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■^ * m J • -> 




THE soldiers' FIELD AND THE 




• • • • "fc • «, 


2>. B. Updike, The Merrymount Press, Boston 

JUNE 10, 1890 


• • • • 

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• • • • -• • 

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• • • • • • • 

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• • •• • • 

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• • . • . fc* 

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Over four hundred students and 
graduates of Harvard University as- 
sembled in Sever Hall on the even- 
ing of June 10, 1890, to hear about 
"The Soldiers' Field," which had been 
given to the University by Mr. Henry 
L. Higginson. 

President Eliot spoke as follows : — 
Gentlemen: At a meeting of the Cor- 
poration yesterday, the following let- 
ter was presented: 

Boston, June 6th, 1890. 

To the President and Fellows of Har- 
vard College y Cambridge. 

Gentlemen: The deeds of Miss 

Willard's estate will be passed to you 

to-day, and with them my wtah in 

regard to it. 



The estate henceforth belongs to 
the College without any condition or 
restriction whatsoever, and for use in 
any way which the Corporation may 
see fit. 

My hope is that the ground will 
be used for the present as a play- 
ground for the students, and that, in 
case you should need the ground by 
and by for other purposes, another 
playground will be given to the stu- 

But the gift is absolutely without 
condition of any kind. 

The only other wish on my part is 
that the ground shall be called " The 
Soldiers' Field," and marked with a 
stone bearing the names of some 
dear friends, — alumni of the Uni- 
versity, and noble gentlemen, — who 



gave freely and eagerly all that they 
had or hoped for, to their country 
and to then* fellow-men in the hour 
of great need — the war of 1861 to 
1865 in defence of the Republic. 

James Savage^ Jr.^ Charles RusseU LotceU^ 
Edward Ba/rry Dalton^ Stephen George Per- 
JcinSy James Jackson LoweU^ Robert Gould 

This is only a wish, and not a con- 
dition; and, moreover, it is a happi- 
ness to me to serve in any way the 
College, which has done so much for 
us all. I am, with much respect. 

Very truly yours, 
Henry L. Higginson. 

You are too young to remember 
these men, but I remember them alL 
They were all young, — the youngest 
about twenty-six, — about the same 



age as the men in our professional 
schools. They were all schoolmates, 
college classmates, or intimate friends 
of Mr. Higginson. He who gives you 
this field was at college here, and 
afterward studied in Europe. He en- 
listed in the infantry at the breaking 
out of the Rebellion, was transferred 
to the cavalry, and, after serving 
faithfully, had to leave the service in 
1864 from the effects of his wounds. 
His six friends died; he Uved, became 
a successfril man of business, and has 
made the best possible uses of his 
money. He has promoted music in 
Boston as no other man ever has. 
This gift which he now makes to you 
is very near his heart, for, in giving 
you this land, he feels that he is do- 
ing what his friends would have liked 



to have him do. He wishes to pro- 
mote manly sports among you and 
to commemorate the soldier of 1861. 
He has come here to-night to tell 
you of his wish and his hope. 

Mr. Higginson then said : — 
I THANK you for receiving me here 
to-night, and I thank President 
Eliot for his kind words. I have 
come to tell you of my reasons for 
helping you to a playground, and of 
my wish to link with it my thoughts 
of the past and my hopes for your 
future. The story which I have to 
tell is moving to me, and, if my voice 
fails, I can only ask you for a hand. 

It has been evident for some time 
that the college playgroimds were 
too small, and therefore the Cor- 
poration of the University and your 



Athletic Committee have sought to 
enlarge them. Just across the river, 
towards Brighton, lie some beautiful 
marshes in a lovely surrounding of 
hills, woods, and water, in which Mr. 
Longfellow used to delight as he 
gazed at them from his windows; 
and which he and other friends gave 
to the College, with the provision 
that they should be kept open and 
used for play, if wanted for that 
purpose. Last sunamer these marshes 
were surveyed in order to learn the 
practicability of draining and using 
them. But, the other day, when an 
approach to them was needed, the 
owner of the adjoining estate refused 
to sell the right of way. So the Cor- 
poration looked at the land of this 
recalcitrant owner, and considered its 



to value for your games and for its own 
sr, future needs. The estate lies just 
across the Brighton Bridge, to the 
right, and takes in about twenty-one 
acres of upland pasture, and about 
ten acres of marsh — in all about 
thirty-one acres — with a couple of 
houses. The Corporation approved of 
the land and has acquired it. Do you 
approve also? I hope so, and, if it 
suits you, one point will have been 
gained. You will have a walk to it, 
but not long enough to weary strong 
men. Try the ground and see if it is 
good for your uses. 

