Indiana university, 1820-1920; centennial memorial volume

A. P. Lange

INDIANA UNIVERSITY, 1820-1920
CENTENNIAL MEMORIAL VOLUME

Copyright 1921

by
INDIANA UNIVERSITY

l*j Ct.F.

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Contents

FOREWORD WILLIAM LOWE BRYAN, '84 5

PART I
HISTORY OF INDIANA UNIVERSITY DAVID DEMAREE BANTA, '55 9

PART II

THE AMERICAN UNIVERSITY: TODAY AND TOMORROW

JACOB GOULD SCHURMAN 117

RESEARCHES ON SPIROCHAETA PALLIDA

ALDRED SCOTT WARTHIN, '88 141

THE UNIVERSITY MEDICAL SCHOOL AND THE STATE

ALDRED SCOTT WARTHIN, '88 157

GRADUATE MEDICAL EDUCATION: EXPERIENCE WITH THE

MINNESOTA PLAN ELIAS POTTER LYON 163

THE THOMAS JEFFERSON THEORY OF EDUCATION

SAMUEL MOFFETT RALSTON 179

THE STATE UNIVERSITY AND BUSINESS EVANS WOOLLEN 193

THE STATE UNIVERSITY AT THE OPENING OF THE TWEN-
TIETH CENTURY EDWARD A. BIRGE 203

THE FUNCTIONS OF THE STATE UNIVERSITY PAUL SHOREY 223

THE OBLIGATION OF THE STATE TOWARD SCIENTIFIC RE-
SEARCH JAMES ROWLAND ANGELL 243

THE FUTURE OF LEGAL EDUCATION ROSCOE POUND 257

A PRESENT NEED IN AMERICAN PROFESSIONAL EDUCATION.

ROBERT ANDREWS MILLIKAN 273

SPIRITUAL FRONTIERSMEN FRANCIS JOHN McCoNNELL 281

THE SPIRITUAL IDEA OF THE UNIVERSITY

SIR ROBERT ALEXANDER FALCONER 293

THE CENTENNIAL COMMENCEMENT. .. 305

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Indiana University

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X

Foreword

THE AMERICAN PAGEANT, as I see it, has two movements. First
is a descent. Whenever civilized men have gone far into the wil-
derness to live, they have at first lost some part of their civiliza-
tion.

For an immediate illustration, take Indiana in the middle of
the last century. Our people had the civilized mother tongue.
But in 1840 fourteen per cent of the adults (38,600) could not
read or write, and in 1850 twenty-two per cent of them (75,017)
could not read or write. They had schools, academies, colleges,
men and women of learning and cultivation. But in 1848 forty-
four per cent of our people voted against free public schools, and
in this county, the seat of this University, seventy-nine and four-
tenths per cent of the people voted against free public schools.
They had the law, the ancient law developed in southern and
western Europe since before the Christian era, and some men
learned in the law. But in 1852 our people wrote it into their
constitution that a man might be a counsellor at the bar however
ignorant, and they prescribed that in criminal cases a jury how-
ever ignorant should be the sole judges of the law. They were not
without the elements of art. They had music. They had the
pioneer melodies that Riley loved to hear the Old Band play.
We are not ashamed of the melody nor of the Band. But the
great music was not there. The empire of Beethoven was as far
from our people generally as the empire of Genghis Khan.

The making of a home in America by Europeans since 1492 is
the greatest event of modern history. But everywhere at first it
involved descent.

I have an opinion as to WHY civilization goes down and down
in the backwoods. It is, I think, because the circle of great voca-
tions, the learned professions, the sciences, the arts, the more
delicate handicrafts cannot be kept up there on the highest level.
There is not a living for those who follow them. The occasional
genius may be there. But the circle of masters surrounded by a
swarm of journeymen and apprentices is never there. The finer
arts are lost. The children of the woods forget what their fath-

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6 Indiana University

ers knew. And as they forget and forget they sink toward the
barbaric life.

Nevertheless in the American backwoods there were always
conditions which made possible re-ascent. There was always the
blood of the great races. There was always the potential capac-
ity to do any sort of work which is possible for a man. There
was always the potential hunger to resume the great occupa-
tions at their best. There was sometimes, as I have said, the
genius who came up out of the woods to win world recognition
and show his neighbors a glimpse of the upward way.

And so, as soon as it was possible, as soon as they had earned
a little leisure, the eager children of the woods began to climb
the upward ways. They began to hear from far the voices of the
great masters in every vocation. They began to glimpse from far
the vision of science, the vision of art, perhaps the vision of in-
dustry not divorced from art or from religion. This is the thrill-
ing second scene of our American Pageant, of our Indiana Page-
ant,— this eager throng who will relearn all that the ancient East
can teach and will then cheerfully dare in every vocation new
ventures of which the East dared not to dream.

WILLIAM LOWE BKYAN.

PART I

HISTORY OF INDIANA UNIVERSITY

DAVID DEMAREE BANTA was born in Johnson county, Indiana, May 23, 1833
He attended Franklin College for a time, but later entered Indiana University
from which he was graduated B.S. in 1855 and LL.B. in 1857. He was judge of
the sixteenth judicial circuit, 1870 to 1876, and a trustee of Indiana University
from 1877 to 1889, serving as president of the board from 1882 until his resigna-
tion in 1889. In the latter year, upon the revival of the School of Law, he be-
came its first dean, holding this position until his death in Bloomington on April
9, 18.96. Judge Banta was the author of A Historical Sketch of Johnson County t
Indiana, and of a work entitled Making a Neighborhood, dealing with the old
Shiloh Church neighborhood in western Johnson county. He also wrote a
number of papers and sketches relating to local history and out-of-door subjects.

HISTORY OF INDIANA UNIVERSITY

By the Late DAVID DEMAREE BANTA, '55

[The following six addresses were delivered by Judge Banta on successive Foundation Day
from 1889 to 1894, during the time of his service as dean of the School of Law. These manuscripts
are in the possession of the University, and the addresses were published one after the other in
successive issues of the Indiana University Alumni Quarterly, beginning with the first issue
of the magazine, January, 1914.]

I. THE SEMINARY PERIOD (1820-28)

IN THE ACT of Congress of April 18, 1816, providing for the ad-
mission of Indiana into the Union, is found the germ of the Indiana
University. Certain propositions were tendered by that act to the
people of the proposed new state for " their free acceptance or rejec-
tion", two of which related to education; and one was the proposi-
tion on the part of the federal government to donate to the new
state a township of land "for the use of a seminary of learning".

The constitutional convention met at Corydon on June 18
following, and in nineteen days framed an organic law under which
Indiana was admitted and her people prospered for thirty-five
years. To the lasting honor of the members of that convention be
it spoken, they accepted the proposition of Congress relating to
learning in a spirit as broad and liberal as that in which it had been
tendered. I need not stop to read to you the splendid tribute they
paid to liberal learning, nor the pledge they made to faithfully
execute the trusts imposed by the liberality of Congress. It is
enough for me to present in their own words a summing up of the
duties the people of the new state assumed in behalf of their schools.
In the second section of the ninth article it is declared that "It
shall be the duty of the General Assembly, as soon as circumstances
will permit, to provide by law for a general system of education
ascending in a regular gradation from township schools to a State
University, wherein tuition shall be gratis and equally open to all."

Whatever may be said as to the subsequent performance, the
pledge given by the new state was as liberal as the most zealous
friend of learning in all the land could have wished. The state stood
committed by her organic law to a free school system that should
begin in the district school and end in the University.

On July 10, eleven days after the convention had adjourned,

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President Madison designated the Seminary township. This town-
ship, which in the subsequent organization of Monroe county be-
came a part thereof, had been surveyed under the laws of the United
States as early as 1812, and the notes of the surveyor were doubtless
before the President when the selection was made, for it was appar-
ent that a better selection could not have been made within the then
surveyed limits as near to the geographical center of the state. The
township chosen was well timbered and well watered, and its many
productive farms of today attest the native fertility of the soil.

To the framers of the constitution it was evident that the sale
of any of the school lands at that time would be imprudent, so they
provided in the organic law that none should be sold before 1820.
The settled parts of Indiana at the time of the admission were
confined to a narrow fringe of territory extending down the Ohio
state line from Wayne county to the Ohio river, and thence down
that river to the Wabash, and up that to Vincennes. The larger
parts of what are known as eastern, southern, and western Indiana,
and all of central and northern Indiana, were a wilderness. Less
than a fourth part of the lands within the state had been surveyed,
and to nearly all the unsurveyed parts the Indians claimed title.
The southern Indian boundary line crossed the Wabash a few miles
south of the present site of Newport in Vermilion county; and
thence it ran southeasterly, crossing the west fork of White river
at Gosport, and thru the territory now known as Monroe county,
leaving fully a fourth of it on the Indian side, and struck the east
fork of White river about midway between Seymour and Browns-
town, whence it ran in a general northeast course till it cut the Ohio
line east of the present site of Portland in Jay county. The white
population of the state verged upon 64,000, and delegates from
thirteen border counties sat in the constitutional convention.

By a treaty made with the Delaware and some other Indians, in
the fall of 1818, the southern Indian boundary was set back well up
towards the sources of the Wabash river ; and two years thereafter
the door to all of central Indiana, then and long after known as the
New Purchase, was thrown open to an anxious throng of hardy
pioneer home-hunters.

In spite of the manifold hindrances in the way of a speedy coloni-
zation of the New Purchase, the settlers came in. It is a difficult
matter for the people of today to gain an adequate idea of all they
had to encounter; and yet without something of this, no one can
rate at its true value the founding and maintenance of our beloved

Centennial Memorial Volume 13

school here in the woods. Before the Indians had ceased to occupy,
the advance guard began to invade the New Purchase; and by the
fall of 1820 the sound of the pioneer's ax was heard in every county
watered by White river and its tributaries, from the "Forks" to its
sources. The immigrants came by way of the Indian trails or cut
"traces" thru the woods. Some came in wagons and some in
sleds. Many packed in on horseback, and a few came on foot. In
1820 the census showed a population of more than 147,000, as
against 64,000 of five years before; and by 1825 it had mounted up
to a quarter of a million.

These were all poor men — poor even for their own day. Most
were able to buy forty, eighty, or a hundred acres of land at "Con-
gress price", but there were comparatively few that could do more.

What had they undertaken? To subdue the wilderness; to
wrest from reluctant Nature a livelihood for themselves and their
families ; to construct highways ; to build towns ; to establish churches
and schools; and, in a word, to make a state.

What had they to encounter? Who can tell! The story of their
hardships never has been and never can be fully told. We have not
time to dwell upon it here. Let us be content with a bare recital of
some of the topics that would enter into the story. There was the
forest — dense, damp, gloomy, unexcelled in its magnitude on this
great forest continent of ours; swamps interminable where now are
fruitful fields; wild beasts waiting to devour the products of labor;
the late and early frosts; the annual floods; the want of markets; a
financial revulsion more disastrous in its consequences than has ever
cursed the people of Indiana since ; and the almost universal preval-
ence of the autumnal and other sicknesses peculiar to a new country.
From 1820 to 1825 the mortality in the state was appalling. In the
fall of 1820 the sickness in the Blue river settlements was so great
that there were not enough well persons left to nurse the sick ones.
In 1822 an epidemic of fever broke out in the new town of Indian-
apolis and carried off seventy-two persons, one-eighth of the popula-
tion. In 1820 over one hundred out of the population of six hundred
died in Vevay. Palestine, then the seat of justice in Lawrence
county, was nearly depopulated ; and in "most neighborhoods", says
an early historian, "there were but few persons who escaped without
one or more severe attacks of fever". "Death numbered his vic-
tims by hundreds. The land was filled with mourning and the
graveyards filled with the pioneer dead."

Notwithstanding the United States surveyors had established
the "lines and corners" thruout the greater part of Monroe county

14 Indiana University

as early as 1812, the first pioneer's cabin seems not to have been
built within the present county boundaries till some time in 1815 — a
backwardness to take advantage of the public surveys that can be
accounted for by the nearness of the Indian country. In that year
David McHolland, a famous hunter and a "jovial fiddler", settled
on Clear creek close up to the south boundary of the Seminary dona-
tion. Others followed, a few the same year, more the next, and so
on. In 1816, according to the local historian, the first white men's
cabins were built on the after-site of Bloomington. Early in 1818
Monroe county was organized, and in April of the same year Bloom-
ington was staked out adjoining the Seminary township on the
north.

The new town seems to have outstripped all of its inland com-
petitors, a circumstance due mainly to the nearness of the Seminary
towrtship. At the close of the year it contained 140 inhabitants,
living in thirty hastily constructed cabins; and the number was
doubled the year following. By 1820 the public square was cleared
of the last of its native forest trees, the log courthouse was outgrown,
and Colonel John Ketcham was at work on a brick structure which,
when completed four years later,1 was esteemed so highly for its
great beauty of design and excellence of finish that the county
commissioners ordered that it should not be opened to the gaze of
profane eyes save for certain specified purposes, one of which was
"when any person shall want admittance for the purpose of acquir-
ing architectural knowledge". Thus early was Bloomington
vaunting herself on account of her educational facilities.

The constitution, as we have seen, inhibited the sale of any lands
granted for school purposes before 1820. That time was now at
hand, and whatever the sentiment elsewhere might be, Bloomington
was ready for the new State Seminary. The legislature was to
meet in December and would last about six weeks. Monroe county
was attached to other counties for representative and senatorial
purposes, and it so happened that her people were not represented
in either house by a citizen from their midst. In the lower house,
John DePauw answered for them, and in the upper, Alexander Little,
both from the same county, Washington. The men of Bloomington
were not satisfied with this posture of affairs, and it is little wonder.
There is no record — there is not even a tradition — remaining of any

»The courthouse was not entirely completed, inside and outside, until 1826. It was painted
bright red, penciled with white, and was surmounted with a cupola containing a public clock.
In 1856-58 it was remodeled by the addition of two brick wings. It stood in this form until its
demolition in 1906, to make room for the present building of white limestone.

Centennial Memorial Volume 15

meeting held by them to take counsel concerning the matter; but I
have no doubt the meeting was held. At any rate the people deter-
mined to have an agent from Bloomington on the ground — a member
of the Third House, if you will.

Whom should they send? Dr. David H. Maxwell. He had
some legislative experience, having been a member of the constitu-
tional convention from Jefferson county. He had a general
acquaintance with public affairs and with the public men of the
state, and above all he was plausible, concilatory, level-headed, and
a good judge of human nature. This was the first service he was
called upon to render an institution to the furthering of whose
interests he was ever after devoted. For nearly forty years, of all
men outside the circle of those engaged as teachers, he gave the
most of time in its service, and to better purpose. So unremitting
was he in his labors in its behalf, and to such good purpose were
they directed, that it can better be said of him than of any other,
"He was the father of Indiana University."

The General Assembly was to meet on the first Monday in
December, and mounting his horse the Bloomington agent rode
over the hills the long and weary road to Corydon. No record, no
tradition even remains to tell the story of what he did to secure
legislative action in behalf of a state school. But was not the Bloom-
ington member charmed as he listened to the reading of Governor
Jennings' message? Said the governor:

The convention has made it the duty of the General Assembly, as soon as
circumstances will permit, to provide by law for a general system of education.
The lands received for the use of the seminary of learning are vested in the legis-
lature to be appropriated solely for that purpose, and it is submitted to your
consideration whether the location of such institution upon or near such lands
would not greatly enhance their value and enlarge the funds for a purpose so
important. It is believed that the Seminary township situated in Monroe county
would afford a site combining the advantages of fertility of soil with a healthy
climate, as well as a position sufficiently central to the various sections of the
state. To authorize the sale of a portion of these lands under judicious regulations
would increase the value of the residue, and the sooner enable us to lay the
foundations of an institution so desirable.

This part of the message was, on December 11, referred by the
House to a committee of seven, of which Mr. Ross of Clark was
chairman, with leave to report by bill or otherwise. On December
31, twenty days after the reference, Mr. Ross on behalf of his com-
mittee reported a bill to establish a seminary, which was read a
first and a second time and then referred to a committee of the
whole House and made a special order for the following day. But

16 Indiana University

the following day came and passed and nothing was done with the
bill. It was not till January 11 that we again hear of it. There
was just then a pressure of the multifarious business that found its
way into the legislative halls of the state under the constitution
of 1816. There was an administrator clamoring for some sort of
relief in the matter of his trust. The sheriff of Wayne county had
a grievance concerning the public accounts which only a legislative
act could set right. Sally Griffit wanted a divorce from her hus-
band and there was no other tribunal to which she could go. Some-
one prayed to be encouraged in the manufacture of salt, and the
legislature was in duty bound to encourage him. The clerk of the
Washington circuit court having been charged with a misfeasance
in office, the House of Representatives preferred charges against
him, and the Senate had to sit as a court to try the cause. A high-
way being wanted to connect a new town in the New Purchase
with an old one outside, only the lawmaking power of the state
could authorize it to be cut out. A commission to locate the new
capital of the state had to be appointed, and the toll to be taken
by millers for grinding the farmers' corn must be regulated by law.
So you can see a good excuse can be made by the House for the
delay in acting upon the bill. On January 11, however, the bill
was taken up and passed with "sundry amendments".

Four days after we find it in the Senate in committee of the
whole, when "some amendments were made thereto", one of which
was to vest in the trustees of the Seminary the Seminary lands in
Gibson county,2 and the other was to strike from the bill the fol-
lowing: "Provided that two thousand acres of land in Monroe
county, above vested in the trustees, be forever reserved by said
trustees as a glebe for the said Seminary and the use of the profes-
sors thereof."

This was on Saturday, but the final vote was not reached till
Monday; and when it did come, how nearly the Seminary bill
failed becoming a law will be known when it is stated that on the
call of the yeas and the nays, five of the ten senators voted in the
affirmative and five in the negative. The president of the Senate,
Lieu tenant-Governor Ratliffe Boon, gave the casting vote in its
favor, and so the bill as amended was passed.

The next day it was back in the House, and the amendment
striking out the proviso concerning the "glebe" was concurred in,
while the one vesting title to the Gibson county lands in the trustees

'Reserved by act of Congress approved March 26, 1804; located by Albert Gallatin as Secretary
of the Treasury, October 10, 1806.

