Cabell.

CORNELIA

Mr. Cabell would not mind. Is it not his "holy cause"? And Mr.
Madison and President Monroe always—

JEFFERSON

Humor me. But—

CORNELIA
(Shutting the portfolio and going to him.)

It is your dream. You cannot make it true with stone too coarse to be
shaped. Think of the Pantheon. When it rises there at the end of your
lifting line of colonnades, must it wear (Her voice breaks)
for its crown
chipped and broken stones?

JEFFERSON

Ah, Cornelia, I am not Pericles with tribute from a chain of subject
states to buy me beauty.

CORNELIA

Just the capitals. Everything else of brick and wood and rough stones.
But the capitals of marble.

(They are standing at the farthest point of the terrace. Jefferson takes
a little notebook from his pocket and computes rapidly, speaking the
while more to himself than to her.)

JEFFERSON

Perhaps thirty all told. A small thing to a great state, something more
than a score of marble capitals. But it would mean—more waiting. I
could hardly hope to live to see it finished, our Athenæum—I have longed
to hear it hum with an ordered throng of youths like those in the antique
poet who sat so seemly as they read their Homer and so lightly ran their
"laps beneath the olive trees."

(Light, far footfalls, pipes and timbrels, moving shadows, and a row
of swaying dancers, hands linked. Two youths come out on the terrace.
One, the younger, runs down upon the grass to dance. The other
drops to the steps where he half reclines as he looks on. Socrates, a
bearded man with a long staff, strolls in and stands meditatively regarding
the dance. Both youths nod to him affectionately; and the
dancer moves in ever-decreasing arcs nearer and nearer to him.)

SOCRATES

The dance of Lysis has a meaning, I suppose, Phædrus, a meaning and
a name?

PHÆDRUS

The Moth-dance.

SOCRATES

And the flame?

PHÆDRUS

You, to be sure. Are you not a purveyor of wisdom?

SOCRATES
(Sitting down and bestowing his draperies comfortably as for a long
talk.)

So it is wisdom the Athenian youth crave.

PHÆDRUS

Indeed. And their fathers for them. Men spend vast sums to get their
sons education.

SOCRATES

What! Exchange solid drachmas for such a vapor! Dear, dear. And
the men who receive all this money, the teachers—I suppose they but sit
and hark to the boys con their Hesiod and Homer.

(Lysis laughs aloud as he drops breathlessly to the steps at Socrates'
feet.)

LYSIS

Oh, Socrates.

PHÆDRUS

Hardly. They must be men of learning and high purpose. Otherwise
the youth would be corrupted.

SOCRATES

True. (He tells off one finger of his uplifted hand.)
Learning and
high purpose granted. Then the father, having found such philosophers
and driven his bargain may go his way in peace. Of course the sages will
seek out the young son, perhaps in the market place, and there, vying
with cackling fowls and hucksters crying their fish and myrtles, they will
press at the youth's elbow and pour wisdom in his ear. —No? Why not?
It is paid for. A bargain is a bargain.

PHÆDRUS
(Moving his shoulders fastidiously.)

But to learn in the noise and dust of the market-place!

SOCRATES

Then where? (Several youths come up. They stand listening while
their attendant crouches apart, as by custom.)
Phædrus here is about to
tell us where it is meet that youth shall be educated.

PHÆDRUS
(In some embarrassment.)

I hardly know. But the place must be beautiful, an academy of cool
colonnades and—

SOCRATES
(Prompting.)

Yes?

PHÆDRUS

And a lawn where (softly quoting)
"the plane-tree whispers to the
linden."

SOCRATES
(Telling off two more fingers.)

A fair colonnade, whispering trees, learned teachers,—then surely the
fathers may be easy now. All the sons will be wise.

(The youths all laugh, and others press nearer. The terrace is filling
with men of various ages, flowingly suggestive, in their easy grouping,
of Raphael's School of Athens. Phædrus springs to his feet in his
eagerness.)

PHÆDRUS

But, Socrates, a great deal depends upon the sons themselves.

SOCRATES

Why, they are only the vessels into which the oil is to be poured.

(Low laughter from the listeners.)

PHÆDRUS

Even so, they must be good vessels, not leaky or—hideous.

(Murmurs of approbation.)

SOCRATES

Beautiful vessels, too! O, Phædrus, how may we hope to make the
students beautiful?

PHÆDRUS

By trainers, of course, by the wrestling-school, by racing, by jumping—

(His words are drowned in the general applause. Socrates, with a
good-natured gesture, admits himself worsted and turns away toward
an elderly man, who promptly rolls up the papyrus he is reading
to make ready for delectable talk. The boys toss off their mantles and
run down upon the lawn. A trainer with his official staff and wearing
a vivid striped mantle selects from the crowding youths a half-dozen
to compete in a race. Slaves with oil-flasks make the contestants
ready. They withdraw to the beginning of the race-course. There is a
hum of eager talk and speculation. A host of youths pour in to see the
sport. They crowd the lawn, but are pressed back from the line of the
race-course by trainers. The contestants come running into view.
Lysis is winner, and is at once caught up and borne back with bravos
to the steps of the terrace to be crowned with laurel by a red-robed judge
waiting there. The enthusiastic crowd presses in upon the little knot
of athletes singing jubilantly:)
(The terrace empties. The youths still singing mount to the slopes
above the amphitheatre. The light on the amphitheatre grows dim,
but the rosy glow holds.)

Interlude

Music in which blend strains familiar to University victory and prowess
in athletics.

(When the music is ending, the light fades. As the amphitheatre brightens
again, Jefferson and Cornelia are seen still standing half-hidden
by shrubbery. A man who is presently to style himself a plain American
citizen, a voter, speaks officiously at Jefferson's very elbow.)
VOTER

Mr. Jefferson.

JEFFERSON
(Startled, recovers himself with an effort.)

Sir, have I had the honor—?

VOTER

You do not know me. I am a plain American citizen, voted for you for
President. I want a word with you.

(Jefferson inclines his head at the implied obligation and gently disengages
Cornelia's hand lying upon his arm.)

JEFFERSON

You will excuse us, my dear?

(Cornelia drops a shy curtsey and goes toward a group of ladies who
have come up from the lawn accompanied by servants with baskets.
One of them greets her.)

WOMAN

Cakes for the banquet—and we have yet to slice them!

CORNELIA

Let me help.

(They go inside.)

VOTER

I admire your political principles, Mr. Jefferson. I respect your age, but
I must tell you that people are very dissatisfied with your building here—
fancy ornaments, foreign labor, extravagance of all kinds—we want more
closets and fewer columns—

(Jefferson paces away from him a few steps and then pauses, his eyes
turned toward the shadowy confines of the lawn.)

JEFFERSON

There are divers minds, sir, and divers modes of thought. That we
should have builded to meet the approbation of every individual was in itself
impossible. We had no supplementary guide but our own judgment.
(His mild voice pauses. Then turning suddenly toward the voter, he puts a period
to the conversation.)
We have builded by our taste, sir, and by our
conscience.

(He bows low with old-fashioned courtesy and goes within. The voter
stands a moment staring after him. Cabell comes up the steps and
passes. He is half across the terrace when a voice halts him. Madison
and Monroe cross the lawn together.)

MADISON

Mr. Cabell!

(The voter recovers himself with a start and puts out his hand toward
Cabell as Cabell is turning back to the steps.)

VOTER

You do not know me. I am a plain American citizen, voted for you
for the legislature—

CABELL
(Bowing rather distantly and attempting to pass.)

Accept my thanks, sir.

VOTER

I want to speak to you about Mr. Jefferson's wastefulness in the building
going on here. There is a good deal of gossip—

CABELL

Gossip, sir! Mr. Jefferson is as indifferent to gossip as Monticello to
summer mists. (Chin up, he passes on to greet Madison and Monroe. They
meet beside the rejected stone and the little camp-stool forgotten there. Cabell's
face relaxes at sight of the stool. He takes it up and folds it carefully.)
The Old
Sachem is here ahead of us.

(The voter goes down to the lawn and off.)

MADISON

Perhaps, as the workmen say, he watches through his telescope the
driving of every nail; and if one is driven falsely, mounts Old Eagle and
comes charging down to right it.

MONROE

Every nail! Ah, sirs, even we, the Visitors, scarcely know the half of
Mr. Jefferson's dreams for the University.

CABELL

Perhaps we should grow faint if we often looked aloft from this material
base, these buildings dearly fought for and not yet completely won,—
aloft to the imagined towers of science he bids us rear.

MADISON
(Musing.)

We talked together, he and I, at Monticello last night—the punch-bowl
half buried in a drift of pages, the gathered dreams of half a century.—

CABELL
(Interrupting in an undertone.)

And such ordered dreams!

MADISON

Exactly. The very books for the library listed as minutely as those
specifications for bricks he daily sets his cramped wrist to draw up. Even
a masterpiece of sound defense for what he calls "our novelties," schools
of Anglo-Saxon, agriculture, government! A packet of letters already
written to precede Mr. Gilmer to Europe on his quest for "characters of
the first order"—

MONROE

We have progressed since the day when Mr. Jefferson laid out the first
building with peg and rule and twine here in Perry's old stubble field.

CABELL

If I could but have made the legislature see the great scale of his vision!

MONROE

You have accomplished much. You will do more.

CABELL
(Sadly.)

I cannot go back another term. My health is quite spent.

MADISON

Poor Old Sachem! Does he know?

CABELL

No. I must tell him to-day.

(A boy dashes across the lawn shouting.)

BOY

He's come! Lafayette has come!

(The sound of drums and processional music. Gaily dressed people
gather on the lawn. From the building come Cornelia and the ladies.
They curtsey to the gentlemen and pass down to the lawn. Down the
center aisle of the amphitheatre and through the lane of people, who
wave handkerchiefs and cheer, passes the procession: the chief marshal
and his aids; the president of the day; magistrates and other local
dignitaries; Lafayette and his staff. A flagbearer carries the flags
of America and France. At the steps, the dignitaries pause and divide
to let Lafayette pass through. Jefferson meets him there. They
embrace, and the cheering mounts to a frenzy. "Lafayette! Lafayette!")


JEFFERSON

God bless you, General!

LAFAYETTE

Ah, Jefferson! (He turns toward the lawn and speaks to the people.)

Even in the old world, I think, I have not seen a work that so clearly speaks
the spirit of the master as this, your Athenæum, speaks of him who has
fathered it. Its white colonnades are yet empty of young life, but a shadow
falls along them daily. Athwart the centuries, so that your sons and their
sons in turn shall walk within it, still will stretch the shadow of the friend
of freedom, of truth, Thomas Jefferson.

(Cheers, "Jefferson! Jefferson!" One voice cries, "The Declaration!"
Jefferson bows his head.)

JEFFERSON

My friends and neighbors, I am old, long in the disuse of making public
speeches, and without voice to utter them—It is my single wish to hear
you acclaim with undivided voice, as but now you did acclaim our great
guest and me, this, our University.

(A straggling voice calls, "The University!" but the crowd stirs with
confusion. The bands begin to play again, and the dignitaries go up
the steps of the terrace. There they form a lane again, and the chief
marshal by gesture invites Lafayette in to the banquet. Lafayette
turns to Jefferson, who stands looking out over the lawn, and offers
him his arm. Jefferson squares his shoulders, smiles affectionately,
and lays his hand within the elbow of the old marquis. With stately
steps they walk together into the banquet hall. Again the crowd cheers.
When the banqueters have gone the throng on the lawn gradually disperses,
some straying in groups upon the terrace to look curiously about.
A woman with her young son at her side pauses in admiration before
the unfinished capital. The voter approaches them. Cornelia, half-hidden
from them by a clump of shrubs on the lawn, stands listening.)

VOTER

I suppose you'd call that beautiful.

WOMAN

Why, no—it is still so rough—but it suggests beauty.

VOTER

H'm. More useless finery, fancy folderols, expensive toys for a man in
his dotage.

A MAN
(Coming up to them.)

Is it true that Mr. Jefferson will have no professors here but foreigners
—and Unitarians?

(The hum of voices swells and the stragglers foregather.)

VOTER

I don't doubt it. No one really knows what religion he believes in himself.

MAN

And he did get a lot of foreign notions when he lived abroad.

WOMAN

Ah, you are all swift to detract.

HER SON
(Tensely.)

But I heard you cheering, "Jefferson! Jefferson!"

WOMAN

Hush, my son.

(From the banquet hall comes an orator's voice rounding a period:
"—the friend of freedom," and then the sound of applause.)

VOTER

But, my boy, that is the thing to do, to cheer when public men stand
before us. I voted for Thomas Jefferson for President, but when it comes to
emptying out my pockets, why, that is different.

BYSTANDERS

Very different—. Indeed—. —especially for pagan professors and
un-American buildings.

VOTER

Of course it was not our business if he chose to throw away a lifetime
and a fortune on building his own house. Monticello—

(Raggi pushes through the ring of listeners and interrupts.)

RAGGI

Monticello? Ah, the fair, the serene house. Long after the flimsy shelters
in your valley lie rotted it will stand in beauty—so art endures, signori
and signore—on the breast of its little mountain.

(A breath of silence, during which Raggi picks up his chisel, left forgotten
on the stone.)

MAN

And who is he?

VOTER
(Shrugging his shoulders and turning to go down the steps.)

An importation of Mr. Jefferson's—from Italy.

(The circle breaks up and the people drift away. Raggi, leaving, is
stopped by Cornelia coming up from the lawn, portfolio in her arms.)

CORNELIA

If you please. I want to show you the drawing of the library, the great
building to stand at the head of the lawn. (She opens the portfolio on the
capital, and Raggi gives a low exclamation of pure delight.)
Do you recognize
it?

RAGGI

Recognize it? Ah!

CORNELIA

It will be smaller—

RAGGI

Of a certainty. But the proportions! The perfect round. Have you
seen it, the temple of all the gods? You have been to Italy, to Rome itself?
You know the Pantheon?

CORNELIA
(Wistfully, shaking her head.)

Only pictures. (She watches him study the drawing.)
Would rough
capitals spoil it?

RAGGI

Rough capitals? A thing impossible. They must be of marble.

(With a gesture of finality he turns abruptly away. She follows.)

CORNELIA

But of course there are different sorts of marble, some smoother than
others, whiter, some—

RAGGI

Ah, if we were but in Italy! There is the perfect marble, flawless like
untracked snow.

CORNELIA

It is—?

RAGGI

Carrara.

CORNELIA

Oh. Carrara.

(Satisfied, she turns to tie the portfolio again, and, when Raggi has gone,
sits down on the steps, her chin on her palms. Jefferson comes from
the banquet hall.)

JEFFERSON

Cornelia, you are waiting for me? But you will grow tired. Men love
talk like old wine.

CORNELIA

Shall you have a chance to speak to the Visitors of the University?

JEFFERSON

When the meat is served. We are to come here. But you must not
wait, my child. Are you delaying your carriage until the file winds up to
Monticello so that I may be your cavalier? I am but a grizzled outrider, and
Eagle an ancient mount—

CORNELIA

Listen. I have found what kind of marble we want for the capitals, the
smoothest, the whitest, the best—Carrara.

JEFFERSON
(Suddenly serious, taking her chin in his hand to study her eyes.)

My dear, we can but try. I will ask our Visitors.

(Jefferson and Cornelia separate, he going with bowed head back to
the banquet hall and she stealing softly down to the lawn.)
(Light dawns upon the terrace. Phædrus, in short, dun-colored cape
and little hard, round hat slung about his neck, comes out between
Socrates and Lysis. He wears a new and strange appearance which
cannot be entirely attributable to his clothes, although they are of
course both new and strange. It is rather a matter of lifted chin and a
far-off gaze. Lysis presses very close to him, looking up into his face
and now and then feeling the stuff of his cape. Socrates smiles whimsically
at the two of them.)

SOCRATES

Lysis, I think you are envying Phædrus. But the life of training he has
begun is rigorous. Surely you do not crave that ugly uniform. (Lysis
laughs and shakes his head.)
Or the close-cropped head? No? Perhaps
it is the mad revels of the young men, their societies of mystic names?
Nor these? Then perhaps the shield and spear Phædrus will have from the
state—and the dangers he will soon go out to encounter on the frontier?

LYSIS

Oh, no, Socrates.

SOCRATES

Then it is the sacred oath he swore just now in the sanctuary. (Lysis
not denying this, but instead looking eagerly toward him, Socrates drops his
humorous tone and speaks very gently.)
Ah, Lysis, do you suppose that you
must wait for a day and year to take an oath as sacred? Or that temples
alone can consecrate high purpose? This rough stone be your altar. Phædrus,
here, and I, your friends, will speak a prayer with you, and like good
comrades claim a share in the blessings it brings.

PHÆDRUS

But, Socrates, men say you do not believe in the gods.

SOCRATES

And you, who are my friend, who talk with me daily, how do you answer
them in your heart? Do you say, Socrates believes the sun a stone, he
has no faith in what is divine?

PHÆDRUS

No. But the men who are so clamorous to pass the sentence of death
upon you are not your friends. They declare you never sacrifice to the gods
of the state—

SOCRATES

Hush. It is sacrilege to give God to our little Attic state. Pray with
Lysis. Ask with him the dearest wish of his heart.

PHÆDRUS

Ah, I know what that will be—honor.

SOCRATES

Is that so, Lysis? Do you yearn above all things for truth? (Lysis
nods. The two youths stand by the rough stone and pray after Socrates.)
O,
Pallas, glorious goddess, keeper of wisdom,—

PHÆDRUS AND LYSIS

O, Pallas, glorious goddess, keeper of wisdom,—

SOCRATES

—give me beauty in my inward soul. May I be brave.

PHÆDRUS AND LYSIS

—give me beauty in my inward soul. May I be brave.

SOCRATES

And then, Athena, send me truth.

PHÆDRUS AND LYSIS

And then, Athena, send me truth.

(Socrates moves away, leaving Phædrus and Lysis. Phædrus, taking a
scroll from his tunic, sits down to read in it. After a moment Lysis
slips to a lower step and drops down quietly. He hugs his knees boy-fashion
and bends over to sniff delicately at the beautiful papyrus.)

LYSIS

Oil of sandalwood. Mmmm.

PHÆDRUS
(Thinking aloud.)

It would be splendid to be a poet, to speak truth, but half-knowing
how—yet easily, as the smilax climbs.

LYSIS

I have thought of that.

PHÆDRUS

After this (touching his uniform)
, I may try it,—try putting into starry
words the beauty that lumps in my throat.

LYSIS
(Reproachfully.)

But you were going to be a master artisan and fashion wings for us.
You said it would be simple to fly.

PHÆDRUS

Simple? Even the seagulls know as much, poising surely between blue
and blue in the wake of tall triremes.

LYSIS
(Still reproachfully.)

And only this morning you talked of founding a great world state so
that there might be an end of wars and all the oppressed should be free.

PHÆDRUS

Who can tell? (Moonlight silvers the façade beyond the terrace and
streaks the floor with light and shadow. A fair Athenian girl in shimmering
fabrics with garlands of unreal silver flowers stands a moment in a path of light.
Phædrus, spying her, springs to his feet, hand outstretched. Startled, she
vanishes before Lysis, leaping up and looking back, has seen her.)
It was
Helen!

LYSIS

How could you know?

PHÆDRUS

By her beauty. Was it not the glory of Greece? I have seen her in a
thousand dreams flash white-armed along these moon-barred colonnades.

(Again the girl appears. This time it is Lysis who sees her. He cries
aloud and runs toward her. She eludes him. He pursues and overtakes
her. But she breaks away and leaves him with empty arms

---

77

staring at the moon-lines on the floor. Soft music, and then the voice
of song:)
(The girl comes slowly out into the light again. Lysis meets her and
they dance of the love that comes to youth in dreams, mystic, evanescent.
At last she slips away. He follows. Other maidens come and dance
on the lawn; and the dance drifts into joyous revelry. They go off
laughing, Phædrus in their midst. The moonlight endures.)

INTERLUDE

Music, in which blend strains associated with University revels and
dancing.

(The amphitheatre grows bright again. The door of the banquet hall
opens, loosing a hum of general talk and laughter and the clink of
silver upon china. Jefferson comes out resting his hand affectionately
upon Cabell's shoulder.)
JEFFERSON

Whether to ask remission of our debt or funds for the library? The
latter, oh, surely, my friend, the latter. Were we to stop building now and
open our doors, we should fully satisfy the common sort of mind. And so
we should then be forced to proceed forever upon that low level.

CABELL

I have said we must never again ask money for building—but it is my
chief happiness to please you, in the little time I have left.

JEFFERSON
(Starting away from him.)

The little time?

CABELL

I am quite unable to stand for reëlection.

JEFFERSON

Desert now your holy labors! Think—one life you have. Can you
spend it better? The host of young in the years ahead depend for the freedom
of their souls upon our sacrifice of time, health, even life—(His voice
breaks, but he tries to go on.)
If you continue not firm-breasted, how shall
I without vigor of body or mind—

CABELL
(Stopping him.)

It is not in my nature to resist such an appeal.

JEFFERSON
(Again dropping his hand on Cabell's shoulder.)

My friend, my friend! —You will announce your candidacy?

CABELL

In the next issue of the Enquirer.

VOTER
(Coming up to them from the lawn.)

The talk I mentioned to you, Mr. Jefferson, has reached a head to-day.
The people gathered here are very dissatisfied. When they come together
again to see Lafayette come out, you should speak to them, explain this
rumor—

CABELL
(Frigidly.)

A rumor, sir?

VOTER

That these fancy capitals are an utter failure.

CABELL

More gossip, sir.

JEFFERSON

Gently, my friend. We are physicians unenviably prescribing a
draught nauseous to the public. (Turning to the voter.)
You are correct in
supposing us to have made mistakes, but we prefer to make no speeches. I

have found in a long life that the approbation of the public denied in the
beginning will surely follow right action in the end. Time dissipates these
mists of prejudice. We are building for those who are to come after us.
They will know whether we have builded well or ill. It is from posterity
that we expect remuneration (extending his hand toward the far boundaries of
the lawn)
, and I fear not the appeal. (The voter goes off as he came.)
It is
true, Mr. Cabell. Our Italian artist to-day spoiled this stone. (He turns
in greeting to Madison and Monroe as they come out of the banquet hall.)
Your
feasting with Lafayette has been interrupted, sirs, by the claims of your
office as Visitors of the University. Your rector needs advice. Signor Raggi
has decided, after all, that Corinthian capitals can never be faithfully carved
from such coarse stone. Shall we in the absence of our colleagues, the other
Visitors, arrest his work?

MONROE

By all means.

MADISON

Pay his passage back to Leghorn if need be. He is hardly more popular
than useful.

JEFFERSON

And the capitals? (The other men are silent, waiting for him to go on.)

We shall still have to get capitals. (He takes the notebook from his pocket and,
consulting it, speaks in deliberate, matter-of-fact tones.)
I have made computations.
Capitals are relatively cheap in Italy. They understand there
doing these things more expeditiously than we. We can have at a reasonable
figure—less than we have already spent in experiment—capitals of
flawless marble.

MADISON

Marble!

CABELL

And imported! Consider the legislature, Mr. Jefferson.

MONROE

Think how delays goad the public impatience.

JEFFERSON
(As if he has not heard.)

These colonnades will shelter the visions of unnumbered hosts, young
Lockes, Newtons, even Lafayettes brave for right. Here the fledgling poet
shall sense the law of austere beauty which Homer knew, and boy Ciceros
learn to strip their raw fancies from the chaste, compelling truth—

(He breaks off. There is a little silence, and then Madison taking a
step forward speaks to Cabell and Monroe.)

MADISON

Thomas Jefferson is the father of the University of Virginia. It is the
very shadow of his great self. He alone can know how its spirit must be
bodied forth. Let us not deny him one stone.

MONROE

Jefferson, you must decide.

(He seizes Jefferson's hand and wrings it warmly. The others follow
his example and go at once back toward the banquet hall.)

JEFFERSON

But your advice—I need your advice—your help—

CABELL

You are an infinitely better judge than we.

(They go in. Jefferson stands alone staring down at the rejected stone,
his notebook still in his hand. Brockenbrough comes up from the
lawn.)

BROCKENBROUGH

You saw the Visitors?

JEFFERSON

Yes.

BROCKENBROUGH

About Raggi, I mean.

JEFFERSON

About Raggi? Yes.

BROCKENBROUGH

What did they decide, sir? Is he to go on spoiling good material?

JEFFERSON

No. Oh, no. We must have no more good material spoiled, Mr.
Brockenbrough. (His abstraction is so deep that he seems not to notice Brockenbrough's
restless shifting of position.)
We must stop Raggi from spoiling
good material. They were clear about that.

BROCKENBROUGH

And the capitals? How shall we finish the columns?

JEFFERSON

They told me to decide—but I am very tired—It would take a long
time to bring capitals from Italy, Mr. Brockenbrough.

BROCKENBROUGH

A good many months, I should suppose, and a clumsy job at best.
Even after they are dumped off at New York, they would have to be got to
Richmond, and, after that, long, tedious hauls by batteaux and wagons.
It would delay us indefinitely.

JEFFERSON

Months and months.

BROCKENBROUGH
(With sudden sympathy.)

Why worry now, sir? You've had a long day. You can discharge
Raggi to-morrow—and then think about the capitals.

JEFFERSON

To-morrow. I will decide to-morrow.

(Brockenbrough goes off hat in hand. From the banquet hall comes
Lafayette.)

LAFAYETTE

Jefferson. My friend.

JEFFERSON

Lafayette, Lafayette, the years press sensibly on our shoulders. How
long since your shield covered this neighborhood from the ravages of Cornwallis!
How long since you brought your band of patriots to my house in
Paris to wish a constitution! History has turned many chapters since then,
of Robespierre, Barras, Bonaparte and the Bourbons.

LAFAYETTE

Many chapters indeed, Jefferson.

JEFFERSON
(Walking away, head bowed.)

Replete with intrigue, dark with death.

LAFAYETTE
(Following.)

But on every page the bright recurrent phrase.

JEFFERSON

The bright phrase?

LAFAYETTE

You ask! You who in young manhood wrote, all men are free; and now
in the ripeness of age make them this material pledge. (His gesture includes
the buildings and lawn.)

JEFFERSON

Freedom.

LAFAYETTE

A fair flag for the young crusaders to be nurtured here.

(The chief marshal comes out of the banquet hall and looks about him.
Lafayette, at the far end of the terrace, presses Jefferson's two hands
in silence and joins the marshal. They go back into the banquet hall.)

JEFFERSON

Young Lafayettes brave for truth.

(A shadowy figure slips in and kneels beside the rejected stone. Then
comes Socrates, hands behind him, face lifted, intent upon absorbing
reverie. Back of him is Phædrus with shield and spear. They are
almost upon the kneeling youth when Phædrus, seeing him, lays his
hand upon Socrates' arm.)

SOCRATES

What, Lysis! Still at the altar of truth? (As Lysis lifts grief-stricken
eyes, his tone of raillery softens into tender reproach.)
Ah, my son, you grieve.

PHÆDRUS
(In a low tone.)

Because I am ordered to the frontier and you are to be tried, Lysis is
sure I shall be killed and you condemned.

SOCRATES

Lysis, I was condemned to die from the hour of my birth. My judges
can but fix the time of my setting forth. Look, is tranquil sleep a boon or a
curse?

LYSIS
(Rising and never taking his eyes from Socrates' face.)

A boon, of course.

SOCRATES

Or if, as some say, we live on after death, would not Phædrus joyfully
go to meet the heroes of old—Palamedes and Ajax, the son of Telamon?
Think, Lysis, what could he not learn of Orpheus or of Homer.

LYSIS
(Lifting his arms, as though they were winged and he would take flight.)

Truth itself.

PHÆDRUS

And how they would tell it!

Greek Dancing at the Pageant

SOCRATES

You see. The hour is neither here nor there. Would not you yourself,
Lysis, who are yet young, this moment gladly die, if you so might lighten,
a little, men's load of tyranny and error?

LYSIS

Gladly—Oh!

(Far off a trumpet sounds and then the tread of marching feet. A
company of youths with shields and spears passes along and Phædrus
silently joins them. Lysis, lifting his arms high above his head, leaps
down the steps to dance upon the grass. He dances, not the freedom of
nature but the blood-bought liberty of peoples, to music which is martial
and splendid. Socrates watches him and then goes away, stopping
once or twice to look back at him. Dancers in deep blue come in. The
recurrent poses of their dance suggest a frieze or the pediment of some
Greek temple. When their dance is ended Lysis rushes up the steps
and pauses there, arms uplifted as though he would actually take flight.
Again there are trumpets. He drops his arms and marches away at
the head of the martial company.)
(The doors of the banquet hall are thrown open, and there floats forth a
confusion of talk and the scraping of chairs. The flag-bearer comes
out, but, finding himself a little premature, halts suddenly and stands
looking back almost hidden by the mingled folds of the two flags. The
nearly level light throws a long diagonal shadow across the terrace,
enveloping Jefferson. Lafayette comes out. He pauses once at the
very spot where Lysis stood a moment earlier, and the sunlight falls
startlingly upon him and the mingled flags behind him. The banqueters
coming out in confusion fill the terrace, and crowds on the
lawn press near the steps. A fragment of cheering struggles up, but
clamor drowns it. Lafayette goes down the steps with his staff, folowed
by the local dignitaries; and the people push in behind them.
Jefferson is left alone. From the shadow on the lawn pass workmen
homeward bound singing softly:)
(Jefferson hurries after them along the terrace, calling.)

JEFFERSON

Gorman, oh, Gorman!

GORMAN

Yes, Mr. Jefferson?

JEFFERSON

Has Signor Raggi gone?

GORMAN

No, Mr. Jefferson.

(Jefferson has stopped in the light; and its glow falls full upon his face
turned toward Gorman down on the lawn.)

JEFFERSON

Then send him to me.

(Gorman goes back. There is a light, deepening to brilliance, and the
sound of flutes in processional drawing nearer and nearer. A girl
comes out and dances, and after her Athenian maidens bearing green
palm fronds. They dance on the grass and then sweep the rejected
stone and the steps with their branches. The flutes are at hand, and
the players appear. After them come other groups in sacred processional:
high-born maidens carrying aloft painted jars of oil and golden
vases of wine; old men with olive-boughs; athletes wearing coronals
of victory; and attendants of the temple, some with long garlands of
flowers for the altar and some with trays and baskets of sacrificial
loaves and fruit. From the slopes above the amphitheatre come the
host of Athenian youths in ordered march filling the lawn in great
semicircles. They carry unlighted torches. At last the priestess of
Athena walks slowly forth to stand beside the stone. An attendant
brings her the lustral bowl. She bathes her hands. Attendants offer
fagots. She kindles a fire and prays.)

PRIESTESS

Cleanse us of error, great daughter of Jove.

(As the fire leaps into flame, Lysis draws near in the last measures of
the Moth-dance. The priestess gives a torch into his hand. He runs
down and kindles the torch in the hands of a youth near the steps.
The light travels from hand to hand until the whole lawn is ablaze with
torches. The youths sing:)
(Still singing, carrying torches aloft, led by Lysis, they march up the
steps and through the central doorway of the building. Group by
group, the worshipers follow. The priestess, when they have all gone,
pours a perfumed libation on the fire, quenching the flame, and herself
follows. The last sound of the recessional is the echo of flutes.)
(A group of workmen passes. Jefferson hurries toward them into the
light, but then he pauses, waiting. Another group passes. Then
come Gorman and Raggi.)

RAGGI
(Cap in hand, below the steps.)

You wanted me, signor?

(Gorman goes on by.)

JEFFERSON

Yes, Raggi. I have decided.

CORNELIA
(Coming out of the shrubs at the other side of the steps.)

Are you never coming?

JEFFERSON

Ah, my child, is Wild Air impatient?

CORNELIA

Wild Air! Why, dear, Wild Air belonged to White House days. I can
hardly remember him. Don't you know—you ride Eagle now.

JEFFERSON

Yes, yes, Eagle, Old Eagle. (He straightens himself. The sunset light
deepens in color upon his face.)
Raggi, I have decided. You shall be our
agent to buy capitals in Italy.

RAGGI

In Italy. Of marble, signor? It is so firm to the chisel.

CORNELIA
(Softly, hands to her breast.)

Marble of Carrara?

JEFFERSON

White marble from the quarries of Carrara.

(Raggi goes off, and Cornelia turns away. Jefferson comes down the
steps to the lawn, his shadow yet a moment lying in the last path of
light.)

3. THE THIRD DAY

The proceedings of the third day of the Centennial consisted of
a public assembly in the Amphitheatre, with addresses by the British
Ambassador and the Professor of International Law and Diplomacy
at Columbia University; a pilgrimage to Monticello and a reception
there, with addresses on the life and teachings of Thomas Jefferson;
and a formal dinner in the Rotunda to delegates and invited guests.
It was a day of tributes to the University and its Founder by distinguished
spokesmen.

The ceremonies of the day began with the reading of a letter of
greeting from ex-President Woodrow Wilson. The President of the
University said:

As a prologue to these exercises, I take leave to read a brief letter from a
son of this University who, in a crisis of the world, embodied and expressed
the conscience and aspirations of mankind, and thus has found an enduring
place in human history.

Woodrow Wilson

It is with heartfelt regret that I find myself unable to attend the great
festival of the University.

I regard the University with genuine affection, recalling as I do with the
keenest interest and with many happy memories the profitable days I spent
on her lawns and in the stimulating class-room where we used to gather
about the great John B. Minor. He was a great teacher, and I hold myself
his permanent debtor.

May I not express the confident hope that, surrounded by her sons, the
University may take on new life?

With affectionate loyalty to the noble University;

Thursday, June 2d

 

11.00 A.M.

Centennial Exercises. The Amphitheatre

The Order of the Procession, Thursday Morning

BAND

I

THE CLASS OF 1921 IN DIVISIONS BY DEPARTMENTS

II

THE ALUMNI OF THE UNIVERSITY IN REVERSE ORDER OF
CLASS SENIORITY

III

THE PROFESSORS OF THE UNIVERSITY IN REVERSE ORDER
OF OFFICIAL SENIORITY
FORMER PROFESSORS OF THE UNIVERSITY
THE ALUMNI TRUSTEES OF THE UNIVERSITY OF VIRGINIA
ENDOWMENT FUND
THE TRUSTEES OF THE MILLER FUND
THE VISITORS OF THE UNIVERSITY OF VIRGINIA
FORMER VISITORS OF THE UNIVERSITY OF VIRGINIA
FORMER RECTORS OF THE UNIVERSITY

IV

GUESTS OF THE UNIVERSITY

V

DELEGATES FROM INSTITUTIONS IN FOREIGN COUNTRIES

DELEGATES FROM INSTITUTIONS IN THE UNITED STATES

VI

THE REVEREND HENRY WILSON BATTLE
THE RIGHT REVEREND DENNIS JOSEPH O'CONNELL
THE HONORABLE JOHN BASSETT MOORE
THE BRITISH AMBASSADOR TO THE UNITED STATES
THE RECTOR OF THE UNIVERSITY
THE GOVERNOR'S MILITARY STAFF
THE GOVERNOR OF THE COMMONWEALTH OF VIRGINIA
THE PRESIDENT OF THE UNIVERSITY

The Order of Exercises: The Amphitheatre

       

Invocation:	The Right Reverend Dennis Joseph O'Connell, of Richmond.
An Address:	His Excellency Sir Auckland Geddes, LL.D., British Ambassador to the United States
An Address:	The Honorable John Bassett Moore, '80, LL.D., Hamilton Fish Professor of International Law and Diplomacy, Columbia University
Benediction:	Henry Wilson Battle, D.D., of Charlottesville

Recession, The Audience standing

       

3.00 P.M.	Pilgrimage to Monticello. Commemorative Exercises in honor of the Father of the University of Virginia. The Private Life of Thomas Jefferson at Monticello, by Richard Thomas Walker Duke, Jr., '74. An Address by Archibald Cary Coolidge, Ph.D., LL.D., of Harvard University
8.00 P.M.	University Dinner to Delegates and Invited Guests.
	The Rotunda
	John Stewart Bryan, '95, A.M., LL.B., LL.D., Rector of the University of Virginia, presided. Responses by Jacob Gould Schurman, Ph.D., LL.D., former President of Cornell University; Anson Phelps Stokes, D.D., of Yale University; Harry Woodburn Chase, Ph.D., President of the University of North Carolina; Hugh Hampton Young, '94, A.M., M.D., President of the General Alumni Association; and Thomas Watt Gregory, '84, A.B., LL.B., former Attorney-General of the United States

ADDRESSES ON THE THIRD DAY

The President of the University, introducing the British Ambassador,
said:

The first speaker to-day is not unfamiliar with the teacher's task or the
University's function, for he has been the one and served the other. We,
therefore, welcome him as a scholar and fellow craftsman, but most particularly
we welcome him as the representative of the mother land of this

Commonwealth and, in a sense, of this nation. Possessing common ideals
of justice and law, similar standards of honor, habits of thought, and canons
of taste, the last catastrophe of civilization would be unfriendliness between
England and America, and the surest guarantee of peace and progress, their
continued amity and good will.

I have the honor to present His Excellency, Sir Auckland Geddes,
British Ambassador to the United States.

ADDRESS BY THE BRITISH AMBASSADOR

Sir Auckland Geddes, LL.D.

It is a great personal pleasure to me to be here to-day but it is a greater
pleasure that I should be privileged to attend your celebrations as the
representative of the British peoples and to be able to convey to you the
congratulations upon the great work which this University has performed
and is performing, as well as to express to you in words, I fear inadequate,
their sentiments of friendship and good will.

To this day as in the days of Queen Elizabeth, the word "Virginia"
stirs in the mind of the British a feeling hard in detail to define but not less
real, not less cordial, because of that difficulty. In that feeling there is
something perhaps of the spirit and mystery of adventure, something of the
idea of high-born lineage and courtly grace, something born of experience,
of the confident expectation of beauty, something of gallantry, something of
bravery, courage, loyalty and service. For reasons hard in detail to analyze
but at their spring perhaps connected with the ancient loyalty and affection
for a great Queen and the tradition of what she and the men of her spacious
days stand for in Britain's story, but added to and reinforced by the countless
tributaries of history and the record of your achievements, Virginia
and all that is hers holds in British minds and British affections a place
apart among the States of this Republic.

I know that I no more than voice the feelings of the people it is my high
privilege to represent when I say that they are with you in sympathy and
spirit to-day and throughout these days when you celebrate the completion
of a hundred years of your University life. I wish that they could have been
with me here now, to see with their own eyes the beauty and grace of your
buildings, to feel in their own souls the pulse of your academic life. That
cannot be; still it is they that extend to you through me their warmest
greetings.

Though the younger universities do not know it and by a merciful
provision of Providence cannot know it, no university comes of age and
enters into its manhood until it reaches the dawn of its second century of

The President of the University Introducing the British Ambassador

existence. It takes time for the soul of a university to evolve. Born of
many men's minds and aspirations it is at first too fluttering, too tender a
thing to hold its way untrammelled and unafraid amid the difficulties and
influences which beset it. In its early days the strong man can make or
mar the university, in its manhood the soul of the university makes or mars
the strongest man that enters its portals as a pilgrim seeking truth. Some
universities, and you are among their number, have been fortunate in that
the strong men of their beginning used their minds and souls to make not to
mar the university, but that impulse would not have persisted powerful and
effective as it has if it had not been reinforced by the minds of a generation
that again knew suffering and sacrifice, high endeavor and the glory of faithfulness
to the end. War is in itself bad, but from its badness there may flow
this good, that lessons which in any event life will teach may be learned
sooner and more clearly and may be applied by young men who can do what
old men cannot hope to perform.

Once again the world has passed through the furnace of war, once again
the horror of the battlefield, made more horrible by science, has bitten deep
into the minds of the nations. Once again for a time they yearn for peace
but as ever, the human mind is forgetful of horror. Already the memories
of the beastliness of war grow dim and the recollections of the fellowship,
the courage, the glories of the human spirit rising triumphant above the
terrors of the body, grow bright and brighter. Our minds are straying back
to the old circular path that leads men to speak of the honor of war and then
of its glory and just before they again know its horror, of its desirability.

To you as to all universities that have achieved manhood, there falls
the duty of preparing your sons to face the problems of the world, not according
to the individual fancies of a man or a small group of men, but according
to the knowledge and the experience that have made the soul of your University.
You have known war and its horrors. You have seen your sons
march out strong and lusty. You have mourned and glorified those that fell,
but mourning and glorifying you have known the pity of the mourning and
the tragedy of the glorification. I know that the hour may come to any
nation as to any individual when he has to fight or die, perhaps fight and die.
But I also know that not in every war fought by every nation was that the
choice. There have been unnecessary wars. There will be so again, unless
you and those like you who are responsible for the thought habit of your
sons consciously and actively strive to set within their minds an understanding
of peace, conceived not as the absence of war, but truthfully as the
joyful acceptation of the reign of law. I am often asked why should the
universities concern themselves actively with the problems of peace. My
answer is that they are concerned with placing truth before the minds of
their children and that the true facts of national life clamor aloud for peace.

Here let me interpolate one remark. I have noticed that when I, as
British Ambassador, speak of Peace I am usually supposed by some newspaper
reporter to dread the immediate or early outbreak of war between
your Nation and mine. May I say that I am not so silly. The continuance
indefinitely into the future of peace between our peoples is so obvious a
necessity of our national lives that I do not dream of the contingency of its
rupture. What I am concerned with is something that seems to me far
greater and far nobler. I wish to see the English-speaking peoples of the
world banded together; in leadership of all the nations, to the era of world
peace and, as a first step, to the era in which the wars which even now we
can recognize as futile and unnecessary, are done with for ever.

I do not wish at this time to speak so much of the higher motives that
impel to peace. I have spoken of them before and others more able than I
have poured forth their eloquence to raise man's mind to a contemplation
of their excellence. I abate no jot or tittle of what I have said in the past
but abating nothing I think it no derogation to speak of the gross folly of
war and to beg of this great University that it will see that its sons and
daughters, ere they go forth to their appointed places in the higher or the
subordinate leadership of their nation know clearly what is the cost of war.