It is very pleasant to do you a 
kindness, and every one is glad of 
a chance to serve the dear old Col- 
lege. She needs help, and thought, 
and devotion, and gratitude from us 



all, for she has given us and our 
land more than any one of us will 
^ve back. She will keep on giv- 
ing; and I now ask a kindness of 

This field means more than a 
playground to me, for I ask to 
make it a memorial to some dear 
friends who gave their lives and all 
that they had or hoped for, to their 
country and to their fellow-men in 
the hour of great need — the War 
of the Rebellion. They gave their 
lives in the cause of virtue and good 
government, and to save our nation 
from the great sins of disunion and 
of slavery. This is what we claim 
for our Northern men. 

These friends were men of mark, 

either as to mental or moral powers, 



or both, and were dead in earnest 
about life in all its phases. They 
lived in happy homes and were sur- 
rounded with friends, mothers, fa- 
thers, sisters, brothers, sweethearts, 
— had high hopes for the future and 
with good cause, too; but, at the 
first call of our great captain, Abra- 
ham Lincoln, they went at once, 
gladly, eagerly to the front, and 
stayed there. Not a doubt, not a 
thought of themselves, except to 
serve : and they did serve to the end, 
and were happy in their service. 

They were men of various talents 
and they had various fortunes. 

One of them was first scholar in 
his class — thoughtful, kind, affec- 
tionate, gentle, full of solicitude 
about his companions, and about 



his duties. He was wounded in a 
very early fight of the war and, after 
his recovery and a hard campaign 
on the peninsula, was killed at Glen- 
dale on the fourth of July, '62. Hear 
his own words: "When the class 
meets in years to come and honors 
its statesmen and judges, its divines 
and doctors, let also the score who 
went to fight for their country be 
remembered, and let not those who 
never returned be forgotten." If you 
had known James Lowell, you 
would never have forgotten him. 

Another I first saw one evening 
in our first camp at Brook Farm — 
a beautiful, sunny-haired, blue-eyed 
boy, gay and droll, and winning in 
his ways. In those early days of 

camp-life, we fellows were a bit 



homesick and longed for the com- 
pany of ghrls — you know how it is 
yourselves — and I fell in love with 
this boy, and I have not fallen out 
yet. He was of a very simple and 
manly nature — steadfast and affec- 
tionate, human to the last degree — 
without much ambition except to do 
his plain duty. You should have seen 
Robert Shaw as he, with his chosen 
officers, led away from Boston his 
black men of the Fifty-fourth Massa- 
chusetts amid the cheers of his towns- 
men. Presently he took them up to 
the assault of Fort Wagner, and was 
buried with them there in the trench. 
Still another line, handsome fel- 
low, great oarsman, charming com- 
panion, wit, philosopher, who de- 
lighted in intellectual pursuits, and 



in his fellow-creatures, whom he 
watched with his keen eyes and well 
understood, was kiUed m a foolish, 
bloody battle while stemming the 
tide of defeat. He was at this time 
too ill to march ; but, with other sick 
officers, left the ambulances because 
he was needed in this fight. I well 
remember almost our last day to- 
gether—sitting on a log m a slug- 
gish stream m Maryland, washing 
ourselves and our clothes, and then 
drying ourselves in the sim, — and 
his wonderftd talk of the delights 
of an intellectual life. That was his 
realm, and no one in our young days 
did more to mould his mates than 
Stephen Perkins did. 