Centennial Memorial Volume 17

was rejected. Forthwith it was returned to the Senate. The
celerity with which it was sent from chamber to chamber reminds us
that there was a man on the ground especially interested in its final
success. Immediately on its return to the Senate, Mr. Drew of
Franklin moved that the Senate adhere to their amendments;
which, says the record, "was decided in the negative and the bill was
then passed". The next day, January 20, 1820, the day we cele-
brate, it was signed by the governor and became a law of the land.

The act which so narrowly escaped defeat provided for the organ-
ization of a State Seminary at Bloomington. The first section
named for its trustees Charles Dewey, Jonathan Lindley, David H.
Maxwell, John M. Jenkins, Jonathan Nichols, and William Lowe —
"they and their successors in office to have perpetual succession".
They were authorized to meet in Bloomington on the first Monday
of the following June, and select "an eligible and convenient site
for a seminary". It was made their duty to appoint an agent to
lay off and sell under their sanction any parcels of land contiguous
to Bloomington, not exceeding 640 acres. As soon as the trustees
should deem it expedient, they were to "proceed to the erection of
a suitable building for a State Seminary, and also a suitable and
commodious house for a professor". They were to report to the
next General Assembly their proceedings, together with "a plan
of buildings by them erected".

This law is more remarkable for what it does not contain than
for what it does. Its projectors evidently had little conception of
the real nature of the work in hand. It left the future committed
almost entirely to the wisdom of the trustees. The duties it imposed
upon them looking to the real purposes of a seminary were to select
a site, sell a section of land, and erect suitable buildings. Not a
word in it about a school.

And yet, I believe it was the very best law the legislature could
have framed at that time.

On the first Monday in June, 1820, which was the fifth day of
the month, four of the six trustees met at Bloomington, in accord-
ance with the requirements of the law, to select a site for the State
Seminary. On that day the commissioners to locate a site for the
state capital were traversing the wilderness between Conner's
Prairie and the Bluffs on White river in the search of a suitable
place. On the ninth the future site of Indianapolis was chosen.
The Seminary commissioners were less fortunate. Two of the
members, Charles Dewey and Jonathan Lindley, were absent; and
as both were men of some consequence, Dewey especially, it was

18 Indiana University

thought best to adjourn over to the "next month". "Accordingly

on the - day of July" the board met, every member present

save Jonathan Lindley, and proceeded at once to select a section
of land on the reserved Seminary township for sale, and to locate a
site for a seminary. In their report made to the next legislature
they say: "The site chosen is .... about one-quarter of a
mile due south from Bloomington, on a beautiful eminence and con-
venient to an excellent spring of water, the only one on the section
selected that could with convenience answer the purposes of a
seminary."

Not to exceed three hundred souls lived in Bloomington at the
time. Into the open doors of their cabins, clustering around the
square, the early morning and late evening shadows fell from the
native beeches and maples and oaks and poplars, still growing close
around. One square south of the public square was the boundary
in that direction of the town. Beyond that lay the thirty-six square
miles of Seminary land, in which not a tree had lawfully been cut
down. Hunters from the town and the scattered settlements
around killed deer along its water courses, and bears and wolves
prowled amidst its thickets. In any other direction the outlook
was but little better. Here and there a little field had been chopped
out around a settler's cabin, it was true, but in the main the wilder-
ness still held sway. It was in July, and every green thing was
thick with leaves. Those contrasting views of upland and lowland
which please the eye of the Bloomington visitor today were envel-
oped in shaggy thickets of green, and to this cause more than to
any other, doubtless, is due the fact that the trustees, overlooking
the sightly highlands to the east and the west, found a "beautiful
eminence" in the narrow plateau next the Clear creek bottom. True,
the "excellent spring of water" must not be forgotten in this calcu-
lation, tho its fountain has long since dried up. It was the only
spring on the section, they naively said, "that could with conven-
ience answer the purpose of the Seminary", — as if the art of digging
wells was not yet known!

A plan of a building was agreed upon at this meeting of the
board and reported to the legislature, and altho it has long since
been lost, the board tells us in their report that it was "on the plan
of Princeton College in New Jersey" — the historic Nassau Hall.

I dare not in this presence enter upon any discussion of the finan-
cial history of the Indiana Seminary. My time is too short for
that. Nor can I make more than the briefest reference to the

Centennial Memorial Volume 19

buildings that were ultimately constructed for the accommodation
of students and a professor.

Over twenty months passed away after the location was made
before the work of building was actually begun. Two houses were
agreed upon, one for the "reception of students" and the other for
a professor's dwelling. This last, according to the old record, was
to "be of the size of W. D. McCullough's house which he had rented
to Thomas Allen of Kentucky, except that it was to be four feet
longer", a statement by no means calculated to improve the temper
of the searcher after historical facts. In a report made to the legis-
lature at a subsequent time, by Dr. David H. Maxwell, he tells
us that it was thirty-one feet long and eighteen feet in width, and
cost $891.

The Seminary edifice proper, we learn from the same report, was
sixty feet long and thirty-one feet wide. It was two stories high,
and when new was considered quite a pretentious building. It
faced to the east, had a chapel and two recitation rooms on the first
floor, and I know not how many rooms on the second. It cost
$2,400.

While the General Assembly was legislating the Seminary into
existence, a young man, destined to be its first professor and to
stay with it thru its Seminary life, and to be with it when it passed
up into Indiana College, and finally to leave that college a disap-
pointed and embittered man and write a book maligning his enemies
and making sport of his friends,3 was taking his last year's course
of lectures at Union College, under the celebrated Dr. Nott. This
young man was Baynard R. Hall. After receiving his first degree
at the commencement of 1820 at Union, he went to Princeton where
he studied theology, after which he was ordained a minister of the
Presbyterian church. Returning to Philadelphia, his natal city,
at the close of his theological studies, he married and soon after
set out with his bride for the New Purchase.

This must have been some time in 1823. He had relatives in
the New Purchase and out of it, one of the latter being the Rev.
Isaac Reed, a brother-in-law, who lived in Bloomington. Another
brother-in-law, John Young, besides other relatives, lived in the
New Purchase a short distance above Gosport.

*The New Purchase, or Early Years in the Far West. By Robert Carlton, Esq. (Baynard R.
Hall). The first edition, in two volumes, was published by Appletons, Philadelphia, 1843; the
second edition, in one volume, New Albany, Ind., 1855, by Mr. John R. Nunemacher; the third
edition was edited by Professor James A. Woodburn, '76, of Indiana University, and published by
the Princeton University Press in 1916 as an Indiana state centennial edition. For some account
of this book see an article entitled "Life in the New Purchase" by James A. Woodburn, in the
Indiana Magazine of History for December, 1913.

20 Indiana University

I do not certainly know, but I have reasons to believe, that it
was the new State Seminary that led Hall into the Indiana wilder-
ness. He was scholarly, and his brother-in-law, Isaac Reed, must
have seen that if he were only on the ground when the time for
the election of a professor came he would surely be the chosen one.
At any rate Hall came, and on reaching the state he went to
his Gosport relatives, where he remained until the Seminary apple
ripened and was ready to fall into his open mouth. During his
sojourn there he assisted his brother-in-law in a tanyard and in a
country store. He hunted a good deal and became an expert
marksman; preached some, went to log-rollings, house-raisings,
quiltings, camp meetings, political speakings, and was, he himself
says, "the very first man since the creation of the world that read
Greek in the New Purchase".

In November, 1823, the Seminary building had progressed so far
toward completion that it was thought advisable to elect a teacher,
and take such other steps looking to the commencement of educa-
tional work as should be deemed proper. Accordingly, on Novem-
ber 20, the board being in session, the Rev. Baynard R. Hall was
elected such teacher "for the term of one year, the school to com-
mence as early as practicable the next spring". Two terms per
year of five months each were provided for, and the tuition fixed at
five dollars per term, but was subsequently raised to ten. The
teacher's salary was fixed at $250 per annum, the trustees reserving
to themselves the right to pay more should the income admit of it —
a right that we believe was not exercised.

One of the curious chapters of those times would narrate the low
wages paid for all kinds of intellectual labor. The governor of the
state received $1,000 per annum; a supreme judge and a judge of the
circuit court each $700; a member of the General Assembly drew
$2 per day, and legislated on Christmas and on New Year's days
the same as on any other, except when they happened to fall on
Sunday. Ministers, well educated and of excellent abilities, who
received salaries of $300 were deemed well paid. The great majority
were paid much less than this. The Rev. Joseph Tarkington and
Joseph Evans, who rode the circuit in the Indiana district in the
twenties, each received $63 for the year's labor. During the
ministerial year of 1823-24, the Rev. Aaron Wood traveled, accord-
ing to his diary, 2,250 miles, preaching 288 times, for a salary of
$50. The author of Early Methodism in Indiana says :

Our presiding elder, Rev. Allen Wiley, a man of varied learning, deep in theol-
ogy, strong in faith, and full of the Holy Ghost, received that year (1830) as his

Centennial Memorial Volume 21

portion of the sum total $20. My colleague, Rev. Amos Sparks, a most unique
man, full of good common sense, of marked eloquence and power in the pulpit, and
popular with the people, received for his portion, being a married man with
several children, $175, a part of which was paid in dicker.

Two years after the election of Baynard R. Hall, Lucius Alden, a
Presbyterian clergyman of Boston, was elected principal of the
Aurora Seminary at a salary of $7'^ p-.?r year and accepted. His
assistant, Stephen Harding, afterwards a United States judge in
Utah, was paid, says an authority, $5 per month, and $13 says
another. Probably both are correct, the reference being to differ-
ent periods during his term as assistant.

The simplicity of these times can be presented in no stronger
light than thru the methods then in vogue in carrying on the
ordinary business transactions of life. Money was seldom seen in
the cabins of the people. Nearly all the business was done on the
basis of exchange or barter. Ginseng came nearer taking the place
of money among the early settlers of Pennsylvania and of West
Virginia than any other article. Up to about 1787 it was a medium
of exchange in use by all, more or less, but a sudden collapse of the
Chinese market, in 1788, let the bottom out of it. In the beginning
of Indiana's history peltries, and especially coon skins, were the
most common medium of exchange. I have authority for saying
that the coon skin "was often forced upon tax collectors and post-
masters in payment of the law's demands". But the coon-skin era
was about over when the first State Seminary professor was
elected. His salary it was expected would be paid in good silver
coins, mostly Spanish, brought in by the White river flat-boatmen —
fips, bits, pistareens, quarters, half-dollars, and maybe a few
dollars. Perhaps a part in "sharp shins", — that is, triangular
pieces cut out of the larger coins by the country blacksmiths,
and circulating among the people ; but the greater part of the salary
was to be paid in a paper currency, not much less fluctuating in
value, if any, than a coon-skin currency would have been.

But there was another salary paid to the professor, which it was
not pretended was to be in money, true or false. The Presby-
terian congregation of Bloomington engaged him at least a part of
his time to preach for them at $150 per year, to be paid in "articles
of trade". That meant the same as the Methodist circuit rider's
"dicker" — corn, bacon, beef, venison, butter, potatoes, leather,
feathers, buckwheat flour, labor, anything the subscriber had to
give, and some things the preacher could not use. At this very
time, and for a good many years thereafter, the schoolmasters of

22 Indiana University

Indiana were quite generally paid, in part at least, in articles of
traffic. Ah! the stuff that has been doled out to the old Indiana
schoolmasters! When I read — and remember, too, — how most of
them would thrash their scholars; how others would sleep during
school hours; how one played the fiddle between recitations "for
his own amusement", how another kept his bottle hid in a hollow
stump hard by the schoolhouse; and how still another made his
scholars work in his clearing during the noon hour, — I have it in
my heart to forgive them, when I further remember the compensa-
tion many of them received. Think of it! One dollar, or one and
one-half, per scholar per quarter, and "board around", — one-half
and sometimes more to be paid in such articles of trade as the
patrons could spare. I read of an old-time schoolmaster who took
part of his pay in dried pumpkin, and of another in whiskey. Corn,
flour, buckwheat flour, bacon, turnips, and so on, were constantly
dealt out as the price of learning. Young as I am, I can remember
seeing a dripping side of bacon go out of my mother's smokehouse
to the master who had been doing his utmost to lick me into shape
during the preceding winter.

I have heard it said that the Fathers were overhasty in setting
the machinery of the State Seminary in motion. "Oh, if they had
only waited till the land was worth $30 or $40 an acre, then sold
it, what a munificent endowment it would have made!" was an
exclamation I once heard. True enough. But what would have
become of Indiana in the meantime? Never in the history of the
state was there such a pressing demand for a school of higher learn-
ing than when the trustees determined to open the doors of the
State Seminary. The majority were doubtless unconscious of that
demand. The people of the district who thought the sound-bodied
man that applied for their school "a lazy, trifling, good-for-nothing,
who wanted to make his living without work", preferring to him
a lame school-teacher or one who was disabled by fits for manual
labor, were no doubt on the side of that majority. But there was
a minority that stood out in the light — a minority that saw and
heard and knew and acted; and let us thank God for it, and not
carp at them nor criticize them because they may not have done
away back there the thing we might have done away up here.

The time had now come for the opening of the State Seminary.
What, if any, steps were taken to advertise the general public of the
new school is not now known. There were not less than twelve or
fifteen newspapers printed in the state at the time, and it is not

Centennial Memorial Volume 23

unreasonable to suppose that notice was given thru the columns of
some or all of them.4

Be this as it may, on ''the first day of May, at half-past nine
a.m. anno domini 1824", the State Seminary doors were opened
for the reception of students. On this May morning of the last
year of the first quarter of a century now nearing its close, a fire
was kindled upon this altar of learning that has never been extin-
guished. During all the years that have come and gone since that
May Day opening, every school day of each year has stood witness
to the coming together of professors and students, and to recitation
and drill in the classroom.

That opening morning a heterogeneous crowd of youthful candi-
dates for seminary learning greeted the young professor at the
"new college", as the building seems to have been called from the
beginning. It is remembered that many of the village school-
master's boys forsook his unpretentious school that May Day, and
with spelling-book and reader and ink-bottle and copy-book applied
for admission at the "new college". But it was Greek and Latin
only at the "college", and the boys with the spelling-books and
readers and ink-bottles and copy-books soon returned to the drowsy
hum of lessons in the town schoolhouse.

Ten boys were left in the Seminary after the weeding out process
was over, on that May morning, to begin at the beginning of a pre-
paratory course of the Greek and Latin languages. These, the first
to drink at the fountain of learning opened by the bounty of the
state, were Findlay Dodds, James F. Dodds, Aaron Furgeson,
Hamilton Stockwell, John Todd, Michael Hummer, Samuel C.
Dunn, James W. Dunn, James A. Maxwell, and Joseph A. Wright.

An interest attaches to these pioneers greater than any who have
come after them. They were the first students of Indiana's school
to feel the pangs of failure and to know the joys of success. They
were the first to dream dreams of those lofty achievements among
men that inflame the youthful mind with a desire to excel. What
of the ten? All lived to reach manhood's prime, and a few went
down into a ripe old age. All are now dead. Each in his chosen
sphere rendered faithful and efficient service to society. Findlay
Dodds was a tanner. James F. Dodds, Aaron Furgeson, and
Hamilton Stockwell were physicians. John Todd and Michael
Hummer were ministers of the gospel. Samuel C. Dunn was first

*In The New Purchase it is said that notice of "the necessary books . . . was given at
meeting, and in several other ways, for the last four weeks" (ch. xlii).

24 Indiana University

a merchant, next followed railroading, then banking, and in his old
age held public office by the suffrages of his neighbors. James
Dunn, James A. Maxwell, Joseph A. Wright were lawyers, — one of
whom, Joseph A. Wright, attained the honorable position of gov-
ernor of Indiana, and subsequently served his country faithfully and
well in a diplomatic position in a foreign country.

For a period of three years — from 1824 to 1827 — Baynard R.
Hall was the sole professor in the Indiana Seminary. No cata-
logs were printed during the Seminary period, and the trustees'
records have been destroyed by fire; and our knowledge of the
history of this period is limited by that much. In 1828 a legis-
lative resolution called out a report from Dr. Maxwell which, for-
tunately for this history, has been preserved in the House Journal
for that year. From that report we learn that thirteen students
attended the Seminary the first year; fifteen the second; twenty-
one the third. The professor's salary of $250, as originally made,
was continued at that sum for three and a half years ; during which
period he preached to the Presbyterian church of this town, for
which service they paid him"$150 in articles of trade". At the
end of the three and a half years, the trustees forbade the preaching,
and advanced his salary to $400.

It was resolved by the board, sometime during the second year,
"that, in addition to the Greek and Latin languages heretofore
taught in the State Seminary, there shall be taught by the said
Hall . . . English Grammar, Logic, Rhetoric, Geography,
Moral and Natural Philosophy, and Euclid's Elements of Geom-
etry". But for some reason now unknown, it seems the requirement
was not complied with; for in Dr. Maxwell's report, above referred
to, occur these words : "During the first three years one teacher on-
ly was employed by the trustees, and the Greek and Latin languages
alone were taught during that time." As the third academic year
drew to its close, it became evident that the advancement of the old
students required the introduction of other branches of learning
than Greek and Latin. More than half of those enrolled contem-
plated the full collegiate course, and preparation must be made for
that, else there would be an hegira to other schools. So the trustees
resolved to elect a professor of mathematics, pure and applied.

If there was a dearth of candidates when the first professor was
elected, it was not to be so when it came to the election of the second.
What notice was given of the proposed election is not known; but
some notice must have been given that, at the May meeting of the
board for 1827, a mathematics professor would be elected, for one

Centennial Memorial Volume 25

candidate dated his letter of notification to the board "April 20 ",
which was twenty days before the election was held. Much un-
certainty seems to have existed in the minds of some of the appli-
cants for the place as to the real work to be required of the new pro-
fessor, and the qualifications requisite for doing it. One of the can-
didates informed the board that he was "educated in England, and
would accept the situation at a salary of $250 and find his own
family". Another hinted that while he might be a little rusty he was
confident that by hard study he could easily keep ahead of his
students.