That phrase that I have just used "the cost of war" connotes something
much more than the expenditure of money and the loss of trade. It
connotes mental costs and physical costs hard to be borne by the warring
generations. It also connotes burdens on their posterity that are grievous
to bear but often overlooked. It was your own Benjamin Franklin who said:
"Wars are not paid for in war time; the bill comes later." That is profoundly
true and the bill that comes in is a bill for national vigour and
physique, for health and strength and the happiness that is the portion of
the hale and hearty.

Many have believed that there is good in war—that it toughens the
natural fibre and purges the body politic of slothful ease. My fellow countryman
Ruskin it was who taught that war was a stimulant and "the foundation
of all the high virtues and faculties of men." The best answer to that
false doctrine known to me is that of an American, Professor Starr Jordan,
when he roundly declares that there is precisely as much reason for and
sense in the assertion that fire "is the builder of the forest" since "only in
the flame of destruction do we realize the warmth and strength that lie in
the heart of oak." That expresses exactly what war does. It burns up stores
of good will, of high resolve, of unselfish impulse not only, it also burns up
the physical strength and fitness of the people.

The biological effect of war upon a people is a subject of study that
surpasses in interest and I believe in ultimate importance the whole of war's
economic effects which are themselves of such interest and importance.

There is of course close connection and much action and reaction between
the two, still they are in reality as sharply defined the one from the other, as
are the problems of the mental and moral effects of war from either.

Let us look for a few moments at this biological problem and as preliminary
let me recall to your minds three biological laws:—The first, that
any pair male and female, human, animal or vegetable, which are themselves
of the same kind, tend to have, that is on the average do have, offspring like
unto themselves. That is, like tends to beget like; the second, the law of
filial regression formulated by Galton which I shall enter into a little more
fully in a moment, and the third, that any race of living things can be
modified in either direction by stringent selection to the limits of the normal
variation of the race and can with certainty be maintained at that level so
long as the stringency of selection is maintained.

I spoke a moment ago of the law of filial regression. It is a statistical
generalization which is certainly true when large numbers of living things
of one kind are considered. It has no bearing on and cannot be used for
prognostigation in individual cases. It is known to be true for the inheritance
by human beings of stature, arm span, eye color and mental faculties
but to apply it, it has to be assumed that the people under examination have
been made homogeneous by intermarriage. Put very simply it reads that
the children of unusual parents will be less unusual than their parents. For
example, if the parents are unusually tall or short the children will be less
unusually tall or short; in other words, the children digress towards the level
of mediocrity which is the level of their average ancestor. Consider the
ancestors you must have had twenty-five generations ago if in your family
trees there is no intermarriage of cousins within the 25th degree of consanguinity.
Two parents, four grandparents and so on gives sixteen million
great great ancestors at or about 1066, the year of the Norman Conquest of
England. To find anything like a fifth of that number we who are of blood
drawn from the British Isles would have to derive something in our origin
alike from kings and haughty peers, from pot boys and kitchen maids, from
the houses of the religious, from the stews and sinks of the medieval cities.
Similarly for all others of European stock. We are all without exception the
descendants of an absolutely average ancestral pair, average in their physique,
their manners, their morals and their customs and it is toward this
average man and woman that the children of the unusual tend to regress.

Many who meet with the law of Filial Regression for the first time find
difficulty in understanding how, if it be true, the whole population is not of
precisely the same height and intelligence. As a matter of fact it does not
even suggest that the population should be uniform. It merely indicates
that in a homogeneous population, favorable variations, for example good
stature or intelligence, are not to be looked for in any special social clique

or class but may occur anywhere over the whole range of the homogeneous
population. But though this is true it does not mean that the children of
the good stocks and the children of the bad will be on the average of equal
excellence or worthlessness. The children of the gifted members of a poor
stock may be individually equal to the children of two poor members of a
gifted stock, but of the children's children those of the former will tend to
regress to the mean of their stock, that is to be less gifted, whereas those of
the latter will tend to regress to the mean of their stock, that is to be more
gifted. The reason for this is that the nearer the ancestor the more he or she
contributes on the average to the total of an individual's characteristics.
The statistically determined proportion gives the parents one half of the
total heritage of an individual, the four grandparents, one quarter, the eight
grandparents, one eighth and so on. All this simply means that though the
sons of short men may be tall and the sons of stupid men clever, the average
grandchild will be short or stupid, though less short or less stupid than their
grandparents were, whereas the sons of tall men may be short and of clever
men stupid, yet the grandchildren will pull up the average again, though
they will not be so exceptional as their grandparents.

Now to gain a good idea of the effect that war will have on the physical
and mental attributes of a population all that the biologist needs to know
besides these laws is, how are the national armies raised, what are their
casualties, and over what period were they spread. Does the whole manhood
of the nation of certain ages fight regardless of physique, intelligence or
of any other quality—or is there some form of selection? Are some of the
men of military age taken and others left? Or are some of the men put into
fighting units and others into noncombatant on some basis of selection
other than pure chance?

So far we have considered a homogeneous population involved in war.
What if it be heterogeneous? Does it for example consist of two races;
one in reality ruling, the other in reality subject? Or is the population
broken up into strata, degenerates in the slums of great cities, stunted clerks
and healthy countrymen? Or is there a great class cleavage on the one side
of which there is light and air and freedom to grow and develop, on the other
insufficient clothing, early toil, lack of food, filth and squalor. Then the
questions are:

How from such a population is the army raised? In the one case does
the ruling caste take the burden of warfare on its own shoulders, in the
others is there selective conscription, real universal service, or is there a small
standing army recruited voluntarily and depending for its expansion in time
of war on the patriotism of volunteers?

Obviously in an address of this character I cannot deal with each of
these possibilities of military and national organization. Let us take one or

The British Ambassador Speaking in the Amphitheatre

two examples and examine them. Let us consider first the nation in which
there is a ruling caste which perforce assumes the burden of warfare and see
what happens in an extreme case.

Generation by generation let us suppose the healthy virile men are
required for the army and leave a proportion of their numbers upon the
battlefields. When a young healthy man dies the nation loses not only an
individual but a potential line of healthy men, for each is, in posse, the
founder of a virile stock. True these soldier men may leave descendants but
many of them will not be in the old homesteads. Too often a majority of
their offspring are found on the frontiers of their nation, learning an alien
mother's tongue and hatreds and an alien mother's creed. The true sons of a
ruling caste are often taught to be its bitterest foes, while in the old homesteads
those unfit for the army rule in their dead brothers' places and father
the next generation. By the law of filial regression their sons will be more fit
than they and these will be the recruits of the next generation and their less
fit brothers the fathers of the one to follow. So on the process goes from
generation to generation, the average ancestor tumbling down and down
the physical scale until in the end defeat and destruction overtake the
nation.

Rome is the great historical example of the Empire that fell because its
ruling caste was wasted in war. For centuries she relied upon the healthy
yeoman farmers of the Apennines to form the backbone of her army but she
squandered her capital of manhood. Professor Seechs calculates that "Out
of every hundred thousand of her strong men, eighty thousand were slain;
out of every hundred thousand of her weaklings ninety to ninety-five thousand
were left to survive." Even if these figures be only approximately
correct, they show how war wore out Rome, not so much economically as in
physical strength and energy. She debased her average ancestor and forced
the law of filial regression to work against her. But you may say, that is old
and long ago and far away. As a matter of fact biologically it is fairly recent,
but here is another example more recent still. France in the days of Napoleon
raised her armies by conscription with a special eye on the tall men
whom she required to fill the regiments of the guard. Napoleon as we all
know was a great general; his victories cost France two million lives. Those
gallant Frenchmen died practically without issue in French homes and they
were the best, the tallest, the straightest that France could bring. The result
was that the average Frenchman of 1910 was two inches shorter in stature
than the average Frenchman of 1810. Doubtless the law of filial regression
was carrying French stature back to its old mean but the time was short
and the less fit ancestors of a hundred years ago were too much in the foreground
for much of the loss to have made up. I speak only of stature but
doubtless there were other losses not dissimilar in kind in those that Rome

suffered. We know how numerically stagnant France's population was
when this century opened. That was to be expected. And France has
again been bled white. It is too soon to say what the biological effects
of that will be, but that years are necessary to her biological recovery is
certain.

Time forbids that I go on with these examples. My point is this:
"War has to be paid for in physical ill-being through generation after generation."
Nations cannot squander their best and maintain the standard
of their stock. Children tend to be like the parents that the nation lets
them have; generation after generation the stock may try to get back to its
ancestral type but the stringent selection of war such as Rome used will in
the end hold the population at the level to which selection modifies it.

Nor need we fear that peace will rot the vitals of a nation. After two
centuries in which she knew no war Japan proved her courage on the battlefields
of Manchuria. That is what we should expect. As Professor Starr
Jordan has well said: "In time of peace there is no slaughter of the strong,
no sacrifice of the courageous. In the peaceful struggle for existence there
is a premium placed on the virtues. The virile and the brave survive; the
idle weak and dissipated go to the wall." It is the selection of peace not the
selection of war that makes a national stock grow strong.

I have left on one side the economic effects of war, more intense to-day
as the result of the industrialization of the nations than ever before. I have
not spoken of the shattered towns and broken cities, the ruined mills, the
flooded pits. I have said nothing of the moral and mental devastation that
war causes. Of these I have not spoken nor of the outrage that war is to all
that is best within our souls. The indictment against war can be made so
strong that none who is not perverse and foolish can gainsay it. I believe
most profoundly that it is the duty of every university to plant, in the minds
of its intellectual children, a true understanding of the cost of war so that
never light-heartedly will they let their nation turn to the dread arbitrament
of arms. I have acknowledged that in the world as it is, the choice for a
nation may be to fight or die but I believe that now is the time for the
English-speaking peoples with their great and peculiar advantages to resolve,
that never again will they permit this fair world to be devastated by unnecessary
war if by standing firmly together they can prevent it.

What is to hinder their coöperation to this great end? Nothing that I
know of but ignorance of each other's ideals and aspirations and the suspicion
that is the child of ignorance.

May I say this to you the University of Virginia—Great is your record
and great are your achievements. Add blessedness to your greatness and
send forth your sons and daughters burning with a high resolve to be numbered
among the Peacemakers.

Introducing the next speaker, the President of the University said:

The finest thing any University can do in this world is to train a man
who seeks the truth and finds it and makes it known to his fellows. We call
such a man a scholar. Our next speaker is such a scholar who has enlarged
the boundaries of knowledge in his field, given his spirit unselfishly to youth
and served his country with fidelity and devotion.

I present John Bassett Moore, Class of '80, Professor of International
Law and Diplomacy, Columbia University.

IMMORTAL YOUTH

By John Bassett Moore, LL.D., of Columbia University

We celebrate to-day the first hundred years of the immortal youth of
the University of Virginia. While a university may gather years, it should
never grow old. Neither with its name nor with its work should the thought
of death or of feebleness be associated. So far as it is subject to the influence
of mortality, the things that pass away should be regarded not as lost but
merely as fructifying the soil for a richer and more abundant harvest. Thus
it is that in the highest sense death is swallowed up in victory, and that, so
far as concerns the university, we should conceive of the flight of years as a
perpetual resurrection to a new, a higher and more useful existence.

Approaching the hundredth anniversary of the University of Virginia
in this spirit, we look not only to the numbered past but also to the boundless
future. As we halt for retrospection, our minds are filled with fond and
grateful recollections; and if we say, in the words of a great orator, that the
past at least is secure, we repeat his words in no spirit of despondency. On
the contrary, surveying what has gone before, we feel the spell of the immortality
which we ascribe to our Alma Mater. We think of the devoted men
who in our youth sought to light us along the path of life and to point us
toward the high destiny which by our own efforts we might achieve. They
loom before us as the sages, the wise and pious mentors, of our earlier years,
who explored the past in order that they might furnish us with the lessons
of its experience. We recall them as men of ripe learning, of exemplary
character and of lofty purpose, who lived not in order that they might glorify
themselves but in order that the world might be better for their having
lived in it.

Nor, when we recur to recollections such as these, are we stirred merely
by the associations of sentiment. We are concerned with the very substance
of things, with the vital essence of the university's life and power. To-day
we witness the widespread appropriation, by many and varied non-academic
vocations, of the professorial title; but, although this may be regarded as a

recognition of the title's past renown, it does not contribute to its present
prestige. Meanwhile, in the promiscuous strut of titular distinctions, which,
by enabling the wearer perchance to gain an undeserved credit, may occasionally
serve even as a cloak for imposture, the bewildered public is too
prone to lose sight of the dignity and importance of the function of the
teacher. Who should not be proud to think of himself simply in this character?
To be a teacher of men not only is one of the noblest, but is one of
the most responsible and most sacred of all callings. For the teacher may
justly feel that, while he lives for the present, the knowledge he imparts,
and the principles which he inculcates, are the things by which the future of
the world is to be shaped.

Therefore, while I have spoken of the masters who filled the chairs of
this university in my own youth, I wish also to pay my tribute to the devoted
men who are upholding the traditions and carrying forward the task
of the university to-day. Their lot has not been an easy one. It may,
indeed, be said that the quick changes and wide fluctuations in our later
economic life have been felt in the universities with special severity. Moreover,
the spirit of competition has invaded even the academic sphere. Methods
formerly adequate have had to yield to new demands. Changes in
organization have proved to be requisite; and fortunate was the University
of Virginia, when, the easy democracy of its earlier administration succumbing
to the exigencies of the times, it secured, as its executive head, one who
combined, in so large a measure as its first president has done, the qualities
of character, patience, wise foresight and real eloquence. He and the loyal
men gathered about him have borne their burden and performed their task
in a manner worthy of their predecessors, and in a devout spirit of self-forgetfulness
that entitles them to the eternal gratitude of the commonwealth.
No provision that could be made, for them and for their successors
in office, either by the state or by private benefaction, could exceed
the measure of their merit or the just reward of their efforts to maintain,
to perpetuate and to advance the cause of sound learning and public
service.

I have referred to the life of the university as one of immortal youth.
This necessarily implies that the university must be progressive. No man,
no state, no nation can stand still and maintain its place in the world; nor
does any man, any state or any nation deserve to hold its place in the world
that is content with what has been achieved. Mere contentment with the
past, no matter where we find it, means decay; the so-called happiness that
springs from placid satisfaction with things as they are, or with exaggerated
worship of things as they have been, is essentially spurious and is not a
blessing but an evil. Man was born to labor. For this purpose he possesses
his faculties, and if he hides them or permits them to remain unused he justly

incurs the sentence cast upon the unfaithful steward who lost not only the
opportunity for profit but even his original store.

As perpetual vigilance is the price of liberty, so perpetual struggle for
higher and better things is the price that must be paid for the immortality
of the university. But, in striving for immortality, what are the things for
which the university should stand before the world?

I have mentioned the word "liberty." Like all things else, this is a
relative concept. All mundane things are subject to human conditions; and,
in spite of all efforts to formulate precise definitions, we are never able to
find one that is permanently satisfactory. Nevertheless, there is such a thing
as liberty, of the absence of which, if we lack it, we very quickly become
conscious. In its essence, liberty means freedom of self-development, and
this freedom is to be allowed as far as the absolute safety of society will
permit individuals to determine for themselves what they will or will not do.
The university should, therefore, stand for liberty, meaning the widest
possible freedom of thought and of action. By no statesman or philosopher
has this principle been more luminously expounded or more clearly exemplified
than by the founder of the University of Virginia. Perhaps one may
say that if he had been called upon to designate the one great principle to
the inculcation of which the institution which he had founded should
through all future time be devoted, he would have designated the principle
of human liberty.

This necessarily leads us to another thought, and that is the principle
of toleration. To-day we are living in a world still racked by the passions
resulting from a great war. Human beings, instead of loving one another,
have been fighting and killing one another. This is a condition into which
the world, as long as we have known it, has from time to time fallen; and at
such junctures, confidence being supplanted with suspicion, there is a tendency
to regard differences of opinion as a menace and as something to be
suppressed. We should ever be on our guard against this tendency, alike in
society, in politics and in religion. To-day our eyes and ears are constantly
assailed with wholesale attacks upon persons of a particular faith or a
particular creed, attacks which, if not inspired by passionate excitement,
would be regarded as purely wanton. Such things can only be deplored as
manifestations of human traits which fortunately are manifested chiefly
under abnormal conditions.

In antithesis to the principle of toleration, I venture to mention another
word which has come to be characterized by base associations. I refer to
what is now popularly known as "propaganda" signifying in effect the
systematic dissemination of falsehoods or perversions for political, commercial
or other selfish purposes. The world is to-day rife with this sort of
activity, which is by no means confined to the perpetuation of bitterness by

and between nations that lately were enemies. Stimulated by the war into
abnormal activity, and now practiced more or less by all against all, it seeks,
with frenzied and unscrupulous zeal, in an atmosphere of universal suspicion,
to permeate all the relations of life and to create and foster ill-will
among all nations, including even those supposed to be friendly. Scarcely
can one attend to-day a gathering for the discussion of public questions,
without being treated to the pernicious productions of this vicious system,
which, finding their way into the press and into books ostensibly genuine, are
glibly rehearsed by persons whose position and profession should cause them
to exhibit a greater sense of care and of responsibility.

A university, as a seat of learning, should set its face against such
methods. One of the chief glories of the university is the fact that it is a
place devoted to the search for truth. A great philosopher, whom I read in
my student days, declared that, if the truth were placed on the one hand and
the search for truth on the other, and he were asked to choose between them,
he would take the search for truth as the sublime quest of his life. Such is
the spirit of aspiration, such the insatiate longing for what is true, beautiful
and sincere, that must animate the university, if it is to justify the attribution
to it of the thought of immortality.

The word propaganda has, however, been associated in times past with
a type of thought and of action altogether different from that which has
lately made it repulsive. Some years ago, in the city of Buenos Aires, I saw
a volume which one could not touch without feeling deeply moved. It was
a copy of a translation of the Bible, into a dialect of the Misiones territory,
by some of the fathers, agents of the Congregatio de Propaganda Fide, who
bore Christianity to the aborigines of that them remote and almost impenetrable
region. Not only did they make the translation, but they printed it
in the wilderness at a place even the site of which is to-day unknown. This
they did to save men. In their holy zeal to carry salvation, according to
their belief, to unknown lands, they shrank neither from peril nor from
sacrifice. As we think of their helpless separation from the haunts of civilized
life, of their self-denial and their days and nights of solitary toil, we are
lost in admiration of the men who wrought such a token of their faith and of
their love for their fellow-beings. Could there be a more inspiring example
for those who accept a teacher's sacred trust?

There is still another thought that rises in the mind in connection with
the University of Virginia and its future. We are accustomed to think, and
are, as I believe, justified in thinking of the University of Virginia as the
first real American university; but it cannot be affirmed that this claim has
been universally conceded; and it is proper to say that the claim rested not so
much upon assumed superiority of instruction as upon the exemplification
in the university's curriculum of the principle of freedom of individual

choice and the pursuit of studies along the lines of one's individual preferences
and aptitudes. Up to a comparatively recent time, however, the
University of Virginia was universally admitted to be the first university of
the South. This position it can hardly expect to hold in the future in the
same uncontested sense as in the past. Other universities have sprung up
in the South, and, receiving generous support from public and from private
benefaction, have developed an active and robust life and have come to
figure as vigorous rivals.

Nevertheless, the University of Virginia to-day educates within its
halls students from all quarters of the globe, and I love to think of it not only
as a State institution but as an institution which is to fill a distinctive place
in the life of the nation and of the world. For the discharge of this exalted
function it needs vastly increased resources; but it also possesses an inestimable
advantage which mere material accessions cannot give, and that is the
influence of its memories and traditions, and of its association with the name
and fame of its founder, the great apostle of modern democracy.

On an occasion such as this, when we bring to the shrine of our Alma
Mater our inmost thoughts, an expression of personal feeling may not be
out of place. In my childhood there were two names which I was taught
peculiarly to revere. These were the names of Washington and Jefferson;
one the author of the Declaration of Independence, and the other the chief
architect of the nation. Subsequently it fell to my lot for a number of years
to occupy a public office from which, whenever I looked out of the window, I
saw the Washington monument and the ever-moving current of the Potomac;
and as I gazed upon the silent memorial pointing to the sky, and
dwelt upon the character, the wisdom, the self-control of the first President
of the first American republic, I wondered whether the time might not come
when the world, recalling, in the words of Poe, "the glory that was Greece
and the grandeur that was Rome," might say that in the nation whose independence
Jefferson declared and Washington established that glory and
that grandeur were combined and magnified. And then, as I gazed upon the
ever-moving, ever-widening stream, under the everchanging skies, it seemed
to typify the endless flow of the life of the nation, finding its way to the ocean
and permeating the farthest reaches of the boundless sea of human endeavor.
So let us think of the immortal youth of the University of Virginia, ever
flowing on, ever broadening, and permeating the intellectual and moral life
of the world.

In the ceaseless, endless flow of its intellectual and moral influence, the
university both conserves and creates. Tennyson spoke of his generation as
"the heir of all the ages, in the foremost files of time." In a sense no saying
could be more fallacious or more misleading. As he who would be first in the
Kingdom of Heaven must become the servant of all, so the first requisite of

knowledge is a spirit of humility, such as renders us willing to learn. The
potentialities of heirship are severely limited by human conditions. We all
begin life in the same helpless way, dependent on others for existence and
physically and mentally groping about. But, as we grow older, and become
more self-conscious, we are perhaps not over-respectful of the wisdom of the
aged. Indeed, even if it be liberally conceded that we know the causes that
previously produced certain ill-effects, we are disposed to believe that their
similar operation may be averted in the present instance; and, obedient to
our possibly uninstructed impulses, we proceed to try our own conceptions
of what is wise and expedient. The assumption, then, that we are the heirs
of all the ages, representing the farthest human advance, should not be
unduly encouraged. Such an attitude is essentially hazardous, and, if inadvertently
indulged, tends recurrently to subject the world to the loss of a
large part of its garnered treasures.

For the prevention of such loss, we look to our seats of learning. While
the university conserves the teachings of the past, it also uses them for the
profit of posterity. In its quiet halls of study and reflection, overconfidence
is chastened, so that uninformed aggressiveness may neither mar the present
nor embarrass the future. The impulses of youth are refined and wisely
directed. The mind is fertilized. Ideals are raised. Ambition is stimulated;
and in endless train there issues from the gates the eager procession of intelligent
builders by whom institutions are competently fashioned. Society
and the state are the gainers; life itself is dignified and ennobled. Rejoicing,
then, in our university as the perpetual dispenser of priceless benefits, let us
strive to maintain and strengthen it with all the resources at our command,
placing above its portals the words, "Conserver of the Past, Creator of the
Future."

ADDRESSES AT MONTICELLO

THE PRIVATE LIFE OF THOMAS JEFFERSON

By Judge Richard Thomas Walker Duke, Jr., of Charlottesville, Va.

I deem myself peculiarly fortunate in being asked to speak at this time
and at this place and in this presence upon "The Private Life of Thomas
Jefferson."

We are "atmosphered"—to use Goethe's word—during these days with
the thoughts of this great man's work in the founding of the Institution
whose hundredth anniversary we are celebrating. We forget for the moment
the wonderful brilliancy of his statesmanship, the breadth of his philosophy,
the depth of his marvelous intellect. We think of him to-day as the Father
of the University of Virginia.

But I wish to speak to you of him as the tender and solicitous father of
most affectionate children; as the devoted and loving husband; the generous
neighbor; the good citizen; the faithful zealous, kind master of many slaves.
The place where we stand suggests all these things. In plain sight from yon
eastern portico we look down upon his birthplace—upon the fields "where
once his happy childhood played." Here stands the house he builded—
carefully watched over and preserved by its hospitable and patriotic owner.
Everything suggests the man. It is the man of whom I would speak. In the
august presence of the distinguished visitors who face me I am no less fortunate—representing,
as they do, so many peoples and countries. They
may—doubtless will—keep in no long memory the words I may speak, but I
wish them to remember the facts I briefly relate, so that they may be able to
recall those facts and know that, great as he was, Jefferson was no less great
in the beautiful characteristics which make up pure and noble manhood, and
that his private life should deserve the plaudits of mankind no less than his
public career.

And I do this because no man was ever so foully belied; no man more
wilfully and falsely attacked. Some of us believe that the ugly vituperation
of greatness—the besmirching of private character for political purposes—
has well-nigh reached the zenith in these later days; but compared to the
attacks made on Jefferson during his lifetime they are but zephyrs compared
to a whirlwind. His bitter political opponents—and they were of the bitterest
kind—slandered him in every possible way. His domestic life, his relations
with his slaves, were made the target for the slings and arrows of contemptible
penny-a-liners and paltry politicians. These creatures seem to
have had in mind what Sidney Smith was to say at a future period: "Select
for your attack a place where there can be no reply and an opponent who
cannot retaliate and you may slander at will." For Jefferson disdained to
notice the barking of these wretched curs. He was always repugnant to
"provings and fendings of personal character" and, too great to reply, too
highminded to attempt to retaliate, he stood firm in the knowledge that
those who knew him best—his friends, his neighbors, those who loved him—
knew him, and before them he needed no defense. Even when Tommy
Moore—the "Little" man, the licentious verses of whose youth were the
shame of his old age—sang of him in vulgar strains, it is said that when the
lines were read to him he smiled and murmured, "What a pity poetry could
not always be truth and truth ever poetical."

Standing upon this mountain top, the purity of whose air is no purer
than Jefferson's private life, I recall the beginning of his married life, when
in a dark and snowy winter night he brought his young and beautiful bride
to this place. At Blenheim, a few miles away to the southwest, the deep
snow compelled the young couple to abandon their carriage and they rode

eight miles to Monticello. They arrived late at night. The servants had
retired, the fires were out. Too kindly and thoughtful to awaken the sleeping
servants, they went to yonder little office on my left, and soon a fire of
oak and hickory was blazing on the hearth; a bottle of old Madeira was
found on a shelf behind some books; the beloved violin was taken down, and
with song and merry laughter they passed the night until daylight gleamed
through the lattices. Here commenced a romance that ended only when, in
the room just behind me to my left, in the mansion, a pure and gentle spirit
took its flight and a bereaved widower lay fainting by the bedside where lay
the inanimate form of the only woman he ever loved, with a devotion as
holy as it was passionate, and as strong as it was pure.

It was my good fortune to know well that grand old gentleman, Thomas
Jefferson Randolph, Mr. Jefferson's grandson and the staff of his old age,
as he called him. With him I once roamed over this mountainside and went
in every room of this house. Space will not permit me to tell you of the
anecdote after anecdote that this venerable man poured into my all-willing
ears. Standing within a few feet of where I now stand he pointed out the
office of which I have told you and related to me the instance I have just
related. Then in a burst of indignation he remarked to me, "You have
heard the miserable lies the dirty politicians and political enemies have told
of my grandfather, Mr. Jefferson. Let me tell you no better, purer man ever
lived. Neither I nor any one else ever heard him utter an oath, tell a story
he could not have told in the presence of the most refined women, or use a
vulgar expression. He loved but one woman and clave to her and her
memory all his long life, and no father in all the world was more loving or
beloved, more solicitous or careful of his children."

He told me then of the book his daughter—my dear friend, Sarah N.
Randolph—was preparing, to show the beautiful private life of her sire's
grandsire—The Domestic Life of Thomas Jefferson. The copy of this book
he gave my honored father is one of the most prized books in my library.
It should be re-published.

No one can read this book without being convinced of the peculiar
sweetness and beauty of Mr. Jefferson's private life. No man but of the
noblest character could have written those letters contained in this volume,
to his children and friends, and as incident after incident is related in it we
recognize that it reveals indeed a man

It is very pleasant for me to say that all of these slanders against Mr.
Jefferson came from a distance. His neighbors—and some of them were his
bitterest political opponents—never repeated them—never believed any of
them. I have known in my lifetime more than a dozen men who knew Mr.

Jefferson personally. Two men I knew who saw Jefferson and Lafayette
embrace one another at the foot of this lawn. Every one of them said that
no neighbor of Mr. Jefferson believed one word of the vile stories told of
him, but that he was beloved, respected and admired as a high-minded
gentleman, a pure and upright man.

His daughters worshipped him. The grandson of whom I have spoken
could not mention his name save with a reverence as remarkable as it was
touching. When he lay a-dying at Edge Hill, down yonder a mile or two
away, he bade them roll his bed into the drawing-room, through whose
windows Monticello could be plainly seen, and his last earthly gaze was
upon this "Little Mountain," where beside his great ancestor's ashes his
own were soon to rest.

It cannot be amiss at this time to say something of the house in front of
which we now stand and of Mr. Jefferson's life here. The house was commenced
in 1764. It then faced to the east and was very much on the order
of the average Virginia residence. But after Mr. Jefferson's visit to France,
where he was very much struck with the architecture of that country, he remodeled
the house in the style in which we now see it. It has really never
been entirely completed. In his lifetime it was filled with works of art,
paintings, engravings and statuary, and contained the largest private library
in the United States.

Mr. Jefferson's life here was that of the simple Virginia farmer. He
arose early; a book always lay upon the mantelpiece in the dining room, and
if the meals were not on the table he read from this book until called to the
meal. He generally rode over the plantation every fair day, looking carefully
after the overseer as well as the hands. He kept a minute diary of all
the work day by day upon the plantation, and in it records of the direction
of the wind, the thermometer and barometer were carefully set down; the
budding of every plant and tree, the first appearance of any vegetable upon
the table, and a thousand minutiæ which fill us with amazement to note
how a man of his multitudinous affairs could take such minute pains over
things most men would consider trifles. In the afternoon he attended to his
various and varied correspondence. Many of his letters were written with
his left hand, as his right was seriously injured whilst abroad, the wrist being
broken. He had an ingenious arrangement by which the light of the candles
was shed upon his book or paper and shaded from his eyes. His voluminous
correspondence shows that he could never have wasted a single moment,
but that his long life was filled with an industry seldom surpassed. He was
very moderate in his food and drink. He very seldom touched ardent spirits
but was fond of good French wines and had them always on his table, though
he partook of them very sparingly. He was a moderate man in everything
except in that which related to the welfare of the people. To advance that

he was perfectly willing to be called "Radical" or almost any other name
which political opponents chose to give him. He was a man of wonderful
self-restraint, seldom if ever replying to any attack upon him in any way in
the public print, and here at this place which he loved more than any other
place upon earth, he spent the happiest and as he says, the best years of his
life.

As a neighbor Mr. Jefferson was most kind and generous: Always ready
with counsel and often more material aid, his advice was sought by all the
countryside, and freely given. He planned homes, he suggested improvements
in husbandry, and whenever his superbly groomed horse was seen
bearing him through what was then the little hamlet of Charlottesville his
course was often checked by those who wanted to ask his advice or benefit
by his wonderful knowledge.

As a citizen he took part—when at home—in everything that related
to the welfare of the county and State, giving to their small affairs the same
thought and attention he gave to the Nation. He was always on the lookout
for improvements in agriculture. You know he invented the mould
board of the plow—a greater service to humanity, I believe, than even the
great Declaration. He imported rare plants and seeds; he brought the first
seed-rice into America. Nothing was too great for the range of his mind—
nothing too small to be considered, if any good could be found in it.

Of his religious life we can only say that his faith was of the Unitarian
order, though he was never a member of any church. But he contributed
to the building of the first Episcopal Church in Charlottesville, and when
the rector thereof was building himself a house he sent him a handsome
contribution, with a playful letter. He never professed—he lived. The
Searcher of all hearts alone knows what that meant. But surely the faith of
that man is not in vain whose last words were "Lord, now let Thy servant
depart in peace."

He was the soul of hospitality. Colonel Randolph told me that he had
seen as many as sixty horses of visitors in the stables at Monticello at one
time. He was literally eaten out of house and home.

He recognized the evils of slavery, but also its benefits. He desired to
emancipate as far as possible his slaves. As a master he was firm but kindly
and considerate, and his servants loved him with that devotion which the
oldtime slave ever showed to the master who treated him well.

I must hasten to a close. In the time allotted to me I could but briefly
outline the main characteristics of the private life of this great man. I said in
the outset I deemed myself peculiarly fortunate in being asked to do this.
For never more than in this hour of the world's great changes is pure and
upright character more needed in statesmen—and men of private life as well.
Only good men can give us good government; for government is of men.

And never was the force of good example needed more. And after all, the
private virtues are those which are of the Immortals. Kingdoms rise and
fall; governments perish with the peoples that made them; philosophies
change, and the belief of to-day is the mockery of to-morrow. But virtue
and truth and purity; benevolence, integrity and the love of God and of
fellow men—these things are alike of yesterday and of to-morrow—of the
years of the past, the æons of the future; they alone survive when all else
perishes. Of them and through them comes the health of the nations—the
salvation of the world. They have their origin and their destiny alike in the
home of our Father and the bosom of our God.

JEFFERSON AND THE PROBLEMS OF TO-DAY

By Archibald Cary Coolidge, Ph.D., LL.D., of Harvard University

This spot and this occasion recall to the minds of all of us memories
of the man in whose honor we have made this pilgrimage. We are here at
the place that was dearest to him, at the home from which the influence of
his wisdom and his benign presence radiated for so many years over his
fellow countrymen. You have just heard the description of his daily life.
It is, indeed, here that his figure is most distinct to us, that we think of him
in his kindliest aspect, an object of affection as well as of admiration to
millions then and since. It was here that he planned and dreamed and
brought into being the University of Virginia. To us this visit to Monticello
is in itself a source of inspiration. It brings us once more under the
spell of a lofty character and master mind whose influence has not been
confined to one party, but has extended over the whole people and has been
felt even by those who opposed him most, and it has not been effaced by the
lapse of time. Thomas Jefferson still holds his place as one of the guides of
our republican ideals and citizenship. His words are still quoted and the
truths that he expressed are still held sacred.

And if this be so, is it not natural for us when we feel ourselves in the
shadow of his presence to turn to him for counsel and help in dealing with
some of the momentous problems which beset our paths as American citizens?
May we not obtain guidance from his wisdom even under circumstances
which he himself never could have foreseen? At least one may
speculate as to what he would have thought of them, and such fancy need
not be idle. It is true there are dangers in such a course. We must be careful
how we apply any one concrete pronouncement on the part of Jefferson
to an altered situation; what was a wise decision under former conditions is
not necessarily the one that he would now make.

We know, too, that like every mortal he was not always consistent;
that in his long career he was deeply involved in the strife of his times and

that he used terms and expressed opinions which reflect rather the passions
or the prejudices of the moment than the mature judgments of his riper
thought.

Nevertheless, while making all such allowances, we may feel that Jefferson
entertained certain ideals, certain visions, certain fundamental beliefs,
to which we may turn and apply the inspiration we drew from them to
problems of our own times.

Let us look at some of these beliefs.

Would it not be fair to say that the first and foremost article in Jefferson's
political creed was his unshakable faith in democracy and particularly
in American democracy?

We may quibble as we please over the exact meaning of the term
"democracy" but no one can deny that Thomas Jefferson was a democrat
in the best sense of the word and we may well rejoice at the extent that his
ideals have prevailed and are prevailing far and wide.

Rank and title mean little enough to-day. Universal suffrage has been
broadened to include those whom it has always been the privilege of man to
love and to protect but to whom he has never before admitted a right to rule
equal to his own.

Has then democracy triumphed so that we have no fears for the future
save such as may arise from its own excesses?

No one should assert this. Here as elsewhere there is still a long gap
between theory and practice. The power of wealth, inherited and acquired,
still counts for much in the world, the conscienceless capitalist too often is
the successor of the robber baron, and modern economic development with
its tremendous accumulation of capital, its infinite ramifications and its
necessary concentration of authority has seemed to threaten us with a
servitude as real as any which has existed under crown or aristocracy. But
this peril is not new, and provided we maintain our honesty, we can achieve
the new freedom as well as the old. Vigilant as we must be to defend our
heritage against the insidious power of corporate wealth, it is not from that
quarter that the ideals of Jeffersonian democracy are most undermined at
the present moment. Our liberties may be imperilled but the menace has
taken on new forms. For instance we can see that society is in danger of
becoming the slave of its own development. In the endless meshes of the
modern state and of modern industrial and economic conditions the individual
can hardly aspire to be as free as were his ancestors. The "sum of
good government" has increased in a formidable manner since the days
when Jefferson was at the helm of the state. It looks almost as if in the
future the existence of the American citizen from the cradle to the grave will
be regulated by prescriptions. They are perhaps necessary for the welfare
of our wondrously organized system. But we are in danger of paying a

heavy price in the sacrifice of the freedom of the individual citizen which
Jefferson regarded as one of the highest privileges of mankind. If the march
of civilization appears to demand that sacrifice, let us at least trust that it
may not be too complete and refuse to make it save when there is real
necessity. We shall do well to remember that in creating the most perfect
machine, when its parts are human beings, the more scope we can safely
give to each to think, act, and even make mistakes for himself, the more we
do to preserve what has been one of the best characteristics of the American.
Even efficiency may be bought at too high a price.

But slavery to the machine which we ourselves have helped to create
is not the only menace to our liberties. The democracies of free people are
now being compelled to face the threat of a new despotism. Just when it
has seemed that the idea of equal opportunity to all and the right of the
majority to prevail were becoming the acknowledged basis of society for the
whole civilized world, we have witnessed a sudden reaction towards a new
oligarchy. The claim of one class to dominate regardless of the rest has been
set forth from a new quarter in startling form. The red apostles of communism
have declared ruthless war against the whole conception of true democracy
and in order to secure their sectarian triumph they are prepared to shed
torrents of blood and if need be to stamp out civilization itself. They have
established their rule in the largest continuous empire in the world and by
terror they hold to-day under their control a hundred million of their fellow
beings. They have sent their emissaries abroad and they have their followers
in all lands, even in our own, appealing by every argument to the
ignorant, to the dreamer, and to the discontented, to all indeed who have
suffered under our present system of society and can be deluded into imagining
that its overthrow would bring about a millennium.

In combating the infection of such ideas the strong and healthy democratic
beliefs of Jefferson, his confidence in the essential goodness of human
nature if given a free chance to develop, his doctrine of the utmost liberty to
the individual compatible with the welfare of the state, and of the safety
with which error may be tolerated when reason is left free to combat it, offer
us the best grounds on which to take our stand. It is true that society must
defend itself when attacked, that we cannot allow conspiracies to be hatched
in our midst against all we hold most dear, that the right to poison the public
mind is not a God given one. But though alien and sedition bills may be
more necessary now than they were in the early days of the republic, it is
not by blind repression alone any more than it was then that perils can be
conjured. We must avoid panic and reaction and all that savors of persecution
unless we wish to give to whatever revolutionary spirit there is in our
midst a moral force which now it lacks. Against the perils of revolutionary
propaganda and discontent, it is not enough to fall back on mere measures

of repression. The counsels of terror are seldom wise, and the ultra conservative
breeds the revolutionary. While striving to right the many evils that
exist in our own as in every other social system, we must have faith not only
in the virtue of our institutions but in their strength and in the spirit which
they are meant to express. The calm broad vision of the sage of Monticello
is often sadly lacking among us. The excesses and horrors that accompanied
the French Revolution did not shake his trust in popular government
and the progress of humanity. Those of the Russian one would not do so
were he alive to-day.

Turning from our domestic situation to our foreign one, where the
difficulties if of less fundamental magnitude are even more pressing, what
lessons has Jefferson to teach us there? A famous passage from his first
inaugural address comes to our minds: "peace, commerce, and honest friendship
with all nations—entangling alliances with none." Surely, we say, a
wise principle, one well tested in the history of this country and one that it
would be folly to abandon now. But are we so certain of what should be its
present interpretation? Has it been in no way modified or broadened by the
enormous changes that for good and for ill have brought all parts of the
globe so infinitely nearer to one another than they were a century ago? Do
we even know what we mean by "entangling alliances?" Is not an international
convention of any kind, whether it deals with commerce or patents,
or with rules relating to the Red Cross, an entanglement in the sense that it
is a limitation to our complete freedom of isolated action? Has not the
whole development of the last hundred years tended to emphasize the
necessity of coöperation in all good works between nations as well as between
individuals? Is there any reason in the nature of things why such cooperation
should not be beneficial in political affairs as well as in economic
or in sanitary ones, and is an alliance anything but a promise of mutual
coöperation? All these considerations are not to be lightly dismissed in
favor of a literal interpretation of a maxim enunciated in a very different
world.

To many of his contemporaries, Thomas Jefferson seemed what today
would be called a pacifist. At one time he appeared to submit with
tameness to buffets at the hands of both England and France. But he was a
statesman not a mere theorist. His conduct of this country's disputes at
that juncture may not be a brilliant page in his career, but under extreme
difficulties he made no sacrifice of principle and each year that he preserved
peace the country gained in strength. He showed more than once in his
career that when the moment came for decisive action he could be resolute,
and he did not shrink from the gravest responsibilities. As the last resort he
was ready to take up arms if the honor of his country demanded it. Even
expeditions overseas had no terrors for him. By dispatching an American

fleet to wage war on Tripoli he set Christian Europe an example of how to
put an end to the shameful tribute it had been the custom to pay to a nest of
pirates in order to be spared from their depredations.

Everything we know of the character and views of Jefferson makes us
confident that if he had been alive at the time of the Great War he would
have approved of the sending of our soldiers to lay down their lives for their
country and its cause on the battlefields of France. The sympathy which
he felt for the first French republic would have gone out in far larger measure
to the present one and none would have felt more than he that the liberties
of mankind would be menaced by the triumph of military imperialism. He
would have known, too, that our task would not be finished or our burden
be lifted by the close of hostilities, but that we must and shall share in the
vast work of the reconstruction of the world. Duty like charity begins at
home, it does not end there.