Yet another — a first scholar, be- 
cause he couldn't help it — full of 




thought, life, and intense vigor — 
brimful of ideas-brilliant and strong 
beyond compare — had soon after 
leaving college exhausted himself by 
overwork. After distmguished ser- 
vice with his regunent and on the 
staff of Gteneral McClellan, who 
smgled him out for honor, he led his 
troopers of the Second Massachusetts 
cavalry in the Shenandoah campaign 
of '64, was always in the front, lost 

thirteen h»«es to his d.ri.H! efforts 
to win success, and at last, when 
so wounded that he could not speak, 
rode forward in his last charge, when 
Sheridan had come back to win the 
battle of Cedar Creek, Read the 
story of that splendid campaign and 
see how even there the figure of 
Charles Lowell stands out 



These friends were men of unusual 
powers, but they all bowed down to 
the goodness and the purity of one 
other — James Savage. He also was 
an enthusiast, and had little health 
and no words, — but ate himself up 
with his thoughts and his fiery wishes 
— sometimes as gay as a lark and then 
depressed from ill health and disap- 
pointment with himself — very fond 
of his books and of nature — much 
given to games and a great rusher 
at football from pure will-power and 
enthusiasm — courageous to the last 
degree. We two fellows went to 
Fitchburg just after war was de- 
clared, to recruit a company for the 
Second Massachusetts infantry, and 
when our regiment was ready to 
march, the colors were intrusted to 



us. This recruiting was strange work 
to us all, and the men who came 
to our little recruiting office asked 
many new questions, which I did 
my best to answer; but often these 
recruits would turn to the "captain," 
as they called him, listen to his 
replies and then swear allegiance, as 
it were, to him. He, the quietest 
and most modest of men, was im- 
mensely impressive, for he was a 
real knight — -just and gentle to all 
friends, defiant to the enemies of 
his coimtry and to all wrong-doers. 
He also fell woimded in that most 
fooUsh battie, where his regiment lost 
fourteen out of twenty-two officers, 
and was sacrificed to the good of the 
army. He died m the hands of the 
enemy, who tended him kindly and 



were deeply moved by his patience 
and his fortitude. 

The last was a physician, by 
choice and by nature, if intelligence, 
energy, devotion, and sweetness can 
help the sick. After various services 
from the outstart till '64, he was put 
by Gteneral Grant in charge of the 
great hospital camp at City Point in 
Virginia, where ten thousand sick and 
wounded men lay. Here he worked 
out his life-blood to save that of 
others. If I may turn to football lan- 
guage, he played "fiill-back," and no 
one ever reached the last goal if hu- 
man power could stop him. 

After the end of the war. New 
York City needed a vigorous medi- 
cal officer to cleanse it and guard it 

agamst a threatened epidemic, and 



leading men turned to our friend for 
this work. General Grant was then in 
command of the army, and was asked 
to reeo^nendthi^ physician. But the 
General was weary of such requests, 
and refused without even knowing 
who the candidate was. 

"But hear his name, at least," 
these citizens said; and they told 
it to him. 

Grant at once wrote: "Dr. Ed- 
ward Dalton is the best man in 
the United States for this place." 
And Dr. Dalton did one more pub- 
lic service and then settled into pri- 
vate life. Presently he died of dis- 
ease brought on by exhaustion during 
the war. 

All these men were dear friends 
to me; and with three of them I 



had lived from childhood on the 
most intimate terms, doing and dis- 
cussing everything on earth, and m 
heavJ, J^ will,_u™g, in- 
deed, a very fiiU life with them, 
and through them, — so full were 
they of thoughts, and hopes, and 
feelings, about aU possible thmgs. 
These men are a loss to the world, 
and heaven must have sorely needed 
them to have taken them from us 
so early in their lives. And now I 
ask to mark their names and memo- 
ries on our new playgroimd. Shall 
we caU it "The Soldiers' Field"? 
Of eoiu*se, thousands and thousands 
of other soldiers deserved equally 
well of their coimtry, and should 
be equally remembered and honored 
by the world. I only say that these 



were my fnends, and therefore I ask 
this memorial for them. 

Mr, James Russell Lowell has, at 
my request, given me a few words of 
his own for the stone to be put up on 
this field, and also some lines of Mr. 
Emerson. I will read them to you: — 

To the Happy Memory of James Savagej Jr., 
Charles RusseU LoweUy Edward Barry Dal- 
tofiy Stephen George PerkmSy James Jackson 
LoweUy Robert Gould ShaWy — Friendsy Com- 
radeSy Kmsmeriy — who died for their Cotmtryy 
this Field is dedicated. 