The names of only a few of the candidates have come down to
us. Mr. Beverly W. James, the village schoolmaster whose scholars
forsook him for the "new college" on that May Day morning of three
years before, gave notice that he would accept the place if tendered.
And so did a young lawyer, then recently come to the state, Delana
E. Eccles, who subsequently, after serving for many years on the
circuit bench, was for a time professor of law in the University.
Another applicant was a "Mr. Pharis", the Rev. James Paris of
South Carolina, who about that time was organizing a Reformed
Presbyterian church in the neighborhood.

One more name remains to be mentioned — John M. Harney's,
the successful applicant's. Mr. Harney was a young man, fresh
from the Miami University, where he had recently graduated. In
truth he came from Oxford to Bloomington walking all the way,
accompanied by a young friend, Robert Caldwell, who subsequently
achieved reputation as chief of the United States Marine Corps,
with whom he had formed a college friendship. No one knows the
roads these youthful knights in pursuit of a college professorship
traveled ; but as Harney had relatives living in the neighborhood of
Greensburg, whom he is remembered to have visited a few years
later, it is reasonable to suppose that he traveled the road leading
from Oxford to Greensburg; and if so, the young men came by the
way of Columbus, a town lately planted on the Driftwood, and
thence by the way of the new road thru the wilderness of Brown
county.

It was in the spring of the year, a season when the roads were
always bad in the new state of Indiana. What a toilsome journey
theirs must have been, and how the discomforts must have multi-
plied on the way. The weather was warm, and they could hardly
have ended their journey without encountering one or more showers
of rain. But they reached Bloomington in time for the election. It
is related of them that shortly before attaining their journey's end, —

26 Indiana University

wearied, footsore, and travel stained, — they halted at a creek,
bathed, and washed their shirts and dried them in the sun; and
were enabled to make their way into Bloomington in clean linen.

On his arrival, Harney addressed a letter to the trustees which
was so different in its tone and spirit from any of the other letters
before them, judging from the few that have survived the ravages of
time, that it must have engaged their serious attention at once.
Time has dealt hardly by this letter, but enough of it remains for us
to see that a man possessed of a courageous, self-reliant, self-
confident spirit composed it. And more than that, its author had
ideas concerning the branches of learning that ought to be taught
from the chair to which he aspired; and, next to money, ideas were
what the trustees most wanted to enable them to carry on the work
of the Seminary.

As the day of the election drew nigh, a thunderstorm uprose in
the Bloomington sky. Want of time forbids our stopping to con-
sider the causes that led to its appearance at this particular juncture.
Ever since that May Day, when the Bloomington youth with
spelling-book and reader were forbidden to enroll their names as
students in the State Seminary, that cloud had been gathering. It
took the election of a mathematics professor to set the elements in
commotion and bring the storm to a head. There were rival candi-
dates in the field, most of whom had a personal following. Each
set of partisans backed up its man, and it would be strange if some
partisans did not talk down the others. Harney, being a stranger,
was without backers ; nevertheless the trustees had not been long in
session in the Seminary building, when it was made apparent that
Harney was their favorite. The news flew to the town, and at once
an uproar began. The late partisans of the different candidates
coalesced and made common cause. Harney was understood to be
a Presbyterian, and at once the cry of sectarianism arose. Next
followed the old and, in that day, all-potent shout of Aristocrat!
It was evident to the malcontents that a crisis had arisen ; and some-
thing, in their judgment, must be done and done quickly to save
the Seminary to the people. General Jacob B. Lowe, the clerk of
the circuit court and a politician of that period, is found at the head
of a deputation who go to remonstrate with the trustees. As they
go, some one huzzas, and the trustees hear and know what it means.
News seems to have flown as rapidly from the town to the Seminary
as from the Seminary to the town. At once the trustees proceed
to the election of a professor; and lo! John M. Harney is elected.
Barely is this done, when the burly form of General Lowe enters

Centennial Memorial Volume 27

the door, with his friends at his heels. Patiently the trustees listen
to his speech, after which the diplomatic Dr. Maxwell makes a
soothing speech in reply, and the thunder-cloud disappears.

Harney entered at once upon his duties, at a salary of $250 per
year. At the end of six months, on the recommendation of the
Board of Visitors, the salaries of the two professors were raised to
$400 each.

The increase in students following the election of the new profes-
sor justified the action of the board in bringing him in. During the
spring and summer term of 1827, the number in attendance was
twenty-six. At the opening of the following fall and winter session,
"about forty students" were present, which number so materially
increased during the term that Dr. Maxwell wrote, in January,
"there is a probability there will be fifty or sixty students" in
attendance before the close of the session.

Would that we knew more than we do of the students and of
student life at the Indiana State Seminary! All the students, as
far as I know, came from Indiana homes. Nearly or quite every
county on the border, and a good many inland counties, were repre-
sented during the period. And what toilsome journeys most of the
boys had to make to reach here! Young Austin Shipp of Johnson
county walked. He went by way of Columbus, a more direct road
not yet having been cut out. It is in memory still how matrons
from cabin doors kindly greeted the lad who passed by on his way
to college, with his bundle swung on a stick over his shoulder.
College! None of those old Seminary boys went to a seminary. No,
indeed! With them it was college from the start.

Doubtless there were others who went to "college" on foot in
those early days; but the majority traveled on horseback, most of
whom would "ride and tie". This was a favorite mode of travel,
and was well adapted to the necessities of the college student. By
it two would travel with one horse, and "ride and tie" time about;
which means that one would ride in advance a given distance, and
tie the horse and walk on, leaving his companion to come up to the
horse and mount and ride on past the foot-man a proper distance,
when he in turn would dismount, tfe, and walk on.

I am glad to be able to present to you the late General Dunn's
account of his coming to the State Seminary:

A few days before the opening of the session, May first, 1826, if you had been
here to look, you might have seen emerging from the green woods north of Bloom-
ington, a man on horseback; and as his horse veered from one side of the road to
another, to avoid a stump or mudhole, you might have seen that there was riding

28 Indiana University

behind the man on the same horse a little speck of a boy about eleven years of age.
They were father and son, but the son was so small that it was considered a useless
waste of horse-power to furnish him a horse all to himself for this journey. They
had thus ridden all the way from Crawfordsville, then a two days' journey on
horseback. Between Crawfordsville and Greencastle, it was then an almost
unbroken wilderness, and these travelers had made part of their way through the
woods along an Indian trail. The boy enjoyed the ride, for sweet was the breath
of spring in the green wildwoods, the aroma of the spice-bush perfumed the air,
and the bloom of the dogwood and the redbud with blended beauty adorned the
green-leafed forest

That little boy was my father in the sense of the saying the boy is
the father of the man. In a few days, he (I) was admitted as a student
in the State Seminary, then regarded as the highest and best school in the state;
was introduced to Ross's Latin Grammar, and soon was nearly worrying the life
out of poor "Stella, a star", in putting her through the cases of the first declension
of nouns.

According to my recollection there wrere but nine students at the
Seminary that session, of whom I was the smallest and Dr. Maxwell [James Dar-
win] was the youngest. Perhaps I might as well say that I was a student here
in the Seminary and in the College six and a half years, and was the first graduate
of Indiana who commenced, continued, and completed his entire preparatory
and collegiate course in this institution. At the first organization of the students
into regular college classes, I constituted the sophomore class; and for an entire
session I had a bench all to myself at college prayers, by virtue of my being
all the sophomore class.

How did the students get their trunks here? They had no
trunks. Those who walked carried their clothes with them, tied
up in a handkerchief. In 1835 Robert Dulaney of Clark county,
Illinois, attended college here. He says:

I went by the way of Terre Haute, Bowling Green, and Spencer to Bloom-
ington, a distance of about eighty miles. A boy went along to take the horse
back. There were two terms a year, and I carried all my clothes necessary for a
term in saddle bags. This was the practice of all who went to college on horseback
in that day.

The students, when they reached Bloomington in those far-off
primitive times, found rooms and board with the citizens of the
town, in much the same manner as students have done ever since.
In a majority of the counties represented here, old forts, built as a
protection against the Indians during the troublesome times of 1811
to 1814, were still standing, and were, as we may well suppose,
objects of romantic interest to the youth of the land. What more
natural than to designate a house, where two or more roomed, a
"fort"? Hawthorne tells us that the grim Puritan children played
at hanging witches and making Indian campaigns. Our own Sem-
inary boys brought with them the memory of border-war times in

Centennial Memorial Volume 29

Indiana, and lived in "forts", and (what is more to the purpose)
the practice thus inaugurated has been handed down unbroken to
the present.

The fame of Indiana Seminary was spreading abroad. Its pro-
fessors were men of learning, full of zeal, and greatly beloved by
their students. It had no competition within the state, and it was
receiving a liberal patronage for the times. Its students were begin-
ning to assume college airs. They had organized a literary society —
the Henodelphisterian Society, they called it — which was so exceed-
ingly classical that every student in joining was compelled while
within its hall to take, in lieu of his own plain name, one once cur-
rent in the streets of Greece or Rome. Here young Pericles sat
down with Solon and Cicero and Ajax and Timoleon, and began the
serious business of essay-reading, declamation, and debating. And
at stated intervals these young classicists gave public exhibitions,
wherein they displayed their literary skill. The first one of these
"feasts of reason" was in the new brick courthouse and has the merit
of having been embalmed in The New Purchase, Professor Hall's
book. McKee Dunn was the "little speck of a boy" in that exhi-
bition, and delighted the audience with —

You'd scarce expect one of my age
To speak in public on the stage.

General Dunn, in a conversation not long before his death,
paid a glowing tribute to the memory of Professor Hall. "Little
as I was", said he, "Hall took the utmost pains to drill me well in
my part, and I got hints from him which have stood me in good turn
all through my life."

But we must hasten on. The end of the Seminary is close at
hand. On November 1, 1827, a Board of Visitors made its appear-
ance on the Seminary grounds. Two of those visitors were prom-
inent men in their day, one being no less a personage than James B.
Ray, the governor of the state, and the other James Scott, a judge
of the supreme court. The law required a good deal at the hands
of the board. It was made their duty to examine each student in
all branches he had gone over, and after everything else was done,
one of the board was to make a speech to the boys. The law seems
to have been obeyed to the letter, and the visitors went away
charmed with what they had seen and heard. The governor made
his report thru his .annual message. Judge Scott wrote the report
for the Board of Visitors, and Dr. Maxwell followed by a report as
president of the Board of Trustees. Message and reports all made

30 Indiana University

proclamation that the time had come when the Seminary should be
raised to the dignity of a college.

A bill was prepared having that end in view ; and notwithstand-
ing that a serious effort was made to move the institution to another
town, it was finally passed and signed by the governor. Thus by
legislative enactment, on January 24, 1828, the Indiana State
Seminary was merged in the Indiana College.

II. FROM SEMINARY TO COLLEGE (1826-29)1

IN THE BEGINNING the Indiana Fathers had no thought of a state
seminary. Indeed they had no thought of a state college. Nothing
short of a university was to satisfy them, for in euphonious phrase
they declared in the organic law of 1816 for a "system of education
ascending in regular gradation from township schools to a State
University".

But the State Seminary came first. That was inevitable. The
time had not yet come in America when universities could be flung
out upon the world, strong and full grown, by a constitutional or
legislative enactment. The Seminary was a makeshift. It was so
regarded at the time of the passage of the act providing for it, and it
never ceased to be so regarded by its founders and by those who
had it in charge. The act of incorporation was notably defective.
In the very next legislature that met after the act became a law, the
educational committee of the lower branch called public attention
to the "materially defective" nature of this law, and at the same time
reminded the legislators of the state that "the means afforded, with
proper management, could not fail to make the University of the
State as rich in funds as any in the Union".

The General Assembly that passed the act incorporating the
State Seminary raised a special committee whose duty it was to pre-
pare and report a general state educational plan to the next assembly.
This committee reported early in December, 1821, covering the
whole ground, and so much of their report as touches upon the
subject of a state institution of learning belongs to this history. It
is of interest not only because it proves how surely the promoters of
higher education in Indiana still looked to the establishment of a
university as the culmination of the Indiana educational system,
but also, and in a still larger degree, in that it gives us a clue to what
the men of that day had in mind when they spoke of a university ;

*Read by Judge Banta as the annual Foundation Day address, in the Old College, January 20,
1890.

Centennial Memorial Volume 31

and furthermore, what they regarded as an adequate endowment
for their ideal institution.

Daniel J. Caswell, an old-time lawyer and something of a poli-
tician who resided at Brookville, in Franklin county, was chairman
of the committee and doubtless inspired and wrote the report. He
was a lawyer of more than ordinary ability and was a noted special
pleader. There are those who claim that he was an eastern man and
a scholarly one. Be this as it may, the language of the report "be-
wrayeth" the lawyer. It spake the shibboleth of the bar. Its
"then and in that case" was a phrase much loved by the special
pleaders of that day — a phrase that even yet may be heard sounding
as an echo from the dead past in the courtrooms of the state.

The committee expressed a belief that the Seminary lands could
be made to realize such an amount of funds as, "with some assist-
ance" would "enable the state to occupy in a literary point of view a
highly respectable standing"; and to that end they recommended
that a university be established to be known by the name of "the
University of Indiana".

The committee was not only hopeful as to the future, but it
ingeniously manipulated the figures so as to show good grounds for
that state of hopefulness. If the funds of the institution should be
"auspiciously managed", "then and in that case", wrote special
pleader Caswell, the University of Indiana "with some assistance"
(from the legislature, presumably) lay within their grasp.

But suppose the legislature to be unwilling to burden the public
with any part of that support, what then? The most expedient
plan, as introductory to a university, "will be to establish a college
first", say they. The report continues:

In that case to make it respectable or indeed useful, it is respectfully submitted
that it will be necessary to place a president at the head of it whose duty it shall
be, besides exercishig a general superintendency, to participate personally in
giving instruction to the highest or first class in college in logic, metaphysics,
moral philosophy, and criticism.

They recommended further, "a professor of mathematics and natural
philosophy"; a professor of "geography, ancient and modern, and
of astronomy" ; and one of "the Latin, Greek, and Hebrew languages,
with one or more assistants or tutors".

This is the first that is heard of a state college in Indiana, but this
college was to be a temporary expedient — a stepping-stone to the
more pretentious university promised by the constitution of 1816,
the very university that the committee evidently had very much at

32 Indiana University

heart. Found the college first, and as thus outlined, and then as the
available funds increased add to it a professor of theology, a profes-
sor of law, and a medical school ; and lo ! you have the University the
Fathers had in mind.

The General Assembly, however, did not concur in the com-
mittee's recommendations. Their report was referred to another
committee, and so much as is outlined here was never again heard of.
The people of Indiana were not yet ready to attempt the educational
scheme proposed, and long before they were ready, the committee's
plan was slumbering in the archives of the state. Looking forward
to the end of a period of six years, they saw with the aid of a little
arithmetical computation a fund augmented by sales of land and
interest to over $260,000! What better endowment could any
university want! The sixth year expired in December, 1827, at
which time the best that Governor Ray, in his annual message,
could say was, that the Seminary lands up to that time sold in
Monroe and Gibson counties "brought a fair price, producing near
$30,000".2

"Introductory to an university will be to establish a college",
said the committee, and the event proved the truthfulness of the
prediction. The college was established, but not on the basis of a
mistake in ciphering. It came because there was a demand for it,
and it came ahead of any endowment worthy of the name.

To James B. Ray, the governor of Indiana from 1825 to 1831, a
lasting debt of gratitude is owing from the friends of the Indiana
University. He was ever the outspoken friend of the State Sem-
inary. In all his annual messages he pressed its claims upon the
legislature, and he was the first governor to suggest the propriety
of giving it aid from the public treasury. So zealous was he in his
friendship, that to advance its interests he at one time left his
gubernatorial duties at the capitol and came to Bloomington, that
he might assist in an examination of its students and thus better
judge of its real value to the state. Governor Ray was in some
respects ahead of his times. In the language of one of his biog-
raphers, "He saw more plainly than any other man of his day the
future of the state in which he lived." No man in the state saw
more clearly than he how imperatively necessary it was to the public
welfare that the State Seminary should receive. the fostering care
of the state. In his annual message of December 4, 1826, he presses
upon the legislative attention in strong and earnest language the
claims of the institution and the utility that would ensue to the

This was a mistake of the printer or of the governor.— D. D. Banta.

Centennial Memorial Volume 33

state from a liberal cultivation of letters. Had it been left to him,
there cannot be much doubt that the institution would have been
endowed with a liberality far in advance of the ideas generally
prevalent in his day.

The governor's recommendations were not wholly without effect.
Other voices than his, speaking the name of the State Seminary,
were heard in the halls of legislation; but these were voices crying
down what he sought to build up. There were those who saw in the
teaching of Greek and Latin to the exclusion of spelling and reading
an arraying of the rich against the poor ; and again there were those
who saw in the employment of two Presbyterian professors the
fostering of one church to the undoing of all the others. The student
of those times must not underestimate the potency of two watch-
words then prevalent — aristocracy and sectarianism. While the poli-
ticians kept the poverty-stricken people of Indiana in a constant
state of unrest over the encroachments of an ideal money power, the
sectaries were crying out from their watch towers against the sup-
posed encroachments of each other. This is no rhetorical figure.
The theological professorship inevitable in the University of Indi-
ana, when that University should come, according to the prevailing
opinion of the times, would be a prize well worth a life and death
struggle, and the sooner (it was believed) that struggle was begun
the better.

A painstaking investigation into the methods in vogue in the
Indiana Seminary, and for that matter in the Indiana College after-
wards, fails to disclose any teachings or practices that could have
been objectionable to the straitest of the sects, and the composition
of the various boards of trustees (being made up as they usually
were of men of all denominations) utterly forbids the thought that
such was the case. But no matter : the possession of the theological
professorship when it should come, and the menace of two Presby-
terian professors in charge, made war inevitable — a war that went
on until, after many years, a church dignitary could point with pride
to the fact that a governor had been elected in Indiana by the
amen-corner of his church.