We may perhaps doubt just what form of league or association or
brotherhood of peoples Thomas Jefferson would now wish to see established,
a brotherhood in which this country of ours should hold its proper place.
But we cannot doubt that with his whole heart and soul he would have been
devoted to some such ideal of fraternity. The "Parliament of man," the
"federation of the world" would be for him no mere empty phrase. Undismayed
by the cataclysms which we have just witnessed and are still
witnessing, he would put his faith in his fellow creatures, and particularly
in his fellow countrymen. He would believe it to be their proud privilege
to lead rather than to follow in all movements for the common welfare.
While condemning visionary crusades or neglect of our own problems he
would recognize our obligations to struggling humanity at home or abroad.
We who honor his name, let us live true to his spirit. We have proved as a
nation that we could fight for our ideals. Now that peace has come we must
beware "lest we forget, lest we forget."

SPEECHES AT THE DINNER TO DELEGATES

RESPONSE BY JACOB GOULD SCHURMAN, PH.D., LL.D., FORMER PRESIDENT OF
CORNELL UNIVERSITY

This splendid dinner, so characteristic of the generous hospitality of the
South, marks the close of three of the four days set apart for your Centennial
Celebration.

It is difficult to imagine what remains for you to do to-morrow. Certainly
the past three days have been for us all days of noble and elevated
joy. We have been genuinely conscious of a fraternal communion and interchange

of spirit and sentiment. Not only the speakers, but the great company
of delegates and visitors have joined in the well-merited congratulations
and cordial good wishes which the speakers brought you on behalf of
sister institutions.

Have the triumphs of truth and reason in this University been eloquently
set forth? The silent auditors, as you might have recognized from
many signs of approval, make those eloquent tributes their own. Has the
influence of this University in molding the religious life of the Nation been
justly assessed? The audience joins you in the testimony that man lives
not by bread alone—nor yet by bread and science together. Have you set up
memorials to your heroic dead? In the presence of your tears, in the hearing
of your prayers, we bow our heads and devoutly give thanks that the
University of Virginia has been so preëminent in the training of men for the
service of the Republic.

Not only oratory, you have invoked also music and art and pageantry
to give worthy expression to the spirit of this occasion. And the spirit seems
to me as manifold as the media of its expression are varied. No doubt the
primary note is the exaltation of the scientific and scholarly mind, for the
formation of which universities were called into being and after the lapse of
so many centuries still continue to exist and flourish. But life is more than
intellect. And the university is in close and friendly alliance with the
church, the state, and every other institution which makes for the improvement
and advancement of mankind. Thus, most appropriately, you have
made your high celebration a means not alone of stimulating intellect, but
also of awakening historical imagination, of quickening patriotism, and of
deepening the sense of the religious significance of life.

All this might have been done, nay, all this I have seen done, by other
universities at home and abroad. But there is one feature of your Celebration
which is absolutely unique. No other historic university could have
arranged to make a pilgrimage to the home of its founder and under the very
roof where he spent his mortal days pay honor to his memory as we this
afternoon at Monticello all-hailed the Father of the University of Virginia.

There is often a contrast, which may amount even to contradiction,
between the founders and benefactors of colleges and universities and the
proper ideals of the institutions which they have called into existence. The
things which give them pleasure, the objects they pursue from day to day,
the literature they read, the thoughts which make the furniture of their
minds, may be entirely alien to the life of the devoted scholar or scientist.
And their conception of his function, and of the ways and means of performing
it, are likely to differ entirely from his. Here lies the possibility of fatal
collisions! The millionaire benefactor, apart from his benefaction, has
seldom been an object of enthusiasm either on the part of teachers or

students. Nor can I imagine that Henry VIII or even Wolsey was ever
regarded as an exemplar for the young gentleman of Christ Church. It was
not merely cynicism that inspired Goldwin Smith's bon mot that the proper
place for a Founder was in marble effigy in the College chapel!

The University of Virginia is in this regard fortunate in her Founder.
No doubt Jefferson's thorough-going democracy predisposed him in some
matters to defer too much to popular opinion; and the principle of vox populi
vox dei is fatal to the life of a university. But it was only in politics that he
would determine truth by counting noses. In other spheres he insisted on
evidence, and if evidence were lacking he suspended judgment. In this
respect he was the very embodiment of scientific method. Indeed, all things
considered and all necessary abatements made, you will find a remarkable
harmony between the mental postulates, operations, and outlook of Jefferson
and the spirit of a genuine university. Here and now I can signalize only
one or two of these features.

In the first place, Jefferson was above everything else an idealist.
Those who would disparage him called him an impractical visionary. Certainly
he was ready to theorize on any subject which engaged his thought.
The force of his penetrating intelligence could not be restrained by any
convention, however respectable, or by any tradition, however venerable.
He was a thinker who must see and understand for himself. The dread of
new ideas, which is a universal characteristic of mankind, had no place in the
composition of that daring spirit. On the contrary, the fact that a theory
was new commended it to one who, like Jefferson, ardently believed in
progress and zealously strove for the advancement of mankind. He did not
mind being branded as a radical or a revolutionist. His sanguine taste for
novelty was exhibited in all his activities—in agriculture, in which he was all
his life an enthusiast, as well as in politics, in which for forty years he was an
unrivaled leader. And no consequences deterred him from following the
principles he had embraced to their logical conclusions. If the "rights of
man" signified to his mind an almost entire absence of governmental control
he did not hesitate to declare that "a little rebellion now and then is a good
thing."

Now this hospitality to new ideas, even to the extent of being enamoured
by their novelty, and this readiness to follow new ideas whithersoever
they lead—till they eventually proved themselves true or false—is the
animating spirit of a genuine university. On this more than anything else
whatever the intellectual progress of mankind depends. Has not Darwin,
indeed, taught us that the evolution of life, from lower to higher forms, is due
to the survival of characteristics which on their first appearance can only be
described as "sports" or freaks? And, in the realm of mind it is just by
means of the "freakish" ideas of dreamers and visionaries that successive

steps of progress are effected. In the highest conception of it a university
is an organ for the creation, development and dissemination of new ideas.

I do not recall any time when this high and vital function of the university
stood in need of greater emphasis. We are to-day living in one of
those periods of reaction which invariably follow war. The exhibition of
physical power which for four and a half years convulsed the world still
dominates our habit of thought. The invisible world of ideas seems weak
and insignificant beside that colossal empire of all-compelling might. And
if the two come, or appear to come, into conflict men invoke force to suppress
new theories, which can always be branded as dangerous, if not also
disloyal. But vis consili expers mole ruit sua.

Now the university is the nursery of new ideas. Its members are, in the
fine phrase of Heine, "knights of the holy spirit"—the holy spirit of truth
and culture. I trust that a fresh dedication to that noble service may be one
of the results of this celebration of the Centennial of the University founded
by Jefferson.

There is a second service rendered by Jefferson to this University which
you will perhaps grant me the time briefly to mention. I can describe it
best by contrast. All institutions tend to lose themselves in their own instrumentalities.
A university has buildings to care for and funds to invest
and enlarge and routine business to administer. But a university is a spiritual
institution. It has to do with mind, and exists for mind. The danger
to-day is that the real university shall be submerged by its "plant" and
"business."

Are not universities corporations? And should they not be conducted
like financial or manufacturing corporations? Nay, should not heads for
them be found in the offices of Wall Street or the factories of Pittsburg?
These are the questions we hear in the marts and markets to-day.

In contrast with the implications of these questions, stands Jefferson's
just and noble conception of a university. He clearly perceived that it was
the Faculty that made the University. And that the Faculty might not be
dislodged from the high place that naturally belonged to it, he would have
no president at all but leave the administration of the institution in their
hands.

I think Jefferson sacrificed to this fine idea the obvious means of administrative
efficiency. And I argued that thesis in a long letter fifteen or
twenty years ago when your Trustees did me the honor of soliciting my
opinion regarding the creation of the presidential office in this University.
Undoubtedly the course of university development in the United States
had made such an office a necessity. But even that reform would have been
purchased too dearly, if it had involved the abandonment of Jefferson's
conception in respect of the supremacy rightfully belonging to the Faculty.

Nothing whatever can change the fact that in relation to the teachers and
investigators, not only all material appliances, but also all governing and
administrative officials—even the highest—exist solely that they may do
their work in quiet and freedom and utter devotion with the minimum of
distraction and the maximum of efficiency.

Happily the University of Virginia found the right man for the new
office. We join you in rejoicing over the success of President Alderman's
administration! Long may he continue to go in and out among you as your
intellectual leader and the worthy exponent of your spirit.

But though methods of administration vary, Jefferson's conception of
the place and function of the Faculty is so true and precious that the University
can never afford to part with it. It is through the eminence of its
professors that the University of Virginia has attained the great influence
and the high standing which it to-day enjoys. May their tribe continue and
increase! So shall the noble University which they serve and of which all
America is proud fulfill the universal heart's desire: Semper Floreat!

RESPONSE OF REVEREND ANSON PHELPS STOKES, D.D., OF YALE UNIVERSITY

I hardly recognize myself in the highly colored picture which the Toastmaster
has so generously painted of my character and work. His estimate
was evidently not shared by the officers of a publication in Chicago with
some such title as "Distinguished Young Americans" who recently wrote
me enclosing a sketch of my life from Who's Who and added, "you are not
quite up to our standard, but if you will forward $10 we will include sketch
of your life!" However, a local undertaker in my home town thinks better
of me, for he recently asked me to join the Coöperative Burial Association.
I told him that I did not feel so inclined, but would like to know the conditions.
He replied that if I would pay $10 down and $5 a year they would
guarantee to give me and every member of my family a $100 funeral. He
added: "I know, Mr. Stokes, that this is not a financial necessity for you,
but the fact of the matter is that if we can bury you and a few other people
of local prominence we will gain much prestige!"

Your Chairman, in writing to me and the other speakers, courteously
suggested a ten minute limit. I had not supposed before that the South
cared anything about time. But you are even stricter in your requirements
than we in the College Chapel at Yale, where President Hadley is reported
to have answered a preacher's inquiries by saying, "We have no time limit
at Yale, but few souls are saved after twenty minutes!" What, only ten
minutes to pay my respects to Thomas Jefferson, to President Alderman, to

Charlottesville, the State of Virginia, the South and this great University,
and in addition to say something about University ideals! It seems like a
sheer impossibility, but I will do my best.

First, as to Thomas Jefferson. No man can speak here without paying
his tribute to the sage of Monticello. Although a Northerner and a New
England man, I was brought up by my father to have great respect for the
political teachings of Thomas Jefferson, and I do not regret this. I am
proud that my University was among the first in this country to honor him
by giving him in 1786 the degree of LL.D. I remember that when Jefferson
visited New Haven two years previously and was introduced by Roger
Sherman to Ezra Stiles, the latter, then President of Yale University, put
in his diary: "The Governor is a most ingenious Naturalist and Philosopher
—a truly scientific and learned man—in every way excellent"—an admirable
tribute to which most of us are glad to give assent. I know of no place in
America which is so dominated by the personality of one man as this place
has been by that of Thomas Jefferson. One has to go to Europe for its counterpart.
At Eisenach you breathe the spirit of Martin Luther. At Assisi
you feel the very presence of St. Francis. So is it here with the "father of
the University." The beautiful pageant yesterday evening showed "the
shadow of the founder." May it never grow less, but may it stand for all
time as a pillar of cloud by day and a pillar of fire by night to hold this institution,
this Commonwealth and this Nation up to the high educational
and political ideals for which he stood.

And now as to President Alderman. I often wondered why the University
of Virginia went for eighty years without a President. I realize now
that it was largely because it took this length of time before the spirit of
Jefferson was reincarnated in someone who could carry out his educational
ideals here. As a political philosopher, as an eloquent speaker, as a man of
broad culture and of high conceptions of a University, President Alderman
may in many ways be considered the living representative of the founder, the
one on whom the mantle of Elijah has fallen. We have had at my University
during the past twenty years many of the most distinguished
speakers from America and abroad. Theodore Roosevelt gave his first
public address as President of the United States at Yale's Bicentennial.
Woodrow Wilson delivered at Yale his great address on Scholarship, before
the Phi Beta Kappa. Many other orators have made a profound impression
upon Yale audiences, but no one has made a speech which created a more
profound impression than that delivered by President Alderman at a Yale
commencement a decade ago when we gave him our highest honor, the
Doctor of Laws degree. As a colleague of your President's for many years
on the General Education Board I have gained a deep respect and affection
for him. I know of no one in this country who interprets all that is best in

the South to the North, and all that is best in the North to the South, with
more unfailing insight and a better spirit than he, and it would be hard to
render a larger public service than this to the nation.

And now as to the University. There are many reasons why the University
of Virginia should make a profound appeal to all thoughtful Americans.
I have time to mention but four.

It stands for beauty. There is no academic group in America of more
simple charm and dignity than that which Jefferson designed about the
Lawn here. Virginia is the only American university that has passed through
the Victorian period without being saddled with some architectural monstrosity.
I hear some of you complain of your Geology Museum, but it
would pass among the best buildings at some of our educational institutions!
I can only hope that you will continue your policy of developing a consistent
architectural plan in one style. If a donor should come along and offer you
a million dollars for some much-needed building with the understanding
that he could choose his architect without reference to the University's
plan, I hope that the Board of Visitors may have the courage to decline the
offer. You have escaped all "early North German Lloyd" and "late
Hamburg-American" here, and you must maintain your precious
heritage!

It stands for breadth. Here was developed under Jefferson's guidance
the first real university ideal in America, for Jefferson's system included
medicine, and law, and the fine arts, and statesmanship, and engineering,
and mental and natural philosophy, and almost all the other departments
which universities have developed in the past half century. He had a broad
plan, and he showed his breadth by instituting here at an early day what was
virtually the elective system in the different schools of study. This breadth
has been well maintained, and it is seen to-day not only in the curriculum,
but in the fact that students come here not only from the Commonwealth
of Virginia, but from all the States of the South, from many States of the
North, and from foreign countries.

It stands for idealism. The incident of the carved marble column
about which so much was made last evening has its profound significance.
Jefferson and his successors have had high ideals. The starting here of the
honor system, which has meant so much to American universities, was a
good example of this. So is your Chapel, a building, I regret to say, not
always found in state universities; so is the record of your great scholars
Gildersleeve, Sylvester, Moore and many others.

It stands for public service. Founded by one President of the United
States, guided by two others, it has nurtured a fourth, and has trained at
least as large a proportion of men for the highest public service of the nation
as any American university.

And now as to the future. A university like the University of Virginia
has many functions. In its College it will train men as leaders in citizenship;
in its professional departments it will continue to give men the highest preparation
as lawyers, doctors, engineers, teachers; in its Graduate School it
will extend the boundaries of the world's knowledge, and, perhaps most
important of all, as a University it will hand down through all its schools
and departments the culture and traditions of the past. This last is a matter
of vital importance in our changing democracy. All is in flux. We have not
in this country many of the institutions such as an established church, or a
royal family, or great buildings like Westminster Abbey bearing memorials
of many centuries, which hand down and focus attention on national traditions.
For some of these lacks we are thankful. For others we express
regret; but the fact remains that there are few American institutions which
sum up so much history and are so well fitted to transmit the heritage of the
past to future generations as our historic universities. For these reasons I
say with you most heartily to-night "Diu floreat Alma Mater Virginiensis."

RESPONSE OF PRESIDENT HARRY WOODBURN CHASE, PH.D., OF THE UNIVERSITY
OF NORTH CAROLINA

The ties of friendship and affection which link the University of Virginia
with the institution that I am privileged to represent to-night are so
close, so intimate, that no formal words of congratulation on my part could
possibly convey the warmth and heartiness of the greetings which I bring
you from the University of North Carolina. Both of us are children of that
far-visioned Southern statesmanship which so soon saw that democracy
must make public provision for the training of its leaders; we have known
common sorrow and mutual joy; we have learned each other's temper at
work and at play; we claim, equally with you, him who at this hour presides
over your destinies—our own alumnus, teacher, and president, whose Alma
Mater greets him and rejoices with him at this birthday feast.

On an occasion such as this, one is torn inevitably between the mood
of the historian and the mood of the prophet. A milestone has been reached
in the history of a great public, a great national, institution. It marks the
completion of a century of distinguished achievement; a century spent in the
growing of men whose careers are a more lasting memorial than bronze to the
magnitude of the service of this University. But it is, I know, your temper,
as it is the temper of America, to conceive of anniversaries not merely as
memorials, but as points of departure. The mind kindles not only with the
memory of that rich and glorious past which is yours, but in no less measure
with the vision of the splendid promise which lies ahead.

Thus it seems to me of happy significance that we should celebrate with
you your centennial, with all its joy in work well done, at the moment when
you and your sister universities of the South are called to the performance of
a task, certainly of greater magnitude, perhaps of greater difficulty, than
any that lies behind. For it is very clear that the South is even now beginning
the writing of a great new chapter in her history, whose theme is to
be the final and full release of her splendid material and human resources.
There is no braver story in history than the story of the last half-century in
the South; the story of her struggle for reëstablishment and for liberation
from poverty and from ignorance, which was its sequel. I cannot think it
without significance that the men who had the courage and the vision to
make that fight have been men of the stock and the blood that made
America, children, almost without exception, of the colonists, the pioneer,
the builders of our country, they are making a new civilization where
their fathers made a new nation.

Such is the blood which flows in the veins of the youth of the Southland.
Who can fail to see what promise their liberation holds for the South and
for America!

This is the South's appointed hour. Out of the hearts and minds of her
sons then shall surely proceed—is even now proceeding—a new, a greater
and a higher order. Thus the task of the Southern university of our generation
must be, in the full sense of the word, constructive. Men must be
trained for full participation in the difficult and complex responsibilities of a
swiftly developing new civilization, fitted to live happy and productive lives
in an environment that shifts and alters even as we view it. And it is, I
think, no less the task of the universities of the South to guide, to focus, to
interpret to themselves and to the world this great forward, upward movement
of democracy, to do their utmost to see to it that it becomes, not
merely a great national expansion, but a steady enrichment of life in all its
higher reaches.

The task of the Southern State universities is then to-day in a very real
sense a pioneering task, as in the days of their foundation. Their journey is
again by unknown, untried ways.

To you, University of Virginia, born of the spirit of the pioneer, to you
who played so bravely your part in the making of your State and your
country, beloved by us all, hallowed by memories that cluster about you—
to you we bid Godspeed as your second century begins, in confident assurance
that your contribution to the future South will be as free, as splendid,
as enduring, as has been the service of the century you have passed. The
new South, the new day, is here. May you go forward, under skies that
brighten more and more, with steps that falter not, and a vision that never
shall grow dim.

RESPONSE BY THE HONORABLE THOMAS WATT GREGORY, FORMER ATTORNEY-GENERAL
OF THE UNITED STATES

The experience of the ages has demonstrated that liars are divided into
three ascending grades—the liar, the damn liar, and the old Alumnus. It
is astonishing how, on an occasion like this, the fossil representative of a
former generation of students magnifies and manufactures the Homeric
deeds of his youth. He likes to think that in the old days he was a distinct
menace to society, that the faculty quailed when he went on the rampage,
and that the police of Charlottesville took to the Ragged Mountains when
his voice was heard in the land. He may have been the mildest sheep in the
entire flock, but he will bow his back and purr like a cat on hearing his son
whisper that "Dad was a devil in his day." Few people believe these
stories of the old timer any more than the story-teller himself believes them.

I claim no monopoly of veracity, but it does no harm to tell the truth
occasionally, and besides it sometimes pays. I recall a citizen of my native
State of Mississippi who was elected to Congress and remained there twenty
years, largely because he openly proclaimed that he had been a private
soldier in the Confederate Army. The great body of privates, who were
masquerading as captains, and majors, and colonels, voted for this man
because they had a sneaking admiration for his honesty and were unwilling
to see his grade become extinct. He developed into a national character
known as "John Allen, the only surviving private soldier of the Confederacy."

With deep humiliation I confess that when I attended the University of
Virginia during seven months of the collegiate years of 1883-4 I was "a
grind." I trust that this candid confession will be remembered in my favor
at the judgment day, if not sooner. I did not belong to the German Club
or the Eli Bananas; I did not take calico even in homeopathic doses; I did
not have more than two pairs of pants at any time, and only one pair during
much of the time. For me it was a period of grinding labor, with few
friendships, interspersed with little of lighter vein. I was a part of the
wreckage of a stricken South. I was born just after the first battle of Manassas.
My father died in the Confederate Army. A widowed mother, with
painful toil, accumulated the small fund which enabled me to enjoy for a
few months the best instruction the South afforded. I came to sit at the
feet of John B. Minor and Stephen O. Southall, to breathe an atmosphere
sanctified by Monticello and the grave of its builder, to gather inspiration
from the best that was left of the old South by contact with its loftiest minds.
Almost forty years have passed and "the old grind" comes back, and will
tell you why he comes back.

Those were the most valuable seven months of my life, and looking
backward I can clearly see what made them so.

Loyalty is the finest word in any language; as long as you have it you
will be young in heart and worth associating with, and when you lose it
your years will be of little value to anyone, least of all to yourself. I have the
most profound sympathy for former students of this Institution who are
absent on this occasion without good excuse. They remind me of the unhappy
Scotchman who said he found no more pleasure in smoking, that
when he was smoking his own tobacco he was thinking of how much it cost
him, and when he was smoking the other fellow's tobacco he packed his pipe
so tight it wouldn't draw. In contemplating the indifference of those who
show no appreciation of past associations and the high ideals which bring
us here I recall the words of Stevenson when he heard of the death
of Matthew Arnold: "I am sorry for poor Arnold, he will not like God."

Like most of you, I have long since forgotten most of what I learned in
the classroom of "The Old Annex," though God knows John B. tried hard
enough to teach me the distinction between an executory devise and a
contingent remainder. I have never been an enthusiastic admirer of the
mere scholar, and recall with malignant pleasure that John Randolph of
Roanoke once said of a very erudite opponent that "the gentleman reminded
him of the soil of Virginia,—poor by nature and worn out by cultivation."

What then is the tie that binds? What is the mark set upon the brow
of the student of that long past day? What did he take away from here
which he has not forgotten? It was the teachings of Thomas Jefferson, and
the personal example of the men who constituted the Faculty of the University
during the years immediately following the Civil War.

In those days the spirit and influence of Jefferson brooded over this
Institution like the wings of a mother bird. If asked to state his doctrine in
few words I would say it was the principle of individual liberty and a corresponding
individual responsibility. He was not so much interested in
protecting the rights of the States against the powers of the National Government,
as he was in protecting the rights of the individual against the
encroachments of all authority. Out of this fundamental belief of Jefferson
grew, among other things, your original faculty organization, your honor
system which has spread over all the land, the right of the student to select
his courses, the freedom of the student from restraint outside of the classroom,
and the trial by an organized student body of all infractions of a high
code of personal integrity. Well might he dictate for an inscription upon his
marble sentinel—not that he was Minister to France, not that he was
Secretary of State, not that he was Governor of Virginia, not that he was
Vice-President of the United States, not that he was President of the United

States—but that he was the "Father of the University of Virginia." And as
long as the old Arcades, planned by the Master's hand, shall stand, as long
as her sons shall bear her honored name to every section of this Republic,
so long shall the University of Virginia be counted no unworthy monument
to her mighty founder.

To the memory of the Faculty of that day I bow in humble reverence.
They were a Spartan band, but old age had crept upon them. They had
toiled for a third of a century in making the University of Virginia the
Mecca of learning for all the South, and had established here a standard of
scholarship probably unequaled on this continent. They had lived through
war and defeat. Finally the tempest of reconstruction had swept over them,
carrying away for the moment every landmark of social status and political
faith, and leaving these men standing, with folded arms and undaunted
courage, amid the flotsam and jetsam of creeds which were knit into every
fiber of their beings and ancestral traditions which had become a part of their
daily lives. Their attitude carried no craven apology for the past and no
unseemly defiance of the future.

Speaking of the typical Southern leader of that day, Daniel H. Chamberlain,
the reconstruction ruler of South Carolina, said:

"I consider him a distinct and really noble growth of our American soil.
For, if fortitude under good and under evil fortune, if endurance without
complaint of what comes in the tide of human affairs, if a grim clinging to
ideals once charming, if vigor and resiliency of character and spirit under
defeat and poverty and distress, if a steady love of learning and letters when
libraries were lost in flames and the wreckage of war, if self-restraint when
the long-delayed relief at last came; if, I say, all these qualities are parts of
real heroism, if these qualities can vivify and ennoble a man or a people,
then our own South may lay claim to an honored place among the differing
types of our great common race."

Such was the matured judgment of the Massachusetts Governor of
South Carolina during the reconstruction period in regard to men of this
type, and there is nothing I would wish to add to it except this—that when
we of the South forget the precept and example of these men, when we forget
that from them there has come down to us a heritage of loyalty, of manhood
and of courage such as the world has seldom known, when we forget these
things then God, in His infinite justice, should forget us.

The "old grind" has not forgotten. He is here to-night to renew his
allegiance to these men and what they stood for, and to reconsecrate himself
to the faith that was theirs.

4. THE FOURTH DAY

On the final day of the Centennial were held the regular commencement
exercises of 1921, with a formal address by the President
of the University; the meetings of the Alumni in departmental groups
for technical discussion; the annual Class-Day celebration; the Alumni
Barbecue, with the officials of the University, the delegates and other
guests and their families, in attendance; and the closing Torchlight
Parade and Fireworks on the Lawn.

Immediately following the Commencement invocation and just
before the conferring of degrees, the decoration of the Distinguished
Service Cross of Serbia was presented to President Alderman by Mrs.
Rosalie Slaughter Morton, M.D., of the International Serbian Educational
Committee, representing the Government of Serbia, in the
following address:

It is with a great deal of pleasure that I have come this morning to
present to the President of the University of Virginia the Distinguished
Service Cross of Serbia. In the tenth century there was a king's son whose
name was Sava, and who said that he thought no man had the right to
precedent which came through the accident of birth, and he therefore declared
his intention not to succeed his father on the throne but to devote
himself instead to a scholastic life. As the only schools of learning at that
period were monasteries, he entered one and by the time his father, who lived
to a good old age, was approaching the end of his life Sava had become
through his industry and admirable character the chief of the order and his
influence, directly and through the lives of those he helped to train, was far
reaching for mental, moral and spiritual good. When the courtiers from the
Palace came officially to tell him that it was his duty to study international
relations and government policies with a view of fitting himself to rule the
kingdom, he replied that it was more important for him to keep his word than
to be king, and he refused to listen to their arguments and entreaties; so the

succession passed to his brother. In many countries this man would have
been regarded as a fanatic. In Serbia, where the spiritual has always outweighed
the material, he was canonized and the maxim of St. Sava "by the
excellence of your work you shall accomplish all things" became a precept
for the guidance of youth.

In 1883 when it became general for governments to recognize services
through decorations, the cross of St. Sava was established as the Distinguished
Service Order of Serbia, and on this occasion when the sons and
daughters of this University are graduating to go forth into the world fulfilling
the democratic precepts of St. Sava, the occasion is most fitting for
presenting to the distinguished President of the University of Virginia this
cross which is bestowed by the Serbian government in recognition of the
intellectual comradeship shown by the universities and colleges in this State,
in extending invitations to students who were qualified to enter the University
of Belgrade, an opportunity to pursue their studies here; and also in
appreciation of the hospital supplies presented to Serbia by Virginians.
There are among the organizations represented at this Centennial twenty
who have coöperated with the International Serbian Educational Committee;
i. e., the University of Pennsylvania, Princeton University, University
of the State of New York, State College of North Carolina, Bowdoin College,
University of Maryland, Randolph-Macon College, Mount Holyoke College,
Tufts College, Vassar College, Massachusetts Institute of Technology,
Cornell University, Worcester Polytechnic Institute, West Virginia University,
Bureau of Education, University of California, Syracuse University,
Sweet Briar College, Columbia University, and American Council on Education;
and the cities where many men and women earnestly worked and from
which were sent hospital equipment and supplies to lessen suffering and save
life in Serbia are Charlottesville, Richmond, Petersburg, Norfolk, Lynchburg,
Danville, and Staunton. Therefore, Mr. President, with great appreciation
of the world spirit of Virginia, the Government of Serbia authorized
the presentation of this medal which I am privileged to ask you to accept,
symbolizing as it does a love of learning in Serbia which has come down
through a thousand years, as a tribute on this Centennial occasion of the
University from which so many with high purpose, wide vision, great faith
and successful accomplishment have gone forth.

THE RESPONSE OF PRESIDENT ALDERMAN

I am deeply grateful to His Majesty, the King of Serbia, for this valued
decoration, and to you a veteran in the service of the Serbian people, for
your gracious presentation. I shall cherish it always as a souvenir of a
gallant people who knew how to win their liberties by the exercise of unexampled
valor and devotion.

Friday, June 3d

 

11.00 A.M.

Final Exercises, Conferring of Degrees, and Address by the President. The Amphitheatre

The Order of the Procession, Friday Morning

BAND

I

THE CLASS OF 1921 IN DIVISIONS BY DEPARTMENTS

II

THE ALUMNI OF THE UNIVERSITY IN REVERSE ORDER OF
CLASS SENIORITY

III

THE PROFESSORS OF THE UNIVERSITY IN REVERSE ORDER
OF OFFICIAL SENIORITY
FORMER PROFESSORS OF THE UNIVERSITY

IV

THE ALUMNI TRUSTEES OF THE UNIVERSITY OF VIRGINIA
ENDOWMENT FUND
THE TRUSTEES OF THE MILLER FUND
THE VISITORS OF THE UNIVERSITY OF VIRGINIA
FORMER VISITORS OF THE UNIVERSITY OF VIRGINIA
FORMER RECTORS OF THE UNIVERSITY

V

GUESTS OF THE UNIVERSITY

VI

DELEGATES FROM INSTITUTIONS IN FOREIGN COUNTRIES

DELEGATES FROM INSTITUTIONS IN THE UNITED STATES

VII

THE REVEREND GEORGE LAURENS PETRIE
THE RECTOR OF THE UNIVERSITY
THE GOVERNOR'S MILITARY STAFF
THE GOVERNOR OF THE COMMONWEALTH OF VIRGINIA
THE PRESIDENT OF THE UNIVERSITY

The Order of Exercises: The Amphitheatre

       

Invocation:	The Reverend George Laurens Petrie, A.M., D.D.
Conferring of Professional Degrees
Conferring of Academic Degrees
The Address:	The President of the University of Virginia

Recession

                                                                         

3.00 P.M.	Meetings of Alumni in Departmental Groups
	Meeting of Clerical Alumni. University Chapel
	Topic: Religious Culture in State Universities by Denominational Agencies
	Presiding Officer, The Reverend William Mentzel Forrest, B.A.
	The Reverend Beverley Dandridge Tucker, Jr., '02, B.D., M.A., of the Episcopal Church
	The Reverend Samuel Chiles Mitchell, '92, Ph.D., LL.D., of the Baptist Church
	The Reverend Thomas Cary Johnson, '84, A.B., D.D., LL.D., of the Presbyterian Church
	The Reverend Byrdine Akers Abbott, '90, of the Church of the Disciples of Christ
	The Reverend John Samuel Flory, '07, Ph.D., of the Dunkard Church
	Rabbi Edward Nathaniel Calisch, '08, Ph.D., of the Jewish Church
	Meeting of the Alumni of the Law Department. Minor Hall
	Presiding Officer, Dean William Minor Lile, '82, LL.B., LL.D.
	The Policies of the Law School, Past, Present, and Future. Dean Lile
	The Plan and History of the Virginia Law Review. Randolph Caskie Coleman, '21, M.A., Editor
	Organization of Law Alumni Association
	Its Advantages and Opportunities. Alexander Pope Humphrey, '68, LL.B.
	Submission of Proposed Constitution
	Enrollment of Charter Members
	Election of Officers
	Presentation of Souvenirs
	Meeting of the Medical Alumni Association. Madison Hall
	President, Hugh Hampton Young, '94, A.M., M.D.
	Election of Officers
	Movements in Medical Education. William Holland Wilmer, '85, M.D., LL.D.
	Opening Discussion, David Russell Lyman, '99, M.A., M.D.
	Meeting of the Engineering Alumni. Mechanical Laboratory
	Topic: Organization of an Engineering Alumni Council
	Presiding Officer, Dean William Mynn Thornton, '73, A.B., LL.D.
	Opening Discussion, Allen Jeter Saville, '08, M.E.
	Discussion from the Point of View of a Civil Engineer, Walter Jones Laird, '09, C.E.
	Discussion from the Point of View of a Mechanical Engineer. William Carrington Lancaster, '03, M.E., E.E.
	Discussion from the Point of View of an Electrical Engineer. Matthew Orpheus Troy, '96, B.S.
	Discussion from the Point of View of a Chemical Engineer. John Marshall, '13, Chem.E.
	Meeting of the Collegiate Alumni by Sections. Peabody Hall
	General Group Meeting
	Presiding Officer, Dean James Morris Page, Ph.D., LL.D.
	An Historical Sketch of the Academic Department of the University. William Harrison Faulkner, '02, Ph.D., Professor of Germanic Languages, University of Virginia

I. LANGUAGE AND LITERATURE GROUP

Presiding Officer, William Harrison Faulkner, '02,
Ph.D.

The Present Crisis in the Modern Languages. Robert
Herndon Fife, '95, Ph.D., Gebhard Professor of Germanic
Languages and Literature, Columbia University

The Demand for Teachers of French and Spanish. Henry
Carrington Lancaster, '03, Ph.D., Professor of
French Literature, The Johns Hopkins University

Educational Problems in University Instruction of English,
Morris Palmer Tilley, '99, Ph.D., Professor of
English, University of Michigan

II. MATHEMATICAL AND NATURAL SCIENCE GROUP

Presiding Officer, Robert Montgomery Bird, Ph.D.

Problems in Scientific Education, Charles Lee Reese,
'84, Ph.D., Sc.D., Chemical Director of E. I. du Pont
de Nemours and Company

A Plea for the Perfect, William Jackson Humphreys, '89,
Ph.D., Professor of Meteorological Physics, United
States Weather Bureau

III. EDUCATIONAL GROUP

Presiding Officer, Dean John Levi Manahan, Ph.D.

The Contribution of the University of Virginia to Education
through Private Academies, John Carter Walker, '97,
M.A., Headmaster of Woodberry Forest School

The Contribution of the University of Virginia to the Public
School System of the State, John Walter Wayland, '07,
Ph.D., Professor of History, Harrisonburg State Normal
School

What the Public School System of Virginia has a Right to
Expect from the University, Harris Hart, A.B., Superintendent
of Public Instruction of Virginia

 

4.30 P.M.

Exercises by the Class of 1921. The Amphitheatre. Presiding Officer, Edward Percy Russell, President

           

Overture:
The Poem, 1921:	Charles Edgar Gilliam
Address in Presentation of Class Gift:	Thomas Johnson Michie, Jr.
Address of Acceptance:	The President of the University
Song:	The Class of 1921
Farewell:	The President of the Class

           

5.00 P.M.	Band Concert. The Lawn
6.00 P.M.	Alumni Barbecue: Officials of the University, Delegates, other Guests, and their families are invited. Barbecue Grounds
9.00 P.M.	Torchlight Parade, with Review. The Lawn
	Procession from Barbecue Grounds to the Lawn by the Classes in Order of Seniority
	Fireworks, and Parade to the Rotunda
	Review by Officials and Delegates. The Lawn

ADDRESSES ON THE FOURTH DAY

INVOCATION BY THE REVEREND GEORGE LAURENS PETRIE, D.D., OF CHARLOTTESVILLE,
VA.

O God of Truth and Grace; the Truth through which freedom comes,
the Grace to which alone and ever we must look for help.

The years that are past are rendered illustrious by Thy mercies. The
paths we have trodden have opened to our advancing steps, and have given
new visions of Thy greatness and Thy glory, new experiences of Thy wisdom
and Thy love. As we look back through the vista of the past we are grateful
for Thy mercies. As we look forward to the coming years we are cheered by
hope.

We thank Thee for the prevision which planned this great Institution;
for the wisdom which laid its foundations; for the skill which reared its
walls; for the resoluteness which marked its construction; for the noble
purpose which threw wide open its doors for its splendid educational
career.

We thank Thee that by Thy kind providence this Institution not only
has made real the great ideal of its honored founder, but in its development
and growth and achievement has surpassed even his beautiful dream.

As we look back through all Thy protecting care during these one hundred
years we are made profoundly grateful for the wonderful career and
extraordinary record of this University.

By Thy blessing it has been a Fountain of knowledge, where many
have refreshed themselves; a School of Training where many have been
fitted for life work; an Academy in the shades of which many have gathered
about its great teachers and have been enriched by their wisdom.

In Thy leading, to it youths have come in the glow of life's morning.
From it they have gone forth men, qualified and incited to do great deeds
and achieve great results. By Thy favor this Benign Mother has sent her
sons out from these sacred scenes with benefits and blessings from her hand
and heart.

They in turn by their successful and brilliant careers have rendered yet
more illustrious their Alma Mater.

Looking toward the future we invoke for this honored and beloved
University divine guidance. May all that has proved good in the past be
preserved. May all that is good in the keeping of the future be bestowed in
great fulness on this Institution.

May it ever stand for highest ideals, for accurate and extensive scholarship,
for truth and honor, for noblest character.

Bless the Board of Visitors with wisdom to guide its affairs. Bless the
Faculty that in every way they may meet their great responsibilities.

Bless the students of the past, present and future. May they as year
by year they go forth from this educational retreat, go forth in all the
glory of superb character to be an honor to the State, the Nation and the
World.

Bless all the great educational institutions that by their distinguished
representatives have conveyed their salutations and congratulations to
this University on this Centennial of its life and work.

In the great partnership of intellectual life and work may this high art
of teaching and learning attain its noblest reach and broadest culture.
May supreme human culture ever delight to sit humbly at the feet of Him
who is Truth and who by the Truth makes Free.

A CENTENNIAL ADDRESS

By President Edwin Anderson Alderman, D.C.L., LL.D., of the University of
Virginia

The Father of this University, whose name has been upon the lips of
so many during these days of commemoration, combined in his vivid personality
something of the insight of the prophet, the imagination of the artist,
and the engineer's passion for constructive detail. Like Kubla Khan in
Xanadu, he could here a stately culture-dome decree, but he had no satisfaction
until he had set down with a precise hand the specifications of the
dream structure looming in the eye of his mind, enumerated its concrete
tasks, and defined its immediate objectives. So clearly did he do this that
he has enrolled his name among those who cannot be passed by in any enumeration
of the educational reformers of the modern world.

As the culminating unit in the great national moulding force which he—
first of American educators—conceived education to be, he drew in one comprehensive
sweep a charter of University function. It was declared that the
task of the University was—

It may be doubted if any agent of society ever received general orders
more liberal and catholic than these as it adventured forth to enlighten and
elevate human thinking and increase human knowledge. Let us recall that
they were drawn up in the first quarter of the nineteenth century. Nevertheless,
the light from the sun of the democratic theory, then not high advanced
in the heavens, illuminates each separate syllable. Inherent in them may
be seen that interdependence of democracy and education which constitutes

the basis of modern society, and out of them alone might be deduced
the belief that in this secular world the highest optimism of mankind is embodied
in the democratic theory and given heart and substance by the
processes of education.

I fancy there is clear to all of you the curious, impressive likeness between
the scene of the world as it then lay before Jefferson's vision and the
scene of the world that our own eyes behold. The century was young then
as now. The slumbering injustice of ages had awakened and broken up the
settled forms of order and society only to develop its own special brand of
chaos, a vaster philosophy of force, and to meet its doom then as now before
the free and unconquerable spirit of man. A world in transition and confusion
had forgotten its high, unselfish emotions, succumbed to temporary
pessimism and disillusion, substituted personal and class aggrandizement
for patriotic passion, and, freed from the fierce stimulus of war, exhibited
lassitude and a tendency to turn from big issues to immediate economic
advantages. Then, as now, men felt that they beheld the end of an age and
the beginning of another epoch; and the new seminary of 1819, like the mature
mother of 1919, faced a convalescent world, fretful in its moods, let
down in its morale, dull in its thinking, commonplace in its ideals, waiting
irresolutely for guidance into right paths of peace and reconstruction. Then,
as always, in this troubled but advancing world, the saving remnant saw the
two great forces of permanent reconstruction—youth, unbound by tradition,
unbroken by war, undepressed by events, because sustained by the glorious
buoyancy that surrounds the morning of life, and, secondly, a new social
theory of intelligent coöperation for the common good supplanting dull
autocracy or benevolent despotism. Though thus alike in certain outward
external characteristics, the transformation of the daring Republican experiment
of the west during the passing of this century from a hope to a reality,
the growth of democracy from the status of a dogma to the status of a practical
governmental policy, the application of natural science through inventions
to human needs, inaugurating the most rapid and extensive industrial
revolution in all history, the advent of nationalism and its investment with
almost religious sanction, separate the eras by a gulf of political motive and
social purpose. It would seem to be a proper time to enquire if our University,
sent forth so confidently, instructed so minutely, and beholding so
clear a field of operation, has thus far played a just part in the drama of
democratic society? Has it met the specifications of the great educational
architect fairly and honestly? Let us not be tempted into mere boasting,
for it is the last word of vulgarity, but I do proudly claim that the University,
which forever hereafter you shall acclaim as your Alma Mater, has,
under tragic difficulties, fulfilled the law and satisfied the contract, and has,
therefore, a right to stand upright here to-day looking along the paths of the

The Academic Procession from the Rotunda to the Amphitheatre

new century with the vigor and purpose that come of an unclouded conscience
and a quiet spirit. Have the young men of successive generations
nourished here—twenty-two thousand in all—done their duty to the public
and kept their honor clean? I challenge the records of the nation's service in
all vocations, the rolls of the Senate, the Cabinet and diplomatic service,
the Governor's chair, the roster of the Army and Navy, for proof that they
have so lived and acted. This University has faced each crisis in the progress
of the national life from the period of raw confidence in its virile youth
to the portentous strength and moral dominance of the present most venerable
republic of the world, with the leadership suited to each crisis; and it
has made for itself institutionally in travail and self-examination a definite
spirit and an atmosphere compounded of intense individualism, democratic
sympathy, religious freedom, uncompromising integrity, distinction of
standards and austere toil. These are granite virtues, and a house built
upon them, let us thank God, is built upon a base that revolutionary storms
cannot disintegrate or waste away.