'' Though love repine, and reason chafe. 
There came a voice without reply, — 
^*Tis man* s perdition to be safe. 
When for the truth he ought to die.* " 

And let me say here that the war 
was not boy's play. No men of any 
country ever displayed more intelli- 



gence, devotion, energy, brilliancy, 
fortitude, in any cause than did our 
Southern brothers. Hunger, cold, 
sickness, wounds, captivity, hard 
work, hard blows, — all these were 
their portion and ours. Look at the 
records of other wars and you '11 no- 
where find examples of more courage 
in marching and fighting, or greater 
losses in camp or battle, than each 
side showed. We won because we 
had more substitutes and more sup- 
plies; and also from the force of a 
larger patriotism on our side. We 
wore them out. Let me tell you of 
just one case. A friend and comrade, 
leading his regiment in the last days 
of the war into Richmond, picked up 
a voluntary prisoner, and this is the 

conversation between them : — 



"Why did you come in?" 

**Well, me and the lieutenant was 
all there was left of the regiment, 
and yesterday the Heutenant was 
shot, and so I thought I might as 
well come in." 

It was not boy's play; and to-day 
these Southern brothers are as cordial 
and as kindly to us as men can be, as 
I have found by experience. 

Now, what do the lives of our 
friends teach us? Surely the beauty 
and the holiness of work and of utter, 
unselfish, thoughtful devotion to the 
right cause, to our country, and to 
mankind. It is well for us all, for you 
and for the boys of future days, to 
remember such deeds and such lives 
and to ponder on them. These men 
loved study and work, and loved 



play too. They delighted in athletic 
games, and would have used this 
field, which is now given to the Col- 
lege and to you for your health and 
recreation. But my chief hope in re- 
gard to it is, that it will help to make 
you full-grown, well-developed men, 
able and ready to do good work 
of all kinds, — steadfastly, devotedly, 
thoughtfully ; and that it will remind 
you of the reason for living, and of 
your own duties as men and citizens 
of the Republic. 

On you, and such as you, rests the 
burden of carrying on this country in 
the best way. From the day of John 
Harvard down to this hour, no pains 
or expense have been spared by 
teachers and by laymen to build up 
our University (and pray remember 



that it is our University — that it be- 
longs to us — to you and to me), and 
thus educate you ; and for what end ? 
For service to your country and your 
fellow-men in all sorts of ways — in 
all possible callings. Everywhere we 
see the signs of ferment, — questions 
social, moral, mental, physical, eco- 
nomical. The pot is boiling hard and 
you must tend it, or it will run over 
and scald the world. For us came the 
great questions of slavery and of na- 
tional integrity, and they were not 
hard to answer. Your task is more 
difficult, and yet you must fulfil it. 
Do not hope that things will take 
care of themselves, or that the old 
state of affairs will come back. The 
world on all sides is moving fast, and 

you have only to accept this fact, 



making the best of everything, — 
helping, sympathizing, and so guid- 
ing and restraining others, who have 
less education, perhaps, than you. 
Do not hold off from them ; but go 
straight on with them, side by side, 
learning from them and teaching 
them. It is our national theory and 
the theory of the day, and we have 
accepted it, and must live by it, until 
the whole world is better and wiser 
than now. You must in honor live 
by work, whether you need bread or 
not, and presently you will enjoy the 
labor. Remember that the idle and 
indifferent are the dangerous classes 
of the community. Not one of you 
would be here and would receive all 
that is given to you, unless many 
other men and women had worked 



hard for you. Do not too readily 
think that you have done enough, 
simply because you have aceom- 
pUshed something. There is no 
enough, so long as you can better 
the lives of your fellow-beings. Your 
success in life depends not on tal- 
ents, but on will. Surely, genius is 
the power of working hard, and long, 
and well. 

One of these friends, Charles Low- 
ell, dead, and yet alive to me as you 
are, wrote me just before his last 
battle : — 

"Don't grow rich ; if you once be- 
gin, you 11 find it much more diffi- 
cult to be a useful citizen. Don't seek 
office; but don't *disremember' that 
the useful citizen holds his time, his 
trouble, his money, and his life al- 



ways ready at the hint of his country. 
The useful citizen is a mighty, unpre- 
tending hero; but we are not going 
to have a country very long unless 
such heroism is developed. There! 
what a stale sermon I 'm preaching ! 
But, being a soldier, it does seem to 
me that I should hke nothing so well 
as being a useful citizen." 