Let no one misapprehend me. I am not assailing anybody — I am
not defending anybody. I give the facts as I find them. They are
a part of the history of the times. The action of every party con-
cerned in the State College controversy was the result of conditions
for the existence of which the men of that day were in no wise
responsible. The battle was inevitable, and in the long run has
proved a blessing to the state.

34 Indiana University

Between the governor's commendations on the one hand and the
warnings against the asserted evil practices of the classical aristo-
crats and sectaries on the other, the General Assembly passed a law
providing for a Board of Visitors consisting of twenty- four members,
any five of whom when met in Bloomington on the Thursday pre-
ceding the commencement of the supreme court should constitute a
quorum. It was made the duty of this board, among other things,
to examine the records kept -by the Board of Trustees, the rules
adopted for the government of the students, and to examine the
students themselves as to their progress in their various studies.

No doubt it was the legislative hope that this committee would
either be able to uncover something pernicious to sound morality
and good government or be able to give such positive assurances
of the nonexistence of anything objectionable as should allay the
mistrust of the people. At the appointed time a quorum of the
members of the visiting board met, of whom one was the governor.
Another was James Scott, a judge of the supreme court. The
examinations of records, of rules, of courses of study, and of students,
was had as required by law, and the Governor's next message and
the committee's report, the latter written by Judge Scott, both bore
ample testimony to the skill of the teachers, the proficiency of the
scholars, the administrative wisdom of the trustees, and the non-
existence of aristocratical and sectarian influences. And both
recommended that collegiate powers be granted to the institution
at Bloomington.

Could not this be made a solution of the whole difficulty? In
the new organic act a board of trustees could be made up so that
all the contending factions would be fully represented and the
presence of one prove a check upon the other.

Be this as it may, on the eighth day after the visiting board's
report was read, Isaac Howk, the member from Clark and the chair-
man of the committee on education, reported a bill to establish "the
Indiana College" at Bloomington.

It would not be of any public interest to follow the bill thru its
various vicissitudes until it became a law. Two incidents, and only
two, are now known to have been connected with its passage that
may profitably engage the attention of the hearer. One is a report
made by Dr. David H. Maxwell, the president of the Board of
Trustees, in response to a resolution offered in the House by Mr.
Stapp of Jefferson, from which we learn that the fall term of the
then present academic year had opened with an attendance of
forty students, which attendance would probably be increased to

Centennial Memorial Volume 35

fifty during the term, and which increase, the good doctor very
adroitly suggested, would be "owing to the prospect of the Seminary
obtaining collegiate powers". "Seven or eight young men", the
report goes on to say, "are now at Oxford, Ohio, who before going
called at the Seminary at Bloomington, but finding everything
involved in uncertainty left our own state to obtain an education
in another."

The other incident to which reference is made was an outside
movement of a threatening nature, but which so far as now known
had no connection with the other troubles. A petition was pre-
sented signed by certain citizens of Indianapolis praying the legis-
lature to memorialize Congress on the subject of a grant of land to
establish a seminary of learning at the capital. The success of this
movement meant death to Bloomington, and its projectors, afraid
of the chairman of the Senate's educational committee who hap-
pened to be the president of the State Seminary's Board of Trustees
(Dr. Maxwell), took it to the House, where, after it was read, it was
referred to Mr. Howk's committee. On the same day that Dr.
Maxwell's report as to the condition of the Seminary was read to the
House, the Indianapolis scheme was strangled by an unfavorable
report from Mr. Howk's committee. After this he called up his
College bill, and it was passed without a call of the vote; and in due
time it was also passed by the Senate. On January 24, 1828, just
eight years and four days after the incorporation of the State
Seminary, and two years, eight months, and twenty-three days
after it was opened to students, Governor Ray signed the bill. Thus
the Seminary passed out of existence and the Indiana College took
its place.

Excepting its Boards of Trustees and Visitors, the College in-
herited all there was of the Seminary — its students, its buildings, its
reputation, its poverty, its professors, its methods, and even the
contention of its professed friends and the malice of its enemies, not
to mention the venom of the demagogs who were equally ready to
curry favor with the populace by making empty speeches in praise
of education in the abstract or by shouting with the mob in the hue
and cry of aristocrat and sectarianism when the Seminary happened
to be the theme.

The act of incorporation established a college professedly for the
"education of youth in the American, learned, and foreign languages,
the useful arts, sciences, and literature". Fifteen trustees were
provided for and named in the act, eight of whom (Edward Borland,
Samuel Dodds, Leroy Mayfield, Jonathan Nichols, James Blair,

36 Indiana University

David H. Maxwell, William Bannister, and William Lowe) were of
Monroe county. The remaining seven were distributed as follows :
George H. Dunn, of Dearborn county; Christopher Harrison, of
Washington; Seth M. Leavenworth, of Crawford; John Law, of
Knox; Williamson Dunn, of Montgomery; Ovid Butler, of Shelby;
and Bethuel F. Morris, of Marion.

It is not too much to say that the act establishing the Indiana
College was skilfully and understandingly drawn. Of the three
organic acts that have from time to time been passed for the gov-
ernment of this institution, it is by all odds the most lawyer-like one.
We may not be quite sure what the author of the act was driving
at where he makes the preamble to say that the College is established
"for the education of the youth in the American . . . lan-
guages"; but there is no mistaking him nor the spirit of the hour
when he provides that no teacher shall be required by the board to
"profess any religious opinions" and that "no student shall be
denied admission or refused any of the privileges, honors, or degrees
of the College on account of the religious opinions he may entertain,
nor shall any sectarian tenets or principles be taught, by any presi-
dent, professor, tutor, or instructor."

Having provided against what were supposed to be the wiles of
the time, the act in clear and exact language set forth the functions
of the institution, and fixed the powers, rights, and duties of all
connected with it. It outlined the typical American college of that
day — the college of arts and sciences — the college especially or-
dained to give general and even culture in all the departments of
polite learning. It came at a time, too, when most needed in
Indiana; and how well it served the purpose of the state that called
it into being, its history amply shows.

Having thus far briefly referred to the causes that led to the
creation of the Indiana College, and to the legal act of creation itself,
let us here stop and take a look at the surroundings.

Lifting our eyes to a horizon bounded by state lines, we find that
in spite of the poverty of the pioneer settlers and the sickness and
hardships incident to the settlement of a densely wooded country,
concerning which something was said from this platform one year
ago, there has been a marked growth and change between the years
of the founding of the Seminary and of the College. The popula-
tion of the state has risen from 147,000 in 1820 to not less than
300,000 in 1828. Twenty-two new counties have been added to the
map of the state, the years of organization and the names of which

Centennial Memorial Volume 37

will indicate to one somewhat acquainted with the geography and
history of the state the progress and course of settlement. In 1821
Decatur, Greene, Henry, Parke, and Union counties were organized;
in 1822 Marion, Putnam, Rush, and Shelby; in 1823 Johnson,
Hamilton, Madison, and Montgomery; in 1824 Allen, Hendricks,
and Vermilion; in 1825 Clay; in 1826 Fountain and Tippecanoe;
in 1827 Warren; and in 1828 Carroll and Hancock.3

No assessment of property for revenue was made till nine years
after the act organizing Indiana College became a law, revenue be-
ing raised mainly by taxes laid on land and polls; but while in 1820
the amount secured from this source was $17,000, in 1828 it had
amounted to something over $43,000.

All the state from the headwaters of the Tippecanoe river south-
ward had been cleared of Indian titles, save the "Miami national
reserve" and a few other "reserves", insignificant in area; and in the
same year that the College was chartered, by a treaty held at the
Carey Mission, the Indian title was extinguished to fully a third of
all the land north of the Tippecanoe.

The United States surveyors with compass and chain had run
the lines and established the corners as far north as where the
Wabash extends its course from the east to the west, a distance of
nearly forty miles thru the twenty-seventh tier of townships.

The year that the Seminary was chartered, the New Purchase,
comprising an extensive region bordering on the north branch of
White river and its tributaries, was first opened to the pioneer set-
tlers; and now, in the year of the chartering of the College, all the
state from the Wabash southward, save the "reservations", was
opened to movers who were thronging in in search of homes.

The statutes of the state during these early years bear indubi-
table evidence of the solicitude of the public men of the state as well
as of the people in general for the cause of education. In 1824 "an
act to incorporate congressional townships and provide for public
schools therein" was passed, which if not followed by results that
were satisfactory to the friends of education, cannot be overlooked
altogether by him who would know something of the educational
history of the times. There were too many obstacles in the way for
the establishing of an effective school system in that early day, but
the Fathers planned better than they knew in providing thus early
for an accumulative school fund which has grown to be larger, the

•A full list showing the dates of organization of the counties of Indiana is given by Dr. Ernest
V. Shockley, '09, in an article entitled "County Seats and County-seat Wars in Indiana" (Indiana
Magazine of History, March, 1914).

38 Indiana University

state superintendents proudly tell us, by more than two millions
of dollars than the common school fund of any other state.

A system of county seminaries was early provided for, which,
if it proved a failure in the long run, nevertheless is highly suggestive
of the laudable aspirations of the time. In many counties suitable
buildings were erected, and in some schools were maintained whose
influence for good proved a power in the state.

Up to 1828 nineteen private academies, seminaries, and gram-
mar schools had been chartered, and all, most probably, were
opened for the reception of students. In most if not all of these a
fairly good English education could be had, and in some a classical
in addition.

The tendency of the legislation of the state was to encourage
the dissemination of knowledge. It came to be a sort of fashion of
the times, both in and out of the legislative halls, to view with a
friendly eye all educational schemes — a fashion that happily for the
state has not yet gone out of vogue.

During these early years it was made the rule to confer upon
each new county, in the act incorporating it, the power to organize
and maintain a public library — a power of which most if not all
the counties availed themselves. Most of those old libraries have
long since been scattered, but their catalogs of books, now and then
to be found on the mildewed pages of long laid aside records, show
their shelves to have been filled with the standard literature of the
day.

In 1824 steps were taken by the Indiana bar looking to the
founding of a state law library, and in the following year the Indiana
State Library was founded and an annual appropriation of $30 made
with which to buy new books, and a special one of $50 with which
to pay for the rebinding of certain old books then on hand.

In this necessarily brief and partial review of the educational
forces at work in Indiana at the time of the chartering of the College,
let us not overlook the fact that the press had come in along with
the vanguard of the movers. As early as 1804 Elihu Stout had
packed press and types on horseback from central Kentucky to
Vincennes, where he at once founded the first newspaper printed
within the Indiana Territory. In 1819 John A. Scott packed a
Ramage press from Philadelphia over the mountains to the head of
river navigation, whence he easily descended to Indiana and began
the publication of a weekly newspaper in the town of Brookville.
As the population of the state increased, the printing presses mul-
tiplied, and by the time the College was chartered there were no less

Centennial Memorial Volume 39

than twenty weekly newspapers issued between the Big Miami and
the Wabash.4

One of these was a paper founded in Bloomington as early as 1826
by Jesse Brandon. He and his brother were the second Indiana state
printers, and he brought to this town the press on which was printed
the acts of the General Assembly and other state documents for
many years, which press was here as late as 1854. And so was the
ex-state printer, the ghost of his former self, an aged, lean, and frail
bachelor who, to keep himself warm during the hard winters we
sometimes had "before the war", had a curious habit of sleeping
between two smooth sticks of cord-wood thoroly heated on a drum-
stove.

But the greatest of all the educational forces at work in those
primitive days was the country school, where "licken and larnen"
jogged along hand in hand in the good old way. I say greatest,
because it was in the old log schoolhouses that the rank and file of
the youth of the new state were taught the elements of book knowl-
edge.

In this connection we cannot afford to ignore the one place in
the state where was to be seen a great light. It was at New Har-
mony, in Posey county on the Wabash. There Robert Owen, a
canny Scotchman, having succeeded by purchase to the possessions
of the Rappites, had begun his socialistic experiment in 1825, the
very year the State Seminary was opened; and altho before the
first regular college classes were formed in Indiana College the
sanguine reformer saw that his experiment was doomed to failure,
nevertheless New Harmony was already radiant with scientific
thought and work. It is a story that reads like enchantment,
a story of the Owens — father and three sons, each of the latter to
become prominently identified with the history of the state. David
Dale Owen, the eldest, early in 1828 established a geological labor-
atory in New Harmony and ultimately was appointed United
States geologist for the Northwest, and served at one time or
another as state geologist for three states, Indiana, Kentucky, and
Arkansas. New Harmony was headquarters for all his geological
surveys. Robert Dale Owen, literarian and politician, began his
career in Indiana in the same year as editor of the New Harmony
Gazette and in 1827 published Pocahontas — A Drama, the first dis-
tinctively literary work by an Indiana author. For over thirty
years he was closely identified with the political and legislative

«Dr. Logan Esarey, '05, has practically completed for the Indiana Historical Survey a volume
on the history of the press in Indiana.

40 Indiana University

history of the state. He was a member of the commission that
framed the Indiana code of 1852 — a code remarkable for its literary
excellence and for the radical changes made in the law as to the
property rights of married women, for both of which he is entitled
to credit beyond any other man.

There were others at New Harmony who were already (in 1828)
renowned or were to become renowned. There was Frances Wright,
who in that year delivered her first public address in New Harmony
• — the first public address, I have no doubt, given in the state by a
woman, if not the first in the Northwest. Thomas Say, the eminent
naturalist from Philadelphia, was also there busily engaged on his
afterwards justly celebrated work on conchology, and publishing
from time to time learned papers on entomology, which have since
been given to the world in two octavo volumes. William Maclure,
geologist and publicist, was there also. He was one of the founders
of the Philadelphia Academy of Sciences, and in after years, with a
benevolence unexampled in Indiana history, gave a large fortune
to the establishing of libraries in every county of the state for the
benefit of the common people. And Lesseur, the French naturalist,
who had been among the earliest to study the strange forms of animal
life in New Holland (near Australia), was at this very time "working
on the description and figures of the Wabash fishes" with head-
quarters at New Harmony. And so, too, was Amphlett there,
writing the text to accompany the publication of Michaux's Sylvia
Americana. Dr. Richard Owen6, who was yet in his teens, writes
that "in 1828 and subsequently I saw him at this work."

Others might be mentioned as residents of New Harmony in
1828, who by their scientific investigations added to the fame of the
place. There was Joseph Neef, a former coadjutor of Pestalozzi,
and an author of books on education. "He was at the head of the
New Harmony Education Society." And also Dr. Gerald Troost,
a German geologist who subsequently made a geological survey of
Tennessee, and became president of the Tennessee University.

What a community of workers to be sure ! Their very presence
made a university — an unchartered, unendowed world's university!
How very much darker all the rest of the state must have seemed
by contrast with that New Harmony light.

Outside of the work of the Harmony folk, not a book had been
written and published in the state excepting the laws and other

•The third son of Robert Owen; professor In Indiana University, 1863-79. Owen Hall com-
memorates his connection with the University. In 1913 hia bust was placed in the Statehouse at
Indianapolis by a committee of Confederate Veterans in recognition of his humane treatment of
Confederate prisoners while serving as colonel of an Indiana regiment in charge of Camp Morton-

Centennial Memorial Volume 41

things published by public authority, and excepting now and then a
political pamphlet. It was to be two years before John Finley was
to write "The Hoosier's Nest", the earliest poem to survive to our
times; and it was to be two years before Judge Blackford was to
publish the first volume of his series of Blackford's Reports.

Let us turn to Bloomington. What of it? The population of
Monroe county in 1828 was about 4,60P6, and of Bloomington about
600. The town was still in the woods. Its few business houses
were confined to the west side and the west half of the south side of
the public square. Its one hundred or more residences occupied
the other parts of the square or straggled in the rear. The court-
house was finished, and when not used for court purposes was
locked against all intruders, save such as had a curious longing to
know more of architecture than the ordinary log cabin taught.
East of the row of dwellings on the east side of the square was an
open common used by the county militia on training days and by
any other citizens on any day when they happened to find it necessary
to settle an argument by fist and skull. It was on that common
that an ingenious Monroe county man — a very prince among the
slick citizens of his day — soaped himself all over and went into win.

Bloomington was well connected by mail with all the prominent
towns in the state, and its mail facilities were quite good for an
interior town in 1828. Up to about 1836 it had but one mail a week,
but that was quite regular save when the roads were very bad or
the waters uncommonly high. Up to 1826 the weekly mail was
carried on horseback by a "little old man" who announced his
coming by a blast from his postman's horn. He came from Salem
by the way of Sparks' Ferry on White river, and Fairfax on Salt
creek. In that year the route was changed thru Bedford. If there
was any other change for ten years my informants have forgotten
it. I suspect there was ; but in 1836 a tri-weekly mail came. It was
brought by John and Samuel Orchard, who saw that the mail bags
were sent three times a week over the long road between Indian-
apolis and Leavenworth on the Ohio river. During the season of
dry weather they sent the bags by stage coaches, but in the winter
and spring on horseback, save between Bloomington and Indian-
apolis. Over that part of the line the bags were often too heavy lo
go on horseback, and when so the fore wheels of a road wagon
would be hitched to, the bags thrown on, and thus wheeled to their
destination.

•Judge Banta appends here a footnote showing that he arrived at this figure by multiplying
921, the number of polls in 1828, by 5, the estimated ratio of persons to adult males.

42 Indiana University

In 1840 a tri-weekly branch line was opened up connecting
Louisville with the Leavenworth route at Salem. Lateral lines were
established from time to time, one from Bloomfield to Bloomington
in 1836 or 1837, and one to Columbus a little later. In 1848 the
long lines were broken up and a system of shorter ones established
in lieu of them; and in 1853 the advent of the railroad in Bloom-
ington put an end to the further carrying of the mail bags on horse-
back, on wheels, and in stage coaches.

But let us turn to the Indiana College itself; what of it on this
January 24, 1828? Its endowment, as stated by Dr. Maxwell in
his letter to Dr. Wylie announcing his election, was "nearly $40,000"
and brought in an income which he "estimated at something like
$2,000"; and from the report of the treasurer of state made about
the same time it appears the unsold College lands were between
seventeen and eighteen thousand acres, which it is supposed were
worth as many dollars as there were acres.