You and I, young men, have business with this University no less
solemn, significant, and fateful, than the work which Thomas Jefferson and
his associates found to do, and which has been carried on so faithfully by
great teachers and scholars of succeeding generations. It may be that we
shall not look upon their like again, for they were great democrats who
issued out of aristocracy, and our reliance must be, in this later age, upon
great aristocrats bred of democracy. But the University which they built
stands here still for us to perpetuate a symbol of deathless fecundity, institutionally
barely mature, its strength even now multiplied a hundred-fold,
its responsibility a thousand-fold. Here the nation, its wildernesses conquered,
its wealth piled up, its civilization composite of all mankind, its
surging society made over literally in industrial method and social aim,
beset with new perils and temptations, and awed by new grandeurs, seeks
direction toward an ideal of Americanism which shall somehow define
republican citizenship in terms of enduring value for all mankind. Yonder
throngs over wider lawns and greater spaces and through nobler edifices
at our bi-centennial, the great assize of your great grandchildren, asking
with appraising minds, and the old sentimental loyalties, what part their
University has played in the State and the nation and the world as the great
social theory out of which it was born, still further unfolded its purposes,
enlarged its implications, and strove toward its ultimate ascendancy. In
that far future, we shall be the past, and we shall be a worthy past in proportion
as we have served the present future. No past ever wins respectability,
much less reverence, in any other way. We shall serve the future worthily
in the degree in which we approach the majestic problem of human progress
with openness of mind, with clear knowledge that does not deceive itself,

with faith in trained men, and with sympathy for humanity erected into a
practical philosophy.

Liberalism, faith in God and man, sound and varied learning forever
pushing back the horizons of knowledge, human coöperation—these are the
cornerstones of the university of the future. Without them democracy
itself may become a tyranny more gross and rapacious than ever cursed
society and mere learning, as we ourselves have seen it, the sword of the
cruel and the selfish instead of the torch of him who seeks the truth.

I am aware that I seem to indicate a program of idealism so vast and
slow as to suggest the processes of geologic growth. I am aware, too, that
this program involves dealing with all grades and conditions of men, and
may seem to take not sufficient thought of the obvious and immediate, or to
yield brilliant and romantic results, but in its patient grandeur and resistless
strength, it is warp and woof of the mighty theory inherent in its logic and
necessary to its progress. Undoubtedly what the world most urgently and
constantly needs is unusual and capable individuals who are valuable to
life. I, for one, do not fear that education thus considered as a great socializing
force, slowly moulding national life into higher forms, will miss these
precious sports and rare individuals, and thus flatten out the surface of life
into amiable mediocrity. I rather believe that the stature of mankind is in
process of definite enlargement and that its giants will be giants still and
taller if less detached and lonely. The qualities of men must make such
differences in them forever as to preclude the fall of life to dull commonplaceness.
The liberalism which I have planted as the first cornerstone of
the University of the future, though far too comprehensive a creed to be
written out here, means essentially emancipation from the dead hand of any
authority that rests upon the human mind or spirit, to paralyze its energies
or weaken its ardor. It means protest against treating as if it were a mutiny
in a regiment the thinking of thinkers or the play of the conscience. John
Morley points out that, after all, respect for the dignity and worth of the
individual is its real root and while, like democracy itself, it is charged with
explosives, almost everything that is new in any age may be traced to its
hand. Thomas Jefferson was a greater liberal than John Morley. Those
who invoke his name as a static influence in modern life have never met the
man himself but only a wraith conjured up out of ignorance or misunderstanding.
They certainly do not understand the young Albemarle farmer-lawyer,
who at the age of twenty-two, stood tip-toe in the hall of the House
of Delegates, at Williamsburg, and listened with bated breath to the fierce
eloquence of Patrick Henry, and at the age of thirty-three, after giving the
world the Declaration of American Independence, appeared in the colonial
Capitol of the Old Dominion with four or five bills in his pocket which proposed
to revolutionize the existing social order and to inaugurate a new

economic, religious, and educational life in the Commonwealth. In letters
to Joseph Priestley and others, Jefferson thus set forth a plain philosophy of
belief in the orderly growth of human institutions unhindered by dull
conservatism:

"The Gothic idea that we were to look backwards instead of forwards
for the improvement of the human mind, and to recur to the annals of our
ancestors for what is most perfect in government, in religion and in learning,
is worthy of those bigots in religion and government, by whom it has been
recommended, and whose purposes it would answer. But it is not an idea
which this country will endure.

"When I contemplate the immense advances in science and discoveries
in the arts which have been made within the period of my life, I look forward
with confidence to equal advances by the present generation, and have no
doubt they will consequently be as much wiser than we have been as we than
our fathers were and they than the burners of witches.

"We might as well require a man to wear still the coat which fitted him
when a boy, as civilized society to remain under the regimen of their ancestors."

The World War, just ended, subjected the social theory, out of which
this University was born and to which it is dedicated, to a pitiless crossexamination
by the mind and spirit of mankind. What is the verdict? It is
generally agreed that this theory has accomplished more for the improvement
of human society than any other social scheme in history, that it is
nevertheless no patent social panacea and harbors many weaknesses. It
is agreed by some with alarm that it has greatly advanced its point of view
from a theory of the political rights of man to a theory of social and economic
fairness and even perfection. It is clear that it is triumphant, indeed
that it is about the only thing in the past century that has never stopped
advancing, despite the apparent collapse of 1914, from its faint beginnings as
small group cooperation for the protection of common rights to the emergence
of the Covenant of the League of Nations, the bravest and most reasonable
effort in all political history to rationalize world relations and to protect
all mankind against its deadliest enemy. However severe an indictment
may be brought against it as a perfect system, its defenders can safely put
the question—What better alternative do you offer? Did not the American,
the French, and the British democracies, under the great test, demonstrate
the essential spiritual validity at least of the doctrine and give proof that
its strength was grounded on the best there is in the nature of man?

The eighteenth century sought the answer to the question—What are
the rights of man? It was the age of Constitutions, Declarations, Revolutions.
The insistent query of the nineteenth century was—How are these
rights to be made available for the production of wealth? The twentieth

century, which most concerns us and which we must deal with, is grappling
with the problem—What is the duty of society in regard to the wealth which
it has created and the liberty which it inherited? Lord Bryce asserts that
the ideal of securing material conditions of comfort and well-being for
everybody, erected into a doctrine of humanitarianism, has so dominated
the minds of modern leaders as to endanger and obscure all other ideals and
especially the ideal of individual liberty. Men fear discomfort more than
tyranny and hardship more than autocrats. The great question of our time,
then, toward the solution of which universities must furnish right wisdom,
is to restore liberty conceived in the old American sense to the place it once
held in men's thoughts and yet to find somehow the golden mean between
the individualism which safeguards human freedom and the collectivism
which ensures social progress. Men will no longer love a government which
seems to them merely "anarchy plus the policeman," and they will not have
any government to love if it shall become a vast benevolent society preoccupied
principally with promoting material welfare.

The solid glory of this nation, or any nation, must, it would seem, finally
be determined by its ability to comprehend and readapt the theory and
practice of democracy as it reacts upon society in its progressive changes as
an eternal faith elastic enough to confront and strong enough to overcome
the changing forms of human error and injustice. As democracy thus
redefines itself, education, as its foremost policy, must redefine itself, and the
University as the chief servant of education must re-examine and re-relate
its power to the life about it.

Do not imagine that I shall here seek to define an American University
in any rigid terms. Experience has been called the best definer, and the
pressure of social situations the logical moulder. For us Jefferson's educational
specifications stand as steadfast in their field as his other great Charter
in the field of political liberty, needing only to be expanded to meet the
needs of a world society made into one organic unit by the rise of new scientific
inventions and economic laws, the advent of new professions, the call of
new knowledges, the implications of that great modern outlook which proclaims
that the community must seek to obtain for all of its children what
the wisest parent desires for his own child.

I dare to declare to you, young gentlemen, my belief that the future of
this University will not be unworthy of its past. The century that lies
before us with its unimagined wealth of new truth and new aspirations and
new entanglements will behold the University of Virginia, clothed in greater
strength and beauty, standing, as of old, at the northern gateway of the
South, embodying in its physical form and spiritual essence something of the
note of romanticism, with its central quality of exaltation of personality,
its deep loyalties and that balancing power of conservatism peculiar to the

region out of which it sprang. Power to interpret the distinct sections of
American life to each other will reside in it, and out of it will issue into the
mighty national stream the values of old Americanism and the best inheritances
of the English consciousness, moulding the individual man into dignity
of life and skilled usefulness, and yet working toward a larger collective
future, where every man may seek to earn a power to use and a dignity to
cherish.

As a Fortress of truth hardly won, I behold it undertaking to assemble
and preserve the bequests of civilization in its museums, libraries, and
laboratories. As a Workshop, it will be busy seeking to liberate the mind
and spirit of men and women by acquiring through honest work the truth
that exists and winning through discovery the truth that lures, while through
wise selective processes, it will sift the masses of young scholars and craftsmen
within its walls for talent and genius. This is its daily, primary, elemental
task. In this Workshop scholarship is the product sought for and
the power to adjust the mind to the greater issue as it arises, the end aimed
at. As a Dynamo I perceive it sending its force through all the avenues of
life in such fashion as to touch and mould the sources of public opinion, thus
realizing Fichte's dream of a University as a place from which, as from the
spiritual heart of a community, a current of life energy might be poured
through all of its members. As a Commander-in-Chief in the great warfare
against incompetence, it will seek to coördinate the whole daring process of
public education—elementary, secondary, cultural, and vocational—into
one unified servant of the State, in accordance with Edmund Burke's noble
conception of the relation between the State and the University as "a
partnership in all science, a partnership in all art, a partnership in every
virtue and in all perfection, and, since such a partnership cannot be attained
in one generation, a partnership between all those who are living and those
who are dead and those who are unborn." As a Watch-tower, it shall stand
upon its hill and strive to discern and comprehend the flow of life about
its base, so that it may furnish, through trained leadership, technical
guidance, liberal direction, and spiritual power to that life. As an Altar
and a Home, seated amid classical and peaceful scenes, where friendships
are made and convictions formed and youth emerges through self-expression
into manhood, it will contrive to distill an atmosphere to
which the creators of the new civilization may repair for quiet standards
of straight thinking, good taste, Christian living, clean honor, and
fidelity to trust. As a Lighthouse, it shall rise above the tempests of
the times, a beacon to those who voyage in darkness, a shelter to those
who have found the light, a luminous guide to juster and wiser paths of
action and life.

And now, finally, young gentlemen of the Class of 1921, may I recall to

you that you are in a very real sense a most fortunate group. You entered
here as a class when the University was a military camp, organized to train
you to become soldiers of your country then engaged in a great war in defense
of liberty and public right. You have served under the flag of
your country by land and sea and in the air. You reach your collegiate
climax amid the big emotions, tender memories, and high hopes of this
Centennial festival, and you pass out into a world sadly out of joint and
calling for brave and capable men to set it straight. I believe you are
men of such quality. I bear testimony that you have borne yourselves
handsomely in this University world. You are to take your part in your
country's life in a period of world-wide dramatic unrest, of definite conflict
between the old American individualism and the demands of new social
and industrial organization. To do your part well will test you to the utmost
in mind and character. The spirit of youth is the salvation of society.
Your University has affection for you and faith in you.

ANNOUNCEMENTS BY THE PRESIDENT OF THE
UNIVERSITY

One year ago the alumni of this University conceived the plan of presenting
to their Alma Mater, on her One Hundredth Birthday, a gift expressive
of their faith and gratitude. On March 7th, after wise organization,
the movement was launched to realize this purpose. I need not
remind this company that this has been a period of unusual depression
in the world of business. I hold in my hand a statement authorized
by John Stewart Bryan and Frederic William Scott, Joint Chairmen of
the Centennial Endowment Fund, and prepared by Armistead Mason
Dobie, Executive Director of the Fund, formally presenting this gift to
the University of Virginia, and informing me that its total amounts, to
date, to $1,300,000.

In behalf of the Governing Bodies and the Faculties of the University,
I accept this handsome gift of her loyal sons, of two great foundations—the
Carnegie Corporation and the General Education Board—and of wise
patriotic citizens of this State and nation who were not trained here, but
who believe it to be for the public good that Jefferson's University should be
properly equipped to face the demands of the new century. The gratitude

Old Alumni in Procession (Class of '61)

and appreciation of this University goes out in full measure to every subscriber
to this fund.

I have mentioned Messrs. John Stewart Bryan and Frederic William
Scott, the Chairmen of the Fund, who have given of their best strength and
substance to this movement. I take leave to mention again with gratitude
the name of the Executive Director, Armistead Mason Dobie, who has given
to this work for one year his ability, energy, and devotion, without stint.
I cannot pass by the names of Lewis Crenshaw who has devoted his strength
to Alumni service and Charles A. McKeand, who has served so ably as
Executive Secretary. I wish time was afforded me to call the roll of the
faithful regional chairmen and indeed the whole list of subscribers—alumni
and non-alumni. Suffice it to say that their names will find place in our
history and in our hearts, and we shall not forget them. Such manifestations
of public spirit are rare in the lives of state universities. It is the
State's business to maintain and develop its own University. If it seemed
proper after a century of service that the privilege of giving to this faithful
agent of society should be afforded to good citizens and loyal sons everywhere,
it was not intended to relieve the Commonwealth of Virginia of the
primary duty and responsibility of maintaining adequately an institution
which it brought into life and which exists to serve its people. In recent
years, the State has greatly increased its appropriations to higher education
and under circumstances of great difficulty. May this example of general
public appreciation incite Virginia to still more adequate treatment of its
chiefest public servant!

It is my pleasure to announce further, as an independent gift to the
University of Virginia, the sum of $200,000, for the distinct purpose of establishing,
on the basis now existing, a Department of Commerce and Finance
in this University. This contribution is the gift of a great citizen and
far-seeing student of social affairs in his own State and the nation—Paul
Goodloe McIntire.

Mr. McIntire has already enrolled himself among the great benefactors
of the University—indeed the very greatest in its history—and of this community
in so distinguished a way as to make it difficult to add new appreciation
to his services. In the School of Fine Arts, bearing his name, he has
sought to care for the spiritual and cultural aspects of life. In this new
department, he seeks to care in a high way for training in the great
field which develops trade and commerce and material prosperity.
The South has furnished more than its share of great soldiers, statesmen
and lawyers. It is his belief that we must now prepare to train
great business men for the important services of trade and commerce.
The University repeats its former expressions of gratitude to this wise
helper of men.

ADDRESSES AT DEPARTMENTAL ALUMNI CONFERENCES

I. The Clerical Alumni

RELIGIOUS MINISTRATIONS IN STATE UNIVERSITIES BY DENOMINATIONAL
AGENCIES

By Rev. Beverley D. Tucker, Jr., D.D., of the Episcopal Theological Seminary,
Alexandria, Va.

The opportunity for service which the State universities offer to the
Church is one that has been largely neglected in the past. The older universities
and colleges in America were established under definitely religious
auspices, and long after the rise of the State university the various Christian
communions tended to limit their sense of responsibility to those
educational institutions, which bore the imprimatur of their respective
denominations.

Moreover, with the principle of the separation of Church and State
fundamental in our national constitution, the problem of how the Church
may wisely minister in a State university is a delicate and complicated one.
The utmost care has to be exercised to avoid denominational prejudices—
no system will be tolerated in which the privileges are not theoretically equal
for members of every religious affiliation. As a corollary of this principle of
religious freedom, the system adopted should not involve any form of coercion;
attendance upon religious exercises must needs be voluntary.

Dr. Philip A. Bruce has recently described at length (in his History of
the University of Virginia) the extreme caution which Jefferson observed in
eliminating every trace of denominational influence in the formative period
of the University of Virginia's life. So scrupulous was he to enforce his
fundamental principle that "education and sectarianism must be divorced,"
that in his original plan for the University, states Dr. Bruce, he made no
real concession to religious feeling beyond providing a room in the Rotunda
for religious worship.

As religion, however, is an irrepressible factor in human life, the demand
that the University should be other than neutral in religious expression
soon made itself felt. The first proposal to make good this deficiency was
put forward by Jefferson himself. The proposal was that each of the principal
denominations should establish its own theological school just without
the confines of the institution. Thereby would have been established a
natural liaison between the secular education of the State and the religious
education of the Christian communions. One can only voice the regret that
the leaders of the Church in that day had not the vision to carry out the
proposal. Through such an arrangement mutual confidence and respect
might have been the resulting relationship between the religious and educational

forces of the State rather than the suspicion and misunderstanding
that has too frequently characterized their mutual attitude.

While this opportunity for coöperation between the University and the
Church on a large scale was not taken, yet the demand for some religious
expression in the life of the faculty and students soon received a modified
provision. As early as 1829 a plan of engaging the services of a chaplain
was undertaken by those interested. The support was arranged by voluntary
subscriptions, and the chaplain elected, in rotation, from the leading
denominations of the State. This plan continued in operation, in one form
or another, until 1896. For a portion of this period regular religious services
were held in one of the University halls set apart for that purpose; later, a
chapel was built on the ground, the funds for the purpose being contributed,
not by the State, but by friends and alumni of the institution.

From 1896 until 1917 the plan was adopted of inviting distinguished
clergymen from the various denominations to conduct religious services in
the Chapel as a substitute for the earlier plan of having a resident chaplain.
The Young Men's Christian Association, through its general secretary,
stood sponsor for the plan and, in addition to the Sunday services, made
provision for Bible study groups and fostered opportunities for social service.

Theoretically there is much to be said for each of these plans. Their
primary motive was to furnish a method of religious cooperation, which
would be interdenominational in character. Practically neither method
proved an adequate solution of the real situation. The latter plan lacked
continuity both in the personality of the leader and in the mode of worship.
Both plans failed to furnish any definite connection with the previous religious
training of the students or to make any positive preparation for the
church life, to which the student might go after leaving the University.

In 1917, the Faculty Committee on Religious Exercises decided to discontinue
the chapel services and to make an appeal, through the Charlottesville
Ministerial Association, to the various religious denominations to assume
a more definite oversight of their adherents at the University. The
immediate occasion for taking this step was the general upheaval at the
University owing to war conditions, but the committee frankly recognized
that the chapel system had served its day and had become a burden to be
borne rather than a stimulus to the religious life of the University. While
such a system might supplement, it could not serve as a substitute for the
organized ministrations of the various communions. Moreover, this appeal
to the Church as such to assume the leadership in providing religious opportunities
for the members of the University was in line with Jefferson's
original policy, namely, of making no provision for theological education in
the University curriculum and proposing that the various denominations
should establish their divinity schools in the university neighborhood.

As early as 1910, the Episcopal Church had taken a positive step in this
direction. Recognizing the inadequacy of the university chapel system in
providing pastoral oversight and cultivating church loyalty; recognizing,
furthermore, the practical difficulty of adding the pastoral care of the Episcopal
students at the University to the extensive parochial duties of the
rector of the local church in Charlottesville, the Diocese of Virginia has
organized a parish, with its own rector, in the University community, for
the avowed purpose of ministering to its adherents among the students and
faculty. An excellent building site has been purchased and a temporary
chapel erected, where for the past ten years regular services have been held.
The plans provide for the building of a permanent church as soon as the
funds are available.

While a local congregation, over and above the student and faculty
members, has come into being, yet the work is regarded in the nature of a
diocesan responsibility. The bishop has authority to insure the selection
of a clergyman who is qualified to be a helpful pastor and preacher to a
student community, and the diocese assumes the obligation of assisting the
local congregation in the financial outlay for building and retaining such a
church.

An alternative to this plan, and one that is being tried in many State
universities, would be to add to the staff of the local congregation a student
pastor, who will serve the university community and foster the affiliation of
the students with the Charlottesville church of their respective denominations.

The fundamental principle to be observed in both of these plans is this,
that the State University, where our young men and women gather from
many parts of the country at a critical stage in their intellectual and spiritual
development, should be regarded as a special field of service by the
Church. It requires an oversight more definite than a collegiate chapel
system can furnish. It calls for leaders, who are especially qualified and
trained for work among students; for leaders, moreover, who can give their
whole time and thought to the moral and religious life of the university
community; and is a work of too great importance to be tacked on as an
incident of the busy life of a local rector or pastor.

In this day when the outlook for Christian unity seems more hopeful
and encouraging than in the past, the system outlined above may seem to
imply a backward step, a building higher the walls of partition. Personally,
I should conceive it as a step forward in the direction of Christian
unity. The colorless, vague religion of a college chapel makes not for
religious unity but for religious negation. I have greater confidence in the
fact that a group of broad-minded student pastors, working together for the
moral and spiritual life of the University, will do far more to create that

attitude of mutual trust and tolerance, which is the first step toward cooperation
and unity. The problems confronting the different college pastors
would be much the same. Through conference and through combined efforts
in service extension and Bible study there will be many natural opportunities
for fellowship in the Christian life. Unless our ideal is for a dead uniformity
rather than for a lively unity, I have greater hope of Christian unity
in the direction of positive loyalties than of amiable negations.

Abstract of an Address by Rev. Samuel Chiles Mitchell, Ph.D., LL.D., of the University
of Richmond

In addition to the plans of the preceding speaker, the only suggestion
I can make is that the various denominations coöperate with the Young
Men's Christian Association in the maintenance of a University Preacher
on permanent tenure. In this way I believe a man on the order of Phillips
Brooks could be secured, who would give his whole strength and time to the
religious life of the University. Such a man as Bishop McDowell, or Dr.
Gilkie, or Dr. Jowett would make a lasting impression upon the University
community by his continuous presence and by his messages, springing out
of the changing needs of the student body.

The advantages of a permanent tenure over the chaplaincy for two
years, which was the custom in my student days here, and over the place of
having different visiting ministers from Sunday to Sunday, are apparent.
By permanency of office you can get a really great personality whose voice
will command attention everywhere. His interpretation of the spiritual life
will be progressive in spirit and cumulative in effect. He will enter sympathetically
into the life of the individual student as well as reënforce the religious
purposes of the University community as a whole.

In Madison Hall we have an agency with which the denominations
can work to this end. Whatever might be lost to specifically denominational
interests by this plan, would in my opinion be more than made up by
the emphasis upon the essentials of Christianity which such a preacher would
give, thus enriching religious life and truth for all through the University.

HOW MAY RELIGIOUS CULTURE BE GIVEN TO THE STATE UNIVERSITY
COMMUNITY?

By Rev. Thomas Cary Johnson, D.D., LL.D., of the Union Theological Seminary, Richmond,
Va.

The subject as assigned—"Religious Culture in State Universities by
Denominational Agencies" suggests several theses which hardly require
discussion in this body, to wit:

First: The university community should have religious culture.

There may be small groups of people here and there which would
dispute this thesis; but it may be asserted safely that the vast majority of
thoughtful people the world over would maintain that the university community,
as certainly as it is included within the grade of rational and
responsible agents and as certainly as it is to exercise an indefinitely large
influence for weal or woe on the rest of the State, should have religious culture.
It may be even more boldly assumed, also, that this body of "clerical
alumni" would consider it worse than a waste of time—an impertinence,
indeed—to set about proving on this occasion, the truth of a thesis which
our very calling proclaims that we hold—a thesis which we can deny only on
pain of professing ourselves to be hypocrites.

Second: The State University in these United States of America cannot
of itself give an adequate religious culture.

Men are found to say: "If theism be true and discovered, and if its
teaching be necessary to the stability of the State, the State may teach it."
Granted for the sake of argument; yet we all say that bare theism—the
doctrine of a personal God, the Creator and Moral Governor of the Universe
—is inadequate religious culture; and for adequate religious teaching the
State has neither warrant nor fitness—no warrant, its constitution gives
none; no fitness through possession of an adequate religious creed, or of a
holy character. So far is it from possessing an adequate creed which it may
teach, its sovereign people hold some of them one thing and some of them
the contradictory thereto. Nor has the State the holiness of character to be
desired in a teacher of religion. The State as represented by its government,
and as represented by the Board of Regents of the University, may be
pious in one era and impious in the next. The State has no fitness, as no
commission, to teach any other religion than bare theism, if to teach that;
and its attempting to do so would be an impious assumption.

Good Americans and good Virginians, it is taken for granted that we all
agree that the State must not attempt to give an adequate religious culture,
and that the State University—an organ of the State—should not attempt it.

Third: That religious denomination which possesses in its creed the
largest amount of cardinal religious truth, is, other things being equal, under
the weightiest obligation to attempt to give religious culture to the university
community. The knowledge of religious truth—the truth about God,
about man's relations to Him and man's duties to Him and to His creatures
—the grasp of the eternal realities—is a possession, a leverage for uplift,
which any true ethics urges him, who has it, to give to his fellows. That
religious denomination, therefore, which claims the largest possession of
religious truth, virtually avows, in the claim, its obligation, circumstances
permitting, to impart that truth to all men; and, in particular, to impart

it, as speedily as possible, to any body of men destined to be as influential
on other men as the university community.

In the present point it is not ours to determine which of the denominations
has most of religious truth and largest ability to impart it. We are
concerned with the principle that largest possession of truth and of power
to put others in possession of it carries the weightiest responsibility to do the
service.

Fourth: Other religious denominations are under obligation to take a
hand in the religious culture of the university community proportioned to
the truth of their teachings and their ability, through holiness of life and
favoring Providence, to put their teachings across. This will hardly be
denied. It cannot be denied consistently by any Christian denomination,
for Christ commissioned his disciples to evangelize every creature and to
disciple all nations.

If the foregoing propositions be accepted as true, we may properly
confine ourselves to suggesting and discussing answers to the question:

How may religious culture be given to State university communities by
Denominational Agencies?

It is conceded that this is not the exact form of the subject set us; but
it is, at the same time, believed that an effectual plan by which the Denominations
can give to the university community religious culture is what is
sought after.

To the present speaker the following seems a practicable plan: Let a
denomination conscious of the possession of priceless religious truth and
conscious of ability to do such service, under the good hand of God, to the
university community, acquire a convenient plot of ground, erect on it a
building containing an auditorium, lecture-rooms, classrooms, reading-rooms,
a room for a specially selected library of the standard religious
literature of the ages—a building for a church of the institutional type in
short; let it endow this Church with such liberality that for it can be commanded
a man of singular abilities as pastor, preacher and lecturer and
teacher. Let him have such helpers as necessity shall dictate. Let him, in
addition to preaching on the Lord's day, and looking after (as a faithful
pastor) his whole contingent in the university community, plan and conduct
a course of study in religion which shall be as effective in disciplining or
informing, or in both disciplining and informing, the mind, as any course
of the same number of hours in the university curricula so that, if the
university pleases, the successful completion of this course may be rewarded
by a credit equalling that received for any elective university course of no
greater number of hours.

Such a plan, if put into operation by any given denomination, would
insure the pastoral oversight of the student and faculty members of the

university community of that denomination; would secure preaching of the
type of doctrine peculiar to the denomination. Those two functions, if ably
performed, would affect the life of the whole community to a degree. And
the special course, taught with vigor, ability and learning, would produce a
more intense effect on the class.

Suppose four denominations had such material plants established and
ably manned, the university community would be affected in no small
degree.

The university would be made a place of larger privilege, its cultural
opportunities would be enlarged as by the establishment of a new chair; and
the character of the whole body morally invigorated and ennobled.

It should not be difficult to secure plants and endowments. There must
be men, in each of the great denominations who would at once see the limitless
importance of bringing such influence to bear on the university community,
and, through the outgoing students, upon the world—men ready to
establish just such foundations as we have described.

Look them out, gentlemen; invite them to make religious culture by the
denomination they love best and respect most a certainty in this city set on a
hill, that the pathway of our future leaders may be lighted not only to true
greatness in this life but to God and blessed communion with Him in the life
beyond.

RELIGIOUS CULTURE IN STATE UNIVERSITIES

By Rev. Byrdine A. Abbott, Editor The Christian Evangelist, St. Louis, Mo

The poet Tennyson in the first part of his immortal elegy on the death of
his college friend, Arthur Hallam, breathes a prayer which might fittingly be
used as the daily litany of both minister and teacher, for it states the whole
case of the true relation of learning and religion. He sings:

True religion includes real education and genuine education must
eventually lead to true religion.

On the recent foundation of the university for the natives of South
Africa the Government declared, according to the British Weekly, that to
educate them without religion would be to raise up a nation of devils.

To educate Englishmen, Frenchmen, Americans or any other people
without religion would produce the same result.

The deepest thinkers of our day have come to see the evils of a purely

materialistic education. It makes the world merely a huge machine that
grinds up men and women, soul and body.

The idea is brilliantly expressed by Paul Elmer More in his latest
volume of the Shelburne Essays. He says:

A demon at the wheel of the ship, or in the cab of the engine, or admitted
into life in the formative hours of youth is scarcely more to be feared
than a conscienceless man in possession of the secrets of chemistry, electricity,
government, commerce, or war, or in charge of the ordinary machinery
of society.

These things have filled the modern father and mother with almost a
poignant anxiety as they have seen their sons and daughters go forth to the
great universities with their brilliant and sometimes fierce intellectual lights.

This fear has made it easy for the ill-informed and the mischief-maker to
create prejudice and make cleavage between the church and the university.
To continue this and allow it to grow would result in calamity to civilization.

It would be possible to overcome this problem in the independent
universities by ordinary processes of influence, but the State universities
present greater obstacles, owing to the separation of Church and State in
this country. The church college will afford some relief. Through it the
student may be so thoroughly trained that he will need no special religious
opportunity after getting to the university. It would be possible to make
out a strong case for the position that a student ought not to be admitted to
the State university unless he had had training in a church school of worthy,
educational standards. Plainly, however, this course would be found
impracticable because the State universities will always grow greater and
stronger and more students, rather than fewer, will attend them directly
from the public schools.

It is left to the churches, then, to find a way to follow their young people
to the State universities and throw about them such influences, put before
them such opportunities, and lay upon them such obligations, that in pursuit
of the knowledge and training requisite to their aims in life they will not
surrender the mastership of the soul nor abandon the conviction of the
reality and greatness of God nor of the supreme value of things eternal.
But that the student may keep his spiritual vantage ground the church must

follow him to the classroom, the campus and the dormitory of the university
as far as possible.

It is now twenty-eight years since the Disciples of Christ, the body of
Christians with whom I am identified, took definite steps to supply this
urgent demand. Through the Christian Woman's Board of Missions, an
organization which recently became merged into the United Christian
Missionary Society, it was determined to institute Bible Chairs at such
universities as would receive them, even if only on toleration first. And it
may have been that on their first advent they were very narrowly watched.
They might contain possibilities of annoyance and a certain kind of trouble
even if not of mischief. They might be crusaders of proselyting, they might
stir up friction between the adherents of different denominations, they might
introduce quite an unhealthy emotionalism or at least encourage an unscientific
approach to learning and to life. If there was such cautionary bias
it was unnecessary, for the Bible Chair at the university has proved its value
in many ways.

The Chancellor of the University of Kansas said, referring to one of
these institutions: "The Bible Chair is a real factor in the religious life of
the university, and I desire that its influence increase."

My people are now supporting such chairs at the State universities of
Michigan, Texas, Virginia and Kansas. In addition we have The Bible
College of Missouri, which is operated in its own building at the University
of Missouri, the "Indiana School of Religion" at the University of Indiana,
the Eugene Bible College at the seat of the University of Oregon, and at the
present time, buildings are in course of erection for the "California School of
Religion" in Los Angeles, just across the street from the University of
Southern California. The initial amount of money raised for the "California
School of Christianity" was $800,000 which will be quickly increased
to $1,000,000 and added to thereafter until the school has satisfactory
support.

In addition to these schools and chairs we support student pastors at
Purdue University, the University of Illinois and the University of Washington.
It is their duty especially to establish confidence and form pastoral
connection with our own young people and also to render such Christian
service generally as may be considered proper in the student body at large.

These schools, Bible Chairs, and pastors give fine opportunity for religious
contact with, and training of the young people and they are doing much
to achieve the ends sought by their establishment.

Of course they are absolutely non-sectarian and the Bible Chairs and
schools do not presume to offer courses of study sufficient in themselves to
equip men and women for the pulpit or the mission field. But they bear
witness to the part religion must have in a well-rounded and fully girded life.

They help to create an atmosphere which permeates the entire school and
makes teaching easier and more delightful. They make a moral and
spiritual appeal and, because the big men of the universities like to have them
there, they gain respect from even those who do not patronize them. "The
Bible Chair building itself is a protest against the scientific materialism of
the campus, and stands a silent but impressive reminder that there is a God
of truth and that all truth, both scientific and religious is His truth."

While we do not presume that other and better ways of spiritual
culture for the young people in the State Universities are impossible, we are
happy in what has been achieved in that respect and we hope to increase
the value and number of these agencies in keeping regnant the soul life of the
students destined to become the makers of all the to-morrows.

II. The Law Alumni

THE LAW SCHOOL OF THE UNIVERSITY OF VIRGINIA

By William Minor Lile, LL.B., LL.D.
Dean of the Department of Law

In the University catalogue of 1849-50 there appeared the following
announcement: "The year 1850 being the twenty-fifth since the organization
of the University, the ceremonies, it is expected, will be of more than
common interest, and an unusually large concourse of alumni and friends of
the institution will probably assemble on this solemn occasion." History
does not record how solemn the occasion proved to be. But as it occurred
before the adoption of the XVIII Amendment, and during a lull in the city
of Richmond's clamor for at least a portion of the University, we are entitled
to wonder why the catalogue-man anticipated an event of such solemnity.

Nothing appears in the program for this Centennial Year likely to lead
your thoughts along funereal lines, unless it be the announcement that you
are to be addressed, at this solemn hour of three o'clock, on a sultry summer
afternoon, and on a topic that one would not voluntarily select for a holiday
diversion. By the time, therefore, that the present exercises are concluded
possibly you may agree that in one feature at least we have matched the
forecast of the reunion of 1850.

The privilege of welcoming so large a body of the sons of the Law
School—the largest number ever assembled within our walls—is the most
grateful of the many happy experiences of my twenty-eight years of life as a
law teacher.

Responsive to the official writ, you have come from the seven seas and
all the remote parts adjacent thereto—and on behalf of my colleagues and

myself I bid you a right royal welcome. If you will present your writs, in
person or by mail, I shall be glad to endorse a proper discharge thereon.

Some of you hold diplomas antedating my own; others were my contemporaries
in the Law School; while still others represent that interesting
interval when your speaker was performing, in a neighboring bailiwick, those
marvelous professional stunts with which every student since 1893 is familiar.
But I note with special interest, and with a kindling heart, that the
larger number of those before me are my own sons in the Law, to whom it
is indeed an honored privilege to extend a father's greeting.

No daughters have as yet graced the family circle, but they are well on
the way, and perhaps our next family reunion will be graced by many sisters
and daughters—fair Portias, "fresh from brawling courts and dusty purlieus
of the law."

The lives of the law teacher and the practitioner, are in strong contrast.
The essential qualities and aims of the two, in some respects similar, are, on
the whole, widely different. The practitioner spends most of his life as a
partisan, in the endeavor, not to ascertain what sound principle is applicable
to a given state of facts, with the reason upon which it rests, but by astute
argument to qualify or distinguish the basic principle to suit some special
case in hand. He has studied disconnected propositions of a particular
topic as applicable to some narrow state of facts, rather than the field of the
topic in its entirety, or with attention to the relation of one branch of it with
another. He conceives of the law not so much as a science as a collection of
isolated rules; and he has less concern whether his contentions be sound or
unsound than whether he can establish them in a given case.

The teacher, on the other hand, must work out his subject in its entirety
and with judicial poise reach his conclusions regardless of consequences.
He must seek the truth and that only. He does not deal with concrete facts,
nor with living personalities. John Doe and Richard Roe constitute his
clientele, and Blackacre and Whiteacre his horizon. For him the fine points
must give away to broad and basic principles—and kindred but disjointed
propositions must be brought together and correlated. Day after day he
speaks to the same uncritical, and often uncaring, audience, on the same
subject—to be repeated year after year, with a new but equally apathetic
assembly. The teacher participates in no warm contests on the hustings or
at the bar. For him there is no gaudium certaminis. He wins no victories
to kindle his enthusiasm, and loses no cases to teach him his errors. His
compensation is the same whether he works or plays. And to whatever
heights he may attain in his profession, the stipend of his earlier days, pitiful
enough even at that stage of his career, tends to remain as static as the
countenance of the Sphinx. One annual joy, however, is his—he is able to

A Writ of Summons

twirl his thumbs in defiance of the income tax collector, and he hoards no
surplus wealth to tempt him to invest in forbidden commodities. He leads
a sort of monastic existence, apart from the madding crowd. The newspapers
do not report his lectures, howsoever learned—or howsoever illumined
by recitals of his own prowess at the bar, or by anecdotes, culled from
his well-thumbed repertory.

The consequence is, that the law teacher finds that his most difficult
task is the maintenance of that enthusiasm for his work, without which he
is a mere wooden man on the rostrum. A burning zeal is the one essential
of the teacher as it is of the advocate. But the keen enthusiasm of the latter
needs no conscious effort to quicken or sustain it. The flame of his passion
keeps pace with his professional growth, and is the natural outcome of his
daily routine. On the other hand, from causes mentioned, it is only by constant
and persistent effort of his own, with rare aid from without, that the
teacher may hope to emulate the zeal that inspires his brothers of the bar.
He may not enthuse to-day and brood to-morrow. Six days out of the seven
he must stand upon his retired rostrum, aloof from his fellows, and do his
task with a glad heart and a joyous countenance.

If this comparison has created the impression on your minds that my
colleagues and I are unhappy in our roles, and are disposed to complain of
our tasks, you have misunderstood me. On the contrary, not one of us would
exchange places with you; for in the quiet of our academic shades we find
much to compensate us, and to teach us that even the life of a law professor
is well worth the living. Our interest in and close association with the fine
body of youth that with each recurrent season gathers within our walls—
in my opinion the finest assembly of young American manhood to be found
in the college world—blinds us to the truth that our tethers are limited and
grow shorter with the passing years, and depicts life to us in somewhat the
same roseate hue as our young scholars see it.

Nor must you alumni of the Law School forget that howsoever high
the places you occupy at the bar or on the bench, in the depths of our own
hearts we claim something of the credit. You and the best of you are but
our creations! No—we have not grown weary of our tasks, and an army
with banners could scarcely drive us from our places!

I have thus momentarily drawn aside the curtain, and given you a
glance at the inner life of the law teacher. This, for the possible interest
that you might find in this glimpse of precincts removed from common observation,
but chiefly that you might understand the depth of the welcome
already extended to you. You cannot know what a delight—what a genuine
inspiration—it is to us to greet you here, at any time, singly or in groups, but

especially on this our Centennial Anniversary. You could not know, except
from my telling of it, how hard it is for us to keep our enthusiasm alive.
Your presence here—this renewed intercourse after the lapse of the years—
your gracious greetings—the records that you have made as sons of the Law
School, standing out in plainer colors now that we see you face to face—
have given to each of us of the teaching staff a new spirit for our duties, and
a renewed ambition to deserve our places as teachers in the Law School,
and to justify your continued confidence.

It has seemed to me that it might not be inappropriate on an occasion
such as this, which comes but once in a hundred years, briefly to rehearse to
you something of the history of the Law School, with very cursory mention
of those faithful men who, standing in our places, gave of their strength for
its upbuilding, and directed its policies in the earlier days.

It has been well said that institutions are the antitheses of men who
erect them. The former, properly nourished, escape the infirmities of age,
and grow stronger as their years increase. Such has been the history of the
Law School. At the close of its century of life, it finds itself the fruitful
mother of many devoted sons—their numbers increasing with the passing
of the years, and her powers of reproducing and nourishing her offspring
responding to the ever increasing demand.

Though the charter of the University was granted in 1819, it was not
until 1826 that the Law School was opened to students. At this period there
were few law schools in the country, and few or none had attracted many
students to their halls, or gained the confidence of the legal profession in
their methods and results. "Reading law" in the office of an experienced
practitioner was thought a more beneficial course of preparation for the bar
than that offered by the law school. The law office, rather than the law
school, was, therefore, the center of legal education. Nor was there any
American precedent for a law school erected, supported and governed by the
State.

Mr. Jefferson himself had received his legal training under Chancellor
Wythe, next to Marshall the most distinguished jurist that Virginia, or
indeed, America, had then, or has since, produced. Our Founder had also,
as a member of the Board of Visitors of William and Mary, had a part in
establishing the law school of William and Mary with Chancellor Wythe as
professor, and therefore appreciated the value of a law school training.

It may be assumed that his main purpose in establishing a chair of law
in the State University was to afford facilities for legal training, superior to
the office method. But it was in keeping with Mr. Jefferson's character and
temperament to hope that through the instrumentality of the Law School, in
addition to the technical training of candidates for the bar, a sound (i. e.,

a Jeffersonian) political philosophy might be disseminated among the rising
generation of the South. Thus we find him writing to James Madison, in
February, 1826:

How far short of the Founder's hope, as thus expressed, the Law School
fell, may be inferred from the circumstance that Robert Toombs, of Georgia,
and Henry Winter Davis, of Maryland, were both its products.

The first professor of law was John Tayloe Lomax, of Fredericksburg—
Francis Walker Gilmer, originally chosen, having been prevented by ill
health, followed shortly afterwards by death, from entering upon the duties
of the chair. After Gilmer's death, the position, along with the presidency
of the University, was offered to William Wirt, but the offer was declined.
The course covered but a single year. The textbooks used were (Mr.
Jefferson's advice notwithstanding) Blackstone's Commentaries; Cruise's
Law of Real Property; Selwyn's Abstract of the Law of Nisi Prius; and Maddock's
Chancery.