This was his last charge to me, 
and in a month he was in his grave. 
I have tried to live up to it, and I 
ask you to take his words to heart, 
and to be moved and guided by 

And just here let me, a layman, 
say a word to you experts in athletic 
sports. You come to college to learn 
things of great value beside your 
games, which, after all, are secondary 



to your studies. But, in your games, 
there is just one thing which you 
cannot do, even to win success. You 
cannot do one tricky or shabby thing. 
Translate tricky and shabby — dis- 
honest, ungentlemanlike. 

Princeton is not wicked; Yale is 
not base. 

Lately I travelled with an ex- 
Southern artillery officer, and was 
rather glad that I did not try ar year 
or two ago to take his guns. I asked 
him of his family, and he said : "I Ve 
just sent a boy to Yale, after teach- 
ing him all in my power. I told him 
to go away, and not to return with 
any provincial notions. Remember," 
I said, "there is no Kentucky, no 
Virginia, no Massachusetts, but one 
great country." 




Mates, the Princeton and the Yale 
fellows are our brothers. Let us beat 
them fairly if we can, and believe 
that they will play the game just as 
we do. 

Gentlemen, will you remember 
that this new playground will only 
be good if it is used constantly and 
freely by you all, and that it is a 
legacy from my friends to the dear 
old College, and so to you? 


OCTOBER 15, 1901 

• 4 

• • • 

• • • 

• • • 

• • • 


* « 

• • 




Mr. President, Teachers, Gradu- 
ates, and Students of Harvard Uni- 
versity, — Friends All. 

This house is finished and you all 
are welcome to its halls. Of its origin 
and history you have known some- 
thing, and now will you hsten to a 
few facts about it, and to a few 
thoughts concerning it, which have 
come to me during the past sum- 

For several years men have dreamed 

of and striven for such a plan, and thus 

have laid the foundation for it. Two 

Harvard Professors especially have 

given it much thought and labor, and 

a large committee of students, with 

the help of other teachers and gradu- 



ates, have threshed out the constitu- 
tion and selected the books. When 
the building was set on foot, three 
graduates at once asked to furnish 
the house. Mr. James H. Hyde of 
'98 has ^ven us the library — both 
fittings and books. Mr. Francis L. 
Hig^nson of '63, and Mr. Augustus 
Hemenway of '75, old and proved 
friends of the University, have ^ven 
us the furniture. 

These carved panels, these mantel- 
pieces and coats of arms at either end 
of the hall, as well as the brass wreath 
in the floor yonder, are gifts of vari- 
ous graduates, students, and friends. 
The bust of John Harvard is the 
work and the gift of the distinguished 
sculptor, Mr. Daniel C. French, and 

the bust of Washington together 



with the eagle and the stag-horns we 
have from the hands of our great 

The chief happiness of this archi- 
tect seems to lie in the beautification 
of our college grounds, and with the 
help of his able lieutenant, a late 
graduate, he has made this building 
a labor of love. He has outdone even 

Thus you see that our house 
springs from the imagination and the 
work of many men, and you may be 
sure that the work and the joy of 
building it have gone hand in hand. 

It is pleasant to record such an 
united effort in behalf of Mother 
Harvard, for she exists only through 
the constant labor and bounty of her 
friends. It is her whole mission in life 



to pour out her blessings on us, and 
we as grateful children can do no 
less than hold up and strengthen her 
hands, thus emulating the example 
of her friends outside, who have of 
late showered her with gifts in so 
splendid and thoughtful a fashion. 

Wandering through Europe during 
the last six months I have again been 
deeply impressed by the wonderful 
beauty of the Gothic cathedrals with 
theu- noble architecture, their win- 
dows of splendid colored glass, their 
numberless memorials to men and 
women of all degrees for pubUc ser- 
vices and private virtues, to children, 
to rich harvests, to plagues, to vic- 
tories; and I have again been filled 
with awe and with admiration of 
their builders. 



The architects and rulers planned, 
the stonecutters and masons wrought, 
the peasants put in their pennies, the 
old guilds of workmen and of trades- 
folks, the kings, the bishops, the gen- 
try, — all bore a hand, and the cathe- 
drals arose. 