There were two buildings, one built for a professor's residence,
and the other a plain brick rectangular structure two stories high,
containing six rooms, one of which was the chapel and another the
Henodelphistei ian Society's room, leaving four rooms for recitation
purposes.

Now add the thirty-five students that Dr. Maxwell, in his letter
to Dr. Wylie, says were in attendance, most of whom were in the
preparatory department, and "none of whom except in one or two
branches had advanced beyond the studies usually pursued in the
freshman class", and we have the warp and woof of the Indiana
College the first year of its existence.

It was without the veriest pretense of a library, and there was
not the simplest article of apparatus connected with it.

Outside was the campus, containing ten acres, inclosed with a
worm fence, and surrounded on at least three sides with walls of
living trees. On the town side, the ax-men had been at work, but
it was many years after 1828 before all the forest trees lining College
avenue between the town and the College were cut down and
destroyed.

The campus itself, however, was bare enough of tree and leaf.
The pioneers were soldiers arrayed in hostility to the trees, and with
such courage and persistence did they carry on the war that in less
than the life of two generations of men the great forests of Indiana
have been destroyed. As for the campus itself, they made short
work of it. In the language of the times, they cleared it "smack,
smooth, and clean", cutting off every tree save a very few in the

Centennial Memorial Volume 43

southeast corner, one or two of which still feebly hold out against
the tramp and stamp of the lusty ball-players.7 But the stumps
of the fallen trees, some charred and blackened by fire and some in
Nature's own coat of brown or gray, still thickly stood all over the
ground. And amidst these cumbering stumps, here and there, were
doubtless to be seen even at this early time a few feeble trans-
planted bushes and shrubs. Certainly they were there a few years
later. It was the rule of the pioneers to spare no green thing unless
it was something that might by some possibility bear fruit or make
a "gate post". "Let the sunlight in" said they, and so they built
their cabins and schoolhouses, their meeting-houses and colleges, in
the glare of the sunshine, and afterwards made feeble efforts towards
ornamentation by transplanting black-locusts, horse-chestnuts,
willows, or some other abomination to be found somewhere in our
American forests.

The street leading from the College to the town was unpaved
and the sidewalk was a footpath in clay. The first improved walk
to the College, consisting of hewed logs strung end to end, was not
yet laid down. Young Joseph G. McPheeters and George Wash-
ington Parke Custis, the purchasers of the logs and the promoters
of that enterprise, were not yet students in the Indiana College.

Let us now pass to the organization of the College. On the first
Monday of May, 1828, ten of the fifteen trustees met at the College
in pursuance of the requirement of the law appointing them. Of
these ten, eight were from Monroe county; another was George H.
Dunn, from Dearborn, and the other was Seth M. Leavenworth,
from Crawford. The first thing done was to organize by electing
Dr. Maxwell president of the board, and Prindiwell H. Dorsey, sec-
retary ; after which the board proceeded at once to the election of a
president of Indiana College. One name and one only was pre-
sented for the office of president, that of the Rev. Andrew Wylie,
D.D., then the president of Washington College in western Pennsyl-
vania, who receiving the vote of every member present was declared
duly elected.

Dr. Wylie was a native of the county wherein was the college of
which he was president — Washington county — where he was born
on April 12, 1789. He was just turned into his thirty-seventh year
at the time of his election. He was of Irish descent and up to his
fifteenth year had lived the life of a farmer lad. He had then
entered school in his county town of Washington, and on being

7When this address was written, altho the University was located on its present site, the athletic
field was still on the Old College grounds,

44 Indiana University

prepared for the freshman class went to Jefferson College at the
town of Canonsburg, seven miles from Washington, where at the
age of twenty-one he graduated with the honors of his class. His
scholarship and superior intellectual endowments engaging the
attention of the Jefferson board of trustees, they at once gave him
employment as a tutor, but in less than two years he was advanced
at one bound from his tutorship to the presidency, a mark of con-
fidence seldom paralleled in the history of American colleges. For
seven years he continued at the head of his Alma Mater, when he
wa^ elected to the presidency of the neighboring institution, Wash-
ington College.

Washington and Jefferson were rivals and always had been, but
an effort was now made looking to a consolidation; and Andrew
Wylie, it was hoped, would be the agent thru whose influence this
desirable end was to be brought about. The effort failing, he con-
tinued to occupy the Washington presidential chair, and was there
in May, 1828, when Dr. Maxwell's letter reached him announcing
his election to the presidency of the Indiana College.

It is evident that Dr. Wylie was not a candidate for the presi-
dency of the new college of the new state of Indiana. In truth,
there is no evidence tending to show that he had any knowledge
that his name would be up for consideration in connection with that
office. But there is evidence tending to show that the Washington
presidency was growing irksome to him. Dr. Brown, whom he had
succeeded as president of Washington, still lived in the town, and
his presence was a standing menace to the Canonsburg Doctor.
Letters written at the time show that Dr. Brown and his friends
would have taken great pleasure in seeing Wylie go to another field.
How did the Indiana trustees know of him and of his fitness for
the presidential office? There was no educational bureau in that
day to serve the purpose of the middle-man, to bring the electors
and the candidate into communication. Let the presidential office
of this University become vacant today and in less than a month
there would be found from fifteen to fifty willing to take the place,
and it would be a very hard day's work to read and digest all the
testimonials that would be sent in.

In a letter written to Dr. Wylie, immediately after his election,
by Professor Hall, that gentleman says:

Mr. John H. Harney, professor of mathematics, and myself, who both
have long proposed and desired your election to the presidency of the
College of Indiana, cannot but be extremely solicitous that you should
accede to the wishes of the Board of Trustees, which by this time must

Centennial Memorial Volume 45

have reached you. In the hope, therefore, that it may aid your determin-
ation, be assured that the call of the board is entirely unanimous and
cordial ; that it meets the entire approbation of the townsmen and of all the
principal men of the whole state, both in public and private life.

So it seems Hall and Harney both recommended his election to
the Board of Trustees. But there is a tradition that William Hen-
dricks, formerly governor of the state and at the time a United
States senator, had done the same thing, and the tradition is a
reasonable one. The rival colleges sent their sons all over the West.
Two of them, Jonathan Jennings and William Hendricks, were
governors of Indiana, and one, Andrew Davidson, was long one of
the judges of our supreme court. The year that saw Andrew Wylie
a senior at Jefferson, saw William Hendricks a sophomore at the
same place, and when Hendricks' commencement day came, Andrew
Wylie as president gave him his diploma. Hendricks never forgot
his former fellow-student and college president, and it is quite
reasonable to suppose that he gave his voice in favor of Wylie's
election.

Two days after the election, Dr. Maxwell wrote to Dr. Wylie
announcing the action of the board. The letter, which has escaped
the ravages of time, was prepared with a care befitting the occasion.
Its excellence of chirography and elegance of diction must have
engaged the attention of the orderly and scholarly man to whom it
was sent. It is quite evident the writer exercised much greater care
in its composition than he usually did in his trustees' reports to the
General Assembly. General Assemblies met in Indiana yearly, but
where would the trustees go for a president if Wylie failed? And
so the doctor of medicine wrote to the doctor of divinity the very
best letter possible.

How very slow they were in those far-off days ! Altho the writer
of the letter asked for as "speedy an answer as possible", it was ten
months before the final answer came. Not that there were no
letters passing between Bloomington and Washington in the mean-
time. These came and went with a frequency that must have been
sensibly depleting to the pocket of a man on a thousand-dollar
salary when each one cost him twenty-five cents for postage.

"Come and look the field over anyhow", wrote the Bloomington
doctor to the Washington one; and sometime during the fall of 1828
the visit was made. The little that is known of that visit is highly
suggestive of the facility with which the events of life may be for-
gotten. There is a bare allusion to the circumstance of the visit
in a letter written by Dr. Wylie, which letter is still in existence.

46 Indiana University

One glimpse and one only of that reconnoitering tour do we get
from the memory of a man still living.

Late on a Saturday evening, Dr. Wylie, wearied and travel-
stained, rides into the town of Greensburg in Decatur county, and
stops at the taven for the night. The word at once goes to the
Presbyterians of the Sand Creek Church, six miles east of the town,
that a doctor of divinity from western Pennsylvania would preach
in their meeting-house on the morrow. Volunteer messengers,
according to the custom of the times, ride up and down the neighbor-
hood in great haste carrying the message. It was not often a doctor
of divinity penetrated the Indiana woods in those days and preached
to the people, and so it was not at all strange that an unusually
large congregation listened to his sermon when the morrow came.
That night he was the guest of a Presbyterian brother, Judge John
Hopkins, who lived three miles farther on the road toward Cin-
cinnati, where he again delivered an impressive discourse to a house
full of the judge's neighbors. A little boy then present, but now an
old, old man, Dr. J. H. Donnell of Franklin, remembers Dr. Wylie's
touching allusion on that occasion to the young man Eutychus, who
sinking down under Paul's long preaching fell from the "third loft
and was taken up for dead" ; nor has he forgotten the tearful leave-
taking from his newly-made friends on the morrow, nor with what
grace and dignity of carriage he mounted his horse when the time
came and rode off homeward.

Dr. Wylie had traveled from Bloomington to Columbus thru
that hill country that afterwards was to be legislated into Brown
county. The road connecting the two towns had been recently cut
out, and it wound in and out over the hills and thru the valleys
without much regard for section lines, as was sometimes the case
even in the more level regions of the state. It is doubtful whether
he passed a single cabin within the present limits of that county.
The Salt creek bottoms were one vast wilderness. The now dead
village of Hedgesville had not been founded by six years, and it was
seven before the first cabin was built in or about Jacksonburg, now
Nashville.

What a joy that ride must have been to him, dear lover of the
out-of-doors that we know him to have been! The lofty hills and
deep valleys called to mind his own mountainous country, while the
gorgeous and variegated hues of the autumnal woods, and the odors
from ripening nuts and falling leaves and the noise of birds and
animals gleaning the rich fruitage of the woods gave to it all an
indescribable charm.

Centennial Memorial Volume 47

From Columbus to Greensburg the road led thru a settled
country all the way. The pioneers' round-log cabins with clap-
board roofs held in place by weight poles were still standing. By
the side of many of them stood a newer house built of logs scotched
to a face, with the corners neatly notched down. Here and there a
double or "saddle-bags" cabin had been built, according as the
pioneer's increase of wealth and of family had warranted ; and once
in a while, but not often, the traveler passed a still more pretentious
structure, made of hewn logs with a clap-board roof nailed on, and
with a brick or stone chimney in lieu of the almost universal "mud
and stick" affair.

At intervals of several miles his eyes rested upon a cleared but
unfenced space by the roadside, in the center of which stood the
neighborhood meeting-house, built of hewed logs, or mayhap a
framed structure un-weatherboarded but with the spaces between
the upright timbers filled in with clay. Schoolhouses too were to
be seen and for that matter more often than meeting-houses. These
were rude structures made of logs and surrounded by unenclosed
playgrounds. The great mud and stick chimney at one end of each
told of the huge fireplace within, while the entire log cut out at the
other end was suggestive of the flood of light pouring thru "oil-
paper glass" itfpon the juvenile makers of "pot-hooks and hangers"
seated at the long tables within.

New the country must indeed have seemed on that day, but new
as it was, the traveler would have seen much the same in almost any
road in the state, a fact we who would estimate at its true value the
founding of a college in Indiana in 1828 must ever keep in mind.

From Judge Hopkins' house Dr. Wylie took the road that led
by Oxford, the seat of the Miami University, where he visited friends
and made a note of the ill consequences of putting unseasoned
lumber into college buildings ; and thence by the way of Cincinnati
he went on to his home.

Not till March 20 following his election, a period of over ten
months, does he make up his mind to accept the Indiana call. From
the few letters wholly or partially saved from destruction, it is
evident that call was kept sounding in his ears. Both Maxwell and
Hall wrote often and earnestly urging acceptance, and doubtless
other citizens of the state were equally importunate.

At home there was a pressure the other way. The friends of
Washington College pressed him to stay with them, and he found
it hard to cut loose from lifelong friends and to abandon the ties of
kinship. But more than all else as a hindrance was his distrust of

48 Indiana University

the temper manifested toward the school by some, and especially
toward Professor Harney and the Board of Trustees of the State
Seminary at the time of the latter's election.

At last on March 2$, 1829, the decision was made. He wrote:

It would be impossible to convey to you in a letter all the causes of that
hesitancy which I have felt in relation to the invitation with which your board
have honored me. Mr. Harney's narrow escape contributed considerably to
continue this hesitancy. But I have determined at length to end this sus-
pense, unpleasant to myself as it can be.

He said he would accept. But he asked for time to get ready
for the removal of himself and family. He could not enter into his
new field of labor before the ensuing fall, and he gave a multitude of
reasons for the delay.

His acceptance was hailed with joy by the friends of the College,
but there was regret at the delay to come. On April 7, 1829, Pro-
fessor Hall wrote him a long letter urging an immediate coming and
giving ten reasons why he should do so, eight of which the doctor
himself pronounced "cogent", and some of which are of historical
significance.

If indeed it be impossible for you to come immediately, either from the health
of Mrs. Wylie, from the affairs of the Allegheny Seminary, or some one or more
causes, it will be superfluous and impertinent to urge reasons why you ought
to be here at the commencement of the summer session. But if anything be
either in itself or relatively important, I do assure you, it is your immediate
removal hither. And the reasons for this are very many; more than can be prop-
erly stated in one or twenty letters. I will, however, state two or three. First,
the expectation of the public in this and the adjoining states has been raised —
the expectation of your immediate arrival. They believe that the College needs
your presence and must dwindle without it; they have been waiting for your
arrival to send their children. If you still delay, the public expectation will be
in a manner disappointed; their desires towards us flag; and consequently their
sons sent elsewhere. Second, we hear of ten or twelve young men waiting to
hear your decision and arrival, who, we are told, will go to other places unless
you come directly. Third, some students we are informed would leave other
institutions if anyone could give them instruction in the studies of the junior
and senior years, and this they know cannot take place without your presence.
Fourth, we have one or two in the junior year who talk of leaving here unless
someone instruct them in the same studies, as they wish not to have a defective
education. Fifth, our trustees at their last meeting, acting from some foolish
legal quibbles as to the extent of the charter, cut off our English department
and came near destroying the grammar school. A word from you will restore all,
and not till restored will our numbers be very greatly augmented. . . . Eighth,
enemies, you know from Harney's case, the College has. These are sorely plagued
at your acceptance. They will be utterly defeated by your immediate removal.
If you delay I dread more plots. If once defeated they can never try again.

Centennial Memorial Volume 49

. . . Tenth, the spring is by common consent the best season for a removal.
The middle of summer is dangerous; the autumn may be highly so.

But it was in vain that they urged him. There was a babe in his
house "not yet five weeks old" ; he had in his hands the "business of
two estates in which widows and orphans were concerned"; and
his relations to the Western Theological Seminary made it neces-
sary for him to attend the meeting of the General Assembly of his
church to be held in Philadelphia in the following May.

Out of this General Assembly trip came the nucleus of the first
Indiana College library. The Doctor proposed to the trustees that
after his assembly work was done, he would, if they approved, visit
divers eastern colleges with the particular purpose of examining
their buildings and studying their architecture; and he proposed also
to visit the moneyed centers and solicit donations of books and funds
with which to buy books, and "an apparatus" for the College. The
trustees gave him the roving commission he asked for, and in May
he went to Philadelphia.

No stronger evidence of the prevailing poverty of the times, not
to say of western servility to the East, can be found than this com-
missioning of the newly elected college president to go on a begging
tour for a state institution. To the president, as a churchman, it
doubtless seemed well enough, for the church is divinely commis-
sioned to ask the aid of the faithful everywhere tr carry on the
church's work; but for a board of trustees, nominated by state
authority and working in behalf of a state institution from which
sectarianism was rigidly excluded both by law and public senti-
ment, it was quite another thing. But a library and chemical and
philosophical apparatus were so much needed, and there was such
a dearth of funds, that in their extremity the College authorities
humbled themselves and their state, by asking the full purses of
the East to contribute to their wants. Who can know the straits
to which the Fathers were reduced in the upbuilding of our beloved
institution!

In Philadelphia Dr. Wylie was the guest of the Rev. Dr. Samuel
B. Wylie, his uncle, who was the father of our Dr. T. A. Wylie, then
a student in the University of Pennsylvania. In that city he made
little effort for books or funds. "The frequency of such applications
recently in Philadelphia", he wrote, "prevented my attempting
anything there." Nevertheless he must have solicited books from
his uncle, and that not without avail, for when the boy Theophilus
had grown to manhood and had come to Bloomington as the pro-
fessor of natural philosophy he found in the College library books

50 Indiana University

that he recognized as old and familiar friends, books that once
belonged to his father's library.

From Philadelphia Andrew Wylie went to New York, where he
pressed his mission, and not without success. First, he "prepared
the way", as he himself says, by preaching on the Sabbath "in two
of the churches" and the next two days he employed in "making
acquaintances". "The rest of the week", he continues in a letter
written to the president of the board, "I design to spend soliciting
donations and hope to succeed in some degree. ... I shall try
hard to raise funds enough in this region to procure an apparatus
for our College."

This was in June. How long a time he spent in New York is not
now known, nor what other towns and cities he visited, if any. No
money was procured to buy the much-talked-of "apparatus",
whatever that was, but the solicitor did meet with no mean success
in his pursuit of books. "Two hundred and fifty-five volumes so
assorted as to embrace history, geography, belles lettres, and
treatises on chemistry and mental and moral philosophy" was the
number brought in. "These books", wrote the president of the
board in his report to the General Assembly of the state, "were all
new and of the most approved authors and estimated at being very
low for $600." And as if it were not enough to report to the legis-
lature that the institution had after five years procured the first
books for a library, and that by begging them in the East, the good
man triumphantly, as it would seem, declared that these books
"have not cost the state or institution a solitary cent" but were
"gratuitously presented ... by various donors in the middle
and eastern states". Arthur Tappan, a wealthy and charitable
New York merchant, contributed $1QO to the book fund, for which
generous act he "received the special thanks of the board".