The complaint of insufficient salaries at the University, now so vociferous,
appears to be but a prolonged echo from those early days—as Lomax
resigned after four years of cultivating the law "on a little oatmeal," to
accept a circuit judgeship, which offered a larger compensation. To those
familiar with the history of the salaries of circuit judges in Virginia, res ipsa
loquitur.

Lomax was succeeded in 1830 by John A. G. Davis, grandfather of
John Staige Davis now of the Medical Faculty. Professor Davis held the
chair until 1840, when he was killed by a riotous student. For the single
year following, the chair was filled by the temporary appointment of N. P.
Howard. In 1841, Henry St. George Tucker, who had been President of the

Virginia Court of Appeals, a position which he had filled with singular distinction,
was appointed as Davis's successor—resigning from ill health, four
years later. In this brief period, however, he left the indelible impress of his
genius, and builded better than he knew, in establishing the Honor System,
of which he was the moving spirit—the most splendid inheritance that Virginia's
University possesses to-day. Tucker was succeeded by John B.
Minor, whose remarkable career, as teacher and author, is familiar not only
to hundreds of those still living who had the good fortune to sit at his feet,
but to the present generation of lawyers throughout the country.

Professor Minor held the chair for fifty years—1845-1895—and gave a
prestige to the Law School which made it nationally famous. The tone with
which he endowed it, the standards that he set for it, the devoted spirit that
he exemplified toward it, have been the inspiration and the goal of his successors.

In 1851, the Department of Law, then known as the "School" of Law—
in accordance with the then general plan of designating each of the several
subjects in the University curriculum as a "school"—was divided into two
schools, a second chair was created, and James P. Holcombe became adjunct
professor—promoted to full professor in 1854. Holcombe resigned in 1861,
on the outbreak of the Civil War, to become a member of the Confederate
Congress. After the Civil War, Stephen O. Southall succeeded to Holcombe's
chair, and on his death in 1883, James H. Gilmore was named as
his successor, resigning in 1897.

In 1893, chiefly with the purpose of relieving Professor Minor of the
heavy burden which for 50 years he had borne with never-flagging zeal and
tenacity, but which had become too onerous for his advanced years, William
Minor Lile was added to the teaching staff as a full professor, and the work
of the law school was equally divided among these three—Minor, Gilmore
and Lile. The work assigned to the new incumbent was taken in equal
proportions from that of the two existing chairs. This division left Professor
Minor with but two subjects, Real Property and Pleading and Practice
at Law (volumes II and IV of his famous Institutes). To ease this
burden, still further, his son, now Professor Raleigh Colston Minor, was
named as his Assistant. The son took over the Pleading and Practice, leaving
to Professor Minor, for the last two years of his life, the single subject
of Real Property, with two lecture periods a week. Those who remember
the strong will and self-sacrificing spirit of the great teacher, need not be
told that this effort to ease his latter days was not without passionate protest
from him.

Following Professor Minor's death, in 1895, Walter D. Dabney was
appointed full professor, with Professor Raleigh C. Minor as Adjunct,—
Professor Dabney succeeding to the course in Pleading and Practice, and

Adjunct Professor Minor to that in Real Property—and to these two were
assigned other courses added to the curriculum in 1895, coincident with the
extension of the course from one to two years.

On Professor Dabney's untimely death in 1899, Professor Charles A.
Graves, of Washington and Lee University, was appointed his successor.

The inception of the three years' course, in 1909-10, called for an enlargement
of the teaching staff—now composed of Professors Lile, Graves, Minor,
Armistead M. Dobie and George B. Eager, both of the latter graduates of
the Law School.

The appointment of Edwin A. Alderman as first President of the University,
in 1904, was followed by a complete reorganization of the several
departments, and the erection of minor faculties—each department presided
over by a dean. This office in the Law School has been held by Professor
Lile since that date.

The session of 1826 opened with 26 students. The average attendance
down to the outbreak of the Civil War was approximately 60. During the
four years of the Civil War, 31 students were enrolled. For the period between
the close of the Civil War and 1895, the approximate average per
session was 110. Since then, the enrollment has steadily increased year by
year. For the present session, the number of matriculates is 310, from 30
states.

Originally there were no prescribed entrance requirements, and the
minimum age for admission of students to any department of the University
was sixteen years. While graduation in Law was provided for, no degree
appears to have been offered until 1842, during the régime of Professor
Tucker. From 1842-1865, the catalogue designates the title of the degree
as Bachelor of "Laws"; but, beginning with 1865, the term Bachelor of
"Law" appears;—the plural designation re-appeared in 1905, and is still
retained. It was also during Professor Tucker's incumbency that a short-lived
statute, admitting graduates of the Law School to practice without the
necessity of a license from the judges, was enacted. This statute was repealed
in the Code Revisal of 1849. Tradition accredits the repeal to the
insistence of Professor Minor, who preferred that his students should pass
the same examination for admission to the bar as was required of other
candidates. The wisdom of this policy has been vindicated by its quite
general acceptance by the profession, and particularly by the standard law
schools of the country. Knowledge on the part of the teacher that the
results of his instruction are to be submitted to the acid test of the bar
examiners, who are in daily touch with the law in its most concrete form, is a
manifest incentive to the teacher, and a safeguard against loose pedagogical
methods and practices.

The important part that the Law School has played in the University
itself is indicated in the circumstance that out of 5571 degrees conferred by
all the departments since organization, 2051 have been degrees from the
Law School—or 37% of the total.

The Law School has never been, like the average state law school, a
merely local one, for the production of local lawyers—but from earliest days
has drawn its patronage from all parts of the United States. It has educated
thousands of young men for the legal profession. The very large
number of these who have occupied the highest places in the states and
nation, has illustrated the fine quality of the spirit that the School inspires,
and the soundness of the instruction that it affords.

When the information first came to your ears a year ago that we were
preparing to open the doors of Jefferson's masculine University to women—
and admitting them even within the sacred precincts of the Law School—
you doubtless wondered why, and recorded your mental, if not written,
protest. But it has been done—not because we of the Law School believed
the law a fit profession for the mothers of the coming generations, but for
the same reason that the gods gave the frogs a king—they clamored (I dare
not say croaked) for it so vociferously. Voters as they now are (the women,
not the frogs), their insistence and persistence—their crying aloud night and
day without surcease—their strident threats of forcing their way in by the
legislative door, and therefore on their own terms—convinced us that discretion
was the better part of valor. We surrendered on very honorable
terms, magnanimously dictated by ourselves. These terms are that the
woman applicant for admission to the law school shall be twenty years of age,
and the holder of a baccalaureate degree—or else twenty-two years of age and
having completed two years of standard college work. These requirements
are thought sufficient to secure proper maturity of mind and manners, and
the desired seriousness of purpose—and to exclude the airyfairy Lilians as
a disturbing element in our peculiarly and traditionally virile surroundings.

Those of you whose college careers antedate modern entrance requirements,
may be interested in the announcement that, at present, candidates
for admission to the Law School must have completed one year of college
work, in addition to graduation from a high school—and that with the
session of 1922-1923, an additional year of college work will be required.
This may mean that in the course of a few years the entrance standard will
be raised to the requirement of a baccalaureate degree. The existing entrance
requirements at Virginia are considerably short of the standard
exacted by the best professional and pedagogical thought of the country,
and we are already lagging behind most of the standard law schools in this

respect. A number of these already require a baccalaureate degree or its
equivalent. My own experience of twenty-eight years as a law teacher
convinces me that in keeping down our entrance standards at Virginia, we
have unwittingly done great injustice to the youth of the South, and through
them to the legal profession. My observation is that the average youth
contemplating the study of law, or of any other profession, will be content to
enter upon his professional studies with the minimum of preparation required
by the school of his choice. He is not to blame for assuming that
the wise heads who admit him to the Law School with merely a high school
preparation, are expressing to him the opinion that no further preparation is
necesary to fit him for a distinguished career at the bar. The result in our
own Law School has been disastrous. Unfledged youths, fresh from the
high schools, the parents of many of whom were abundantly able to finance
them through a complete academical and professional course, have rushed
into the Law School, with their professional ambitions as immature as their
high school minds. The result has been a veritable slaughter of the innocents.
Under such standards, an entering class of 100 would produce a
graduating class of approximately 30 or 40—with the majority of these
made up of men with college training.

Our medical friends have far outstripped us, in spite of our aristocratic
scorn of them as parvenus in the professional field. As lawyers, we trace our
ancestry back a thousand years—whereas, as a scientific profession, this new
rival was born within the recollection of some of us who are not old men.
Forty years ago in Virginia, any quack might call himself doctor, and serve
all patients rash enough to employ him—and this without let or hindrance
from the State. But, led by the well-educated members of their profession,
their standards have already been raised to a point which we lawyers of
Virginia can scarcely hope to reach in a generation. The result has been that
medicine and surgery have made greater advances in the last forty years
than in all the preceding ages.

I cannot refrain from taking this opportunity of reminding you that
one of the chief reasons why legal standards have lagged, is due to the
lawyers themselves—who, as pointed out recently by the Carnegie Foundation,
and as known to every observant lawyer who has attended sessions of
our legislatures and meetings of bar associations—lose no opportunity of
blocking efforts within the profession to raise legal standards. "Look at
me," exclaim these blind guides, "and think what the State would have
lost had your high standards excluded me from the Law School, and from
the bar of which I am such a shining ornament."

Perhaps a word about our teaching methods may not be out of place.
We still use the old fashioned text-book and lecture system, supplemented

by the use of illustrative cases. With most of the other law schools of the
country now thoroughly wedded to the so-called Case System, we find ourselves
almost in a class to ourselves. We are thought of, and not infrequently
referred to by our contemporaries, as old-fogyish, and out of date.
But we have held to our own methods—not from ignorance of the virtues
of the other system, but from deliberate choice. . The argument in favor of
the one or the other system is too long to be presented here at length, even
on the assumption that you would be interested in following it. I think it
may be summed up in the statement that the main purpose of the Case
System, as its disciples confess, is not so much to teach legal principles, as to
cultivate the student's reasoning faculties—surely a most desirable end.
Under this method the lecture room is converted into a sort of debating
society, of which the instructor is the leader and interlocutor. A half-dozen
or more cases, previously assigned, constitute the basis of the debate. The
whole hour is not infrequently consumed in the discussion of a single point,
or of a single case from the assignment. Normally, the assigned cases not
reached during the hour are passed over, a new assignment is made, and a
new debate held at the next period—the student being left to work up the
ignored cases as best he may. It is heresy to limit a lively debate in the
interest of economy of time. The point or points actually discussed are
thus thoroughly ventilated and impressed upon the student—or upon such
of them as participate in the debate, or take accurate notes thereof. An
entire lecture period may thus be devoted to the discussion of Benjamin
Butler's famous point whether the key to a man's shop is personalty or realty
and therefore the subject or not the subject of larceny—or the distinction
between a demurrer to the declaration and a demurrer to the evidence. The
natural tendency of the system is to develop a race of case lawyers. But the
most serious objection is the slowness with which the course goes forward,
and the gaps that the method must leave in the continuity and completeness
of the topics pursued. If the student had six years to devote to his law
school course, instead of three, the case method might prove ideal.

Our theory is that a large part of the body of the law rests upon no
particular reason, but is conventional, or may we not call it arbitrary?
This cannot be deduced by any course of reasoning howsoever subtle or
astute. The mere statement of the rule, with a practical illustration, is its
best exposition. One need not read an opinion of several pages to learn that
a contract must have a valuable consideration, or that the agreement must
be mutual; or that an infant is not bound by his general contracts, but
ordinarily is liable for his torts; or that an indorser's liability is conditioned
on the taking of the proper steps on dishonor of the paper; or that a corporation
cannot lawfully exercise a power not conferred by its charter; or
that the plea of the statute of limitations, or the statute of parol agreements,

is personal to the defendant. These illustrations might be indefinitely
multiplied. And considering the law of procedure, whether under the
written or the unwritten law, substantially the whole of it consists of conventional
rules, which are to be mastered only by memorizing them.

These considerations, with the further consideration that the student's
time in the law school is limited, and that under our old-fashioned methods
the student obtains a complete bird's eye view of the fundamentals of each
of his topics—succinctly stated and generally illustrated by the text itself,
and by the case-book, and always by the instructor himself—make us
content with our own methods. Under our method the subject is presented
as a consistent whole, an impossible desideratum under the other system.
Where reasons exist, and serve to assist the student's understanding, they
are properly stressed,—indeed, these are more apt to be found in the textbook
than in the opinions. But equal stress is laid upon the student's acquisition
of fundamental principles for their intrinsic value, and upon his
remembering them just as he must learn and remember the letters of the
alphabet or the rules of Latin syntax.

The conclusions reached from our theoretical study of the two methods,
seem to us abundantly sustained by the results. The reasoning qualities
of our graduates are thoroughly well developed, though possibly not quite so
highly as under the other system. Our men go out into the profession not
only with excellent reasoning powers, but fully equipped with a knowledge
of fundamental legal principles. The further cultivation of their reasoning
powers, and their alertness and resourcefulness in debate, may well be postponed
to the succeeding thirty or forty years to be spent in the forensic
contests at the bar. The high positions taken by our graduates throughout
the country satisfies us that our Law School, however old-fashioned or conservative
in its methods, is accomplishing the purpose for which it exists—
to supply the bar and public stations with accomplished, well-rounded, highminded
and efficient lawyers.

I hope that this brief summary of our teaching methods and their results
may convince you that the University of Virginia has followed along
its own lines, in spite of the new cult of the case system, not ignorantly, nor
capriciously, but for reasons quite satisfactory to those of us charged with
the responsible duty of maintaining its standards and its prestige.

THE PLAN AND HISTORY OF THE VIRGINIA LAW REVIEW

By Randolph Caskie Coleman, '21, M.A., Editor

It was intended, as appears on the program, that I should make you a
speech on the Virginia Law Review, but after the splendid address of Dean

Lile, I feel that any attempt at a speech on my part would be feeble indeed.
So I am going to tell you very simply and briefly a few things about the law
journal published by the students.

On March 5, 1913 an informal meeting was held in Minor Hall for the
purpose of considering the publication of a legal journal by the students of
the Law School. It was unanimously resolved to form an association to
issue the journal, and on April 23, 1913 a permanent organization of the
Virginia Law Review Association, with an editorial board and a business
management, was effected.

The first number appeared in October, 1913, and since that time the
Review has been published monthly eight times a year from October to May,
except during the year of 1918-'19, when owing to the late opening of the
Law School on account of the war, publication was necessarily suspended.
The current issue, which through the courtesy of Mr. Minor's committee
will be presented to each of you at the end of the meeting, marks the close
of Volume VII.

The plan of the Virginia Law Review is quite similar to that of the
Harvard, the Columbia, and the other leading Reviews. But it differs from
many of them in one important respect, that is, in being exclusively a
student publication. Some of the Reviews are published principally by
Law Faculties, others have both Faculty and student editors, and still others,
though having only student editors, have Faculty representatives who supervise
all the work that is done. It is entirely in accord with the spirit and
traditions of Virginia, with its liberal measure of student control in all its
activities, that the Law Review should be published by the students alone.
To that fact, we believe, is largely attributable the self-reliance, the interest,
and the fine esprit de corps which have always characterized the editorial board.

Each number of the Review contains leading articles of general interest
to the profession, Notes, Recent Decisions, Book Reviews, and a Virginia
Section. The articles and Book Reviews are prepared by prominent members
of the bench and bar and by law teachers, while the Notes and Recent
Decisions are entirely the work of the editors.

This year saw the inauguration of the Virginia Section. Due to the
insistent demand of many of our readers, we thought it well, although retaining
our character as a general rather than a local journal, to establish
a section devoted exclusively to comment upon the Virginia decisions and
statutory changes. While the material for this department is largely furnished
by students, yet in order to make it a real forum for the discussion of
Virginia law, we have decided to invite contributions to it from the bar of
the State and bespeak for it your interest and support.

From the first the Review has set a high standard, and we believe we
can say without undue pride that to-day it has attained a foremost rank

among the established law journals of the country. Dean Lile and Professor
Graves place it just after the Harvard and Columbia Reviews and in the lead
of the others, and the superiority of those two, says Professor Graves, is to
be found in their leading articles, in obtaining which they possess distinct
advantages over us, and not in the student work. This classification reflects
the greater credit upon the Virginia Law Review when we consider that at
Harvard and Columbia the enrolment far exceeds ours and, furthermore,
that a baccalaureate degree is required for entrance to the Law School.

The editors of our Review have been constantly encouraged by commendatory
expressions and requests, some from quite a distance. The other
day we received an order for the Review and the back volumes from the
League of Nations Library at Geneva. Recently a letter came from Regina,
Saskatchewan, asking permission to reprint in the Canadian Law Times one
of our articles, which was described as "admirable and world-wide in its
application." Some time ago Professor Isaacs of Pittsburgh and Professor
Schaub of Harvard asked leave to reprint in their coming volume on Commercial
Law some extracts from the Review, adding the statement that "in
the present state of our legal science, the law journals are the repositories
of the best thought in commercial law as well as in the other fields of jurisprudence."
Dean Wigmore has complimented the Review highly, laying
particular stress upon its form and appearance. I trust you will pardon a
reference to these things when you realize that they are due not only to the
work of the present board, but to that of all our predecessors.

While this is the story of what the Review has accomplished, we feel
that it should do a great deal more. In fact it has reached a critical stage
in its life. The present vastly increased cost of printing has made it a most
difficult matter to finance the Review with the limited subscription list we
now have. This condition has affected all the Reviews more or less seriously
according to their circulation and resources from endowment or otherwise.
Recently the Columbia Law Review issued a statement that unless it could
secure a thousand additional subscribers it might have to suspend publication.
The Virginia Law Review unfortunately has no endowment and is entirely
dependent upon income from subscriptions and a few advertisements.

Is it worth while to keep it alive and vigorous? That depends upon the
service it is performing. To the student here it is a constant incentive, since
election to the board is based upon the quality of work done in the Law
School. To the editors it is a very valuable—some of them consider it the
most valuable—part of their legal training. To the Law School it is a means
of expression, without which the School would be somewhat inarticulate,
and at the same time the best type of advertisement. Going into the offices
of hundreds of lawyers, especially in Virginia and the South, it should give a
far clearer and more vivid idea of the character of the work in our Law School

than any mere catalogue. Can it be doubted that if the Review went to
several offices where it now goes to one it would be instrumental in bringing
many more students to this Law School? If a larger attendance is not to be
desired, then we would be enabled to take another forward step in the
important matter of raising our standards for admission.

But of what service is the Review to you, our alumni? It is a direct
means of communication, of contact with the Law School. It keeps alive
your interest and your memories. As it brings to those here, through the
articles you contribute, the results of your discoveries in the field of active
practice, so it carries to you the fruits of the researches of Faculty and
students in the legal laboratory of Minor Hall.

With your active coöperation the Review can not only perform this
service, but can steadily increase its usefulness. Without your support, it
will wither and die. There is no reason why we cannot make it the leading
organ of legal expression in the South, as the Harvard Law Review is in its
field, and a potent influence with our courts and legislators. It should be in
every way worthy of our great Law School, which for sound instruction in
fundamental principles we all believe to be second to none.

Our alumni are fully equal to the task. With your contributions in
articles embodying the product of your labors, your arguments in noteworthy
cases, your views on vital questions, and your suggestions as to
changes in our law and procedure, we could publish a Review that would
stand comparison in every respect with any law journal in the country.
So when you have the material for an interesting paper, prepare it and send
it to us, as well as discussions for the Virginia Section or Book Reviews.

In this way, through your loyal support in articles and subscriptions,
the Virginia Law Review can become a powerful, living force in our legal
world, informed with the noble spirit and standards of this institution, a
teacher of true doctrine in these times of false and dangerous theories, a
champion of what is sound and progressive in law and government. Thus
it can be made a source of just pride to the alumni and to the Law School.
The achievement of this purpose rests in principal measure with you, and
we have every confidence in your decision.

III. The Medical Alumni

MOVEMENTS IN MEDICAL EDUCATION

By William Holland Wilmer, '85, M.D., LL.D., of Washington, D. C.

May I take the liberty of speaking briefly of only one phase of this
movement in Medical Education—a phase, however, that is uppermost in
the minds of every loving alumnus of the dear old Alma Mater?

When one of the very distinguished members of the Medical Faculty
of this great University courteously asked me to express my views at this
meeting concerning the question of removing the Medical Department to a
distant city, I wrote him the question had been so thoroughly discussed by
Dean Hough in his fine report that I could do very little more than to say
"Amen." But I wish to express my personal views even if they possess no
other value than that of a retrospect, as it has been thirty-six years since I
left these beloved portals. I have seen the following reasons advanced for
the advisability of taking this step: (1) The necessity of securing greater
clinical material; (2) to avoid separating the Richmond Medical, Dentistry,
and Pharmacy Schools; (3) economy; (4) athletics are a disadvantage to
medical students; (5) the medical students do not take part in general university
life; (6) the general student body does not receive any profit from the
older medical students.

The first three points are the only ones that require any serious consideration
for consenting to this radical and painful operation. The first
argument divides itself very naturally into two main lines—quantity and
quality. In the argument for removing the Medical Department, the
necessity of a quantity of clinical material has been emphasized. This
greatly emphasized quantity is not dependent upon city environment. It
can be obtained by enlarging the present hospital facilities of the University,
where there is already in existence a great teaching hospital of two hundred
beds and 3,500 patients annually under the control of the staff of the Medical
Department. A hospital is like an individual. When a reputation for work
of the highest type has been established, the numbers of patients seeking
treatment will be limited only by the capacity to care for them. Among
the most notable proofs of this fact are the Mayo Clinic, at Rochester,
Minnesota (a town of 6,000 people); Ann Arbor, Michigan; Iowa City,
Iowa; Madison, Wisconsin; the three latter being average university towns.
The hospital facilities of the great German universities were entirely out of
proportion in size to the small cities in which they were located. Dr. Edsall,
Dean of the Harvard Medical School, says in speaking of the University of
Virginia: "Of course clinical material is essential, but there is no doubt in
my mind that the clinical material can be obtained in a perfectly adequate
way just as Michigan and Iowa have done it." Ease of communication and
transportation brings the suburban and the rural districts constantly into
closer contact with hospital centers. With the annihilation of many of the
problems of time and distance by the fast trains, the automobiles and the
prospective airplanes, those hospital centers will be increasingly independent
in the future, in regard to their location. Even now in regard to transportation
the University of Virginia is excellently placed. While the
demand for quantity could certainly be adequately met, it is well to remember

that quality is even more important. For after all, valuable preparation
does not lie in the number of cases seen by the student, but in the great care
taken in the study of each case and in the acquiring of the proper method of
pursuing that study to the very best advantage. One case exhaustively and
efficiently studied is worth a dozen or more cases considered hastily or imperfectly—the
great temptation where the mass of clinical material is very
large. Furthermore, I wish to emphasize the point that it is the method that
must be studied and not merely the individual case. That great student of
medical teaching, Sir James MacKenzie, says: "It is far better to be trained
to understand a few matters thoroughly than to have a superficial knowledge
of a great many things."

In addition to these points of "quantity" and "quality" there is
another question about this suggested change that requires serious consideration—vocational
instruction versus the teaching given by the busy
practitioner of medicine in a large city. The practitioner is certainly
handicapped. He is often harassed by a number of serious and pressing
cases that demand his attention. At best, it is difficult for him to find the
time for regular didactic lectures or for clinical instruction—often to the
detriment of his students. In Outdoor Departments, the teaching is often
left to younger men who have not sufficiently broad experience to enable
them to give the student the best viewpoint in the most important study of
the beginnings of disease. In the fundamental branches there can be no
comparison between the advantage of the instruction under the professor
who is vocational, and the teaching by the practicing physician. This is
well illustrated by the teaching of anatomy at our Alma Mater. I know of
no other university in any land where anatomy has been so well and unforgetably
taught. This splendid instruction has been a very great and lasting
asset to every one of the medical graduates of the University. The achievements
of its alumni prove that the teaching there in the past has been
efficient in lines other than the so-called "fundamentals." The recent
graduates, too, have been most successful in competitive examinations for
hospital positions, where clinical and laboratory tests were required. For
the last five years, not a single one of the graduates has failed to pass the
examination of any State Board. I have known of instances in New York
where among all the men who took the examination for filling two hospital
vacancies, both of the coveted positions were won by graduates of the
University of Virginia.

The second argument, that it is necessary to associate with the Medical
School the departments of Dentistry and Pharmacy, as now exist in Richmond,
is easily met. These two departments can function, as they do in
other cities, apart from a Medical School; and, at present there are needs
more urgent than the addition of these departments here. In due time this

can be brought about. I personally feel that Dentistry is becoming such an
important part of the Medical Science that a Dentistry Department should
be instituted later at the University of Virginia and I am sure that it could
be accomplished without difficulty. The atmosphere of university life would
be of inestimable value to the dental student. There is no reason why a
practical clinical department of Pharmacy and Therapeutics should not be
established also. In this connection it may be interesting to quote what
Sir James MacKenzie says in regard to medical education: "Each time a
drug is given, the teacher must give the reason for presenting it, and the
student must be set to watch the effects it is supposed to produce." This
sound and practical advice can only be followed in a faculty-controlled
hospital. By this means the student may have the opportunity of seeing
remedies prescribed on grounds of reason and not of credulity. These
suggestions for two new departments are made, because, in my mind's eye
I see a well rounded, evenly balanced, vitalized University in the future,
and not one shorn of its glory. Even the division of the four year course is
detrimental to the highest medical education.

There is much dissatisfaction in the minds of the broadest thinkers
upon the subject of medical education. It is a cause of thankfulness that
they do not apply to the University of Virginia as now conducted. The
objections are that anatomy, for instance, "is often but an intelligent
description of facts, so that the student is burdened with an accumulation of
many trivial details." Sir James MacKenzie in regard to medical education
says that "Physiology is such a broad subject that it is difficult to determine
how much is necessary to impart to the medical student." This
criticism is true of the other so-called medical sciences. However, in a
medical department, with buildings clustered around the campus, the
teachers of the fundamentals come into closer contact with their fellow
professors of clinical work and laboratory investigation than could possibly
be the case in a large city away from the Mother University. In this way
they have a closer insight into the practical problems necessary for the
student.

The third argument for removing the Medical Department is economy.
"Efficiency and not retrenchment is true economy," wrote that sagacious
statesman, Disraeli. This is a saying for all time. The education that is
the most economic is not the one that costs the fewest dollars, but the one
that is the best, the most efficient and broadening, for the least relative
financial outlay. Dr. Flexner wisely says: "It is easier and cheaper to
bring patients to Charlottesville than to reproduce the University laboratories,
workers, libraries, and spirit anywhere else."

A University like our beloved Alma Mater, with its beautiful and
healthy situation, its charming social advantages and its broad cultural

opportunities, will always attract the best type of instructors; but separation
from the life of a great university and the associations of colleagues,
together with the higher cost of living in the city, would have the reverse
effect.

The disadvantage of athletics to medical students forms the fourth
argument. Quite to the contrary, athletics, which have become such an
integral part of college life—and justly so—are benefited by the participation
of medical men. The instances where medical students have led in all
types of athletic sports are too numerous to mention. It is equally true that
medical students are vastly helped by athletics. Quick and accurate response
of brain and muscle to each stimulus is thereby inculcated. The
medical student above all others should have a "sound mind in a sound
body."

Whatever may be the case at other universities, the fifth and sixth
arguments that the medical students do not take part in general university
life, and that the general student body does not receive any benefit from the
older medical students, are not at all applicable to the charming life at our
dear old University. As far as my own personal experience goes, my dear
friend and roommate of my first year at the University was a student in the
academic department and he is now a very distinguished Episcopal minister.
In my second year, my roommate was a brilliant student of law and the
judge of the "moot court" the following year. The third year my room on
East Lawn was in the midst of men who have since become leaders in their
respective walks of life—distinguished scientists, senators, judges. As class
commander of 1885, some of the most delightful letters received have been
from classmates who had not been in the Medical Department. To illustrate
the close cultural relations between the students in the different departments,
I have only to recall to my collegemates of long ago some of the
episodes of our college life. I can remember as if yesterday the eloquent
lecture of Professor Smith upon "Gravity"—not to be erased by the theories
of Relativity. Notable too was the fascinating lecture upon "Opium" by
Dr. Davis. There were many such occasions when the lectures were so interesting,
so charming, so impressive that they drew students from all
departments.

The very association with the great men who were teachers in those
days was a liberal education in itself. This has been equally true in years
since then.

Who in the eighties could forget the gentle tap upon the door and in
response to "come in," the entrance of Dr. John Staige Davis. After an
apology for interruption he sat down for a chat for fifteen or twenty minutes.
The medical student was left charmed and energized and returned to even
his fundamentals with renewed zest. Or, who could forget the kindness and

helpfulness of that commanding figure, Dr. Cabell? Dr. Towles taught
anatomy in such a way that he made it as delightful as it is indelible. These
men had the true vision—not to pitch the greatest number of students, but
to set a high standard and to elevate the men to that standard, and thus to
secure the greatest number of well-trained men for service.

William James, in his interesting brochure, "On Vital Reserves," emphasizes
the fact that all men "energize" far below their normal maximum.
Athletes are familiar with this fact of "second wind." The successful and
most useful men push farther and farther away the barrier of fatigue. This
is an evident fact that the busiest men are those who still take time for outside
activities. The student in contact with the multifarious activities of
university life will "energize" at a higher level than those segregated into a
class—which too often occurs when one department is located in a large
city away from the parent university. It has been well said that "The
most important factor is university contact, ideals and activities." On
the whole, the body thus isolated will be inferior to a similar body "run at a
higher pressure." Can the State of Virginia afford to take away from the
medical students within its gates, those great stimuli that "awaken the
energies of loyalty, courage, endurance or devotion?"

The tendency of medical science is towards prevention and not cure.
The advance in surgery is marvelous beyond expression, but it is a confession
in each case of the failure of prevention. It should be resorted to
only when there is no possibility of relief in other ways. If this applies to the
individual, how much more does it apply to the growing, vigorous University
of Virginia, where dismemberment by amputation of one of its most essential
parts seems as abhorrent as it is unwise?

Even at the risk of repetition, the words of men like Dr. Edsall and Dr.
Flexner should be emphasized at this critical juncture in the affairs of the
University. The former feels so strongly the importance of intimate contact
with the general university that he says: "I should be very glad indeed
if the mere three or four miles that separate the Harvard Medical School
from Harvard University could be wiped out."

After calling attention to the fact that "the independent medical school
has practically disappeared in the last ten years," and that "the universities
have simply had to take charge of medical education because they alone
have the correct point of view of spirit," Dr. Flexner, one of the greatest
authorities on medical education, goes so far as to say: "It is my conviction
—a conviction born of observation over a very wide area—that Virginia
will hardly be able to develop a school of the highest grade except as an
immediate part of the State University in Charlottesville."

Thus it will be seen that the specialists in Medical Education are
against this transfer. Four college presidents, eight deans of medical schools

and fifty professors have registered their opposition. The Medical Faculty
of the University of Virginia is against it; and I do not personally know a
single one of the medical alumni who has not protested against this step.
Moreover, there is no precedent for the transfer of a medical school that has
been functioning efficiently for a hundred years. Those who are pressing
favorably this transfer must bear the burden of proof. If, in the face of the
opposition of the Medical Faculty, the alumni body, and the experts in
medical education from all sections of the country, they carry through this
unfortunate policy the burden of responsibility for the unnecessary handicap
fastened upon the future graduates of the Medical School, will be theirs.

From a broad philosophic point of view no doubt can arise concerning
the great wisdom of keeping intact the present structure of our beloved
Mother University. Sir James MacKenzie says that "We are all creatures
whose mode of thought is influenced by tradition and environment. Teaching
and particularly medical teaching, is more affected by tradition than
almost any other subject." When the tradition is as noble as it is here, and
the environment as inspiring, it would be indeed unfortunate to lose them.
There is an old text that "Wisdom is the principal thing; therefore get
wisdom: and with all thy getting get understanding." The man who has
the deepest understanding, the broadest point of view and the widest vision
is the man who will give the greatest service to humanity. President Alderman
has said: "Scholarship and knowledge fulfill themselves only in
service to men."

While close association with men of diverse trains of thought is a most
potent factor in producing the wise psychiatral point of view so essential
to the highest success in every form of life's activity, environment is an equal
force in man's development. Who could spend a portion of the plastic period
of youth in this ideal spot, with its beauty of hills and valleys, its inspiring
architecture, its splendid ideals and ennobling traditions without being
better fitted for service to his state, his country and to his fellowman?

This Centennial Celebration of our Alma Mater has been a memorable
and happy occasion. Her sons have returned to her in goodly numbers.
Her sister universities and scientific and educational bodies have striven to
do her honor. Speakers of rare eloquence have expressed in glowing phrases
their conviction that her vigorous and inspiring past is but an earnest of her
splendid future. The far-seeing Rector with pointed epigram and eloquent
appeal has shown us the way of duty and of lofty ideals. He has extolled
her vital essence, and shown that it was her spirit, breathed into those
valiant youths while in these sacred precincts, that enabled them to fight
for the cause of freedom, and to make the supreme sacrifice for the right.
Shall we who have not been called upon to lay down our lives, be less true
than they to the inspiration of this beloved Mother? They have glorified

her in their sacrifices; shall not we add to her strength and beauty until
another generation can take from our hands the privilege of loving upbuilding?
But even while all honor is being paid to her and her praises sung by
all, a shadow falls across the hearts of many of her devoted sons at the
thought of the dismemberment that is purposed for this nurturing mother.

In the mind of Thomas Jefferson there was a true university with all
of the schools that we have now—and more in addition. He did not seek to
found an academy or a college, but a university of glorious proportion.
Shall this beautiful dream be turned into an unrestful nightmare? What
excuse can we offer the "Master-Builder" if we do not strive to avert this
work of disintegration of the fabric that he wrought so lovingly?

The medical student is as true a son to Alma Mater as any other son.
Is he therefore to be denied his rightful inheritance? If so, then other sons
will ultimately be deprived of their portions, once this vicious process has
begun. Do not take from the medical student his precious heritage inspired
by the brilliant genius of Thomas Jefferson—this beautiful creation called
the University of Virginia. Leave him where he can exclaim with his
brethren of the other schools, as they look from the beauty of architecture
to the mountains of blue: "I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills from whence
cometh my help."

IV. The Engineering Alumni

OPENING DISCUSSION OF THE TOPIC, "ORGANIZATION OF AN ENGINEERING
ALUMNI COUNCIL"

By Allen Jeter Saville, '08, M.E., Director of Public Works, Richmond, Va.

Some years ago while on a visit to the University several of us were
talking of our experiences, and discussing what we thought of the training
at the University in the light of these experiences. That conversation resulted
in my being asked to present this paper to-day.

As you know, engineers are now split up into so many different specialties
that it is not possible for a young man at college to get familiar with all
of these specialties. The best thing to be done at college, I believe, is just
what is being done here. That is, teach the foundation principles, and leave
it to the man to later supply the technic of his chosen specialty.

There are several reasons why this is the best course but perhaps the
one that will first occur to a man who has not been at college for ten years is,
that it is very difficult to dig into the fundamental principles, after a few
years out of college.

There are some drawbacks, however, to this method of teaching only

the fundamentals at college. I think that the greatest of these is, on account
of the theoretical nature of his training a graduate does not appreciate the
practical limits of application of theory. I remember hearing of the two
Engineering seniors who had to get the contours of a mountain ravine, and
set their pegs ten feet apart each way. Of course their work was accurate
but there was no need of this accuracy. Another result of the specialization
that is now in vogue is, that college men become narrow and develop in a
one-sided fashion. This is decidedly to the disadvantage of the students, as
very few of them know exactly what line of work they will get into before
they have been out of college many years.

How to retain at the University our present system of teaching the
fundamentals, and at the same time remedy the drawbacks to this method
is the proposition that we are here to consider this afternoon. When I
speak of the University teaching fundamentals, I do not mean that practical
consideration is altogether neglected, but I mean that theory rather than
practice is emphasized.

The suggestion offered for your consideration as a remedy is as follows:

That at least once each term an alumnus read a paper before the whole
Engineering School, on some practical work, in some branch of Engineering.
This scheme, I believe, has many interesting possibilities.

In the first place, it provides for the student some definite, tangible
evidence of the practical application of the work he is doing. In the
second place, these papers will necessarily be on various kinds of work so
that the student gets a view of the practical limits used, and also gets some
insight into the practical work of many lines of Engineering. Incidentally,
it will undoubtedly help the younger student to decide what branch of
Engineering he would most likely take up, by giving him a clear picture
of the work being done in the various lines. The benefit to be derived will
not be confined to the student. Such a scheme will keep the alumni interested
in the University, and I believe will be also very interesting to the
faculty in that it would keep them informed as to the methods used in
practice that would perhaps not otherwise be brought to their attention.

I do not believe it will be difficult to get the alumni to take hold of this,
as the papers are not supposed to be essays on highly technical subjects, but
rather simple descriptions of work done and methods used. I think that
these papers should preferably be written about work the alumnus was
engaged in himself. They might describe design or construction. The
main point should be that they are to be practical, and as far as possible in
detail.

Now, as to the practical operation of such a scheme, I would suggest
that there be a committee of ten, consisting of two professors, two students,
and six alumni, with the dean of the department as chairman; the two

professors to be appointed by the dean, the two students to be elected by the
student body, and the six alumni to be the last six speakers. This may seem
a rather unwieldy committee but I believe that these many are needed in
order to keep in touch with the various interests.

Of course, money will be needed to pay expenses. My suggestion would
be that the students contribute one dollar a year each, and each alumnus
be asked to contribute an amount sufficient to meet all expenses, perhaps
not over two dollars and a half each.

I think that in order to relieve any embarrassment, the University
should pay the expenses of every alumnus who returns to the University.
I believe that if this scheme is put into operation it will prove to be both
interesting and profitable.

There is no reason why engineers not alumni should not be asked to
address the student body, but I believe it would be best always to have three
a year from the alumni. Of course we all know that engineers are not very
keen for making speeches but this proposition is simply reading a paper
describing some work with which he is thoroughly familiar.

If this scheme is good enough, it should be adopted, and if adopted
carried out enthusiastically.

There are many other benefits to be derived by this contact between
the alumni and students, and I hope the scheme will be given a trial.

THE CIVIL ENGINEER'S POINT OF VIEW

By Walter Jones Laird, '09, C.E., of Wilmington, Del.

I have been asked to make a few remarks, from the standpoint of a
Civil Engineer, regarding the feasibility of forming an Engineering Alumni
Council.

To my mind such a Council is a very necessary adjunct to the fullest
development of the Engineering courses and for general helpfulness in many
other apparent ways.

I am sure we all feel the necessity for keeping the Engineering courses
abreast of the times, just as the Engineering profession in general must
continue to progress. We cannot be in the position of the old mountaineer
and his bride from one of the neighboring mountains, who came to Charlottesville
during my college days and proceeded to take a trolley ride from the
lowe end of town to the University. As the car became crowded the conductor
came in and asked the passengers, in a rather harsh manner, to move
along. The mountaineer got up indignantly and said to the conductor:
"I've done paid my ten cents and Mame is going to sit where she damn are."
We cannot sit where we are even though some of us Alumni are inclined to

think that the Engineering courses and methods of our college days are
sufficiently good for any of the younger men entering college. We too must
"move along" and realize that just as the last few decades have seen the
ferryboat of one-man power, on certain of our rivers, replaced by beautiful
spans of steel and masonry, and have seen the mule and winch of other days
replaced by the Corliss engine or the Turbo Generator, representing engineering
skill of to-day, so technical education must advance and we must
help where possible to provide the men who are going out into the Engineering
world from our colleges with the best that can be given them in a well
balanced, practical, and theoretical Engineering course.

This is being accomplished in great measure by our Faculty at Virginia,
but their efforts could undoubtedly be facilitated by proper coöperation from
the Engineering Alumni.

There is certainly no reason why an Engineering Council is not practical,
if we do not attempt to carry its functions too far. The members
could either be appointed by the Dean of the Engineering Department or
elected from time to time by the Alumni by means of the letter ballot, or the
Council brought into being in some other approved way. In order to command
more diversity of talent and advice, and also not place a too permanent
burden on any one group of Engineering Alumni, it would seem wise to
have the term of Council members limited to about three years for each
individual and to have terms rotate so there would be a majority of older
incumbents in office all the time.

This Council would place on certain Alumni the definite duty of keeping
in touch with the curriculum of their Alma Mater and of suggesting from
time to time changes or additions that appear important when viewed from
the standpoint of an engineer who has observed everyday practice and usage
in his particular locality.

It would be of value in helping establish a series of Alumni lectures on
practical engineering subjects and it would help maintain a proper balance
between the practical and theoretical sides of the Engineering courses. For
example: Many engineers have advocated greater shop facilities and very
much more extensive shop and field training than is now given in many
colleges, including the University of Virginia. It is undoubtedly advantageous
for an engineer, upon leaving college, to have a sufficiently practical
knowledge of some phase of engineering work to enable him to make a decent
living from the outset. If, for instance, a man has obtained in college or
during summer vacations a thorough knowledge of transit work, he may at
once after leaving the University be self-supporting; whereas, he might
otherwise lose some time in getting on his feet, and in some instances might
be discouraged to the point of going into some other line of work.

Personally, I think a very limited course in the fundamentals of shop

and field work is sufficient in most cases and allows of additional time being
given to important correlated studies which are of great value to the
average engineer in everyday practice, and are very much harder to obtain
out of college than is additional practical experience. Some years ago,
courses in Economics, Contract Law, etc., were considered unnecessary to
the average engineer, but now we find many of our engineers requiring a
knowledge of these subjects as much as of some of the straight Engineering
studies, hence the need of including such subjects in a complete Engineering
course.

This leads an Engineering Faculty to the problem of arranging, where
possible, for auxiliary courses in practical shop and field work between
college sessions, rather than to take an undue number of hours out of the
important college sessions to devote to the purely practical sides of the
student's work. Such coöperative courses are in successful operation at the
Massachusetts Institute of Technology, the University of Cincinnati, etc.
An Engineering Council could undoubtedly offer some valuable suggestions
in a case of this kind.