This fine idea running through 
them all struck me forcibly, viz., the 
great house of meeting built by many 
men for all men, where they together 
might sing praises to God and join 
with each other in friendly inter- 
course and mutual help. 

The same idea presents itself to us 
of this century also in the shape of 
schools and colleges founded and 
carried on by the many for all — a 
true democracy. 

Some Harvard graduates conceived 



a meeting-house for Harvard stu- 
dents, joined heads and hands, and 
the house is here — a house open to 
all Harvard men without restriction 
and in which they all stand equal — 
a house bearing no name forever 
except that of our University. 

Harvard students, you come here 
to be educated in the lecture-room 
and in the laboratory by your teach- 
ers, and to be educated by your daily 
life with each other ; and it is a ques- 
tion which form will profit you more. 

With the former part of your edu- 
cation, we laymen may well be con- 
tent, trusting to your own zeal for 
work and to the powers of this chosen 
band of teachers. 

For the latter part of your educa- 
tion the chances are less because the 



opportunities of free social inter- 
course among yourselves have not 
kept pace with the increasing num- 
ber of students. 

Excellent as are the existing clubs, 
they do not furnish the required field, 
for by their very nature they are lim- 
ited in numbers and restricted by 
elections. Hence the need to you of 
this house for meeting each other, for 
meeting your teachers, who would 
gladly see you more freely, and for 
meeting the older graduates, who ask 
for the sunshine of your young, fresh 
years. One common meeting-ground 
we already have. 

Yonder on the Delta stands a hall 
built in memory of Harvard men, 
who gave all they had or hoped for 
in this life that their country should 



be one, and should be ruled in the 
spirit of a broad and generous de- 
mocracy. So high were the hopes 
of these men, so strong were their 
wishes, so firm their resolve, that our 
land should be the home of a free, 
united people, a field for the full 
development of the human race, that 
they thought no price too great to 
pay for that end. 

Such was their problem and such 
their spirit, and in future years you 
will meet your great questions in the 
same spirit. 

It is much to give up home, health, 
even life, in order to carry out one's 
national ideal, and yet it is the plain, 
over-mastering duty of the citizen in 
a free land. It is much for the loser 
in such a fierce struggle as our Civil 



War to give up the idea for which 
he has paid the last price, and to ac- 
cept the outcome with a fine magna- 
nimity as our brothers of the South 
have done. They have recognized that 
this whole country is theirs as well 
as ours. 

We older men can hardly enter 
the cloister of Memorial Hall with- 
out a quickening of the pulses and 
a moistening of the eyes, without a 
feeling of sadness at the loss of our 
comrades and of gladness that they 
never hesitated in their course. 

But it is not the memory of these 

men alone, whose names stand there 

on the roll of honor for all time, 

which moves us. We think of other 

fidends who have run equal chances 

of danger, and have fought the long 



battle of life as bravely; men who 
have made this University what it is, 
or who have rendered distinguished 
services to their fellow-citizens and 
their country — we think of the many 
men who, leading useful lives in the 
background, are rarely mentioned, 
but whose memories are cherished 
by their classmates. 

We think of all these comrades 
with equal tenderness and respect, 
and as one after another, worn out 
with work or by the hard blows of 
life, drops, we close up the ranks, and 
drawing nearer to each other, we 
move on. It is the record of deep 
mutual trust and friendship, and such 
a boon we would pass on to you. 

Our new house is built in the be- 
lief that here also will dwell this same 



spirit of democracy side by side with 
the spirit of true comradeship, friend- 
ship ; but to-day this house is a mere 
shell, a body into which you. Harvard 
students, and you alone can breathe 
life and then by a constant and gen- 
erous use of it educate yourselves and 
each other. 

Looking back in life I can see no 
earthly good which has come to me 
so great, so sweet, so uplifting, so 
consoling, as the friendship of the 
men and the women whom I have 
known well and loved — friends who 
have been equally ready to give and 
to receive kind offices and timely 

Is there anything more delightful 

than the ties between young fellows 

which spring up and strengthen in 



daily college life — friendships bom of 
sympathy, confidence, and aflPection, 
as yet untouched by the interests and 
claims of later life ? 