During the twenty-two months that intervened between the
chartering of the College and the arrival of the president no change
was made in the curriculum of studies. The work continued to be
carried on in all respects the same as during the Seminary days.
But there seems to have been a falling off in attendance. The
thirty-five students that were on the ground when Dr. Wylie was
elected had dwindled to twenty-four, according to the memory of
one of the number who is yet living.8

The trustees were at work in the meanwhile, having caused to be
erected a large three-storied brick building which, when completed

sjudge Banta referred to Mr. William H. Jones, '36, who has since died (July 29, 1897).

Centennial Memorial Volume 51

two or three years afterwards, vied with the then new courthouse in
architectural beauty and finish. It was burned in the spring of
1854.

In the autumn following the summer trip to Philadelphia
and New York, we find the president-elect at his old Washington
home ready to set out on his western journey. The baby had
grown somewhat by this time, the trusts for the widows and orphans
were settled, and the care of the Theological Seminary had been
left with the General Assembly, and there was nothing to detain
him longer. But a protracted drouth had put the rivers at a low
stage — so low a stage that steamboats could ascend the Ohio no
higher than Wheeling. As the time passed he became impatient
to be off. September was drawing to a close and he could delay
no longer. Four two-horse wagons were accordingly laden with
his household goods and hauled overland to the head of steamboat
navigation. Fourteen persons, including nine children, constituted
President Wylie's family. Lewis C. Bollman, a lad of eighteen,
accompanied him, in order to finish his education in the new Indiana
College.

On September 27 the movers were in Wheeling. The river was
low, so low that the steamboats had ceased running even that far up,
and in spite of their journey overland they were compelled to wait
for a rise. Friends and relatives lived in Wheeling, who were
visited; and, a Sunday intervening, Dr. Wylie preached in one of
the city churches. In "three or four days" the river began to rise,
and with the first appearance of the rise the steamboat captains,
ordering the fires to be kindled in the furnaces, began ringing their
bells, and all was soon bustle and confusion on the Wheeling wharf.
The movers with all th*eir stuff were soon aboard, and their boat
cast off, steaming down the river by day and tying up by night
for the lagging flood to overtake them. They reached Louisville
in time for the Doctor to repeat his Wheeling sermon to a Louisville
congregation on the ensuing Sunday.

The wagons sent by Dr. Maxwell from Bloomington were there
on his arrival, or came soon after, and the overland journey of
ninety-five miles to Bloomington was soon begun. The Doctor,
his wife, and his younger children rode in the "barouche", while
others went in the wagons. Young Bollman walked part of the
way in "company with a wagon". At some point on the journey he
encountered a kinsman on horseback, and they two journeyed on to
Bloomington after the fashion in which Samuel Johnson and his
friend David Garrick went down to London — they "rode and tied".

52 Indiana University

The first night the movers stayed at New Providence with Mrs.
Borden, and here they saw evidences of the much-dreaded fever and
ague, to guard against which they at once adopted the custom of the
country and drank whiskey with their water. The next day at
noon they reached Salem and stopped till the next morning. Here
was the Salem Academy, a school founded two years before by
John I. Morrison and already widely known. The afternoon was
devoted to visiting this school.

The president had written to Dr. Maxwell that "it would be im-
portant that the manner of his entrance upon the sphere of his
future operations should attract some attention"; and the doctor
and the two professors, and perhaps some others, resolved that
nothing should be lacking to make his entrance into the town as
inpressive as possible.

It was late in the afternoon of October 9 when the immigrants
arrived. The town was in its Sunday best. No such spectacular
display had ever been witnessed before in Bloomington as was to
be witnessed that afternoon and evening. A deputation consisting
of trustees, county officials, professional men, private citizens, and
students, under the command of Gordon Robinson, a military man,
having been a soldier in the War of 1812, were to meet the president
at a designated place and escort him into town. Bollman had told
the townspeople at about what time to expect the advent of the
movers, and so at the appointed time a courier rode down the high-
way till he met them, when he rode back to give notice of their
coming. A sentinel was posted in a beech tree in the campus close
by the spring to give notice of the coming of the courier. In due
time the warning was given, and professors and students, trustees
and citizens, all marched forth in double file to meet the coming
man. At the proper place the column divided and the cavalcade
passed between the two rows, who gave vent to their joy in loud and
long continued huzzas! To the eyes of the Indiana lads present,
some of whom at least had never seen a vehicle finer than a "Dear-
born wagon", the president's "barouche" was an imposing affair.

On their arrival at the president's house, the tired movers found
it "swept and garnished". The Bloomington matrons and maids,
vying with their husbands and brothers, gave doubtless the more
appreciative welcome. The fire played cheerfully upon the hearth-
stone that October evening, and after a season of hand-shaking, the
tired and hungry travelers were led out to a bountiful supper. A
young college student, McKee Dunn, saw that table and was won-

Centennial Memorial Volume 53

derfully impressed with its tempting viands and its artistic setting.
He never forgot that the "butter was ornamented with a spray of
cedar".

An illumination followed the supper. It must have been a
unique affair. A pole was raised above the roof of the new College.

The upper end passed through a center of radiating pieces bounded by a
circumference, and continued to rise yet a few feet. Near its top crossed a bar
at right angles; and at each end of the bar a candle represented a professor, and
a very large candle on the end of the pole itself personated the president. The
students, twenty-four in number, stood in the candles around the circle below.

The president candle was the largest candle, according to the recol-
lection of General Dunn, that had ever been in the state. It was as
tall as a man. The two professor candles were of smaller size, and
the twenty-four student candles were smaller still.

While the greater and lesser lights of the New Purchase "glim-
mered forth that night in all the glory and effulgence of cotton wick
and beef tallow", a meeting was held in Professor Harney's room,
the lower northeast corner room of the oldest College building, the
very room in which Professor Ballantine taught mathematics
twenty-six years afterwards when the older College building had
burned down (1854) — and to this meeting came the president, the
professors, the students, the resident members of the board, the
professional men of the town and divers of the citizens, including
one of the town fiddlers, Albert Literal, and one of the College
flutists, John Dunn. Introductions and greetings followed, after
which speeches were made by the president, the professors, and
others. Between the speeches the flutist and fiddler played their
most enlivening airs, such as "White River", "Fire in the Mountain",
"Jay Bird", and "Bonaparte Crossing the Alps", the fiddler keeping
the time by the pat of his foot, in which exercise all the boys and a
good many of the citizens gleefully joined.

At a late hour the company dispersed, and that night the people
of Bloomington went to their beds happy in the knowledge that the
president of Indiana College was at last safe within their gates!

III. THE NEW DEPARTURE (1829-33)1

IN AN INDIANAPOLIS NEWSPAPER printed on August 24, 1829, is
an announcement over the signature of David H. Maxwell, the
president of the Board of Trustees of the Indiana College, that on
Thursday, October 29, the inauguration of Dr. Wylie as president

*Read by Judge Banta as the annual Foundation Day address, January 20, 1891.

54 Indiana University

of the College would take place. The members of the two College
boards — the Trustees and the Visitors — are notified that they are
expected to be punctual in their attendance on that occasion, while
to "the literary gentlemen of the state especially", and to "the
friends of education generally", a most cordial invitation is extended.
And, as if fearful that the "literary gentlemen" and the "friends of
education" may not be persuaded to attend the festivities in be-
coming numbers by the novelty attending the first inauguration of a
college president in Indiana, the sagacious president of the board in
a postscript adds, "Several addresses by students of the College, in
English and Latin, will be delivered on the evening of the 28th."

It is quite evident that those having the management in charge
hoped the occasion would be made to mark an era in the history of
the College; and from all the evidence now accessible it seems
reasonably certain that in this way they were not disappointed. In
the Indiana Journal of November 5, an unnamed correspondent
tells something of the feast of reason enjoyed by "the trustees of the
College and a numerous and highly respectable audience of ladies
and gentlemen from various parts of the state" on that auspicious
occasion. It is quite true, he makes no allusion to the several
"addresses by the students in English and Latin", which the presi-
dent of the board promised ; but I think we may take it for granted
that the addresses were given, and well given at that, for those were
days when it was a poor stick of a student who could not stand up
before an audience and talk fairly well.

Be this as it may, the chronicler was not neglectful of the cere-
monies and addresses of inauguration day. At the appointed hour,
the courthouse being packed with an interested throng, he tells us
that Dr. David H. Maxwell, after the delivery of "a chaste and
appropriate address, presented Dr. Wylie with the keys of the
College and declared him duly installed as its president". Then
followed the inaugural address itself — "an inaugural", says our
chronicler, "which occupied about an hour in the delivery, and
which for sound philosophy, expanded views of science and liter-
ature, lucid argument, nervous simplicity and manly independ-
ence, may be honorably compared with the best productions of
the kind in our country".

This, you say, is strong language, and so it is; but when ori
November 26 the Journal published the address in full, its editor,
who was not a correspondent and not bound to praise, neverthe-
less wrote no less positively in praise of its "simplicity, elegance,
soundness, and strength" than the unnamed chronicler had himself

Centennial Memorial Volume 55

written. A pamphlet copy of that inaugural, dog-eared and time-
stained, is before me as I write. Its very appropriate theme is,
"Of What Advantage is a College to the Community?" and on
reading it after the coming and going of sixty years since it was
spoken, I am struck with what seems to be the conciliatory air
pervading its every utterance and the seemingly far-away echo of
some of its sentiments.

All men were not of one mind in those days (at least here in
Indiana) as to the true place of the College. Indeed, there were a
few who had such distrust of college-bred men as to deny the
College any place in a free state; while there were others whose
ideas with reference thereto were so very hazy that they were as
liable to turn up antagonists as friends. It accorded with the views
of the orator of the day to take high ground in favor of scholastic
training; and so he did, yet he did it in such a persuasive and con-
ciliatory tone as not to antagonize those who should be less pro-
nounced in their views than he. In well-chosen language he shows
wherein the community would be the better by the liberal education
of its four so-called learned professions — medicine, law, theology,
and pedagogy, — not forgetting to enlarge upon the benefit that
would accrue to that "most respectable class in society, the farmer"
by the education of such a "considerable number" of his class as
the growing prosperity of the country would ultimately make
possible.

Doubtless, that first of our inaugural orations would make dull
reading to the most of us today; but let us remember that it was
spoken for a people who were in the a, b, c, of knowledge as to the
true mission of the College, and that if we have advantages beyond
them in this respect our advance was made possible in a very large
degree by this very address, and by the subsequent addresses appro-
priate to the times delivered — some here on commencement
occasions, and others elsewhere in the state — by the same distin-
guished speaker.

It is a fact worth stating that, up to the time of Dr. Wylie's
coming, I can find no trace of an educational literature outside of
the legislative acts and of the reports of educational committees in
the newspapers of our state. This inaugural address was the first
educational address ever published in an Indianapolis paper, and
as far as I know, the first in the state; and up to 1835, of the dozen
or more literary and educational addresses published in the capital
papers, every one (save one) was from the pen of the president of
the Indiana College.

56 Indiana University

Let us then, as generous scholars, treasure the memory of one
who did so much to make possible the vantage ground of today.

Little more is known of the incidents of that first inaugural day
than what is here recited. We may well believe that the president
of the board as well as the president of the College was somewhat
anxious as to the result of the day's exercises. We have the testi-
mony of Mr. Lewis Bollman that he and such other of the Washing-
ton College students as had followed the president to his new field
of action were much concerned as to the inpression their much loved
preceptor would make. When one citizen was seen taking notes
of the doctor's speech, Mr. Bollman could scarcely conceal his
solicitude. What did it mean? Was the enemy already preparing
for war? The young Pennsylvanian was bound to know; and so
after the exercises were closed, he drew nigh to the notetaker and
asked him what he thought of the address.

"It was a very ordinary address, sir — a very ordinary address.
He used but two words that I do not know the meaning of", was
the unexpected reply!

Would that we could look back upon that old Indiana College at
the time of the new departure, and see its professors and its students
and their work. Its professors we know : Wylie, Hall, and Harney —
men of renown even then, and each to become more renowned as
the years go on; but who can tell how many, and who, were its
students? No catalog of the first College year 1829-30 has come
down to our time, and the legislative reports of the time are singu-
larly deficient in information as to the number of students in
attendance at the beginning of this first presidential year. The
evidence on hand, however, warrants the conclusion that of our
own Indiana students there were not to exceed twenty-five or
thirty in attendance, but from the report we learn that there were
students "from Louisiana, Illinois, Kentucky, Pennsylvania, and
probably from New Jersey". The writer of the report took a hopeful
view of the future, predicting that the attendance during the year
would not fall short of fifty, and I think it likely his prediction came
true. It is known that a large number of Washington College
students followed the president to Bloomington — so many that
Washington College was nearly broken up for the time being,
according to the testimony of Lewis Bollman.

The Indiana Seminary was organized as a preparatory school,
and can hardly be said to have ever advanced beyond it. Immedi-
ately after the passing of the act chartering the College the trustees,
assuming the transformation to be complete, declared that "The

Centennial Memorial Volume 57

first session of the Indiana College will commence on the first Mon-
day in June next." But there was no change made in the course of
studies. The professors on the ground were doing all they could.
The greater number of their students were still in the preparatory
studies.

In the fall of 1828 we learn, however, that a few students were
pursuing the studies usually pursued in a freshman class, and that in
one or two studies belonging to the sophomore year work was done —
a condition of things that moved the trustees to pass an order at their
fall meeting for that year requiring the professors to provide a course
of studies for the four regular College classes. This requirement
was complied with in part only. The studies for the freshman and
sophomore years were marked out by the professors, and there they
stopped. They were loath to anticipate the president in the per-
formance of a work in which he was so much interested. Professor
Hall wrote to him months before his coming of this very need, and
urged haste on his part because of it. If, however, there was no
formal junior course of study laid down, it seems quite evident that
junior work was done the last year prior to the president's coming,
for he found a senior class awaiting him. James W. Dunn and
Michael Hummer, together with James S. Rollins,2 a Washington
College student, took their degrees at the first commencement held
in 1830.

The first thing therefore to be done after the inauguration was
the announcement of a complete curriculum of studies, and in the
following December this was printed in full in the Indiana Journal.

As to the matter of that College course, it differed in no essential
features from the courses of study common to other colleges of the
time. Great stress was given to the languages, the mathematics,
the mental and moral sciences, and to belles lettres. The sciences
forma very inconspicuous part of it. Outside of the applied mathe-
matical subjects, there was but one purely scientific study in the
entire course — chemistry. And inasmuch as there was no appa-
ratus of any kind on hand, and no experimental work of any sort
done, we can easily see that the scientific instruction given at that
time in the Indiana College must have been exceedingly meager.
Mr. Bollman says there was "no chemistry in any shape".3 The
late General McKee Dunn, who took his degree in 1832, said on the

2For sketches of these three, the first graduates of Indiana College, see Theophilus Wylie's
Indiana University, Its History from 1820 to 1890 (1890) pp. 166-168. Rollins removed to Mis-
souri and was chiefly instrumental in founding the University of Missouri.

'Lewis Bollman, The State University of Indiana, p. 25.— D. D. Banta.

58 Indiana University

contrary, in effect, that chemistry was taught after a fashion, but
that when he graduated he had so little conception of what was re-
quired to constitute a chemist's laboratory that he did not even know
what a crucible was.

Once for all let it be remembered that the curriculum of studies
in this institution, as long as President Wylie lived, was especially
full in the line of the mental and moral sciences and of all belles
lettres studies. Before leaving Washington College he had intro-
duced in that institution, in lieu of the old metaphysics with its
"entities and quiddities", the Scottish philosophy of Thomas
Reid and Dugald Stewart; and while textbooks for the senior year
are not named in the early Indiana College catalogs, we may never-
theless rest content that, if her bachelors did not go forth well
indoctrinated with orthodox Scottish theory, it was no fault of its
expounder, Dr. Wylie.

The most curious phase of this first full collegiate course adopted
in the state of Indiana was the order in which the various studies it
comprehended were to be pursued. The plan was one which has
been aptly denominated "the one-study plan". The student is
required to "give his undivded attention to one principal study till
it is completed", say the old catalogs. Thus thru all the freshman and
half the sophomore years, he gave his undivided attention to Greek
and Latin. The latter half of his sophomore year and all of his
junior, he studied the mathematics pure and applied, together with
the little of the so-called natural sciences that should be dribbled out.
His senior year he gave to the president, in the speculative philoso-
phies, in the evidences of chemistry, in constitutional law, political
economy, and literary criticism.

Whether the "one-study" idea, in its application to the Indiana
College course, was a new departure I cannot say ; but the idea was
not new to the common schools of the day. The plan then generally
in vogue, and destined to be in vogue for many a year to come,
recognized it to the fullest extent. After the boy of the district
school had mastered the alphabet, he was set to spelling in his
Webster's spelling-book, and not suffered to use any other book
until he could not only spell every word in the book at sight, but
pronounce every word at sight. He might have learned to read
fairly well in the meantime, better it may be than his father or
mother; but his teacher, blind to his advance in this respect, kept
him pounding away at his spelling-book until he had gone thru it
in the required ways and required times. That done, learning to
read was next in order. No matter how well or how ill the lad could

Centennial Memorial Volume 59

read, when this work was entered upon, the first reading lesson in the
old spelling-book was assigned him. Probably in anticipation of
that great and eventful day, the boy had read that lesson over
hundred of times and knew it as well off the book as on :

She fed the old hen.

The old hen was fed by her.

See how the hen can run.

No matter, Begin at the beginning was the rule. The lad must stand
up when his turn came and read it off to a master who, ten to one,
was more intent upon catching some bad boy in a bit of mischief
than he was in the lesson on hand. Toward the close of the pupil's
reading era, writing was introduced, but that was a sort of by-play,
and need not further be noticed. Last of all, with arithmetic and
slate, the schoolboy sat down to master the art of computation.
Arithmetic was the crowning work of his educational life. He might
give one school quarter to its acquisition, or two or three; but many
or few, after he once attained to the dignity of slate and arithmetic,
he became a sort of country senior, the balance of whose school days
were to be given to the greatest of all his school work — ciphering.