A further important feature of the Engineering Council from another
side would be to keep all of our Engineering Alumni alive to and keenly
interested in the activities of their Department in college. Too many of us
are inclined to forget what our own college is doing and when an opportunity
comes from time to time to advise some student what college to enter, and
to explain the advantages of our college training, we are not in a good position
to do so; nor are we apt to be as interested in helping to place Alumni
who leave the University. The mere fact of having an Engineering Alumni
Council working among us would tend to stimulate continued interest in the
University and its Engineering Department. Therefore, I hope such a
Council can be brought into existence in the near future.

THE MECHANICAL ENGINEER'S POINT OF VIEW

By William Carrington Lancaster, '03, M.E., E.E., of New York City

It is a far cry from the young engineer graduate proudly wearing the
emblems of many college societies, and glorying in a long list of honors won
in the classroom and in athletics, to this same graduate, a few months later,
in overalls and a flannel shirt. No matter how brilliant has been his career
through college, no matter how high have been his marks on examinations,
no matter how profound his knowledge of mechanics, of hydraulics, or of
thermodynamics, the mechanical engineer graduate must don the garb of the
laborer, and learn by the sweat of his brow, the practical details that are
essential to the successful practice of his profession.

More appealing is the early work of the civil engineer. His life is largely
in the open. "The Call of the Wild" attracts him. His is a picturesque
figure as he peers through a transit, standing in sunny fields of green and
waving to his rod-man away off across some babbling brook. He appeals
to the popular imagination. The hero of the novel, if he is an engineer, is
always a civil engineer.

Not so happy is the lot of the young mechanical engineer. There is
nothing picturesque about the grease and grime of the machine shop, or the
rattle and bang of the boiler factory. But he must spend several years, at
least, in some such shop or factory, before he has learned enough of the
practical side of engineering to be eligible for a position of responsibility.
This is true even when he had graduated from one of the large colleges with
magnificently equipped shops and laboratories, where he has spent many
hours and has become familiar with every machine. How valuable then is
the college degree to the mechanical engineer?

The great national engineering societies all have as a requirement for
full membership, an engineering degree plus a certain number of years of
experience in responsible charge of engineering work; or, a certain larger
number of years of experience without the college degree. For example, the
American Society of Mechanical Engineers requires an engineering degree
and three years, or five years without the degree. In other words the degree
is considered equivalent to two years of experience in responsible charge of
engineering work.

The engineering college then does not turn out a finished product.
When he leaves college, the engineer graduate is nowhere near ready to
practice his profession. To a limited extent, the same thing may be said of
the other professions. The graduate in medicine generally takes a postgraduate
course at some hospital; the young lawyer often serves as little
more than a clerk in some large law firm; and the preacher begins with a
small country church.

But the medical graduate is very soon a full fledged doctor. His hospital
course may last only a few months, or he may elect to take none at all.
Just as soon as he passes the State Board examinations, which he does
promptly before he forgets what he has learned at college, he starts the
practice of medicine and is in responsible charge of the lives of his patients.

The graduate in law likewise passes the Bar Examinations just as soon
as possible and can then practice law. He is in responsible charge of the
rights of his clients.

The preacher starts to preach as soon as he enters his little country
church and immediately is in responsible charge of the souls of his flock.

It is not so with the engineer. He has no State examinations to pass.
The law does not create him an engineer by giving him a license to practice.

No license is required of him. He stands solely on his merits. Perhaps it is
partly for this reason that he must go through long years of arduous work
with small pay before he is recognized as a real engineer.

An important question then presents itself.

Is there something fundamentally wrong with our method of teaching
engineering, and should the engineering college attempt to turn out the
graduate so thoroughly instructed in both theory and practice that he can
more quickly take his place in the world as an engineer ready and capable
of taking responsible charge of engineering work?

Apparently the answer is both "yes" and "no."

In the first place of course the graduate is too young to be immediately
put in responsible charge of important work. He must first learn such
things as organization and directing the work of others. His judgment is
apt to be faulty. These things come only with experience and the passing
years. But we are not concerned with these. His shortcomings merely
because of his youth cannot be helped by the college, and they apply equally
in other professions.

What we have to consider are questions as to whether the courses of
instruction can be changed for his benefit, and if so how we Alumni can
help to do it.

Doubtless many young men are deterred from taking up engineering,
and especially mechanical engineering, by the thought of the long years of
disagreeable and poorly paid work that must follow their graduation. Possibly
many brilliant minds are thus lost so far as mechanical engineering
is concerned. Other professions get them. For this reason it would seem
desirable to so change the course of instruction, if possible, that the young
engineer may arrive at the desired goal with less time given up to drudgery
of his profession.

The chief criticisms of the young mechanical engineer, fresh from college,
seem to be:

On the other hand, can the engineering college be expected to give
sufficient training in shop work and practical engineering methods? Obviously
it cannot. Not even the great northern and western colleges, with
endowment funds of vastly more than "three million dollars," can afford
the large and expensive machinery, nor could they keep up with the rapid
changes and improvements even if they once had this machinery. And too
something more must be learned than mere familiarity with this and that
type of machine. One must rub elbows with the mechanic and eat from the
same dinner pail to reap the full benefits of the democracy of the flannel
shirt.

It would seem then that some middle ground must be found. Certainly
there is room for improvement in the teaching of theory and its
practical application to engineering problems. As regards shop work, would
it not be better to let it be clearly understood that the college makes no
attempt to educate the engineer along these practical lines? Let us tell the
prospective young student of mechanical engineering, frankly, that he will
receive only the theoretical side of his training at college and that he must,
after graduation, devote several years to learning practical things in some
large machine shop, power house, or factory. Then reduce the amount of
time that the student must spend in the college shops to a minimum. Use
the machinery only to illustrate the application of the theory. Give the
student every minute of time possible to work on fundamental theory; for a
man can do only so much in a day, whether that work be done by his hands
or with his brain. There is no use in his learning to be an expert lathe hand
in the college shops, for he may have to go all through it again on a bigger
and better lathe. If he learns this work at college he neglects his theory,
which he will find it vastly harder to learn in the years that follow his graduation.
Four years are little enough to learn even the fundamental theory,
especially when each college year is only some eight months long.

But these are all grave questions. They are perplexing. Engineers
doubtless differ regarding them. They require deep study. Changes in
existing methods of instruction should be approached carefully, and with a
full knowledge of modern engineering practice and what will be required of
the young engineer. How then can the college professor be expected to
answer these questions and plan the courses of study without the continual
coöperation and assistance of the practicing engineer?

An Engineering Council, to act in an advisory capacity and composed
of some ten members chosen from the engineering alumni, has been proposed.
Surely such a council would be of inestimable assistance to the
engineering faculty, and aid them to shape the courses of instruction so as
to best meet the difficulties that have been pointed out.

As loyal alumni we have given of our means to the endowment fund,
every cent that we could afford, but every one of us would like to have given
more, had he been able. Here then is an opportunity to give of our time and
our brains. The Council will be of little value unless its members give it
their best thought and are willing to sacrifice ample time to it. Those who
are not on the Council, too, can be of assistance by answering intelligently
and promptly the questions that the Council will doubtless put to them.

Our beloved Alma Mater asks us, through her engineering faculty,
to help her. Let us welcome the opportunity. Let us have the Engineering
Council.

THE ELECTRICAL ENGINEER'S POINT OF VIEW

By Matthew Orpheus Troy, '96, B.S., of Pittsfield, Mass.

I have been requested by the Dean to discuss the above topic from the
point of view of the Electrical Engineer.

After an experience of twenty-four years with one of the largest electrical
manufacturing organizations in the world, I am convinced that the
electrical graduate in the practice of his profession can be of great assistance
to his Alma Mater and to the undergraduate body, and that such assistance
should be rendered. Before taking up more in detail the questions of how
this may best be accomplished through an Engineering Alumni Council, it
may first be well to outline the kinds of work which the modern engineering
graduate may be called upon to perform, and in that way see just what
it is he should expect from his college course in preparation for his life
work.

Without attempting to draw a definite parallel between the electrical
profession and any other, it has been my observation that the electrical
graduate has a very limited choice of paths from his Alma Mater to the first
step of his business career, even though the path he may choose ultimately
branches in every direction, and affords a tremendous range of application—
a range which is constantly expanding.

A very high percentage of each year's electrical graduates head at once
towards the larger electrical manufacturing organizations, or as is more
probable towards one of the two American organizations that substantially
cover the entire field of electrical apparatus manufactured in the United
States. Other paths lead to the large telephone or telegraph interests; to

the operating companies; to the syndicates combining or controlling these
companies; or to the large management, engineering, or operating associations,
of which there are quite a number.

Initially, therefore, he does not have a wide choice as to how he will
direct his steps upon graduation. After having become a part of a large
organization, however, the path which he pursues, either through choice or
force of circumstances, is one of a vast number to which, each year, are
added many others, and I can probably be most helpful in tracing a few of
these paths in a large manufacturing company like the one with which I am
associated.

Assume that the graduate has applied for entrance to the testing department
of an electrical manufacturer and been accepted. Here the
student engineer, so-called, is given an experience of from six to eighteen
months in the testing and inspecting of machines, apparatus, and appliances
of every description. If the demand for men is great his career in the testing
department may be cut to six months. If, however, he is to obtain a reasonably
broad experience his stay may be extended to the full eighteen months.
A year, however, is a fair average.

Twenty years ago, if a man were shifted at reasonable intervals, he
could in a year obtain through his testing experience quite a comprehensive
idea of the product of the manufacturer—the details of construction, as
well as methods of testing and operation. To-day, whether he stay in the
testing department one or two years, he can only obtain an experience
touching upon a few of the more important lines of manufacture, and it is
not improbable that even then, before he completes his work some of the
lines which he tested earlier in his course will have been superseded by a
new product, embracing new developments and new ideas.

A new catalogue recently issued by the General Electric Co., which
only covers certain of its more standardized product, contains over twenty
thousand catalogue numbers, and this omits much of the Company's product.
Over this great diversity of product the graduate's testing experience
is well directed towards that which will be most useful to him in his future
work.

From his testing course the graduate will probably go to a designing-engineering,
a commercial-engineering, or a research department—in most
instances direct to the designing-engineering department, where again his
path may branch in one of many directions.

There are a great number of designing-engineering departments, and
he may from choice or necessity go into any of them. The field is too broad
and life is too short to cover many of them—the probabilities are that his
experience will be limited to one, at the outside two. At this point the
engineer may become a highly specialized designer, carrying on developmental

or specific research work; may remain with the department in some more
or less subordinate position; or may go to the head of it in an administrative
capacity, which calls for ability to direct men, design, developmental, and
research work in the lines for which he is responsible.

Instead of remaining with a designing-engineering department he may
transfer to what is called a commercial-engineering department, of which
there are a large number. These are departments which are intermediate
between the designing and general office selling organizations. They help
the commercial organization in the selection of equipment, or combination
of apparatus best suited to the proposition in hand, or they assist the designing
engineering department in changing its design to suit either general
or specific commercial requirements of specific propositions.

In some instances the commercial engineering work of a given department
is combined directly with the sales proposition work, and there is no
clean-cut line of demarcation between the proposition work and the commercial
engineering relating thereto. Important commercial sections are
usually under the direction of highly trained technical graduates, or at least
under men who through broad experience have developed into broad gauge
commercial engineers. Not infrequently these large commercial departments,
in addition to a commercial engineering department have, as a part
of their staff, consulting engineers, to whom both the proposition men and
the commercial engineering men refer.

If the technical graduate leaves the designing engineering department,
he may take up general commercial work along any of the lines described.
He may be fond of travel—a broader contact with the outside, or for various
reasons wish to enter the outside organization, or it may be to the company's
interest to send him there. Many take this path, and become a part of one
of the various district office organizations. He may go direct from the
designing engineering, commercial engineering, or general commercial departments
to the district offices, and there be assigned to the engineering,
sales, or administrative department of the District.

The electrical salesman of to-day is in a different category from the
electrical salesman of twenty years ago, and in a very different category
from what we generally mean by the term "salesman." He is either a man
of very specialized training—what we term a "specialist"; or he is a very
broadly trained commercial engineer, capable of analyzing and studying
the conditions on a large transmission system, and should be in a position
to advise the engineer of an operating company as to the best selection,
combination, or application of apparatus, appliances, etc. He should be
more properly called either an "engineering specialist" or a "sales engineer."
His foundation is his technical training and engineering experience, but his
success is measured by many other qualities, such as initiative, forcefulness,

personality, his knowledge of people, his ability to assume responsibilities,
his knowledge of psychology, his ability to make wise engineering decisions,
and to convince others of their soundness.

It is a field of endeavor to which many graduates aspire, in which they
succeed, and find much real enjoyment in their work. After this experience
they may later become department heads in the District Offices to direct the
efforts of other sales engineers, or may be put in charge of important offices
where they have large numbers of men under them, direct their efforts, and
become responsible for the success of that office in a given territory or
district.

In the foregoing I have traced a few of the paths more ordinarily pursued.
There are others too numerous to mention. Some of them lead to
the great research departments of manufacturing organizations where
specialization is carried to the extreme, and work is taken up and carried
beyond the point where all other investigators have stopped. They pry into
unexplored fields, and delve into unfathomed depths. It may be the electrical
engineer, the chemist, or the physicist who carried on the work.

The graduate may enter one of the large manufacturing or production
departments, find that he is particularly fitted for this work, and ultimately
become a manufacturing superintendent or a production manager handling
large organizations and an output that runs into many millions of dollars.

He may choose other paths that lead into the general administrative
offices of the company, assist the president or vice-presidents of the organization,
with possibilities in this direction limited only by his own resources.

This aeroplane view of a large manufacturing organization has been
expanded for a particular purpose. I wish to leave the inference that the
work which will open out before the graduate is so tremendous in its magnitude
and scope that no one mind can grasp it all, nor can any college curriculum
cover the field. The curriculum can but lay the foundation on which
the superstructure is built, and the superstructure in the career of each
individual is most apt to differ from that of every other. There may at
times be striking points of similarity, but the structures differ as individuals
differ, and it is very apparent in most instances that the individual's ideals
and abilities form a very important part in creating the superstructure;
furthermore, the superstructure is never finished. It begins when the individual
enters the organization, and continues to the end. There is no
stopping point except as enforced by the limitations of the individual. This
is true even where the individual picks out a particular line of specialization
and adheres to it. The work grows, develops under him, he expands with
it, and adapts himself to the changing conditions of the country and the art.

One point I wish to emphasize particularly is that in a large manufacturing
organization these paths are not charted in advance, except in a

most general way, and the individual graduate from the time of his entrance
into the organization becomes a keen competitor of all his fellow graduates.
Even though all might be progressive, some will progress more rapidly than
others, and the extent to which one rises or forges ahead depends largely
upon his resourcefulness, initiative, and all those qualities which go to make
for leadership. This is a very happy condition because it makes work interesting,
one sees achievement and possibilities ahead of him, and strives
constantly to add to-day to the achievements of yesterday.

In the future of the industry with which the electrical graduate associates
himself, no part of the work is more important than the research work,
even though the research effort departs widely from what is commonly
known as electrical engineering. Many of the greatest advances and noteworthy
achievements are the work of the great research departments associated
with the large manufacturing institutions. The work of these large
research departments is in a measure distinct from the more specific research
work carried on daily in engineering and developmental sections or departments
of the company.

We find a very striking analogy between all this and what is being
accomplished in medicine. One has but to compare the work of the general
practitioner, specialists in medicine and surgery, and the great research
departments of organizations that have given us our serums and anti-toxins
to obtain a picture of what is going on in the large electrical organizations.
The latter has its general engineers, its special engineers assigned to specific
problems, its research work carried on in connection with these specific
problems, and in addition its large research organization which goes into
general problems of every description, and from year to year accomplishes
almost the impossible, often discovering new truths which contradict the
facts of the past as we supposed them to be.

Dr. W. R. Whitney, Director of the Research Laboratory of the General
Electric Co., has written many able articles bearing on this topic, and
these articles are available for reference. A footnote is appended giving
some of them.[1] I cannot refrain, however, from quoting a few extracts from
his address—"Incidents of Applied Research." The diversity of research
work in a large manufacturing organization is summed up as follows:

Looking back on my own experience among the vicissitudes and worries
of the undergraduate, the two things which were uppermost in my mind
were—first, the question expressed in the old song—Where Do We Go From
Here, Boys? My future was a great unknown. I hoped to arrive somewhere,
but I had not the slightest conception where the path would take me.
The second great worry was somewhat associated with the first. Not knowing
what I was to do I had no way of judging which of the great mass of
detail in my curriculum was most important in the work I was later to
pursue, and I know now that I laboriously tried to master many details
subsequently proven to be unimportant and I passed over others of basic
importance.

While there are many ways in which an engineering council, made up of
graduates in service, can assist Alma Mater and the undergraduate, I can,
speaking for the electrical graduate only, say that if it does no more than
assist the undergraduate in the two ways mentioned, i.e., in guiding his steps
after graduation toward the path he is best suited to follow, and in giving
him an idea of what is vital in his undergraduate course, it will accomplish

much for the undergraduate engineer, stimulate interest in electrical engineering,
and thereby assist its Alma Mater.

Under the conditions of to-day, an engineering council could offer very
definite suggestions to the prospective student, the freshman or the senior,
as to the path to choose after graduation, or at least a very definite choice of
paths, and thus having something definite before him, the student will take
up his engineering studies with an added interest. As bearing on this point
I quote from an address by Dr. Whitney at an Alumni Dinner given by
Union College, February 17, 1921:

Referring to the second of my worries as a student, I fear that the first
part of my paper offers no solution, as it emphasizes, even more than does
the diversity of a college curriculum, the wide field to which the graduate
may in future life be expected to apply himself, and emphasizes the impossibility
of complete preparation. This is true. The curriculum can at
most merely lay the foundation, and all of the superstructure has to be
erected in subsequent effort, application, work, and study, but it is of greatest
importance that the foundation be the best which can be devised for the
superstructure which the graduate is to build for himself.

The graduate who has been away from college for many years is not an
authority on textbooks, curriculums, etc., but he should be in a position to
help the University's staff, if only indirectly, by bringing to its attention
from time to time some of the everyday problems which face him in his
outside career. I will not attempt to discuss this phase of the subject in
great detail, but in looking over the present day curriculums they are spread
out too thin in many places, and the foundation is not deep and thorough
enough in others.

I am constantly in contact with electrical graduates, and without having
University of Virginia graduates in mind, I am impressed by the fact that
very few of them really learn their mathematics, physics, and chemistry.
When they have struggled through their mathematics, and passed their
examinations by a narrow margin, possibly having learned enough to appreciate
its importance, they have a feeling that they will pursue the subject
further, and will then perfect themselves. The majority never do; and there
is a tendency in after life to sidestep difficult problems involving mathematics,
or to look for assistance to those who have been more thorough.
They trail rather than lead in this respect, though they may in other directions
make up their shortcomings. A student who has thoroughly learned
his mathematics has a foundation which need not be disturbed, irrespective
of what is new in electrical discoveries—at most only the application has
to be changed.

When a student has obtained his basic training in mathematics, the
application of this training to problems of various descriptions—such as
the solution of electrical equations and the actual design of electrical apparatus—serves
to fix in his mind his mathematical fundamentals so that they
cannot be effaced. A basic training in chemistry and physics is of equal
importance, but in order that these fundamentals, like the mathematics,
may become firmly fixed, or for that matter thoroughly understood, the
laboratory work is of the utmost importance. By this I refer to the experimental
work in the chemical, physical, and electrical laboratories.

Very few electrical graduates have occasion to apply any of the training
they may have received in civil engineering, except in the fundamentals,
particularly the details that cover the use of instruments, transit, etc. He
may in his work with a large operator find that some civil engineering has
to be done, but he is not called upon to undertake such work. A graduate
civil engineer is available for the purpose.

The same is true, though to a somewhat less extent, of large hydraulic
projects. While a general knowledge of these subjects is necessary, it would
appear in the case of the electrical engineer that they could be touched on
lightly, and more time given to fundamental electrical problems.

Knowledge of thermo-dynamics and steam engineering is frequently
of use to the electrical graduate, but it is doubtful if much time should be
devoted to obsolete steam engines, intricate valve motions, and mechanical
features that have outlived their day of usefulness. A more intimate and
thorough study of a representative steam turbine makes for a better foundation.

In industrial chemistry, instead of trying to cover a field of almost
unlimited breadth, let the technical graduate concentrate and learn more
thoroughly the industrial chemistry of what will be most useful to him; the
manufacture and preparation of insulations—their qualities and characteristics;
insulating compounds—their behavior under the action of heat,
oil, and electrical stresses; study of oils for insulation purposes and heat
dissipation; study of porcelains, glass, and other similar materials for their
mechanical and electrical properties, as they relate to the development of
electrical apparatus, and the development of transmission and distribution
systems.

All education is broadening and develops the mind, and on this score
we can defend the study of a great variety of subjects, as a part of the training
of the electrical engineer. There is so much, however, that he should
obtain in his four-year course—in fact so much more than he can obtain of
basic fundamental facts, that are directly applicable to electrical engineering,
that it would seem to me the present day curriculums could be improved
with this thought in view.

While many of the topics above touched upon might be classified as
encyclopædical training, they cover interesting details, apparatus, subjects
and applications which might profitably form parallel reading to the University
course, but should not be allowed to crowd out fundamental training
or fundamental training plus the essentials of a direct professional training.

In closing I would emphasize that this is a day of specialists, whether
it be in finance, business, manufacture, medicine or engineering. The man
who stands out above others in some particular field of endeavor obtains a
satisfaction from his work, a standing and remuneration from his profession
which the general all around good man infrequently receives.

Let the engineering undergraduate pursue fewer subjects, but pursue
them thoroughly, and if possible specialize in some particular field of endeavor,
either research, or the design of a special class of apparatus. The
man who thoroughly masters the transformer diagram, the mathematics
relating to all the formulas involved in the design, who knows the design
thoroughly, who can analyze wave form and study the stresses applied in
service to every piece of insulation under the diversity of conditions to which
the transformer will be subjected, can readily take up the induction motor
and study it in the same way, although he did not have time to do so at
college. It would be better for him in future life to have mastered the transformer
thoroughly than to have obtained a superficial knowledge of both
the transformer and the motor, even though later he specialize in motor
design.

The technical student who will learn thoroughly how to design a 200,000
volt transmission line, understand the phenomena which go on in such a
system—the high voltage stresses, corona losses, behavior under impulses of
every description, steep wave fronts, high frequency line disturbances; who
will learn how to analyze the stresses over its insulators—the reactance,
capacity and induction of the lines—its regulation and compensation, has
placed himself in a position to obtain recognition which cannot be obtained
by the student who has a superficial knowledge of wiring and distribution
in general.

THE CHEMICAL ENGINEER'S POINT OF VIEW

By John Marshall, '13, Chem. E., of Swarthmore, Pa.

Mr. Thornton has asked me to discuss from the standpoint of the
Chemical Engineer the organization of an Alumni Council which would
presumably be advisory to the Faculty of the Engineering Department of
the University in the outlining of courses of instruction. Such a subject as
this at first resolves itself into a discussion of the necessity for the organization
of this Council. Certainly it would have no excuse for existence unless

deficiencies existed in the present courses of instruction which are within
the power of the Alumni to assist in remedying. I wish, therefore, to confine
myself to a discussion of the advisability of establishing this Council.

With my present ignorance of the courses which are offered now in the
Chemical Engineering work at Virginia, it is impossible to give a discussion
of the subject as applied to Virginia alone. So far as I know, the work here
is practically the same as that offered by the other Engineering schools of
the country, and I believe that the Chemical Engineering graduates of
Virginia are on an equal footing as regards knowledge and ability to apply
it with the graduates of other Engineering schools.

There are, however, a number of points which I have noticed in the
Chemical Engineers I have seen in the industry, and things which other
chemists and Chemical Engineers have told me which I believe indicate a
lack in the fundamental training given men of this profession.

In the first place I have never met a man who was able to give me a
good definition of the term "Chemical Engineer." I imagine the first man
to call himself by this title was engaged in the design of chemical plants and
chemical apparatus, and that the usual course in the subject has been based
upon this same idea. The requirements for the Chemical Engineer have
expanded mightily since that time, however, and to-day I suppose that only
a small percentage of the men calling themselves Chemical Engineers are
engaged in apparatus design alone.

My own idea at present of what should constitute a Chemical Engineer
is a man qualified to design a plant for a chemical process, operate the plant,
and develop the process economically, but I would not venture to offer this
as a definition.

It is certain, however, that a satisfactory college course for the Chemical
Engineer cannot be designed unless we have arrived at a sufficiently broad
definition of Chemical Engineering; and here is the first point at which the
Alumni could give assistance, because from their direct contact with the
industry, they should have learned first hand what is required of the Chemical
Engineer.

The next point I have had in mind is linked up in a way with the foregoing,
and has to do mainly with the method in which the colleges bring
home to the student the real nature of the profession he is studying. Chemical
Engineering is a relatively new profession, and the courses of instruction
in it are in the main the result of selection from already existing courses
offered in the same college. As a result, therefore, we have Chemical Engineering
taught as a more or less of a hodge-podge of Civil Engineering,
Electrical Engineering, Mechanical Engineering, and Chemistry, instead of
as a single well-rounded course in Chemical Engineering designed to meet
the needs of a Chemical Engineer. Under this system, the men taking the

work are not given a fair chance to learn what is the nature of their profession
and what will be expected of them in after life.

I realize that this condition of affairs has been inevitable. We cannot
justify the teaching of Chemical Engineering by Chemical Engineers until
the profession has assumed sufficient importance, and until enough men are
applying for Chemical Engineering training to justify it. But I do believe
that constant contact of the Engineering faculty with the chemical industry
and familiarity of the faculty with the needs of the industry as brought out
by that contact would go far towards overcoming the difficulty. The Alumni
Council would present an obvious means by which this contact could be
brought about.

So far I have dealt with generalities, and perhaps the two points so far
raised are sufficient, but there is one particular phase in the training of
Chemical Engineers that I feel should be mentioned as being particularly
lacking. To my mind the thing the Chemical Engineer needs most, and the
thing that he apparently gets least, is ability to analyze a problem or a
process in order to develop the proper method of attack. Perhaps this is
just another way of saying that he lacks research experience. It is reasonable
that he should lack this experience, for his time is sufficiently filled up
while in college with all the other things he must study. But, nevertheless,
it is all-important that he get this ability from his college work, for most of
his success in after years will depend on how rapidly he can reach a conclusion
on questions of change in process or apparatus, and the rapidity with
which he reaches the conclusion will depend directly on the accuracy with
which he has sized up his problem in the first place.

Inseparable from this is the ability to analyze costs. Cost is the final
deciding factor of any chemical operation, and yet, in spite of its evident
importance, I believe I have never seen a Chemical Engineer, or for that
matter a graduate chemist of any description, who when he left college had
any knowledge of how to develop a problem from the cost standpoint. Cost
analysis is not easy under any circumstances, and on a plant producing many
interdependent products, it may be extremely difficult, but the successful
Chemical Engineer will have to learn it some time. If he can learn it in
college, his advancement will be hastened by years.

I do not believe that ability to analyze costs can be gained by a study
of accounting methods, but I do believe that it could be developed in a well-designed
industrial research course in which would be gained research ability
as well. I believe the Alumni could be of assistance here, in helping lay out
such research courses and in selecting problems.

To summarize briefly, it appears to me that the terms Chemical Engineer
and Chemical Engineering have been too vaguely defined in the past
to permit the most logical arrangement of college work; that the various

subjects taught Chemical Engineering students in the past have been imperfectly
correlated; and training in research and cost analysis have been
slighted. I believe the Alumni would be more than glad to give any assistance
possible in overcoming these defects, and it appears to me that the
proposed Alumni Council would be an excellent agency through which this
could be accomplished.

V. The Collegiate Alumni

THE ACADEMIC SCHOOLS OF THE UNIVERSITY OF VIRGINIA

By William Harrison Faulkner, Ph.D.

In the time at my disposal, it is naturally impossible to give anything
like a history of a century of development in the academic schools of the
University. Nor can I consider the response in their growth to external
conditions. I must limit myself to discussing what seem to me the internal
causes affecting this development. These internal causes can be studied
most systematically in the varying requirements for graduation and degrees.
From this standpoint our discussion may be divided into five periods, viz.:

• 1. The Period of Jeffersonian Ideals, 1825-1831.

• 2. The Period of the Master of Arts of the University of Virginia, 18311890.

• 3. The Period of Transition, 1890-1900.

  • a. To the Undergraduate College.

  • b. To the Graduate School.

• 4. The Period of Full Undergraduate Growth and Development, 19001921.

• 5. The Period of Future Graduate Growth, 1920-

The original Enactments of the Visitors, written by Jefferson and
printed in 1825 (before the faculty had been installed), are, as it were, the
Jeffersonian constitution of the University, under which its great founder
expected it to function and develop. The distinctive and even revolutionary
characteristics of this constitution are, first, the independence, the
autonomy, of the individual school; second, the advanced nature and the
extensive character of the instruction to be given; and third, the freedom of
the individual student to select any course or courses for which he might be
prepared. Under this constitution the University was a federation of sovereign
and allied institutions rather than a single organism. In matters of
discipline only and in the conferring of diplomas did the federal law take
precedence of the rights reserved to the states. With the one exception of
the School of Law, the head of a school was the sole and final arbiter as to

courses offered, textbooks and methods used. Absolute Lehrfreiheit was
the guiding principle.

In the list of subjects to be taught in the individual schools, one is
immediately struck both by the advanced and specialized nature of the
courses to be offered and by the broad conception of the field of learning
allotted to each school. In the schools of Ancient and Modern Languages
were to be taught not only the language and literature, but also the history
and geography, the political and social institutions, the economic conditions,
ancient and modern, of the nations whose languages were studied,—as a
matter of fact, philology in its widest sense. The school of Natural Philosophy
was to give instruction in the whole realm of modern physics, and in
mechanics, geology, mineralogy, botany, and astronomy, that of Mathematics
in all branches of Pure and Applied Mathematics, including surveying,
engineering, and navigation. The school of Moral Philosophy comprised
not only Logic, Ethics, Psychology and Metaphysics, but also
courses in Criticism, Belles Lettres, and Political Economy. The School of
Chemistry was most restricted in its field, being limited to Chemistry and
Materia Medica, the latter, however, being especially for students of medicine.

As is well known, Jefferson's original complete plan included a system
of state-supported commonschools, a group of ten state colleges, and the
University as the apex of his pyramid. When it became evident that circumstances,
political, social, and economic, made impracticable the carrying-out
of the whole scheme, the University alone was retained. The
pyramid was to begin with the apex, the educational arch with the keystone.
Whether such topsy-turvy architecture possessed a validity in the
world of ideas, failing it in the realm of space, time alone could show. In fact,
for over two generations the history of academic schools is that of a constant
effort to build downward, to adapt themselves to a very slowly growing foundation
and thus save the structure from the usual fate of castles in the air.

For Jefferson, uninfluenced by his failure to establish state colleges as
feeders, adhered to the university conception of the institution, as distinguished
from the collegiate; rather a university of instruction, however,
than of research.

And here I feel I must attempt to clear up what seems to me an almost
universal misunderstanding. The freedom in choice of courses given the
individual student was not the so-called elective curriculum, later appearing
as a revolutionary innovation in undergraduate colleges. It was a necessary
concomitant of the University as distinguished from the colleges,—the
Lehrfreiheit of the student as a complement to the Lehrfreiheit of the
professor. Jefferson cannot be called the inventor, or, as some would put it,
the instigator, of unrestricted election in undergraduate education.

Nor was his university, as has sometimes been asserted, a university

The Lawn and Cabell Hall from Top of Rotunda

without a degree. The Enactments of 1825 provide for two diplomas: that
of Doctor and of Graduate. Though not so limited in the Enactments,
the Doctor's diploma was from the beginning restricted to graduates in all
the courses applying to the practice of medicine, and so does not concern us
here. The degree of Graduate in its original application has been frequently
misunderstood. It was not given to any student who merely attained
the first division (the term "passed" is of much later origin) in a senior
course in any school, or in all the courses in the school. This merely qualified
the student as an applicant for candidacy for the degree. The degree
was conferred on the basis of a special examination for graduation. The
scope of these examinations is described in the faculty minutes, and in
addition the actual examination given is outlined in presenting the report
on each individual candidate to the faculty. The examination oral and
written covered every phase of the subject and is essentially the rigorosa of
the German Ph.D., rigorously interpreted. Moreover the original Enactments
provided: "But no diploma shall be given to anyone, who has not
passed such an examination in the Latin Language as shall have proved him
able to read the highest classics in that language with ease, thorough understanding,
and just quantity. And if he be also prepared in Greek, let that
also be stated in the Diploma." The reasons given for this are interesting
as indicating Jefferson's conception of "a well-educated man," and also
what his opinion of any elective system which omitted Latin and Greek
would have been. The regulation continues: "The intention being that
the reputation of the University shall not be committed but to those who,
to an eminence in some one or more of the sciences taught in it, add a proficiency
in those languages which constitute the basis of a good education
and are indispensable to fill up the character of a `well-educated man.' "
This practically amounted to requiring of a graduate in any school or the
recipient of any diploma the completion of Senior Latin and, by implication,
also of Senior Greek. We shall see that it was so interpreted in the case
of each graduate with diploma (including M.D.'s) until the establishment of
the M.A. degree. We shall also see that the graduates of this first period
did not apply for candidacy for the degree until they had attained the first
division in the senior course of the school for two sessions, and that each of
them had regularly won previous to the conferring of the degree similar
distinction at intermediate and final examinations in course in four other
schools, including Latin and, in all cases but one (Grad. in Chem.), also
Greek. By subsequent enactment (April, 1828), the faculty added an
English Examination, to be required of all candidates. This consisted of a
composition of not less than twenty-five lines, on some subject from the
course in which the candidate applied for graduation, and of an examination
in syntax and orthography. It was held before the entire faculty. The
degree of Graduate in a School could not be obtained in less than three
years, and actually was not. Such a degree was what we think of as a
Ph.D., minus a dissertation or thesis. The latter was required only of the
doctors of medicine, and included also the public defense of the thesis, if
the candidate was called on.

Let us see now the working out of these three characteristics of a
university in application to contemporary conditions. Mr. Gilmer had
been eminently successful in his hunt for "characters of the first order."
No new institution of the time could have shown a more competent faculty.
And this faculty proceeded rigorously to put into effect the constitution
drawn up for its guidance and control. The autonomy of the individual
school and the academic freedom of instruction caused no trouble. Quite
otherwise the academic freedom of the student. It became almost immediately
evident that only a few students of exceptional ability and
unusual advantages in preparatory education were willing or able to profit
by university instruction and academic freedom, if success in examination is
a criterion of such profit. The number of students attaining distinction in
examinations in course was very small year by year, and after three sessions
only six made application for the degree of Graduate in a School.

An examination of the record of these first graduates of the University
will show how strictly the stated requirements for graduation were observed
and also the advanced nature of the examinations for graduation. May 31,
1828 was set as the last day on which application for degrees might be made.
The nine applicants (three for M.D.) were examined in English the same
day. All were accepted, though one was recalled and reëxamined, as there
seemed some doubt as to his qualification. The examinations for graduation
began on the fourth Monday in June and the results were reported
to the faculty and the degrees conferred on the 14th and 17th of July. Four
examinations of two hours each were held in Greek: two in writing, on
Euripides, Herodotus, Thucydides, and Xenophon, and on Greek prosody,
especially the trochaic, iambic, and anapæstic of tragedy; two on Greek
history, geography, and philology; and an oral on Xenophon. The two
examinations on Mathematics were held on separate days and consisted
of questions selected from one hundred examples from Peacock's Collection
of Examples in Differential and Integral Calculus, and of questions chosen by
the faculty from La Place's Traité de Mécanique Céleste and from Coddington's
Optics. The two examinations in Chemistry of two hours each
covered the following topics: the Rationale of all Chemical Operations; the
Elements of Practical Chemistry, more particularly with respect to the use
of Tests and Apparatus; Nomenclature; Laws of Composition; Applications
of Chemistry; History of the Science. In addition the candidates in
Chemistry were required to furnish a week before examination a written

statement of all speculative subjects in Chemistry, and to explain, if called
upon, the existing theories respecting them, and to write by dictation upon
subjects connected with Chemical Technology. Each candidate had attained
eminence for two sessions in the senior course of the school in which he
graduated. In addition each had passed on four other senior courses. These
in every case included Senior Latin, and in every case but one Senior Greek.

This then was the academic degree system in theory and practice until
the M.A. was instituted. I have gone into it in some detail, because the
three principles involved: the autonomy and independence of the individual
school; the high standard for graduation with almost exclusive emphasis on
the senior courses; and the freedom in choice of studies allowed to the
student, dominated the development of the academic courses for nearly
three quarters of a century and influences it strongly even to-day.

It had become evident that the degree of Graduate in a School either
could or would be sought by only about one student in twenty. In 1828,
the year in which these first diplomas were conferred, began in the faculty
the discussion of a more general and coördinated degree. Three years later
the Master of Arts of the University of Virginia was superimposed on the
degree of Graduate. From the scanty records available of the discussion
preceding the recommendation of the degree, the faculty seems to have
intended by it to obviate the disadvantages of study without fixed plan—in
other words, to supply a curriculum. The degree of Graduate in a School, as
originally conferred, was beyond the powers of nine out of ten of the students.
This new degree required graduation in all six schools, a total of eight senior
courses, as Latin and Greek were both required in Ancient Languages, and
one Romanic and one Germanic tongue in Modern Languages. As three
schools a year had already become the standard maximum of work undertaken
by each student, the degree could not be taken in less than three
sessions, and then only if the student entered prepared to take senior courses
in all subjects but one.

At first there was no abatement in the difficult standard of graduation
in the individual school, except that Latin was no longer rquired as a
qualification for the diploma. The distinction between examinations for
graduation and examinations for distinction was still made. In addition,
the candidate had also to stand before graduation a general examination in
all courses required for the degree, and show by examination a satisfactory
knowledge of English, and also to prepare a graduation essay or thesis.
These last three requirements, however, were gradually relaxed in severity
and finally abolished.

There still remained, however, the most striking characteristic of the
degree,—the almost exclusive emphasis placed on the senior courses. This
seems to have had two effects,—disregard of the educational importance of

lower courses, and a gradual common-sense reduction in the amount of work
required in the higher ones as the number of academic schools increased.

Prior to the period of the development of the sciences as educational
subjects, only two additions were made to Jefferson's original six academic
schools. From the beginning the University had been subject to criticism
because it offered no specific instruction in English and General History.
Jefferson probably considered that History would be sufficiently provided
for in the schools of Ancient and Modern Languages, and that the courses
in Latin and Greek would afford adequate training in English composition
while the course in Anglo-Saxon would teach the history and development
of the language. From the beginning, however, the faculty imposed an
additional English requirement. Finally in 1856-57, the establishment of
the School of History and Literature was announced, with that most versatile
of scholars, George Frederick Holmes, as Professor. At first, the
instruction was for the most part in English Composition, with lectures on
Literature, but gradually, the interest of the head of the school shifted to
General History and Sociology, with consequent change in the courses offered.
Its courses were not listed among those required for the M.A. until after
1856, so that the requirements of the degree remained unchanged until then.

The second new school made no increase in the courses given. By
1857 the number of students in Latin and Greek was so great as to be beyond
the strength of a single professor, even with two or three assistant-instructors.
In 1858, therefore, Basil L. Gildersleeve was elected Professor
of Greek, and the School of Greek created as an independent school. The
precedent thus established, that the creation of a new professorship meant
the establishment of a new independent school, was closely adhered to until
1905. The logical development of Jefferson's broadly conceived academic
schools would have been the creation of professors of individual subjects in a
school, without further subdivision. This departure seems to the writer
to have been unfortunate. It weakened the individual school. It led to
lack of coördination in the programmes, both undergraduate and graduate,
subsequently established. And the principle of the independence and equal
importance of the academic schools, now applied to what should have been
minor subdivisions, produced an impossible multiplication of subjects
required for the "old M.A," and even for the first real undergraduate degree
established, so that freedom of election amounted to little more than a
choice (frequently unwise) of the chronological order in which the required
courses could be taken.

In connection with the School of Greek comes the first indication that
the degree of Graduate in a School was no longer the highest conception of
specialized academic study. In 1859-60, the School of Greek announces
the formation of "a post-graduate department, in which graduates and

more advanced students have opportunity to extend their acquaintance
with Greek literature under the personal direction of the Professor. The
course embraces such of the higher Greek classics, as are unsuited, either by
form or by subject, for the general instruction: e.g.: Æschylus (sic),
Aristophanes, Aristotle, Hesiod, Pindar, Theocritus." Seven graduates in
Greek of the previous session entered it, among these Launcelot M. Blackford,
later the most distinguished preparatory-school principal of the South,
and H. H. Harris, afterward Professor of Greek in Richmond College.
When the close of the Civil War allowed the wounded veteran to return to
the University, Professor Gildersleeve resumed the post-graduate course.
It continued to enroll from half a dozen to a dozen graduates annually, and
was, so far as I have been able to discover, the first graduate course, in the
modern sense, offered in an American university. In 1867 a similar "postgraduate
department" in the School of Latin was announced by Professor
William E. Peters.

In spite of its long history and the fanatic reverence shown it, even
by those students who could never hope to obtain it, "the old M.A." did
not fulfill the purpose with which the faculty established it, nor was it suited
to educational needs. It was too general for graduate work and yet the
courses required were too advanced for the great mass of academic students.
By depreciating the esteem in which the degree of Graduate in a School was
originally held, it lowered the high standard of graduation in the individual
school, without producing, in compensation, courses suited to the great
majority of the students. Finally, it was so difficult that scarcely one
student out of twenty could ever hope to obtain it or actually did. In
consequence the other nineteen lacked, while students, the sense of organic
connection with the University which a candidate for a degree has; were
without the added incentive to successful work which this gives; saw no
especial academic inducement for more than a session or two of study;
and, leaving without a degree, had not, as alumni, that feeling of continuing
membership in the living organism of the University which a degree gives.