We older men would offer to you 
a garden in which such saplings will 
grow until they become the oaks to 
whose shade you may always return 
for cheer and for rest in your victo- 
ries and your troubles. Be sure that 
you will have both, for the one you 
will win and the other you must 
surely meet; and when they come, 
nothing will steady and strengthen 
you like real friends who will speak 
the frank words of truth tempered by 
affection — friends who wiU help you 
and never count the cost. 

Friendship is the full-grown team- 
play of life, and in my eyes there is 



no limit to its value. The old proverb 
tells us that we have as many uses 
for fiiendship as for fire and water. 
Never doubt it, for you know all these 
things, and by and by you will feel 
them all around you — in your hearts. 

It is this education, this joy which 
we would bring to you with your 
new house. We hope that in years to 
come you, on returning to Cambridge, 
will experience the same feelings that 
we have in Memorial Hall, when you 
think of your comrades here, who in 
due course will have done nobly their 
part in life. 

Already on these walls stand tab- 
lets to great sons of Harvard, whose 
memories will ever be green, and 
much space remains for others who 
deserve well of their fellows. It may 



be that you will wish to record in 
this house the names of our young 
brothers who went to the Cuban war 
and never came back. Perhaps you 
may establish here, as at Oxford, an 
arena, where you can thresh out the 
questions of the day, and learn to 
state on your feet your opinions and 
the reasons for them. 

One point pray note. The house 
will fail of its full purpose unless 
there is always a warm comer for 
that body of men who devote them- 
selves to the pursuit of knowledge 
and to your instruction — the whole 
staflP of Harvard University, from our 
distinguished and honored President, 
the professors, librarians, and instruc- 
tors to the youngest proctor. And if 
you see an older graduate enter the 



hall, go and sit beside him, tell him 
the college news, and make him a 
welcome guest, for this is the house 
of friendship. He wants your news 
and he likes boys, else he would not 
have come. Old men are more shy of 
boys than boys of old men. I have 
been one and am the other — and 
ought to know. Like the Arabs, nail 
wide open your doors and oflPer freely 
to all comers the salt of hospitaUty, 
for it is a great and a charming virtue. 
Harvard students, we older men 
ask for you every joy and every bless- 
ing which has fallen to our lot, and 
we ask of you higher aims and hopes 
than ours, together with better work 
and greater achievements, for your 
problems will be harder, and your 
tasks greater than ours have been. 



Remember that our University was 
founded for the public good and that 
it has a great history — that steady 
progress is essential to its moral and 
intellectual health and that the health 
and true welfare of our University 
and our country go hand in hand. 
Thus have they been made and thus 
only shall they endure. 

Henceforth the government of this 
house is in your hands. May it be used 
only for the general good, and may 
private ends never be sought here ! 

In these halls may you, young men, 

see visions and dream dreams, and 

may you keep steadily burning the 

fire of high ideals, enthusiasm, and 

hope, otherwise you cannot share in 

the great work and glory of our new 

century. Already this century is bring- 



ing to you younger men questions 
and decisions to the fiiU as interest- 
ing and as vital as the last century 
brought to us. Every honor is open 
to you, and every victory, if only you 
will dare, will strive strongly, and will 

Ours is the past and to you the 
future, and I am sure that the wel- 
fare and the honor of Harvard is as 
safe in your hands as it has been in 
those of your forbears. 

Let Memorial Hall stand a temple 
consecrated to the spirit of large pa- 
triotism and of true democracy. 

Let this house stand a temple con- 
secrated to the same spirit and to 

One word more to you future citi- 
zens of the United States. 



We as a nation have suffered a 
terrible blow, aimed at our national 
life, which, while resulting in the 
death of our chief magistrate, leaves 
our country absolutely unhurt, be- 
cause we have a government of laws 
and not of men, and because our peo- 
ple are sound and true. 

No one in his senses will for a 
moment offer any palliation of the 
cowardly, treacherous crime. 

We reply by a renewal of our con- 
fession of faith, and by a stem resolve 
to square our daily thoughts and acts 
with our national faith and polity. 

While we recognize that normal 

social conditions must constantly 

change, we meet such false and fatal 

insanity of thought and of deed by a 

noble sanity of thought and conduct, 



for ours is a government of healthy 
progress and not of anarchy. 

May God keep safe and guide 
aright our fellow-graduate, Theodore 
Roosevelt, President of the United 


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