And so, I say, that the one-study plan was not a novel plan to
the educational world; nor was it claimed to be, by President Wylie,
at whose instance it was introduced in the Indiana College. "This
method", says he in the first catalog, "has been adopted by the
president under the full conviction, founded on twenty years*
observation and experience, that it possesses many and decided
advantages over that which is pursued in most colleges, of blending
together a variety of studies."

Two recitations a day were required of all classes below the
the seniors, one in the forenoon and one in the afternoon — Greek or
Latin before dinner, and Latin or Greek after dinner, for the fresh-
man and half the sophomore years ; and so on. The seniors attended
only one lecture or recitation a day, but it was a long one — fre-
quently three hours long ; and especially was this apt to be the case
when the Doctor's favorite subject, metaphysica, was the theme.

The one-study plan seems not to have worked well in the Indiana
College. It was as is so well said by Dr. T. A. Wylie in his history of
the University, "no doubt well adapted to minds like the president's,
who had in phrenological language a great organ of concentrative-
ness, but not to the average minds of students, nor to the condition
of things as they then existed".4 The plan was popular with the

•Theophilus A. Wylie, Indiana University, Its History from 1820 to 1890, p. 48.

60 Indiana University

professors, we may suppose, for each could hare the satisfaction of
putting on an undivided load; but to the student it was not so
popular, and in a few years it was abandoned altogether.

Another custom introduced at this time is worthy the attention
of the modern student.

Dr. Wylie was a stickler for early rising. He had been brought
up in an age and a country where the maxims of "Poor Richard"
were leaving their deepest impress, and it may be that he had thus
caught something of the spirit of the "Early-to-bed-and-early-to-
rise" philosophy. At any rate, he sought to impress upon the
students under his charge the habit of early rising ; and to that end
it was made a law of the College, that the students should "assemble
every morning shortly after daybreak for prayers". This was the
requirement as written in the first catalog, and it was the require-
ment that was enforced. And daybreak meant day break in those
days, not daylight.

The hour, we may safely assume, was an inconveniently early
one, and the evidence is abundant that the students were outspoken
in their hostility to it. Except for this hard rule it would scarcely
be remembered that the winter of 1829-30 was an unusually
mild and open winter. A great deal of rain fell during that winter,
and the sidewalks of that part of Walnut street leading from the
southeast corner of the public square to the northeast corner of the
College campus were not even paved with the rough unelastic
limestone slabs that we, who came a quarter of a century later,
found. The condition of the unpaved sidewalks of south Walnut
street of a rainy, slushy, open winter I leave you to imagine. And
so too, I leave you to imagine the high-stepping, dignified Wylie,
pulling himself with all haste at break of day thru a yellow mud the
tenacity of which even yet is, on occasion, a subject of special won-
der. To the unregenerate youth of those far-off days, who had
been compelled to leave a warm bed at what he deemed an un-
reasonably early hour, the sight of the Doctor's laboring in the
miring mud at break of day was a source of infinite delight.

The students of those times long loved to tell of their daybreak
escapades. Lying in bed till the last moment, half-dressed with
unbuttoned coats and vests, they scurried to the College, often to
find themselves too late and the door closed in their faces. Then,
however, each belated man usually held his ground thru roll call,
and hearing his name he would shout back a lusty "Here!" which,
if having no other effect, never failed to amuse his more fortunate
comrades within.

Centenmal Memorial Volume 61

This stern custom fell into disuse some time in 1832. It signally
failed in its purpose, and the wise Doctor must have soon become
aware of it. Instead of promoting early rising, it led to late hours
in bed. I have heard the late P. L. D. Mitchell, say, that at his
"fort" all the boys went back to bed after returning from morning
prayers, nor did they rise till just in time to bolt their breakfasts for
the first recitation. Nor was this bad practice confined to the
students in Mitchell's "fort". Lewis Bollman, Dr. McPheeters,
and others testify to its prevalence more or less among all the
students of the College.

It was a rule in those days that every student absenting himself
from morning prayers was required to show a sufficient reason there-
for to the president, and a tradition has come down to our times to
the effect that the high degree of ingenuity, daring, and skill at-
tained by some students in the framing of excuses had something to
do with the abrogation of the rule. To such a high pitch was the
art carried, that it came to be a kind of by-phrase, "It is a poor stick
of a student who can't show a good excuse for having overslept him-
self!"

The most of you, I suppose, have seen the picture in Dr. T. A.
Wylie's book of the first College buildings. The main one, a rec-
tangular structure of three stories and many windows, with a deck
roof and a pepper-box cupola, and resembling more (says our Dr.
Wylie), "a New England cotton-mill than a college", was once the
Indiana College — in brick and mortar. I will not consume time on
this occasion by any description of that building. It is enough to
say that at the very meeting of the Board of Trustees when Dr.
Wylie was chosen to the presidency, steps were taken looking to its
speedy construction; and when, after the lapse of nearly twenty
months, he entered upon his work, he found the walls up, the deck
roof on, and a contract made for the speedy glazing of the windows.
It was to be three years yet before that great building should be
ready for occupancy. I say "great", because its dimensions were
such as to call for an apology from the trustees to the General
Assembly for building it. The history of its erection is a most sug-
gestive one. The first act of the board in reference to it was to
appoint a committee of three of its own members to draft a plan.
Architects in those days, it would seem, were not to be found in
the West. About this time a legislative committee sent all the
way to New York for a plan for a new statehouse, for which they
paid $125. But the Indiana College could not afford to hire an
architect, and so a committee was charged with the responsible duty

62 Indiana University

of reporting a plan. But the committee never reported a plan.
Two or three days after the appointment of the committee, the
board instructed it to proceed at once and provide material that
could be used in the construction of a College building on any plan
that might hereafter be adopted. The truth is, there never was a
plan agreed upon. Like Topsy, that building "just growed". In
Professor Hall's The New Purchase it is said that the builders began
excavating for a square building on the plan of the courthouse, then
recently completed and the architectural ideal of the time, but that
Dr. Maxwell and others interfered and secured a rectangular foun-
dation. The builders had 300,000 bricks at their command, and it
looks now as if they had built skyward till the bricks ran out. In
December, 1829, we learn that the board had in view — in addition
to recitation rooms, library, and chemical laboratory — a great
"college chapel, with ample galleries, so as to accommodate a very
large assembly". At one end of the deck roof was to be a cupola,
and at the other an astronomical observatory. By the next Decem-
ber to these ideas a new one was added. Nothing more is said of
the cupola, for I suspect that had been put in place. The "indispen-
sable necessity in some instances for different apartments for the
inculcation of different sciences" is mentioned, and so is "the pressing
necessity for a large hall, or chapel so called, for the use of students
on commencement days' ' and for the accommodation of the public
on these occasions, but the gallery had been dropped. The new
idea comprehends the "dormitory system". The students must
have "commons or lodgings", says the report of December, 1830,
and thus is the question argued:

Boarding, although it is obtained very low at Bloomington, is the most expensive
item in the education of a young man. In some of the most respectable colleges
of the United States, it has become the practice for ten or twelve young men to
unite, and from time to time to purchase articles of diet in the market and hire
some person to cook and keep a table for them; and in this way their boarding
does not cost them more than 50 or 62 1^ cents per week. To do this, however,
they must have lodgings in the College buildings, and to provide such at as early
a day as practicable has been one main object of the board.

Nevertheless this is the first, and for that matter the last, that
was ever heard of the dormitory plan in connection with the Indiana
College.

We cannot close this notice of the material surroundings of these
first years of the Indiana College without a brief reference to the
College library and apparatus. We saw in the address given last

Centennial Memorial Volume 63

year5 that in the summer of 1829 Dr. Wylie, with the consent of
the board, went to the seaboard states to beg money and books for a
College library. Well, his mission was attended with such success
that in the report of the trustees made in December, 1830, we are
told that "the College has a library of 235 volumes, so assorted as to
embrace history, geography, belles lettres, and treatises on chem-
istry and mental and moral philosophy". "These books are all
new", continues the report, "and of the most approved authors and
estimated at being very low for six hundred dollars." This first
College library was destroyed by fire in 1854, but a catalog of the
235 volumes, in Dr. Wylie's hand, is still in existence, a perusal of
which adds materially to the spirit of resignation one ought to feel
for the burning of that library.

The fiist apparatus to come into the College consisted of two
globes, a terrestrial and a celestial, costing $31. We get this fact
from this report of December, 1830 ; and in the same report we find
the trustees importuning the General Assembly for an appropriation
for a philosophical apparatus. After assuring the Assembly that
the funds at the disposal of the board did not warrant the purchase
by them, the report enlarges upon the great importance in an edu-
cational point of view of a philosophical apparatus. "What",
exclaims the writer of this report —

What is there more calculated to expand the mind and enlighten it than the study
and developments of experimental philosophy? Nature cannot be comprehended
without its aid; and will the General Assembly, the guardians of this institution,
who are bound as they love and respect the state, to protect it, foster, and exalt
it — will they stand still whilst strangers at the distance of a thousand miles are
generously giving it an impulse in its march onward?

Alas! alas! the General Assembly stood still. Fervent as was the
appeal for material aid, not a dollar was voted — whereupon the
board went off and bought an apparatus for themselves at a cost
of $367.70. And upon a report made by Professor Elliott when he
took charge of the department a few years afterwards, which has
escaped the ravages of fire and time, we learn that this philosophical
apparatus consisted in part, if not in whole, of an electric machine
with battery and discharger, a galvanic battery, a small galvanic
pile, an airpump with three receivers, and the mechanical powers
complete.

It is pleasant to note the signs of prosperity that followed the
new president's coming. The 30 students entering the College in

5See the second address, above.

64 Indiana University

the fall of 1829 grew to 59 at the beginning of the following year,
34 of whom were Indianians, 10 Kentuckians, 8 Pennsylvanians, 1
Tennesseean, one Mississippian, 1 Louisianian, 1 Illinoisan, and 1
Missourian. Three students took their degrees at the first com-
mencement in 1830. By the end of the next year (1830-31), the
whole number mounted up to 60, 4 of whom took their degrees at
the second commencement. The next year (1831-32) the whole
number enrolled was 53, 5 of whom took their bachelor's degree;
and in 1832-33, 65 students were enrolled, 3 of whom were sent
forth as graduates.

Did this not mean prosperity? Yes, for the times, it did.

And yet it was the prosperity that came amidst the storms of
war.

Those who have kept the run of these Foundation Day papers
have learned something, I trust, of the hostility manifested toward
the Seminary from the first day of its opening, when the town lads
with spelling-books and readers demanded admission to its privi-
leges, up to the day when it was elevated to the dignity of a college
by legislative enactment.

Whether the General Assembly was influenced in any degree to
grant a college charter, by the hope that a college would meet with
more favor than the Seminary had, is uncertain; but it is certain,
that it was believed that the ground for opposition to a state insti-
tution, whether real or imaginary, would be removed by the change.
A new and more numerous Board of Trustees was provided; also
a Board of Visitors on whom was conferred extensive powers of
review. And, as if this were not enough, the charter itself provided
against all the evils that had been complained of in Seminary times.

But the time had not yet come for the singing of the good-will-
and-peace anthem over the Indiana College. On the contrary, the
College had inherited all the Seminary's enemies and enmities, and
it was by no means an unnatural inheritance. Those who expected
these enemies to bury their opposition in the grave with the dead
Seminary were doomed to disappointment. The College had been
flung into the midst of a warlike people, and it was impossible for
it and those connected with it to escape the fire and smoke of battle.
Before Dr. Wylie's anival in Bloomington, he was made the target
for severe animadversion by at least one paper in the state. Be-
fore his arrival, preparations were formally made for a combined
attack upon the College and its management in the succeeding legis-
lature by all its enemies; and hardly had that foe been met and over-
thrown, ere was heard the first murmurings of that internecine war —

Centennial Memorial Volume 65

the bitterest college civil war, I doubt not, ever waged in the West,
and which ultimately resulted in the dismemberment of the faculty
and came nigh disrupting the College itself.

No, the day of peace had not yet come to the Indiana College.
The battle had to be fought out and was fought out; and while the
story is not a pleasant one to tell, yet it falls within the purview of
this history, and to escape its telling is to cease the writing.

But how can it be told? By the mere narrative of the events
in the order of their sequence? This mode would result in injustice
to the actors, and besides that gives us a pointless tale. All history
may not, like "all Sciipture, be given by inspiration of God", but
it is nevertheless, when rightfully and truthfully written, "profitable
for doctrine, for reproof, for correction, for instruction in
righteousness". At least so I love to think. Two distinct contro-
versies were waged during these gloomy years, and each was a
product of the times — a sort of necessary result of certain moral
forces then existing in our state. The external attack came first
but in no sense was it the cause of the internal conflict. Each was
independent of the other, and yet both were the resultants of similar
forces; and so different is the state of society in Indiana today from
what it was sixty years ago, that either story would be inexplicable
if read only by the light of today.

It is due the occasion to say that when this paper was begun, it
was with the purpose of carrying the story of our College down to
the close of that period of domestic strife to which allusion has just
been made, but such an accumulation of historical data relative to
these times turns up, as we progress, that it becomes impossible to
go further today in the story than down to a certain "spring exhibi-
tion" in 1832, on which occasion the dragon's teeth were sown that
afterwards sprung into armed men almost to the undoing of the
Indiana College.

Without going into an extended discussion of what, at this late
and let us hope better day, may be regarded in the light of character-
istics of the people of Indiana in the time of the early history of our
state, it will aid you, I trust, to a somewhat better understanding
of the men and events of the times to keep in mind one or two of the
most prominent characteristics of the Indianians of the period.

I believe if I were asked to give a name to what I conceived to be
the most prominent characteristic of the Indiana man of that time I
should say, pugnacity. It is true this is a characteristic he had in
common with all other western men, but it was his characteristic
nevertheless, and he possessed it in a high degree.

66 Indiana University

Next to his pugnacious spirit came a characteristic which for
want of a better name may be called a spirit of intensity. Men felt
more than they thought. More than is the case today they were
given to act upon impulse rather than from reason. They were
more emotional and were easier to be moved by the orator than is
the case now. They felt more intensely than we do. They were
more apt to act under the inspiration of the "hurrah" than are we.
There was more of the "nobly wild and extravagant" in the char-
acter of that day than this. Those were the days when the river
hero was "half-horse and half-alligator"; when the country hero
was a "six-horse-team-with-a-bull-dog-under-the-wagon". It was
a day when a militia brigadier-general could empty a barrel of
whiskey and a half-barrel of sugar into a public well and receive the
plaudits of the battalion.

It was this intense, impetuous, extravagant spirit which drove
the state not long after this time into that disastrous internal im-
provements system, the evil effects of which have scarcely yet dis-
appeared.

After these characteristics, I would mention patriotism, sectar-
ianism and orthodoxy, partisanship and sensitiveness. The
Indianian was intensely and pugnaciously patriotic, sectarian and
orthodox, partisan and sensitive.

Most of these characteristics belonged to him in common with
all other western people, but not all. He was sensitive to criticism
from outsiders as was no other people in all the Mississippi valley.
Why? Well, he got more of it. There was a time in the history of
our state when it was the fashion to "poke fun" at Indiana, and
everybody did it. Why so? Taken all in all, it may be assumed
that the early settlers of Indiana were the poorest class of men, in so
far as money was concerned, that ever settled any state in the valley
— a circumstance, however, not to be mentioned to their discredit.
A large per cent of them had been impoverished by the Revolution-
ary War, or were the descendants of those who had been so impover-
ished. A still larger per cent emigrated to the state to escape the
curse of slavery.

Of all the western states, Indiana presented the greatest natural
obstacles to the home-maker. Its forests were not excelled in any
state, while the generally swampy condition of the country made it
a peculiarly difficult one in which to make farms and found prosper-
ous settlements. Add to these drawbacks the scourge of the
autumnal sickness which prevailed from the Wabash to the Big
Miami, and we see abundant reason why the state was kept back in

Centennial Memorial Volume 67

the march of progress. It was no reflection upon the people of
Indiana that their development in material wealth was slow; that
they had bad roads, poor schools, and the "fever and ague".

But because of these and kindred misfortunes Indiana (dare I
say it, even yet, and even here?) — Indiana became a by-word.
Indiana, her people, her roads, her sickness, her poverty, her fever
and ague, was made the target for all the weak newspaper criticisms
and stupid jokes of the entire country.

Almost from the foundation of the first American settlement
within the Indiana border, the defamation began. Lawrenceburg
and vicinity were settled mainly with men from Maine, Massa-
chusetts, and Connecticut, but not long is it before we find these
representatives of the cultured East engaged in a war of epithets
with their Kentucky neighbors on the south side of the Ohio. The
Kentuckians screamed "Hoosier", the Indianians shouted back
"Algerine". The latter word has been forgotten — absorbed in
"Corn Cracker", possibly — but "Hoosier" has stuck. Who knows
its genesis? No one, nor its meaning. It came from without —
that seems certain ; and was used at first as an epithet of reproach.
It did not need to have a meaning in the beginning — nay, it served
the better purpose without a meaning; for it was enough to cry
"Hoosier!" "Hoosier!" to make the Indianians, from the Ohio to
the outermost verge of the settlements grit their teeth and curse
their tormentors. Of course it hurt. No man — no men — will
endure to be made game of. Jeer at, jibe at, laugh at, poke fun at
the best man in your town, and you will soon have him fighting or
crying.

There came a time when we no longer cared, but it was long after
1830. The truth is, our state and our people and their ways con-
tinued to be the fruitful themes of jests and criticisms till the war.
Till that period the Ohio people looked disdainfully across the border
at us, and even the wretched Suckers, our brethren on the west,
turned up their noses at us; while as for the Kentuckians — well,
how unctuously they could give us their African pronunciation of
"Hoosiah!"

As late as 1854 the natural and necessary effect of all this odious
criticism was to develop that sensitive characteristic of which I
have before spoken. It is a characteristic the influence of which I
am told is still felt in some of the staid and out-of-the-way places of
southern and central Indiana, but I think this is scarcely true. But
at and before and for some time after 1830, its influence was f t in
every neighborhood. I can best describe the Indiana peop of

68 Indiana University

that period as standing huddled, "snouts out", on the defensive.
All newcomers were suspected, all friendly critics were snubbed.
Foreign teachers were received with misgiving, and there was a
strong undercurrent of belief that a college under the control of
such teachers would in some way become inimical to the best inter-
ests of the state.