The faculty was not unaware of these defects. In 1848 it established
a B.A. degree, but one that shows how difficult it was to break with the
tradition of the overweening importance of the senior courses, especially in
Latin and Greek, and the independence and equal sovereignty of the academic
schools. It required graduation in all but two schools and a proficiency
in the junior courses of the remaining two, and was therefore almost as difficult
as the M.A. Despite this it seems to have been regarded as a contemptible
consolation prize. At any rate, few students ever applied for it.

After the Civil War, during the period in which schools of Biology and
Agriculture, Analytical and Industrial Chemistry, and Geology were
established, repeated efforts were made to break from the "old M.A.'s"

dominating influence without abolishing it. New baccalaureate degrees,—
at one time three in addition to the B.A.,—were instituted. None "took,"
so to speak. All suffered the fate of the first B.A. The addition of new
schools, with new M.A. courses, as they had now come to be called, only
increased the impracticability of the Master of Arts degree.

Despite this, the development of the University continued, a development
that must be attributed to the ability, scholarship, and personality of
the individual professors rather than to any coördinated educational plan.
Nor were these qualities confined to the lecture-room. Two of the faculty
became, through their books, great popular educators. The names of
McGuffey and Holmes carried the reputation of the University into almost
every primary school in the country. In addition to this, Professor Holmes
quickly became one of the most prolific and versatile of publicists, his versatility
being only equaled by the soundness and depth of his scholarship.
Dr. Mallet began the publication of those articles which were to make his
name familiar to every chemist, while Professor Schele de Vere's publications
in linguistics and etymology gave the University international standing in
these rapidly developing sciences, and Courtenay's Calculus was long a standard
work in this branch of mathematics. To the weight of scholarship and
learning in these and other members of the faculty was added the energizing
force of the strong and distinctive personality of each individual.

Nor would I imply that the great mass of academic students, who went
away without degree, were on this account uneducated. Their training
had resembled that which one acquires in the contacts of real life in the
world rather than the coördinated discipline of a curriculum. They had
been educated by personalities rather than subjects. And the man who had
"had" "old Pete" or Colonel Venable or Basil Gildersleeve, or Dr. Mallet or
Professor Smith may have failed on Latin, Mathematics, Greek or Physics,
but he had learned something that none of these subjects alone could have
taught him. Moreover, the students of this middle period, particularly in
the ante bellum decade, had an intellectual stimulus, which their present
successors seem to me to have lost They belonged to a governing class,—
an aristocracy, if you will. Almost without exception, each one could look
forward, in one way or another, to direct power in political life. Their reading,
as shown in the library records, their work in the literary societies, even
their daily conversation, so far as we have record of it, reflects this. In
this respect they resembled rather the students of Oxford and Cambridge,
those universities of English diplomacy and statesmanship, than the student-body
of the modern American college. Their history in after life shows that
education and leadership are not matters of a degree.

The twenty years, approximately 1870-90, closing the life of the old
M.A., are characterized by certain salient features. First, the growth

in natural science and the development of laboratory work; second, the
shifting of emphasis from Latin and Greek to Modern Languages, English,
and History. With each professorship a new school was established,—
independent and of equal importance with its sister sovereignties. The
M.A. was thus threatening to topple over from its own weight. Finally,
after a long and acrimonious conflict with alumni, the faculty recommended
in 1890 its abolition. In its place were instituted a new B.A., requiring
passing on nine intermediate courses, classified into groups of related subjects,
and a new M.A., conferred on B.A.'s who passed on four additional
senior courses. For the first time in the history of the University the distinction
was made between undergraduate and graduate courses, and the
foundation laid for a college.

At first, as was to be expected, the new baccalaureate degree was
strongly influenced by the conception of the importance and comprehensive
character of the work of the individual school. The small number of
courses required for it, as compared with baccalaureate degrees in other
colleges, was based on the assumption that concentration on three subjects
in a single session was better educationally than to cover the same ground in
each subject in two sessions, at the rate of from five to six courses a year.
Experience proved, however, that this was a mistake, and in 1911 all the old
intermediate courses (now designated B courses) except those in laboratory
sciences, were divided into B1 and B2 courses of a year each. The baccalaureate
degree thus became the normal 60 session-hour degree of the
standard American college, and the differentiation between the College and
the Graduate school was fully established.

During this period of transition,—indeed at its very beginning,—an
addition of transcendent importance was made to the number of academic
schools: the foundation in 1892 of the Linden Kent Memorial School of
English Literature, with Professor Charles W. Kent as its first professor.
The school of English, established in 1882, had not been a success, and the
undergraduate students were without systematic training in English composition
and Rhetoric and Modern English Literature. To a group of
alumni, who knew Dr. Kent and most of whom were students under him, it
is not necessary to emphasize the astounding development in these allimportant
subjects, that is due to his scholarship, educational statesmanship,
unremitting industry, high standard of work, and enthusiastic and
inspiring personality.

With the differentiation of undergraduate from graduate courses
begins also the period of close connection between the University and the
public-school system of the state, dreamed by Jefferson but so long denied
fruition. Its first sympton was the institution and growth of so-called A1
courses in foreign languages, English, and Mathematics, to fill in the gap

which was found to exist between the end of the high-school course and the
B.A. courses in the University. From this time on the coördination between
the state's secondary and higher education gradually becomes perfected.

In one particular, however, the 60-hour baccalaureate degree from 1911
still showed the influence of the independence and equal importance of the
individual academic school of the old M.A. Each school, new or old, desired
and frequently claimed, directly or indirectly, equal representation in the
degree programme. This led to such multiplication of small groups of
required subjects that the student's election of studies amounted to not much
more than a choice of the chronological order in which the required subjects
might be taken. This defect has been removed by the new baccalaureate
programme, effective next session, which provides for fundamental subjects
in the first two sessions, free election during the last two, and for concentration
by requiring that the candidate shall have completed in one
school a C course to which six hours, or two B courses, are prerequisite.

In conclusion I would sum up by saying that we have freed ourselves
from the mere letter of the original Enactments, but have remained true to
their spirit. After a century the apex of the pyramid has not been lowered
but has built downward to a firm foundation, the keystone has developed the
arch. And the result is not a dead structure, but a living organism, capable
of almost infinite growth.

A prophet is notoriously without honor in his own country. From
prophecy I would therefore refrain. I would state only what seem to me the
two general problems which the academic schools must now face and solve:
first, the evolution of some plan, which will give both stimulus and recognition
to the undergraduate student of unusual ability and special intellectual
interests: something in the nature of the Honors Schools at Oxford; and
second, the development of the graduate department, with its masters' and
doctors' degrees, into a great fountain-head of scholarship and productive
research, in keeping with the ideal of our great founder.

In the papers to be read before the separate sections, I feel sure we may
hope to find the method of approach and solution of these two problems.

I. The Language and Literature Group

THE PRESENT CRISIS IN MODERN LANGUAGE INSTRUCTION

By Robert Herndon Fife, Ph.D., Columbia University

The bromidic remark, heard very often three years ago, that "things
will never be the same after the war" has proved as true a prediction in the
field of modern language instruction as in other fields. The war seemed at
first to bring an immense increase of interest in our subject. For the first

time in history America sent its soldiers to fight on the soil of Europe, with
its sharp linguistic divisions and rivalries. To hundreds of thousands of
young Americans, French ceased to be a memory of the school bench or an
unreal tradition of something far off and unknown and became the daily
speech of comrades in trench and field and of a citizenry bound to ourselves
in the daily routine of a common cause. German, somewhat more often
heard here as a living language, and consequently more vital to us, was no
longer merely the vernacular of handworker or cheese-and-butter merchant,
but became the expression of the spirit, living in the mouth of prisoner or
captor, of a nation in arms, seeking to destroy our ideals. Italian and Polish,
Russian and Bohemian, Servian and Roumanian and Greek, all shot into
reality and half a dozen more tongues forced themselves as living organisms
into the consciousness of the youth of America, which up to that time had
scarcely dreamed of their existence.

The first result of all this was to demonstrate how insufficient and unpractical
our instruction in the modern languages had been. Young men
and women, who had spent precious years in the acquisition of what they
fondly imagined was a practical knowledge of the French language, found
themselves face to face with Frenchmen and unable to understand the first
word or express the most urgent want, and even months of intercourse
with the people of the country was insufficient to do more than supply the
means of conveying the simplest daily needs, because of the lack of a proper
basis of training in idiom and vocabulary.

One immediate consequence of the declaration of war was a tremendous
growth of interest in the language of the associated nation on whose soil
the western front was drawn. In camp and cantonment, in school and club
the size of the classes in French depended only on the number of available
teachers. These teachers were often blind leaders of the blind; but if they
had been the most expert of their profession, the conditions under which
they had to work could have made anything like real success out of the
question. For it now became generally clear, something which of course
was known already to the trained teacher, that the use of a modern language
for any practical purpose is an art which, to be acquired successfully,
needs the plasticity of youth and a perseverance and method which the
crowded months of the war could not admit. The urgent days of the
struggle and of repatriation of the forces did little more for the study of the
foreign modern languages than to show the defects in our system.

This revelation of defect was, however, of sanitary value, for it came at
a time when America's changed position as a result of the Great War put a
practical knowledge of the modern languages among the absolute imperatives
of national security. Whatever currents may flow on the surface of
the political waters, however politicians who have been washed to the top

by the muddy ebb-tide of war may prate of American isolation or appeal to
short-sighted selfishness with smug platitudes about America's national
interests, the intertwining of our affairs with those of Europe cannot be
undone. Economic forces as irresistible as those geological changes that
come with the cooling of the planetary crust have set us down among
Frenchmen and Italians and Germans and Poles and Czechs and Russians
and have made us industrially dependent on these peoples. Heretofore it
has been simply the bonds of a common civilization that have held us to the
Continent, and these have been drawn mainly through England. From
now on it is the life cords of economic preservation and national development
which unite our banks and farms and factories to the capitals and
commercial centers of every European country. We have recently witnessed
the effort, more or less disguised, of both former associates and foes
to make America out of its wealth pay the cost of the outbreak of European
jealousy and ambition. We may rest assured that unless we are fully
equipped for defense in the field of international finance and commerce, we
shall not only find ourselves paying the German indemnity and rebuilding
France but left behind in the planetary race for commerce which is even now
being staged.

Unfortunately also, the war has brought about changes in modern
language instruction which have left us poorly prepared to face the present
crisis. German has been very largely driven from the schools. This came
as a result of conditions which brought us into the conflict and through the
impulsive character of our national temperament; but the consequences
have been none the less destructive and from the standpoint of national
strength deplorable, for in 1917 German was, as a rule, the best taught of the
foreign languages and as a branch of secondary school and collegiate instruction
was in many parts of the country on the way to develop a methodology
of teaching at least on a par with that of the better English schools
and not far below that of the Continental schools themselves. French
was immediately lifted into a position of tremendous importance, with the
resulting overcrowding of classes. Teachers, whose sole equipment consisted
of some knowledge of the French verbs and the buoyant disposition
that came with the outburst of national enthusiasm, were put in charge of
classes where overcrowding would have made success impossible under the
most experienced instructor. Spanish, which five years ago was scarcely
known as a high school subject in the New England, North Atlantic, and
Middle Western states has, through the indifference of school directors and
as a result of an unheard-of propaganda, been given an importance among
school subjects which is far out of proportion to its cultural and scientific
value, and in most sections of our country in no relation whatever
to its commercial significance. As a matter of course, no consideration

whatever has been given to the desperate lack of trained teachers of Spanish.
Many men and women, formerly efficient teachers of German, have become
inefficient and discouraged teachers of Spanish. While it must be said of
these that they have at least had some general pedagogical experience in
modern language instruction, which may in part compensate for an ignorance
of Spanish, a great number of the newly recruited teachers of Spanish
lacks even this asset.

It would be bad enough if we had simply destroyed our former values.
We have done more. We have shaken the confidence of school superintendents
and the public generally in the teaching of the modern languages.
From every side comes the statement that pupils are discouraged and
unwilling to continue the subject, that school principals have either reduced
the already insufficient time assigned to the modern languages or threaten
to eliminate them altogether, that school committees are not sympathetic,
that parents are restive and want to see their children taught something
where demonstrably useful results may be obtained.

It must be said that the attitude of certain modern language teachers is
not of a character to recommend the subjects which they represent. At a
time when the value of violent and persistent propaganda has been demonstrated
to a sufficiency in every country in the world, the modern language
teacher has not failed to note the lesson and has cried his wares with an
insistency that does credit to a commercial age. The German teacher, to
be sure, has been under the shadow; but with the coming of technical peace
he may be trusted to rush to the fore with the others. In the meantime the
representatives of French have found conditions most favorable. The
Spanish and Latin propagandists have fought merrily over the bones of
German instruction and proclaimed the value of their substitute with
unhalting voice. The advocates of Russia were warming up for an advance
on the schools in 1917, when certain events in St. Petersburg brought their
advance to a sudden halt. Italian has a small but vociferous band of devotees.
Brazilian trade,—or its promise,—brought Portuguese to the fore
in certain cities, while the nationalistic urge from Ireland and commercial
prospects in the Orient have led to an enthusiastic demand that the schools
teach Gaelic and Chinese. In the larger cities of the East there are signs
that Poles and Czechs and Jugo-Slavs look yearningly toward a share in the
modern language programs of the schools supported by public funds.

Under these circumstances it is inevitable that the public mind should
be greatly confused as to the purpose of modern language study. The
nationalistic propaganda which the war has so much intensified fills the air
with its watchwords and seeks to make a battle-ground of our American
schools. Even those who should be able to take an expert and objective
view of education are often unclear in their own minds as to the object of

teaching foreign modern languages and the choice of the languages to be
taught, so that the average teacher is left without any proper idea of purpose
and method. School committees and school principals, all too ready to
yield to local political and quasi-political pressure, are without direction or
leadership and swing with the emotional currents of the day. In view of this
chaotic condition, it may be proper in the few minutes remaining to me to
formulate some ideas on this matter. Aside from the importance of the
national crisis, there are two considerations which make the discussion of the
problem peculiarly proper on this occasion. First, the great interest which
Mr. Jefferson took in instruction in the modern languages both at William
and Mary and at this institution, which was the first in America to teach the
modern languages as carefully as the classical; and, secondly, the distinguished
position which the graduates of this University have taken in the
service of the nation. It is from this standpoint, that of service to the
country rather than that of benefit to be derived by the individual, that
the subject should be viewed in the present crisis.

From this viewpoint, then, there are three purposes from which the
study of modern languages derives importance: for trade and commerce,
for scientific research, and for national culture. I need make no apology
at the present time for placing the cultivation of our national trade in the
first position, since through its success alone can the national bases of wealth
and progress be made permanent. It is not necessary to point out that the
time has passed when we can hope to be self-dependent, either as an industrial
nation or as a producer of raw materials. It is well known that even
before the war the United States was organized industrially to a point where
foreign markets had become a necessity for our factories, and the years from
1914-1918 speeded up this organization until not merely the prosperity,
but even the solvency of great communities in the New England and North
Atlantic states and the Middle West depend on gaining foreign markets.
It is also too well known to repeat that the war has made us a creditor
nation, something which creates an entirely new dependency on the maintenance
of intimate relations with Europe and the Orient. In the race for
the world's business we shall now have to strike into a faster pace than
that which marked our easy-going methods of seven or eight years ago.
This is perfectly clear to those who will look across the two oceans and see
how the nations of the world are stripping themselves for the conflict.
The knowledge of foreign languages was not the least of the assets which
Germany possessed before the war and by means of which she was able to
elbow her way into the front rank of exporting nations after 1895. That
is a lesson which England especially has learned from her rival. The
appointment of a committee to investigate modern studies, by Mr. Asquith
in 1916, and its important report show how fully the eyes of the British had

been opened to the necessity for overcoming the advantage which Germany
enjoyed in this field before the war. Unless American banks and exporters
and importers can find young Americans who have laid at least a sound basis
for the command of the leading languages of commerce, they will have to
entrust their trade commissions and trade secrets to foreigners. In the race
for primacy in trade the two great rivals whom we shall meet in every market
are the British and Germans, both of whom have through their geographical
position superior advantages in learning modern languages. We
must not be deceived by the fact that we enjoy for the present advantages in
capital and the disposal of raw materials. The time is not distant when
American business will have to meet the foreign trader on a battle-ground
where educational equipment will count as heavily as material assets.

The second great national demand in modern language instruction
comes in the field of scientific research. Both in the natural sciences and
the human sciences America has to create and maintain the bases
of national greatness. In the steel industry, in textiles, in the chemical
trades and in every branch of electrical technique and agricultural chemistry
and biology, an up-to-date knowledge of the languages of the other
great producing nations is in a new sense a part of the alphabet of the
scientist. The war has made the sciences more truly international than ever
and has welded into an indissoluble union laboratory experiment and
national production, both agricultural and industrial. No nation can
afford to rest its knowledge of what is being accomplished in foreign laboratories
to any great extent on the circumlocutory methods of translation.
Its scholars, down to the last laboratory assistant, must be trained in at
least the chief languages of research. If this is true of the physical scientist,
it is equally true of the historian, the economist, and the philosopher. The
possibilities of national culture and the ability for leadership depend on the
ability to take part in the great international exchange of ideas with those
nations which aspire to leadership in civilization.

National greatness depends not only on factory and farm, on scientist's
laboratory and scholar's study. It depends also upon the ability of
the great mass of educated men and women, especially such molders of
public opinion as clergymen, journalists, and political leaders, to share
at least to some extent, in the culture of other peoples. Some one has said
that while training makes men better citizens, culture makes them better
men. No nation, least of all America, can live to itself. We believe ourselves
engaged in the creation of a peculiar and original type of national
culture, but the whole basis for it in school and college is that European
culture from whose loins our own has sprung. In this sense our national
history is the prolongation of the history of England, Holland, France,
Germany, Italy, and Spain, and to some extent of the Scandinavian North.

Our poets are the heirs of Burns and Tennyson, to be sure, but also of Dante
and Goethe. Our drama is sprung from the stock of the English stage,
from Shakespere to Shaw, but also from the French realists and Ibsen
and Hauptmann. Our novel traces a long line of ancestors, which include
not only Fielding and Thackeray, but also Cervantes and Mérimée. No
American national culture is thinkable that does not rest on what is best and
most characteristically national in the civilization of Western Europe,
none that does not keep step with the philosophical, political, and economic
theory and the belletristic literature of the great peoples across the Atlantic.

The question as to the choice of modern languages for study in the
American schools and colleges is not one that can be decided a priori.
America is large and the various contacts with its continental and trans-marine
neighbors make varying demands on its business and professional
life. A very strong reason for the study of Spanish exists in the Gulf States
and Southwestern states. The importance of the Oriental trade makes it
advisable to give especial attention on the Pacific coast to the languages of
the Far East. Nevertheless, for the great bulk of American youth the question
has to be decided on broadly national grounds, with a full consciousness
of the great significance of the decision. As a rule our schools can offer no
more than two foreign languages and they do well, indeed, if they can give
efficient instruction in these. In comparison with this last consideration, the
quality of instruction, all others are of secondary importance. It is much
better to do French or German well, for instance, than to try to do French and
German, or French, German and Spanish, as has been tried in many poorly
equipped schools. It must be remembered that while each language has
concrete values and peculiar charm, when a choice is made, regard must be
had to all the factors of national service that have been outlined above.
Thus, while Italian ranks very high for the student of literature and perhaps
also of the theory of the State, its value in other fields is in so far negligible
that it cannot come into consideration where the limit is two languages for
the average high school boy or college boy. It must be emphasized also
that our schools and colleges teach a European history and civilization and
that we live to a great degree from a foreign trade that is in the main European,
though increasingly Latin-American and Oriental. In the economy of
educational life we are driven to confine ourselves to those languages which
open widest the door to all sides of business and cultural possibilities.

For purposes of general culture French stands first for the American
student as for the youth of every people in Europe. The justice of this is so
generally recognized by all who have any knowledge of the history of
Europe since the Crusades and of present-day European conditions that it
seems unnecessary to enlarge upon it. In assigning the second position from
this standpoint, one might select Italian, but for one very important consideration.

As French has been for generations the lingua franca for the
culture of Western Europe, German plays the same rôle to the East of the
Rhine and north of the Alps. For centuries even those nations which, like
the Poles and Czechs, have been in arms against the German advance have
depended upon Germany as their medium of communication with Western
Europe for all branches of culture as well as for business. The same is true,
though to a less degree, of the Scandinavian peoples, and to an even greater
extent of the peoples of the Eastern Baltic and Russia. To their own
immense and significant contributions to physical and historical theory and
economic theory and also to those of their neighbors to the East and North
the Germans open a door which must of necessity pass through Central
Europe. From the Scandinavian tier of states, Ibsen and Björnson and
Strindberg and such moderns as Bojer and Nexö and Lagerlöf found their
way into world literature first through German translations. The same
is true of Tolstoy and Gorki and Sienkiewicz and of dozens of minor novelists,
dramatists, poets, and essayists of the Scandinavian and Slavic world, many
of whom would remain unknown outside their own vernacular but for the
busy German translators.

In the field of science the same is true. Here only two languages really
come into consideration, German and French: the latter through the accomplishment
of its scholars in the fields of the mathematical and historical
sciences, medicine and philosophy; the former through its philosophers,
chemists, physicists, biologists, geologists, and mineralogists. Here again
German plays a significant and indispensable rôle as the intermediary between
West and East. For instance, all of the states that came into existence
as a result of the dissolution of the Austrian Empire and the plucking
off of parts of old Russia have been for many years busily engaged in the
development of their own national culture. The universities at Warsaw and
Cracow and Lemberg, at Dorpat, Prague, Agram and Budapest are centers of
a throbbing national culture that regards the national language as its most
cherished and distinguished asset emblem. Many of these universities
have made in the past important contributions to the world's store of
science and it is probable that under the present conditions these contributions
will be greatly increased. For centuries, however, the Slavic and
Hungarian scholars have depended on German to make their discoveries
known to the western world. It is not presumable that it can ever be otherwise,
for whatever political ties may bind these peoples to England and
France, the bases of their scientific and business life rest on an ancient bilingual
tradition, in which German holds its place as the Koiné of Eastern
Europe.

The gradation series of importance for general culture for American
students then reads, in my opinion, French, German, Italian, Spanish.

For scientific research the position of the two leading languages should
be reversed. In neither field does Spanish play an important part.

Conditions are, however, different when we consider the position of
America in the field of commerce. Here indications point to a relatively
diminishing importance for French as compared with the other languages.
Here Spanish makes a far stronger claim to consideration, for the spread
of the study of Spanish since the war rests on a solid basis, though perhaps
not so broad a one as its more vociferous advocates claim. Its importance
to be sure, lies mainly in the future, but that there is an immense and hitherto
undreamed-of responsibility both politically and commercially in our
relation to the countries to the south of us is one of the results of the falling
of the scales from our eyes that came after 1914. That we were once blind
in this direction does not, however, excuse us for becoming blind in another
direction, for blind we shall surely be if we permit ourselves, in view of the
present disorders in Russia and Central Europe, to overlook what a great
share of our national prosperity depends on the trade of the part of the world
whose Koiné is German. In general, in the choice of the language to be
studied for commerce, some regard must be had to regional considerations.
For the New England and North Atlantic and North Central tier of states,
the Central and Eastern European markets are of the greatest significance,
and even for the cotton-producing states of the South the finger of necessity
points in that direction.

It is far from my purpose to be dogmatic or to do more than to seek to
lay before you the present condition of affairs in modern language instruction
and what seem to be the fundamental bases upon which reconstruction
must rest. In this hour of our national history, when so much
depends upon the discovery of means of economic relief and cultural development,
the country needs no ex parte statements or a priori conclusions.
What it does need desperately is a broad survey of the situation by patriotic
men, among whom ought to be included not merely modern language experts
but practical educationalists and men of affairs, who shall go deeply into the
reasons and methods of modern language study in America and prepare a
program that puts the needs of public service in the foreground.

THE DEMAND FOR TEACHERS OF FRENCH AND SPANISH

By H. Carrington Lancaster, Ph.D., Johns Hopkins University

When I was asked to come here to-day and offer some constructive criticism
in order to show how the University would best fulfil its function in
regard to the teaching of French and Spanish, I felt somewhat overwhelmed
by the thought that the institution where I learned to appreciate this field
of knowledge should turn to me for suggestions concerning it. But I soon

came to the conclusion that you really regard me as one of many scouts
you have been sending out and that I am now called back to headquarters
merely to report on conditions as I have found them. What you prefer to
hear from me must be the conclusion to which I have come as a result of
finding myself at one of those cross roads in academic life where students
come to prepare themselves for the profession of scholar and teacher; and
college presidents to fill up gaps in their faculties.

From the outlook that I get from that observation post I have no hesitation
in saying that the great need of the profession just now is student raw
material of the quality that is produced here at Virginia. This has not
always been the case, for there was a time when our greatest need was of
another sort. But in recent years opportunities for graduate study in the
Romance languages have been greatly improved. Universities are better
equipped in books and scientific journals. The intercollegiate library loan
helps to supply the books that many institutions cannot buy. There is a
far greater variety of specialists than formerly in the various fields. There
are more numerous reviews in which they can publish their work. Opportunities
for study abroad have increased decidedly. When I was a student
it was rarely, if at all, that a man went to Europe on a traveling or research
fellowship. Now there are special organizations that provide scholarships
generously and many universities have traveling fellowships of their own.

Moreover French and Spanish scholars are more ready to coöperate
with us than they used to be. American exchange professorships, clubs like
the American University Union in Paris, and most of all the war itself have
helped to bring us all together. Proposals are now pending that may
enable Americans to study for the doctorat-ès-lettres.

In our own Universities, as well as in the French, Romance philology
and medieval literature are no longer taught to the exclusion of modern
literature, so that another reason that may formerly have kept students out
of the Romance field has ceased to exist.

Statistics recently published in the Modern Language Journal, though
by no means complete, illustrate the great increase among students of these
subjects. In some 109 colleges and universities there were, in 1914, 10,177
students of French; in 1920 there were 19,501. In 1914 there were only
2049 students of Spanish in those institutions; in 1920 there were 12,545.
Indeed, whether we approve or disapprove of this orientation in cultural
studies, the fact is that the public is coming to look upon the Romance
languages next to English, as the chief subject for study among the humanities;
upon the Romance languages with History as the chief subjects by
which we can learn to understand our neighbors in Europe and in Latin
America.

So large is the number of those who study French in an important

western university that the department has had to limit the size of beginners'
sections, but the limit is forty! It is superfluous for me to point out
to you the kind of results one gets from classes of this size unless one is an
adept in the college yell method of instruction which had, as you remember,
a certain vogue in army camps a few years ago.

But with even so generous a limitation there are not enough teachers for
the classes. When I left the Johns Hopkins in June, 1907, there were only
two openings that I had heard of and I was in a position to hear of any that
were reported to the department. This year, my colleagues and I in the
same department have been written to by the authorities in seven colleges
and nine universities. In the list occur a number of our leading institutions
and all of the positions are such that they would give a satisfactory start
to a Ph.D in Romance languages. In some cases we have been able to
supply the man or the woman needed, but in most cases we have not been
able to do so. We are considerably embarrassed by our inability to meet
this demand. The kind of man they usually want is one who understands
the American college boy, who has been abroad enough to speak French or
Spanish with fluency, who can interpret a foreign literature and a foreign
civilization with understanding, and who has shown in his own scholarship
enough originality and energy for him to be counted on for future additions
to the general knowledge of the subject.

Now we do get Ph.D. students who will develop into this type of man,
but we get far too few. And when I say we, I do not mean merely the
University with which I am connected, for I am sure you will get the same
reply from Chicago and Princeton, from Columbia and from Harvard. And
where are we going to turn?

Not, I think, to foreigners to any considerable extent. Several of them
are among our leading scholars and teachers, but their numbers are strictly
limited and necessarily so. Initial difficulties with our speech, more serious
difficulties with our ways militate against the success of many. Those who
have already won fame in their own country are not likely to leave it permanently.
We must, then, depend chiefly on Americans, just as France
depends upon Frenchmen for instruction in English.

What we do need is the graduate of an American college with enough
cultural background and capacity for work to get his training by graduate
study here and in France. While I taught in Amherst College I used every
year to see men graduating that were just the kind we needed, but most of
them were going into business. I suppose that much the same situation is
found here to-day, though I think it was better here in 1903. I wonder if
something cannot be done about it? Certainly business is far less attractive
now than it was a year or two ago. An economist said to me the other day:
"It's a good thing to have hard times now and then; if we didn't, everybody

would go into business." I hope that we can at least take advantage of this
opportunity, when business does not offer its former attractions, and put
before undergraduates the advantages and values of our profession.

And I wonder if this task is not particularly the province of our Alma
Mater. A French friend of mine the other day, after a visit to Mount
Vernon, told me that he had been much impressed by the similarity between
the life in Virginia before the Civil War, as he saw it exemplified there, and
life in France, so much so that he thought that those who were familiar
with our older culture would have a special aptitude for understanding
things French. Perhaps he was carried too far by a pleasant visit to Virginia
or by his politeness to me, but there is, after all, at least this much
truth in what he said. It was particularly here in Virginia that a form of
American civilization was developed in which, to use a consecrated phrase,
men were primarily interested in the art of living, which is, of course, the
essential vocation of the Romance peoples. And while we have doubtless
in many instances sold our birth-right for somewhat dubious advantages of
another sort, there surely remains something of the old spirit in the state
and especially here at the University. So that is one reason why one may
turn to Virginia with hope of a genuine response.

Another reason is—Dr. Wilson. If there is anything that stands out in
my memory of the years I passed here, it is the charm of his teaching. And
from what the alumni tell me he has never lost his rare gift of making
Romance civilization real and vital, of inspiring students with a devotion to
the subject he teaches that may carry them through life. If then, you ask
me how the University will best fulfil its function in regard to Romance
languages, I should say that it would be by making a serious effort, under the
guidance of Dr. Wilson, to interest men who are graduating here in going on
with post-graduate work in order to fit themselves for meeting the very
general and insistent demand for teachers who are in the best sense scholars
and interpreters of foreign manners and of foreign thought.

ENGLISH INSTRUCTION IN THE STATE UNIVERSITY

By Morris P. Tilley, Ph.D., University of Michigan

At the present time in our country there is going on a re-valuation of
educational methods in the light of the increasing cost of state instruction.
A new America is demanding a standard of clearer thinking and of higher
purpose on the part of the student who has spent four years in a state-supported
university or college. General criticism of present results insists
upon a reëxamination of university curricula, of administrative methods,
of the quality of teachers, and of the fitness of students to whom is granted

the privilege of state instruction. It is all an effort to determine and to
justify the final value to the state of the vast sums that are now being spent
in this country for collegiate and professional training.

This examination of the value of our present methods of instruction
comes at a time when there is an abnormal demand on the part of thousands
of young men and women for higher training for their life work. In order
to provide an education for these young people there must be obtained
more classrooms and more teachers! It is a fitting time, therefore, for those
to whom has been entrusted the instruction of the future leaders of our land
to take counsel among themselves and try to decide upon some means by
which better results may be obtained. The purpose of my paper is to
consider some of the problems of English teaching in the state university.
Among the most insistent of these are the necessity, first, of caring for the
freshman English work adequately; second, of securing instructors of suitable
qualifications; and, third, of developing among the members of the
department a spirit of continuous growth.

The most pressing need to-day is that of providing fully for the freshman
work. This cannot be done unless there is a recognition by the administration
of the special claim of the English department for adequate
assistance! It is true that the increasing number of students since the war
has affected the teaching conditions in all subjects. But no department is
threatened to the same extent as is the English with being submerged by
ever increasing numbers.

The large classes and the inferior quality of many of the freshmen are a
severe handicap to the English instructor already burdened with themes
and conferences. As a result he is unable to do effective teaching. The
first year student is the sufferer. He fails to receive at the beginning of his
course the stimulating instruction to which he is entitled.

To correct this condition should be the first aim of those responsible for
the freshman work in English. It should not be difficult by figures and by
comparisons to convince the administration of the urgent need of sufficient
assistance to reduce the sections to twenty-five students each. The department
should see to it, also, that the more experienced and more mature
teachers share in the instruction of the new students. The number of teaching
hours of the younger men should be reduced, where possible, to not more
than twelve a week. And every effort should be made to introduce into the
classroom such methods of instruction as may be most helpful to the student
who has not yet had time to adjust himself to college work.

To make sure of small sections under capable teachers, however, is not
the whole story. There is need of considering further, whether the content
of the course may not be so improved as to secure for the freshmen a more
stimulating appeal. Notable experiments are being conducted this year at

the Massachusetts Institute of Technology and at the University of Missouri.
These consist in a combination of English composition with history
and economics in which the lectures and assigned readings supply the subject
matter of the themes. The general aim of these experiments is to give it to
the writing in English a more vital interest; and it cannot be too highly
commended. Indeed, the success attending these combination courses may
well bring about a radical change in the methods of conducting the written
work in our freshmen English instruction. The outstanding success as
Columbia of a "Contemporary Civilization Course," that is required of all
freshmen, points to the value of organizing first year work in such a way that
the freshman's mind be forcibly stimulated.

If the tutorial system introduced some years ago at Princeton could be
combined with a study of selected English masterpieces dealing with economics,
history and philosophy, we should then have an arrangement of study
well calculated to stimulate the freshman's mind. This course given five or
six hours weekly, would go a great way towards correcting the lack of interest
which marks much of the freshman's attitude.

II

The second problem that presents itself is the difficulty of securing men
with the requisite qualifications. The demand from the over-crowded
English departments of our colleges for well-prepared teachers is far greater
at present than our graduate schools can supply. The standard of preparation
and of personality demanded of university instructors, as a result,
has been lowered. Men have been engaged, who a few years ago would
not have been thought eligible for vacancies on the teaching staff.

But the instructor question to-day is more than one of lowered standards.
The proportion of instructors to professors in our faculties has
steadily increased for a number of years. At the same time the ratio of
students to all members of the teaching staff has tended to become higher.
In this continued weakening of the teaching force there is serious cause
for concern. We need seek no further for an explanation of much of the
criticism directed against university methods to-day. In view of these
conditions the selection of instructors is vitally important.

There is a general agreement, I believe, in the qualifications desirable
in a university instructor. The candidate selected should be the man who
has taught with the most marked success, who has pursued his graduate
work with the greatest originality, and who has the strongest and most
attractive personality. The one hundred per cent. man in each of these
essential requirements is rare at any time! Especially in a period of readjustment
like to-day it may be necessary to be satisfied with a teacher who

does not measure up to the normal standard. But there is a minimum in
teaching experience, in scholarly work and in personality below which a
candidate may not fall. He should have taught long enough to have convinced
himself and others that he finds in teaching an abundant source of
satisfaction, even joy. He should have followed his graduate studies at
least to that point where he recognizes that a scholar cannot continue
successful teaching unless he has an ever deepening knowledge of his own
particular field. And he should have progressed so far in the development
of his personality as to be able to give freely of himself to his students both
in and out of class. To consider the appointment to a university faculty
of a man who is known to be deficient in any one of these qualifications is a
serious mistake; and invites the necessity of dismissing him when he breaks
down under the rigorous tests of success.

There has been a tendency, now fortunately passing, to weight excessively,
in the selection of a new instructor, evidence that is offered of ability
in research work. The more important qualifications of character and of
ability to teach have sometimes been overshadowed by a brilliant doctorate.
But numerous instances where the gifted Ph.D. has failed to develop even
the ordinary instincts of the teacher, and other cases where he has lacked
the basic elements of personal fitness, have caused a more careful regard
to be given to these requirements. It can be safely predicated that a
starved and meager personality is not the stock from which to develop the
flower of a sympathetic and inspiring teacher, or of an original and forceful
investigator. To every alumnus of the University of Virginia it is a source
of pride that the value of an invigorating personality has been recognized
in its various departments.

It is indisputable that the clearer thinking and the higher purpose
demanded of college students to-day cannot be obtained unless their instructors
point the way by example and by precept. When our faculties
in all ranks are made up of men of strong personal and scholarly qualifications,
there wil be a corresponding higher degree of attainment possessed
by the graduates of our universities.

We have next to consider how the candidate desired may be secured.
What are we to offer him in the way of financial remuneration, of opportunity
for development, and of certainty of advancement that will make it
likely that we can secure his service?

In the first place, we must face squarely the fact that the time when we
could get a competent man for twelve hundred dollars has gone, probably
not to return. A minimum sum of eighteen hundred must be offered, if we
are to think of bidding for him with the hope of competing successfully for
his services. I know of instructors to whom two thousand was paid last
year although they had had no experience in university teaching and had not

yet received their doctor's degree. It seems clear that we must be prepared
to pay according to a much higher scale in starting men than we have been
accustomed to in the past.

Other considerations than money, of course, will enter into the acceptance
of a position. A young man leaving a graduate school will weigh
carefully the opportunities for development presented by a position. He
will consider in particular the reputation of the men in the department that
he is asked to join, the library facilities available, the number of teaching
hours required and the character of the work that he is asked to "give."

If a department is able to offer a sufficient number of attractions to be
sure of adding to its ranks only men of first class attainments, it has open to
it the surest way to the development of a strong corps of teachers. It is the
department that is not watchful of the instructors that it adds to its teaching
staff that finds itself in a few years burdened with men that are blocks to
progress. Of such teachers few die and none resign: and the difficulty of
dismissing them increases with their length of service.

III

The English department that has enough men and able men to do its
work has still another problem before it. How may it develop among its
members that spirit of accomplishment that is not satisfied merely with
fulfilling the obligations of teaching, but is determined to win for itself
recognition outside of the university in the world of scholarship? How
may it, in other words, accomplish the hard task of contributing to the sum
of knowledge at a time when the demands made upon it in other directions
are many and continuous? I know of no better way of developing such a
spirit than by a full realization of the importance to the department and to
the university of a faculty of men who are esteemed by their fellow-workers
in other institutions as leaders in their especial fields of research. Once
the importance of such a spirit has been realized there will be an active and
aggressive emphasis laid upon the value of men who are able to show substantial
results in scholarship.

It is not possible for every man to excel in research work, and to startle
his colleagues by discoveries of value. But it is necessary for a department
of English to recognize that other calls than those made by his scholarly
interest are secondary. The younger teachers especially must be on their
guard against spending too much of their time on administrative affairs.
The older members on the other hand are more likely to rest upon their oars
and be satisfied with a routine of teaching. Threshing old straw year after
year, they slip gradually into a condition of ineffectiveness. Security of
tenure and seniority of rank invite them to an increasing inactivity that

undermines their own ability to teach successfully, and encourages a similar
inactivity on the part of their younger colleagues.

The members of the English department particularly have to hold constantly
before them the importance of scholarly work. They will otherwise
find their time consumed with instructing large classes, with the correction of
much written work, with speaking engagements both within and without
the university, with giving assistance to student publications and dramatic
organizations and with many other activities of university life. In the
face of these accumulating demands a teacher will fail to attain his greatest
effectiveness unless he keep clearly in mind the fact that his duty of imparting
the truth goes hand in hand with his second duty of seeking the
truth.

The chief problems, then, of the English department of the state university
are problems of personnel. It must have enough men, without overburdening
its teaching force, to give the students a sufficiently intimate
instruction to urge them to their best efforts. It is even more necessary that
it have able and forceful teachers, who can at the same time add to the sum
of human knowledge. The successful English department to-day is the one
which has an adequate number of able teachers who are at the same time
able scholars.

II. The Mathematical and National Science Group

PROBLEMS IN SCIENTIFIC EDUCATION

By Charles Lee Reese, Ph.D., Sc.D., Chemical Director of E. I. du Pont de Nemours
and Company

During the last twenty years, I have had to handle thousands of men,
coming from many institutions of learning throughout the country; in fact,
during the war I had to do with about ten per cent. of all the chemists in our
land, at least forty-five of them being graduates of the University of Virginia.
They were men of various degrees of training in chemistry, and consequently
I have been able to observe many of their shortcomings. Among
these might be mentioned a lack of sufficient training in English to enable
them to express their thoughts, and the results of their work, in clear concise
language, a tendency toward what I might call "sloppiness" for the lack of a
better word, lack of thorough preparation in literature study before entering
upon a particular piece of work, and even lack of knowledge as to how to use
the literature, and what kind of information can be obtained from the
literature; in other words, entering upon a piece of work without a thorough
knowledge of the state of the art. The ability to judge the value of information
found in the literature is often found wanting, and I might easily go

on in such an enumeration regarding sufficient training in methods of
research, and lack of judgment in selecting the best method of attack.

"Sloppiness," I might almost say is a characteristic of the American
people, due to the fact that they are almost always in a hurry to get through
with what they are doing in order to take up something else, a tendency
which prevents thoroughness. Our primary schools are affected by it,
attempting generally to fill the heads of the pupils with knowledge, instead
of training the mind to habits of care, accuracy and efficiency. Even our
college entrance requirements are possibly responsible for too much pressure
for knowledge rather than training. The Germans have overcome this
tendency by making machines out of their school children, and it is questionable
how far we should go in this direction. When I was at the University
it was said that it took all of a man's first year to learn how to study, and
some of them never learn, consequently many never reach their senior
year.

Now to come down to the college work. Most important of all is the
personality of the teaching staff, and the effect of that personality on the
attitude of the student to his work. I have always felt that the undergraduate
should have personal contact with the principal men of the faculty,
the men who are most inspiring from a moral as well as a professional standpoint;
men who are character builders and leaders who inspire confidence
and interest in the work. As a friend of mine once said in speaking of
college athletics creating loyalty and college spirit, why should the work
not be made just as interesting, and as much enthusiasm be created over it
as over athletics. This can only be done by the ability of the professors to
create such interest and enthusiasm. Mallet, Remsen and Bunsen were
men of this type in my day, and no doubt there are many to-day of the same
kind. Owing to our hurried life, and the desire and necessity, in many
cases, for men to reach the bread winning stage, too many men enter the
profession without that liberal education included in the old-time college
course, involving modern and ancient languages, physics, mathematics,
arts and letters, history and philosophy, which fit a man for the higher
side of life, and I wish to emphasize the importance of such training wherever
possible before a man enters upon the pursuit of his professional course.
This applies to the chemist, the physicist, the lawyer, the engineer, as well
as the business man, or a man in any other walk of life. I am quite sure
that the chemist who has had such an education will forge ahead much faster
than his less fortunate fellow-chemist. With this kind of training a man
is in a much better position to determine the professional career best suited
to him.

There has been during the past thirty years a tendency to make the
training of chemists more practical, as they say, and many committees have

been appointed to study and recommend courses of training for technical
chemists. I have often been asked by professors and students to outline a
course of study for a chemist who wishes to enter the explosives or dyes
industry for instance, and my reply has invariably been to teach them
chemistry, physics, mathematics and English, and the experience and
application will come fast enough when they are up against the problems to
be met in any industry.

There is at present a tendency to make a compromise between the
liberal education and the professional education to meet the undoubted
demand, and those of you who will read the Yale Alumni Weekly of
April 29th, will see what Yale expects to do in her four-year course in
Chemistry.

In their Freshman year, besides their usual course in Chemistry, they
have English, Language, History, Mathematics and Government. In the
Sophomore year much stress is laid on Mathematics and Physics, as well as
Mineralogy and Crystallography with English and the Languages, also
electives in Drawing and Bacteriology. The Juniors devote seventy per
cent of their time to Chemistry, with some Geology, and as new features,
very important courses in Economics and Business Finance are introduced.
The Seniors devote most of their time to Chemistry, with lectures on
Industrial Chemistry, Metallurgy and Metallography, with a chemical
seminar and a course in Business Management as a supplement. As electives,
they have courses in Statistics, Business Law and Principles of
Accounting.

When I was here we had General Industrial, Analytical and Agricultural
Chemistry, with a short course in Pharmaceutical Chemistry for the
"Meds."

General Chemistry included lectures on Physics, Organic and Inorganic
Chemistry. Industrial Chemistry was a most comprehensive lecture course
on the subject, and has proved of inestimable value to me in my career.
Physical Chemistry, as a subdivision, was hardly known then, but now has
grown to be one of the most important branches of the science, and Organic
Chemistry was in its youth in this country. The word "Colloid" was used
in contradistinction to "Crystalloid," but Colloid Chemistry was still to be
born, and it has hardly yet got out of its swaddling clothes. Catalysis was a
name for the unknown, and if you should hear Dr. Bancroft deliver his three
celebrated lectures on that subject, you would learn that the theories of
Catalysis are mainly postulatory, and most of the postulates advanced can
be disposed of, in spite of which many important discoveries and accomplishments
have been attained through Catalysis, and I believe I can safely say
that it presents as fertile a field for research as any other field in the chemical
science.

It has been suggested that I say what I think the opportunities of the
Universities are in the future, and how they best can be realized, especially
as regards graduate work in pure and applied chemistry.

What I have already said is perhaps more or less generalization, but it
expresses thoughts that I have had for sometime, and you will forgive me if
I have taken this opportunity to express them.

The fields of natural science covered by the Academic and Graduate
Schools at present are Astronomy, Biology, Chemistry, Geology and Physics,
to all of which Chemistry is related to a greater or less degree, for we
are able to apply Chemistry even to the stone. Physiological, Biological,
Pathological and Pharmacological Chemistry seem to be included incidentally
in the Medical Department. In the chemical courses we have General,
Analytical, Organic, Physical, Colloidal, Industrial, Agricultural, Theoretical,
Metallurgical and Physiological, all covered by a few men, and these
same men must take care of the post-graduate work in any of these subdivisions,
if required. Attempts are made in other institutions to cover
special subjects such as ceramics, cements, dyestuffs and dyeing, electrochemistry,
fermentation, photography, etc. Without a very large
staff, I doubt the advisability of undertaking such special subjects, and even
then a man properly trained in the principles and practice of the science will
soon become expert in these special lines after once being connected with the
industry, and his future training in these lines can thus be carried on after
he becomes a bread winner.

The Endowment Fund will assist materially in many ways, but first
of all it should be used to increase the compensation of the present members
of the teaching staff to give them a living compensation, and the ability to set
something aside for a rainy day, and also enable the University to secure
the services of able men in the future. Second, to increase the teaching
staff to such a point that they will have time to devote to study and research
work, and enable them to gain reputations which will induce students to
remain at the University for post-graduate work, and attract men from
other institutions to study under such men. At present the number in the
post-graduate schools is small, but owing to the great impetus which has
been given in this country to the pursuit of the natural sciences, especially
Physics and Chemistry by the late war, the establishment of the Dye
Industry and the Chemical Warfare Service will create increasing demands
for many men thoroughly trained in these sciences, especially in the fields
of fundamental and applied research, so there is room for growth in the
University in this direction.

I hope to see the day, or at least the day will come, when the University
can have professors who can specialize in each subdivision of the sciences;
men who will have only a few hours each week to devote to the lecture room

and the seminar, and much time to devote to research and study, and
become leaders in research, and developing methods of research which will
draw to them a group of students devoted to their particular specialty. It
is only by such methods that rapid progress can be made in our search for the
truth, and advance in science and the arts. It is as important for our great
universities to develop great men in the field of professors and teachers; men
who can devote their entire time to the search for truth in the fields of
natural science, as it is to develop the young men of our country to practice
their profession in their particular fields, for the former is essential to the
latter.

With the establishment of such highly developed scientific industries
as the dye industry, and the recent tendency to utilize science in all industries,
many such men as I feel the universities should develop will be utilized
in the industries.

As the industries become more and more highly developed, they will
need more highly trained men in the special subdivisions of the sciences.
The present demand for highly trained specialists in the industries is a serious
menace to our country and the world, and if our great universities are to
maintain their force of such men to train others, this can only be done by
ample provision for their support. This brings me to a point where I wish to
bring up for discussion a plan which I have been able to follow in a few cases
for relieving, to a small degree, this serious situation. It is a plan which
has been followed extensively in Europe. An industry, with or without
a very complete research organization, can profitably retain professors, who
have made reputations, at a salary which, in some cases, may exceed that
which they receive from the university, by consulting work. This has
proved of great advantage to the professor himself, not only from a financial,
but also from a professional point of view in his work for the university, and
of great advantage to the university. Of course this should be done with
the distinct understanding that the consulting work is not to interfere in any
way with duties to the University. The unselfish character of some of our
consultants has been demonstrated by the fact that one of them has used his
retainer to employ a man to carry on some of his work.

The research student is much benefited by the presence of a number of
others in the laboratory doing research work, whether in the same or other
branches of science, or divisions of his science. It makes it possible for each
to be familiar with a number of problems, and the method of prosecuting
them, and increases the value of the seminar.

In closing I want to thank you for your indulgence, and although there
is nothing very striking in what I have had to say I hope it may lead to some
discussion which will be constructive, and of value to our Alma Mater in the
future.

A PLEA FOR THE PERFECT

By William Jackson Humphreys, Ph.D., of the United States Weather Bureau

The most insistent appeal to the intellect, and the most effective in
every line of human progress, is the call of the perfect. The paintings of the
great masters arouse an admiration akin to reverence, and inspire us ourselves
to work for the faultless in whatever we do. And the same is true of
architecture. He that has an intelligence at all measurably above that of the
beast of the field is himself ennobled by the presence of a beautiful building.
The towering spires of a Gothic cathedral, the stately columns of a Grecian
temple, the restful roof of a Buddhist shrine, evoke alike a reverence and a
high resolve to live the better life.

In statuary, too, and in every other art, the compelling call is the same.
Who can behold that most wonderful, perhaps, of all statues, the Daibutsu
of Kamakura, and not be thrilled by its magical calm—the peace of
Nirvana, the calm of death and eternity?

As it is in these few great things and noble arts, so it is likewise with all
the others, perfection and perfection alone—accomplishment in which no
fault can be found—commands unqualified admiration for the work of
others, and sets the satisfying goal of our own endeavors.

And now let us come home and be more specific. We here at the University
of Virginia are wont to speak of the Sage of Monticello in tones that
evidence respect and appreciation. But how did he come to be a sage?
Not alone by his invariable honesty of purpose, nor solely by his splendid
ability; but in great measure through his transcendent capacity to take
trouble—his patience to make perfect. And that over which he labored the
longest, the University of Virginia, he loved the most. He realized, as all of us
must, that without intellectual training political independence is impossible,
and religious freedom only moral chaos. Thus the most patient labor of all
his maturer years, the labor of his deepest love and most abiding hope, was
the founding of an educational institution perfect in all its plans and purposes.
An institution in which the student was from the first trusted as a
man of honor, a trust promptly justified and that has become a priceless
heritage; an institution manned by scholars of high renown who mingled
freely and most friendly with those who came to learn of their wisdom; and,
finally, an institution whose very columns and arches and domes, whose
harmonious assemblage of much of the architectural glory of Greece and
grandeur of Rome, insistently inspires to higher resolves.

Here, as nowhere else, one comes under the abiding influence of the
father of the University of Virginia, of him who heard so clearly and heeded
so well the call of the perfect. Here thousands have heard that same call,
and many have heeded in their several ways. Here, we believe, this call

was ever present with him who has enriched literature, as long as man shall
read, with such compelling and varied classics as The Bells, The Raven, and
Annabel Lee. Here, too, all was in harmony with the firm resolve and high
purpose of him who but yesterday bade a despairing world to hope—bade
it hope by showing so clearly a rational and righteous road every nation can
follow, and yet in some fashion will follow, for civilization shall not perish
from the face of the earth.

So reasoned the poet Longfellow many years ago, and the case is miserably
worse to-day. The burdens of taxation are oppressively heavy. Some
say owing to the scientific work done by the National Government, aye, even
to the duplication of such work in the city of Washington! "Blind leaders,
who strain at a gnat, and swallow a camel." Had the world not been filled
with terror, had there been no "wealth bestowed on camps," the present
tax on one luxury alone, tobacco, would meet, or nearly meet, the whole of
the Government's needs—nor is this tax overly heavy, nor are our people
inordinate burners of incense before the goddess Nicotine.

The burdens of the world would, indeed, be unbearable were it not
becoming clear as the noonday sun that they are avoidable, and that, being
avoidable, they soon will be avoided. We are but in the throes of one stage
of community evolution, an evolution from the isolated savage through
the tribe, the clan, the state and the nation to the federation of the civilized
world, an evolution that has always closely followed, and of necessity must
closely follow, the development of the arts of travel and communication.
That is, as science progresses and its applications are made perfect our
relations to each other whether as individuals, communities, or nations, also
vary. To the ignorant savage restricted by natural barriers to a small
island, or other limited territory, no form of government is desirable or possible
beyond that of a primitive tribe. To the most advanced peoples of
to-day, however, those who literally can talk to each other though at the ends
of the earth, and to whose swift and easy travel there is no obstacle, the
restrictions of the tribe and the clan would be intolerable and impracticable.
To them nothing short of some form of a universal federation can be satisfactory.
One's friends and acquaintances to-day, and his councillors and
aids in whatever he is doing, are in every inhabited portion of the globe.
We cannot do without each other, neither they without us nor we without
them. Hence our plea for the perfect includes the bringing of nations together

into that form of mutual support that most encourages the growth
of each and makes for the good of all.

Now, as is known of the whole world, in the great work of formulating
a code adapted to the needs and aspirations of those in the very van of
civilization the University of Virginia can claim high honors. First,
through her great "father" and again, equally, through her most distinguished
alumnus.

But let us be critical, for self-criticism is always wholesome. What
has been the growth of science and its application to the arts since our
Alma Mater began her splendid training of young men, less than one century
ago? And what part have we, her alumni, taken in this conquest of nature?
Every chapter in the story of modern science is amazing almost beyond
belief. We live to-day in essentially a different world from that of our
grandfathers, different in many respects from even that of our own boyhood
days; and the difference is this, that the world is a better place to live in
than it was, so much so, indeed, that many of the things we now regard
as common necessities only a little while ago were not possible even as
luxuries.

Consider some of the more common events in the course of one's daily
life. All of us remember, or, at least, know those who do remember, when
that morning necessity, the ubiquitous bathtub, was practically unknown.
Of course a few buckets of water, carried from the spring and emptied into
the old wash-tub, were really worth while, but the undertaking was such a
tax on one's moral courage, that baths before breakfast were not then the
order of the day. And the cooking of breakfast, what a job it was! Coals,
kept alive through the night by a cover of ashes, were scraped out and a
wood fire kindled, not in the convenient stove, for no one had such a contrivance,
but in a big fire place, and after a time one had something to eat.
Rarely, though, did he have fresh meat (cold storage was unknown) nor did
he ever have the luxury of fresh fruits and fresh vegetables save those
alone that grew in his own locality, nor even these except in their limited
season. Who of the first faculty, or early students, of this University ever
wholesomely and delightfully began his breakfast with grape-fruit, oranges,
pineapples, mangos, or any other of the delicious tropical fruits that now
load our tables? And who in the tropics ever then tasted an apple, a pear,
a peach, a plum, or a cherry? Who in those days, here or elsewhere, ever
feasted on that luscious and most common, perhaps, of all vegetables, the
tomato—then regarded as a thing not only unfit for food, but even deadly
poisonous?

If, as was sometimes the case, you had occasion to write to a friend,
you did so with a goose-quill pen, blotted with sand, sealed with wax, and
forwarded your letter at the marvelous speed of, perhaps, twenty miles a

day. If you had to talk to even a neighbor, and he was beyond hallooing
distance, you simply had to go in person to see him, and, whatever the distance,
you could only walk, ride horseback, or go in a lumbering carriage.

If mother wanted to dye a piece of cloth she herself, most likely, had
spun and woven, she did not choose exactly the hue and tint, or shade, she
would have and then send us to a convenient drug store to get, for a few
pennies, precisely that thing, but sent us to the woods for the inner bark of a
black oak. This she steeped according to traditional custom, then dipped
the cloth in the decoction thus obtained, and accepted with fortitude
whatever stain happened to result.

Of course we did not often become ill, for only the most robust survived
babyhood, but when we did get sick it generally was the herb doctor that
came to see us, and the concoctions he made at least inspired an earnest hope
for a rapid convalescence. If, perchance, the case called for surgery, we
were indeed unfortunate. What we now call major surgery, and even much
that is essentially minor, was rarely ventured. Small operations of course
were made, but on the conscious patient and with a dirty knife. There were
no hospitals, except in the largest cities, and even these were at times centers
of infection rather than restorative institutions.

Whether, however, one got sick in those days and sent for the neighborhood
herbist, or stayed well and hoed the corn, pealed bark to dye the home
spun, or did whatever other chores the exigencies of a primitive life demanded,
the end of the day at last came as it now comes. But when it did
come there was then no movie to go to, whether instructive, amusing, or
demoralizing; no graphophone to stage a grand opera, materialize a brass band,
or set amuck a barbaric jazz, as one's whims and fancies might suggest; no
phone to chat over; no good light, electric or other kind, to ready by—only a
flickering home-made tallow candle, or sputtering pine torch, that for a
few minutes flared up unsteadily and then went out. Finally, at the end of
every such "perfect day," one scraped the live embers together and covered
them with ashes for starting the morning's fire, saw that all windows were
closed tight, the door bolted, and every other possible ventilator sealed up
lest any of the "noxious night air" might get in, and then went to sleep, to
dream, perhaps, of witches and hobgoblins, in a bed as innocent of springs as
a concrete floor.

True, we often speak, and speak earnestly, of the good old days of yore,
but in so doing we really have in mind the buoyancy of our own vigorous
youth and the loved ones of our childhood days. We never mean that we
would like to discard the latest conveniences and go back, not to our earlier
age, for all of us would like to be young again, but to the way the world lived
only a few decades ago.

Perhaps this reference to a few decades may seem extravagant, but in

reality it is not, for our knowledge of nature and the harnessing of natural
forces to our own needs grew so rapidly, and with such acceleration, with the
founding of laboratories and the consequent spread of inquiry that men
still living have seen half, aye, more than half, of that wonderful evolution
from the stick and stone of the cave man to the myriad marvels of the present.
Take from the air every aeroplane; from the roads every automobile;
from the country every train; from the cities every electric light; from ships
every wireless apparatus; from the oceans all cables; from the land all
wires; from shops all motors; from office buildings every elevator, telephone
and typewriter; let epidemics spread at will; let major surgery be impossible
—all this and vastly more would be the terrible catastrophe if the tide of
time should but ebb to the childhood days of men still living.

Nor do all those marvels exhaust our list. Give us a lump of coal, a
piece of sulphur and a bit of salt, and we will now, as but a few years ago
we could not, work such wonders as even Aladdin with his magical lamp
never dreamed of—make brighter, faster and more varied colors than are
found in field or forest; sweeter perfumes than scent the flowers; richer
flavors than season the fruit; food for plants that shames the richest soil;
explosives that rend the hardest rock; cures for many an ill; and poisons
more deadly than ever a Borgia desired. In short, with even these few raw
materials, we now raise our food, delight the palate, adorn the body, cure
ourselves, and kill the enemy!

Oh yes, the scoffer of science may say, but no exploring De Soto has
ever found the elixir of life. No, we must confess, not yet in all its perfection,
but the persistent biologist has found it for some animals, and has
successfully applied it. Already he has made excised portions of the heart
of the embryo chick live and grow until the chick itself, had it been permitted
to grow up, might well have been dead of age—and still that lone,
excised heart lived on. Already well-organized animals have been made to live
forwards and backwards from youth to age and from age to youth over and
over with never a sign that the end was near. What then is beyond our
reasonable hope? But to realize that hope we must heed the call of the perfect,
must push those investigations, as surely we shall, and the thousands
of others they in turn suggest, to their ultimate conclusion.

Finally, what have we, faculty, students, and alumni, of this University,
been doing the while this great stream of investigation and discovery has
been broadening and deepening into a veritable ocean of knowledge? We
have made many contributions to this knowledge, and of that we are justly
proud, but not all of us have lived up to our opportunities.

Let us, therefore, insist that each important position in this University
is an opportunity, as it is in any leading institution, to add to the sum of
human knowledge, and that opportunity is only another name for imperative

duty. Let it further be recognized, indeed let it become a compelling
unwritten law, that opportunity shall be given only to him who has demonstrated
his ability to improve it, and that the shirking of duty carries with it
the forfeiture of place. Possibly such a custom might seem a little drastic,
but it would be no more so, nor is there less reason for it, than is the wholesome
honor system among students. Nor let us alumni require ought of
others that we do not in equal measure demand of ourselves.

But how, it occasionally is asked, can any man both investigate and
teach? A far better question is this: How can he teach advanced students,
at least, if he has not that love of his subject that compels him to investigate?
None but the enthusiast can impart to others an earnest desire
to learn—blood does not come from turnips. Furthermore, wherever the
spark of genius shows, and if it be accompanied by industry, in the name of
humanity fan it—give its possessor every needed aid and encouragement.
Fan the live spark. No one ever yet got a glowing fire by fanning dead
embers.

And here let us once more urge our plea for the perfect. Let an investigation,
whether large or small, be given ample time, patience, and trouble.
Let it be so worked over, yea, so persistently labored over, that there can
be no occasion for any one to repeat it until other discoveries reveal a better
line of attack, or greater skill in instrumentation provides a desirable higher
degree of accuracy. And let the report, whether of progress or of finished
result, be brief. Let not our reasons be, as were those of Gratiano, "as two
grains of wheat hid in two bushels of chaff," where they are not worth the
trouble it takes to find them. Neither let our ideas be muddled like those
of the freshman who said he knew who Esau was—"the chap that wrote
short stories and sold his copyright for a mess of potash." In short, have
something to say, say it, quit talking about it. But above all have something
to say.

III. The Educational Group

THE CONTRIBUTION OF THE UNIVERSITY OF VIRGINIA TO THE PUBLIC SCHOOL
SYSTEM OF THE STATE

By John Walter Wayland, Ph.D., of the Harrisonburg State Normal School

The measuring or even the estimating of influence is a task to engage
the powers of a magician or a divinity. It is a task like unto the compassing
of the sunlight or the weighing of the perfume of the flowers. Yet at the
same time, if one is not able to comprehend fully or to estimate adequately,
one can at least be certain that the sun shines, that the flowers are sweet and
beautiful, and that the world is happier and better because of them.

1. THE POTENCY OF IDEALS

The influence of the University of Virginia upon public education in the
State has been in evidence, more or less potently, both directly and indirectly
for the full century or more of the institution's history. First of all, it seems
to me, we should recognize and appreciate the ideas and the ideals that gave
the University birth and that have ever given character to its life. When
this institution was conceived in the vision of Mr. Jefferson he thought of it
as a part of a great whole: a comprehensive gradation of schools that should
include all of our citizens in its liberal provisions. In short, he desired
elementary schools and secondary schools as well as a university. He did
not perhaps employ the same terminology that we employ to-day, but in his
dream he saw schools and teachers for little children, schools and teachers
for rank and callow youth, as well as a school and teachers for those older,
maturer students who are anxious and able to climb to the sunlit heights.

It took many years of waiting, many years of working, to get Jefferson's
full plan wrought out and accepted; but we rejoice in this good day in the
belief that it is now being perfected and appreciated. And all through the
years his ideal was a potent influence, a whisper of inspiration that men
heard in their moments of reflection, a mighty call to progress in every day
of intellectual and moral action.

One may say, therefore, that a complete public school system was part
of the program under which the University was founded and under which it
has, for the most part, been operated. During the last half-century especially,
this program has been unfolded more and more clearly, with more
and more definiteness and force, from year to year.

2. THE WORK OF LEGISLATORS AND ADMINISTRATORS

For one who loves the University, an interesting task would be to scan
carefully the names of all the men who, since 1830 or thereabouts, have
composed the General Assembly of Virginia and filled the various responsible
offices in our state government—to do this with a view of ascertaining how
many of these men have at some time been students here. The number is
large, we may be certain; and we may also be certain that some of them,
doubtless many of them, have aided effectively from time to time in giving
Mr. Jefferson's ideas on education a functioning body in the laws and
procedure of the commonwealth. In so doing they have been true disciples
of our Alma Mater; and through them, whether in our own day or in the
days long past, we see going out a mighty stream of influence, carrying life,
dynamic life, to our common schools. For example, since 1902, fifteen
members of the Virginia State Board of Education have been alumni of the
University; and among these fifteen were Charles W. Kent, Lyon G. Tyler,

Joseph L. Jarman, James M. Page, Henry C. Ford, John E. Williams, James
S. Wilson, and four governors: Montague, Swanson, Stuart, and Davis.

3. THE SERVICE OF ALUMNI AS TEACHERS

Face to face with a mighty host we find ourselves when we attempt to
number the teachers of Virginia who, at one time or another, for long or
shorter periods, have been students at the University. In the years immediately
preceding 1870 and in all the long Olympiads of ante-bellum days,
schools were being kept alive here and there in Old Virginia by those whose
torches had been kindled at Jefferson's altar and whose vision had been at
least in part uplifted with his own. Those men labored provincially, it may
be, and often under painful handicaps, but who will deny to them a meed of
honor in the better times that have come after them? They labored and
we have entered into their labors. We are building better, let us hope, than
did they; but they often builded better than they knew.

Since 1870, when our present system of public schools was inaugurated,
alumni of the University have been enabled to assume more numerous and
more definite relationships in the teaching forces of the State. This fact
appears with growing distinctness as we proceed with our investigations.
Consider, for example, the influence that has been radiated through the
thousands of teachers that have attended the University summer schools
during the past thirty-odd years. A conservative estimate would place the
total number of persons, men and women, who have attended these summer
schools within this period at 15,000. Not all of this mighty host, it may be,
have been teachers; but many of them have been teachers by profession and
by practice; and thousands of them have carried the ideas and the inspiration
here imbibed into the public schools of the State.

In recent years, as we all know, the deliberate and consistent aim in
these summer schools has been to make them the most helpful possible to
Virginia teachers. And it would be hard to find any community in the
State, however small or however secluded, in which there is not working today
at least one school teacher who is proud to speak of the days—the
summer days so full of work, so full of play, so full of joy—spent here. The
services of University leaders, like Bruce R. Payne, Charles G. Maphis,
and others, through the University summer schools, have been of incalculable
value to public education throughout the State.

4. THE UNIVERSITY APPRECIATING ITS TASK

Not only in the summer schools but also in the regular policies and
programs of the University the interests and needs of the public schools of

the State have been recognized with constantly increasing purpose and
definiteness. This has been especially true during the last half-century.
For example, as early as 1886, perhaps earlier, the University faculty arranged
for local examinations to be given in the various counties of Virginia
and other States for stimulating and evaluating the work of boys and girls
in the local schools. These examinations took the place, at least in some
instances, of high school graduation. More particular information concerning
these examinations and their value to the country schools will appear
farther on.

In 1905 the Curry Memorial School of Education was established at the
University, and ever since that time a regular aim of that department has
been to touch and elevate the public schools of Virginia. All who remember
the untiring extra-mural activities of Professor Harry Heck, the first head
of the Curry Memorial School, and all who know the character and the work
of his successors will be able to appreciate the significance and growing
influence of this foundation during the past sixteen years.

In this connection we cannot forget the potency of the University in the
famous "May Campaign" of 1905, when "one hundred of the ablest
speakers of the State, including the governor, delivered three hundred
addresses in ninety-four counties at one hundred different meetings,"[2]
all in behalf of public education.

Among the eminent leaders of that campaign were President Edwin A.
Alderman, Governor Andrew J. Montague (an alumnus of the University),
and Dr. Bruce R. Payne, whose distinguished connection with the University
was then just beginning. Another gentleman whose share of honor in this
May Campaign was second to none was Professor Ormond Stone, who for
thirty years (1882-1912) was a teacher here and whose interest in the public
schools of the State was both constant and effective. His activities in behalf
of public education have been most generous and untiring, as we all know.
The vigorous rise of public high schools followed upon 1905, and much of
the vigor and character that they embodied came from the University,
through the patience and wisdom of Alderman, Payne, and others.

How many of the teachers and alumni of the University took part in
this notable campaign cannot now, perhaps, be ascertained; but many
participated and all who did so shared in the cherished social gift that our
Alma Mater at that time made.

Thus by those who live in the University and in their work reach out,
as well as by those who have studied here and have gone out into the schools
of the commonwealth, the same or related gifts have been bestowed. The
workers within and the workers without join hands across the same cheering
altar of service.

5. ALUMNI AS ADMINISTRATIVE EDUCATORS AND AS TEACHERS IN STATE
INSTITUTIONS OF HIGHER LEARNING

In speaking hitherto of the teachers of the State who have been students
here, attention has been directed especially to that great army in the
common schools. When we enumerate school officials and those teachers in
our State institutions of higher learning who bear the University's seal the
number is smaller, to be sure, but no less influential. Consider, for example,
the division superintendents of schools in the counties and cities of Virginia.
Twenty-eight of them, almost exactly one fourth of the whole number, are
on the rolls of our alumni. Ten members of the Virginia State Normal
School Board, the body which since 1916 has had the oversight and the
direction of our four state normal schools for white women, have been University
men. Prior to 1916 there were separate boards for these four institutions,
and a goodly proportion of the members of those separate boards
were also alumni of the University.

The first of these four normal schools was established at Farmville in
1884. The second was opened at Harrisonburg in 1909; the third at Fredericksburg,
in 1911; and the fourth at East Radford, in 1913. From official
records it appears that up to this date 20,551 different students have been
enrolled in these institutions. Most of this great multitude have been
teachers for shorter or longer periods in the public schools of Virginia, and
they have been distributed in every county and every city of the State.
The significance of all this in our present study appears in a moment when
we observe the fact that almost or quite forty members of the four normal
school faculties that have trained these 20,000 teachers have been graduates
of the University or sometime students here.

For many years past the contribution of the College of William and
Mary to the life and administrative efficiency of our state public schools has
been so great as to win general acknowledgment and appreciation. To this
historic institution the University of Virginia herself owes much. Jefferson,
Monroe, and others saw to it that the rich legacies of the older foundation
became really and truly the younger school's inheritances. But may we not
say, speaking truly and gratefully, that in some measure, through the century
that is closing, the talents that were received have been invested and
returned? For instance, during twenty-one years (1898-1919) the honored
president of William and Mary was Lyon G. Tyler, an alumnus of the University
of Virginia; and contemporary with him, or at least serving the same
generation with him, we may count twelve other distinguished sons of the
University on the faculties of William and Mary. Surely, therefore, one
may be justified in saying that, in this splendid contribution that
William and Mary has made to our public schools, the University has

had some cordial share. The coöperation of kindred can certainly be no
robbery.

It would doubtless be possible, if one had time, to trace relationships of
wholesome coöperation between the University and every other State institution
of higher learning in Virginia in this laudable task of uplifting
the common schools; but a reasonable limit must be our law.

6. INFLUENCE THROUGH PRIVATE INSTITUTIONS OF HIGHER LEARNING

And what shall we say with reference to these same relationships as
between the University and those institutions of higher learning not owned
by the State? Between the University and some of them the bonds have
perhaps not been so close or so strong as to be discerned or acknowledged;
but with regard to others the coöperation has been both conscious and deliberate.
Two examples must suffice.

In 1839 Charles Lewis Cocke, a college senior nineteen years old, determined
to dedicate his life to the higher education of women in the South.
"Inspired by the University of Virginia—opened fourteen years before—he
resolved `to give to Virginia women the same thorough mental training as
that afforded to young men.' "[3] In 1846 he moved to Botetourt Springs,
near what is now Roanoke City, to take charge of a school. "The educational
ideals of Thomas Jefferson became the inspiration of his youth";
and throughout an eminent career he cherished them. For more than fifty
years he labored in the light of his splendid hopes; and for three-quarters of a
century, now, Hollins College has been his growing monument.

In many counties and cities of Virginia the graduates of Hollins College
have taught worthily in our public schools. Some in this capacity have
served well two generations. One of them, Mrs. Betty Chandler Snead, who
graduated in 1868, taught in Halifax, in Essex, in Northampton; had a
family; returned to the schoolroom, and in 1915 was still at the post of public
service. Another, Edwina Chandler (Mrs. Walter Jones), who graduated in
1870, taught in Fluvanna. She married and reared a large family. Then
she took up teaching again. She was one of those teachers who used the
University local examinations to "standardize" her pupils. Miss Mary
Miller Snead, now the valued principal of a Fairfax County high school,
another Hollins graduate, is one of the number who testifies to having taken
the "University locals" in "Old Flu" under Mrs. Jones.

Hollins records show a long roll of alumnæ who have served Virginia
effectively and worthily in her public schools. Many other names might be
recited, but we must content ourselves with a very few more. Miss Bessie
Randolph of Farmville, Miss Elizabeth Cleveland of Harrisonburg, Miss

Lucy Puryear of Radford, Miss Berta Miller of Lynchburg, Miss Sully
Hayward of Roanoke, and Mrs. Ellie Marcus Marx of Norfolk are all alumnæ
of Hollins. They are eminent yet typical examples of the Hollins
graduate as a vital force in the public schools of Virginia. And it was one
of them who said:

"Recalling how often we heard the name of the University from Mr.
Cocke's lips and how bracing was the constant touch with its standards, we
are not surprised to find his biographer writing: `The educational ideals of
Thomas Jefferson became the inspiration of his youth, and with astonishing
tenacity and unity of purpose he pursued them until he worked out Hollins
College.' "[4]

Hollins College, therefore, is a notable example among the so-called
private schools of the State that have deliberately aided the University in
giving to the public schools their delayed birthright.

Another school of this same class, younger than Hollins but eminent
in the same way, is Bridgewater College.

This school dates its beginnings only forty-one years ago, yet within the
period of its brief history it has sent out hundreds of efficient teachers into
the public schools of the State. And every one of them has carried to his
work some gift that is openly and generously credited to the University.
The reason at once becomes obvious when we note the fact that eighteen
different members of the Bridgewater faculties have been students here.
For thirty-three years the presidents of the college have been University
alumni. Daniel C. Flory, the founder of the school and its head for six years
was a student here two sessions. Walter Bowman Yount, president for
eighteen years (1892-1910) was a student here six years. And John S.
Flory, who was president for nine years (1910-1919), and whose entire
service at Bridgewater to date totals twenty-four years, was a student here
three years and holds from the University his degree of Doctor of Philosophy.
Every Bridgewater student is able to testify that the bond between his
school and the University is very close.

This bond and source of influence upon our public schools appears not
only in the rank and file of teachers trained at Bridgewater, but also in
certain notable leaders in education and legislation. John C. Myers, division
superintendent of schools in Rockingham County, is an alumnus of
Bridgewater and of the University. William T. Sanger, who needs no introduction
to Virginia educators, is a graduate of Bridgewater. Frank J.
Wright, whose record as a distinguished teacher and as a member of the
General Assembly of Virginia is well known, is an alumnus of Bridgewater
and of the University. Jacob A. Garber, whose service to public education
in the last General Assembly was so conspicuous as to win unusual approval,

is merely passing on the fine things that he has received, at least in part,
from Bridgewater College and from our Alma Mater.

7. THE UNIVERSITY A SOURCE OF BOOKS FOR THE PUBLIC SCHOOLS

And, finally, what shall we say of the books for our common schools
that have been written and published by University teachers and University
alumni? Bonnycastle's Mensuration, Holmes's United States history, and
Venable's arithmetics were widely used for many years; and the famous
spelling books and readers by McGuffey have had an influence that is at
once potent, far-reaching, and wholesome. It is said that McGuffey's
activity in 1870 and later, both in the University and elsewhere in the State,
in securing the establishment of public schools and in commanding them to
general favor, were most earnest and effective.

The excellent series of readers prepared some years ago by President
Alderman was a notable contribution to our school libraries and literature.
In attractive form and easy grading he has made a fine collection of prose
and verse—classics old and new—and placed it at the disposal of our teachers
and their pupils. The history of education in Virginia, published in 1916,
by Cornelius J. Heatwole, a son of Virginia, cannot be overlooked in this
connection; and the biography of J. L. M. Curry, by Alderman and Gordon,
while it is not a text book of the ordinary type, is an informing, stimulating
story for teachers—the story of a great man who was a teacher and a leader
of teachers.

And one could not end this catalogue, however brief and fragmentary it
may be, without mentioning specially the Library of Southern Literature, a
monumental work in sixteen splendid volumes, the compilation of which was
directed largely from the University of Virginia and which is a veritable
boon not only to Virginia schools but to those also of every state of this
nation.

To indicate further the influence of the University upon Virginia public
schools and to illustrate more particularly some of the statements already
made, the following charming story is presented. It is a first-hand contribution
to this study, made by one who has recorded definite observations of
the influences we are tracing, and who is herself an eminent example of those
students and teachers who have received rich gifts from our Alma Mater,
even though they have not, as a rule, been numbered among her sons and
daughters.

"Judge James O. Shepherd, a University man, was the first superintendent
of schools in Fluvanna County. He rallied around him a teaching
force representative of nearly all the leading families of the county. He thus
(and in many other ways) set the standard high and established from the

beginning the respectability, and even the gentility, of the public school. I
recall playing with a child-visitor from an adjoining county, who spoke so
disdainfully of `free schools' that I did not once dream that they were the
same thing as our honored public schools—and I now have reason to believe
that they indeed were not the same.

"Later Judge Shepherd harped on this one string until every child
among us caught the note: `We need good public schools devoted to the
higher branches. We have the elementary school for the foundation.
Yonder we have the University for the top. But we have a great gap between.
We need to make the connection by means of a public high school
that can prepare the boys for the University.' And he worked the citizens
up to contribute liberally to this cause and obtained special dispensation
from the General Assembly to establish at the county seat that new thing—
a standard rural public high school. I was always led to understand that
this was the first of its kind in the State. . . .

"Is it at all significant that the lifelong home of Judge Shepherd is
`Mountain View?' Certainly it was from that hilltop that they used to
point out to us a symmetrical little blue peak, Monticello, adding in tones
almost reverent that just beyond was the University.

"One more fact about the Judge. When I left for Hollins, he gave me a
lead pencil with the parting injunction that I should write and rewrite Latin
exercises very carefully, `looking up things' which I did not know.

"It was in 1886, when Judge Shepherd and his neighbors, the school
trustees, were moving heaven and earth and the State Legislature to establish
a rural high school at the county seat—always with the definite ideal of
preparing boys for the University—for that was never omitted from the
statement of the case—that my teacher read in the Louisville Courier-Journal
of certain `University Local Examinations' which would be held
at various centers throughout the South just one month later. Her
prompt letter of inquiry brought from the University itself a pamphlet
definitely stating the subjects, the scope, and the requirements of these
examinations.

"The next year, perhaps, a center was established in Fluvanna, and
for some years thereafter it was the habit for the private schools of Fluvanna,
as well as for the new public high school, to stir their students'
ambition to pass these examinations. No doubt this was true in many
other sections also,—these local examinations taking the place of high
school graduation.

"First there was a preliminary examination in elementary subjects—
geography, grammar, oral reading, etc.—which must be passed before the
candidate could be considered for the `higher branches' of geometry, Cicero,
Shakespeare, etc.

Fireworks on the Lawn: The Closing Scene

"I think I shall go on now that I am recalling this occasion and set down
some of my own experiences of that new era for me, as a sample of what these
examinations might mean in inspiration.

"My teacher said that I was to go to the University and take these
examinations instead of my own `finals.' The delight of it—the thing that
made it a great adventure instead of a heavy task—was that she said if I
passed she would consider it a success, but if I should not pass she would not
judge it a failure, under the circumstances of the brief four weeks of preparation.

"Such a sense of the greatness of this quest! Such a reviewing of
geometry (and geography)! I had never heard of the Manilian Law, but it
read very much like parts of Cicero that I had been taught. I had never
studied `literature' except Shaw's History of English Literature. Neither
my teacher nor I knew that there was such a thing as an annotated edition
of a play or a poem. But there was a leather-backed Shakespeare in the
house, of course, which people read, and sometimes read aloud, though the
required play, The Tempest, was new to me until that full month when,
armed with the unabridged dictionary, I hammered at the bard's
meaning.

"Upon reaching Charlottesville (the first night I ever spent in a
town) I found the other candidate for the examination to be a girl attending
Mrs. Meade's school—Emma Moser, afterwards for many years
a valued teacher in the Charlottesville High School. This girl mentioned
her Hudson edition of The Tempest, with notes. I soon had it in my possession,
and studied it all night long (the noise of the great city of C. being
too much for a wink of sleep anyway). Why, Hudson told you everything
you had wondered about! He seemed the friendliest writer in the
world.

"Again, the gracious dignified Mrs. Meade, in gold-pinned cap, having
to leave me in her library when her class bell rang, asked whether she could
do anything for her timid guest. `If you could lend me a history of England
fuller than Goodrich's.' `Why, yes; here is one sent me lately by one of my
former pupils.'

"Thus I was introduced to Green's Short History of the English People.
I devoured its pages about Pitt's plans for applying among his countrymen
the great principles of Adam Smith's Political Economy, and how the French
Revolution broke into his high hopes. The book was so different from Peter
Parley! Best of all, the writer of the examination questions for the next day
had evidently just been reading Green also, for he followed his lines exactly,
and I could write voluminously in answer, and love Richard Green as a
friend evermore.

"At last the hour actually came for the examination. Charles S. Venable

was in charge—the first professor of the revered University that my
eyes had rested upon—and even then they rested only upon his shoes. I
was too much abashed to look into the face of the great man `who had made
the arithmetic and who understood exactly why you invert the divisor, and
everything.' So I gazed at his feet. I recall now just how they looked and
that I felt distinct satisfaction and almost a touch of wonder that they
rested upon the earth. He was kindness itself, and the thought of that good
and wise man still brings always an upward pull.

"The first thing in the preliminary examination was to read aloud some
page from some book. Professor Venable walked casually to one of the
many shelves and just as casually pulled out a volume, turned its pages and
chose one at random. Would it all dance before me like hieroglyphics?
It was the only page in that book I had ever seen. The winter before I had
been studying in my teacher's room one evening. An old lady was visiting
her. My teacher was reading to her from this very book. The old lady
dropped a stitch in her knitting. It misbehaved sadly, that stitch. It
ran back row after row. The teacher had to stop and pick it up. She
handed me the book that the reading might not break off. I read aloud
a page, and then the stitch was all right and I went back to my lessons.
And now that page was handed me to read as a first omen at the University
of Virginia. . . .

"At the end of the last examination there was a question that seemed
to invite my opinion. (It was on Shakespeare.) Could I dare to offer
what nobody thought but just ME? I recall saying to myself, `I'm twenty-five
miles from home. They'll never hear of the audacity of it. I'll never
see these professors again. I believe I'll do it. I'll take a fling.'

"And I did. I remember feeling as if I were flying—as if for once
and in some far off way—and never to be dared again—I were flying
—and in the atmosphere of those whom my imagination ranked the
highest.

"He must have laughed—whoever looked over that examination. One
could easily laugh at the importance which I attach to it now. But I go
back to that day when I see the word Renaissance. That examination was
the enfranchisement of my thought. However pitifully little that has
meant to anybody else, it has meant a good deal to me, and I thank the
University and Thomas Jefferson for it.

"There was a student who brought his books and `sat with' the candidates
when Professor Venable could not be there. In spite of my high respect,
I must have looked him over from toe to top, for I recall distinctly his
red head. He hesitated when I asked him how to spell Guinea, but I thought
it was because his mind was on higher things. I asked him whether I'd
better write fully or concisely. `If it's literature,' he said, `I think you'd

better chat along'; which I thought a delightfully familiar and condescending
mode of speech for one whose own daily words must all be exalted far
above `chat along.' "[5]