From the first day of the opening of the Seminary, Professor
Hall was confronted with a serious opposition growing out of this
sentiment; and notwithstanding the fact that he tried in every
rational way to show to the people there was no cause for their
antagonism, he never quite succeeded. Harney encountered the
same unreasoning and disagreeable opposition, and even before Dr.
Wylie entered the state like opposition was manifested toward him.

In the Annotator, a paper published at Salem — a stray copy of
which, issued on September 20, 1829, twenty days before the Doc-
tor's arrival, I have managed to capture — appears the first attack
on him ever made in the state, so far as is now known ; and this I
will read in illustration of the proposition under consideration :

[The article referred to is not included in Judge Banta's manu-
script. Evidently he read from the copy of the newspaper in his
possession, which has since disappeared. It has been impossible to
find anywhere a copy of the Annotator of this date, to supply the
missing article. However, the following reply to it published in the
Indiana Journal of November 5, 1829, gives an idea of the character
of the attack:

MESSRS. EDITORS : Some few weeks ago the Printers of the A nnotator, a paper
published in the town of Salem, thought proper to denounce the Rev. Dr. Wylie,
as the slanderer of the Western Country, and to warn the parents of this State
from placing their sons under the care and tuition of this libeller of Indiana. As
a reason for this singular denunciation, and tender solicitude for the welfare of
the youth of Indiana, the aforesaid Printers gave an extract from a letter addressed
by Dr. Wylie to the Secretary of the American Educational Society. The extract
which they gave seemed merely to show, what every man of sense in the west knew
before, viz: that no reader of sermons could here be popular or useful as a public
teacher of Religion. Yet inasmuch as the said extract was partial, erroneously
printed and accompanied by no little malediction, by which false impressions
may have been made, I will thank you, Messrs. Editors, to publish the whole
letter, which I send you in the Journal of the American Educational Society;
your readers will then see that so far from being reproachful to the west, the
country of Dr. Wylie's nativity, it is highly complimentary. "Let", says the Doc-
tor, "the weak and the ignorant, if they must undertake the office of giving instruc-
tion, undertake it in older countries where they can more readily derive aid
from contiguous auxiliaries. In such a region as the WEST truth needs strength
to support it." It is to be hoped that the Printers of the Annotator will on reading

Centennial Memorial Volume 69

the letter again, feel the necessity of publishing it entire and thus doing justice,
not to the enemy of Indiana but to a friend and one destined, I trust, to be one
of its brightest ornaments.

A SUBSCRIBER.

Let us briefly call your attention to one other characteristic. I
have said the Indianians of the early period were marked for their
partisanship. They were intensely and pugnaciously partisan.

Political parties as we understand the term did not, however,
exist in Indiana as early as 1830. It was not until sometime in 1834
that we first read of Whigs and Democrats in the state papers.
Prior to that time the politics of the state was factional. Sometimes
the people divided on the most trivial of issue* The issue in the
first general election held in the New Purchase was "White water
men or Kentucky men". Later the politics became still more
factional, the people yielding to a sort of hero worship and following
the leadership of this or that great man of the hour. In the domain
of national politics they were Adams men or Clay men or Jackson
men. In state politics they were Ray men or Noble men or Hen-
dricks men. In county politics, here in Monroe county, they were
Lowe men or Maxwell men.

William M. Lowe — or Judge Lowe as he was generally known —
and Dr. David H. Maxwell were both of them men of force of char-
acter. Both were ambitious and both were politicians. Both
served in the first constitutional convention of the state, and both
were honored with office by the electors of Monroe county. Lowe's
official life was confined mainly to local executive offices in the
county, while Maxwell's was confined mainly to legislative offices.
In a convention of the friends of General Jackson held at Indian-
apolis on January 10, 1828, an electoral ticket was formed with
William M. Lowe, of Monroe county, as one of the electors. Two
days later the friends of Mr. Adams held their convention at the
same place, when on motion of David H. Maxwell a committee
was appointed to select the names of five persons "friendly to the
present administration" to serve as presidential electors; and one of
the five appointed specially to compete with Judge Lowe was James
Armstrong, of Monroe. Dr. Maxwell had himself served as an
Adams elector in 1824.

On January 24 of that same year the Indiana College was
chartered and its Board of Trustees constituted with a view to
satisfying everybody. Dr. Maxwell, the Adams man, was of course
made a member of the new board, and so was his General Jackson
competitor, William M. Lowe. In May following, Dr. Wylie was

70 Indiana University

elected president, and in the following October we find him in
Bloomington looking around. In the same month the board met
and presumably Dr. Wylie with it. Be this as it may, at or a very
short time after that meeting, Judge Lowe resigned his trusteeship.
What did that mean? The old record gave no reason. Judge Lowe
left no word written or remembered behind him explanatory of the
causes of that resignation.

It is not always an easy matter to fathom the motives of a man,
and especially of a silent man, but it is in general much easier to do
it after than at the time. All the evidence at hand warrants the
conclusion that Judge Lowe was preparing himself to take a part in
the campaign already inaugurated against the College and those
having it in charge. Maxwell was an Adams man and had doubt-
less been instrumental in securing the appointment of a Monroe
county man to make the race against Lowe as an elector. Wylie
was at least an anti-Jackson man and there is reason to believe that
Harney was also. Of Hall's politics nothing is known.

While it may be safely assumed that no charge was ever pre-
ferred against trustees or professors of political proselyting or other
political wrong-doing, yet I have an abiding conviction that political
prejudice and ill feeling was one, if not the most potent, motive
leading to the attack in the legislature of 1829. It was so under-
stood at the time as we shall presently see; and the relevant col-
lateral facts point unerringly to the same conclusion.

On September 24, 1829, a somewhat lengthy "Address to the
Public", signed by twenty-four persons who say they are students
of the Indiana College, or had been, was printed in the Indiana
Journal in refutation of a "publication from the Republican States-
man purporting to be a memorial to the legislature"; to which ad-
dress was appended a somewhat extended explanatory statement,
signed by "Friends of Learning", — which one reading thru the
lines sees was Dr. Maxwell.

The Republican Statesman was a newspaper printed somewhere
by a Mr. Morrison, but where I do not know — probably in Bloom-
ington; but fortunately the writer of the "Address to the Public"
and "Friends of Learning" incorporated in their compositions the
charges made in the memorial, and we are thus enabled to read in
the language of the critics themselves their causes for criticism and
for war.

1st. The professors manifest great partiality in attending to the interests of
some sectarian students, to the great prejudice and almost entire exclusion of
others equally worthy, and treat their application for redress with insult and
neglect.

Centennial Memorial Volume 71

3rd. The faculty make use of improper means to induce the English students
to withdraw from the English and attach themselves to the Latin department.

4th. The faculty employ ushers incompetent to discharge the duties assigned
them.

5th. The faculty neglect to spend in recitation the full time appointed in law.

A sixth charge is insinuated, says the address, to wit: "That
the faculty inculcate Sectarian principles".

The second charge was leveled at the board, and was in effect
that the board had sustained the faculty in a certain unjust, but
unnamed, ruling.

To all these charges against the professors, the twenty-four
students file their denial — general and special ; and they further say :
"We consider the publication of the memorial to be an ebullition
of party feelings, having for its object the promotion of political ends
and the destruction of the College."

Whether this particular memorial was ever presented to the
legislature does not now appear ; but if the two or three dissatisfied
students, its projectors, abandoned the controversy, there were
those ready and willing to take it up. Four petitions were presented
to the legislature the ensuing session from citizens of as many
counties, calling for an investigation of both professors and trustees
of the College. One of these was from William Lowe and sundry
citizens of Monroe county. Another was from Washington county,
Judge Lowe's old home. Another was from Clark county, and still
another from Scott.

Imagine four petitions going up to the General Assembly now in
session at Indianapolis from citizens of as many counties praying
an inquiry into certain abuses by trustees and professors of our
beloved University. What consternation it would create! How
much greater that consternation must have been in that day of
weakness and littleness !

The students were swift in sending up their remonstrance against
these petitions, and with it went "sundry communications from
different individuals". Petitions, remonstrance, and communica-
tions were referred to the committee of education in each branch of
the Assembly. In the Senate Dr. Maxwell himself was chairman of
that committee, and in the House, Horace Bassett. Dr. Wylie,
mounting his horse, rode up to the capitol, when "by request of the
standing committees on education of the present General Assembly",
says a chronicler of the times, he delivered on Sunday, January 17,
at the Methodist church, which was the largest in the town, a dis-
course on the subject of education, — a discourse which was not only

72 Indiana University

printed in the newspapers of the day, but received highly compli-
mentary editorial notices, and a vote of thanks from the General As-
sembly itself. Maxwell's and Bassett's committees reported ad-
versely to the petitioners, and so the campaign against the College
proved a failure for that time.

But it was renewed the next year, and the next, and the next, and
so on. There was to be no peace for the Indiana College yet awhile.
If politics entered as a motive in the attack of 1829, as I think it
did, it was soon eliminated, and sectarianism substituted in its
place.

By the meeting of the next General Assembly, the enemy re-
formed his lines and the attack was renewed. Petitions came again
from Monroe, from Clark, from Owen, and from Warrick counties,
the burden of which was, Drive Sectarianism out of the Indiana
College !

Was it there to drive out?

The faculty said it was not; the students said it was not; the
Board of Trustees said it was not; and legislative committees said it
was not; — but what did all these denials amount to in the face of
the fact that all three of the members of the faculty were Presby-
terians? That was the quality of Sectarianism the malcontents were
warning against.

In the report of the trustees for December, 1830, after entering a
solemn denial, the names of the fourteen trustees are set out, after
which follows this somewhat remarkable statement:

Of this board it is believed four are Presbyterians, or at least were so educated;
four Protestant Episcopalians; three Baptists; two Methodists; one Covenanter;
and one a member of the Christian Society or Church. Out of such a mixture of
religious opinion it cannot reasonably be supposed, that a majority could be pre-
vailed upon to establish, or in any respect to countenance a sectarian denomination.

Again the educational committees reported exonerating the Col-
lege management, but the disturbance went on. There is evidence
of a growing legislative discontent. Two or three members offered
resolutions looking to the lowering of tuition fees; one member
wanted the law changed so that orphan children could attend free;
another that "poor and indigent students who are unable to educate
themselves" should "receive tuition in said College gratuitously".
But it remained for the member from Putnam to come forward with
the most startling of all the propositions:

Resolved, That the committee on education be instructed to inquire into the
expediency of so amending the existing charter of the State College at Blooming-
ton as to prohibit the trustees thereof from continuing after the expiration of

Centennial Memorial Volume 73

existing contracts any two professors or teachers of the same religious sect or
profession; and also to prohibit the appointment hereafter of any two preachers
of the same religious dreed as professors or teachers in said institution.

A petition from "Amos Lake and others" was of the same tenor;
and resolution and petition being referred to the committee on
education, that committee in vigorous language showed how a com-
pliance with the prayer of the parties would result not only in mak-
ing the qualifications of the Indiana College professors depend upon
their church membership rather than their scholarship, but would
be right in the teeth of the constitution, which declared "that no
preference shall ever be given by law to any religious societies ; . .
and no religious test shall be required as a qualification to any office
of profit or trust".

In spite of all this threatening and warning and attempts at
legislative tinkering, the College prospered. Its reputation spread
abroad, and its classrooms were filled with students from almost
every state in the West and South. At the opening of the fall term
in 1830, it became necessary to establish a preparatory department,
which continued down to the close of last year (1890), a period of
sixty years.

In the spring of that same year (1830), the new departure car-
ried away the old Seminary Henodelphisterian Society. "Too many
great men found themselves members of that society", said one who
had been one of them; and on February 12, 1830, Randall and Rol-
lins and John L. Ketcham and Andrew Wylie, Jr., and five others — all
of whom are dead save now the venerable Judge Wylie, of Wash-
ington City — withdrew and organized the Athenian Society. The
next year (1831), according to Lewis Bollman, the remaining mem-
bers of the Henodelphisterian, — Lewis Bollman, James D. Maxwell,
P. L. D. Mitchell, the Dunns (James W., Samuel C, and W. Mc-
Kee), and others, "disbanded and merged" (says Judge Wright)
into the Philomathean Society.

The Indiana College was on the up-grade and rapidly becoming
a center of light and learning in the state. Its president was recog-
nixed as the leader of the educational forces of the state. His ad-
dresses, whether from the college rostrum on commencement days,
or to the historical societies, or to colonization societies, or to
legislative assemblies, were fountains of instruction which the public
press gave to the people as a part of the literature of the times.

To him who studies the history of the moral and intellectual
growth of our state during its earlier and more plastic period, there
comes the comforting thought that the men who judged that the

74 Indiana University

time had come for the organization of a college in Indiana, judged
wisely and well.

As we look back over the intervening years and read the story of
our state's intellectual and moral and even material growth, that
judgment stands vindicated on every page of its history.

And whatever may be in store for our loved Alma Mater in the
future, in the catalog of the forces for good in Indiana's earlier
years, must forever stand written — INDIANA COLLEGE.

IV. THE "FACULTY WAR" OF 18321

THERE was a time when the historians disagreed as to whether
Daniel Boone ever visited the east Tennessee country prior to the
time of its first settlement. The evidence was not conclusive either
way, and so some thought he had and some thought he had not. At
last this inscription was found cut in the bark of a beech tree growing
on the banks of a tributary of the Watauga :

"D. Boon CilleD A BAR on Tree in THE YEAR 1760."

And notwithstanding the fact that D. Boone spelled "killed"
with a c and "bear" without an e, the historians accepted the legend
as conclusive of the fact that Daniel Boone had visited the country
at the time indicated.

The inscriptions found on the trees, on the rocks, monuments,
walls, and so on are usually received in the courts of history as satis-
factory evidence of the truth of the facts to which they bear witness,
but not always. Sometimes we happen to know better. There is
one inscription very close to us that falsifies the truth of history. It
is over the east front entrance of this College building. It states
that the Indiana University was founded in 1830, and for the benefit
of those who may not happen to know better, let me say that there is
not a word of truth in that statement.2 The Indiana Seminary was
chartered on January 20, 1820, the day we commemorate. The
school was opened on the first day of May, 1 824. The Indiana Semi-
nary was legislated into Indiana College on January 24, 1828, and
ten years thereafter the name was changed to that of the Indiana
University.

'Read by Judge Banta at the annual Foundation Day exercises in the Old College building (now
the old high school building) on January 20, 1892.

*The stone bearing the inscription to which Judge Banta refers is now over the east entrance
to the Well House on the present campus, having been removed thither after the sale of the Old
College building to the city of Bloomington. The date "1830", however, has been corrected to
read "1820".

Centennial Memorial Volume 75

On the first Monday of May succeeding the College chartering,
the first president, Dr. Andrew Wylie, was elected; ten months
thereafter he signified his acceptance, and on October 9, 1829, he
arrived in Bloomington and entered upon his presidential duties.

I know of no excuse for the false record inscribed in the stone over
the College door, and I know not whether it was the result of ignor-
ance or of mistake. There was nothing connected with this institu-
tion which was founded in 1830.

The story of the institution has been told on preceding Founda-
tion Days, after a fashion, from the beginning down to the close of
the collegiate year of 1831-32, — all save the story of a certain faculty
controversy which, beginning not long after Dr. Wylie's coming, was
waged with unprecedented bitterness to the close of that year, when
it ended in a complete disruption of the faculty and threatened the
integrity of the College itself.

Anyone who has followed, with even slight attention, the story
thus far told, must have perceived how surely difficulty had fol-
lowed difficulty, and discouragement discouragement, all the way
along. Before that May Day in 1824, when the schoolboy rabble
with horn-book and spelling-book, English reader and Western Cal-
culator, was thinned out to ten lads with Ross's Latin Grammar or
Cheeve's Accidence, down to the day in 1831 when the thread of the
story is again taken up, it is not too much to say that the institution
had never known a day's peace. There was always something to
threaten its continued existence, or to mar the harmony of its sur-
roundings. There was never a day, nor an hour, when war was not
in active preparation or actually waging, against it or against those
having it in charge.

There was, however, during all that time one shaft of light pierc-
ing the gloom. The utmost harmony prevailed between teacher and
teacher, teachers and students, and teachers and trustees. But that
harmony is now about to be broken in all of its relations, and a
succession of events to take place of such calamitous consequence as
to cause the friends of the institution to despair of its life. It has
been a question with me whether I ought or ought not to tell the
story of that baleful time. All who were actors in those wretched
scenes are dead, and of each I can say:

The good knight's sword is rust
The good knight's bones are dust
And his soul is with the saints, I trust.

But the story cannot be told and not told. The events to which
allusion is made left a deep scar upon the history of the institution,

76 Indiana University

and a presentation of that history without showing the scar would
by that much be an untrue presentation.

President Wylie, as has already been stated, began his labors here
in the fall of 1829. With him were associated the Rev. Baynard R.
Hall, professor of Greek and Latin, and John M. Harney, professor
of natural philosophy and of mathematics.

How long the faculty as thus constituted worked together in har-
mony is not now certainly known. If we accept The New Purchase,
Professor Hall's book, as authority, it would seem that it could not
have been for long. But in the absence of corroborating circum-
stances, The New Purchase cannot be accepted as conclusive evidence
of the truth of any matter connected with the subject under dis-
cussion, except as to admissions of bad conduct made by the
writer, and sometimes of bad conduct by his colleague, Professor
Harney. I refer in this connection to the first edition published in
1843.3

There are, however, circumstances that tend to support the
New Purchase statement in this particular.

It has always seemed reasonable to me that Professor Hall should
himself have aspired to the presidency of the Indiana College. He
was a man of talent and learning, he was an able and eloquent
preacher, and as principal of the Seminary he had acquitted himself
well. Why not, he of all men, have indulged the aspiration?

We have his own statement to the effect that his name had been
mentioned in that connection. "Distant and learned gentlemen to
whom", he says, he had written inquiring after presidential candi-
dates, had replied earnestly recommending himself, but he declined
the nomination, "unwisely", however, as he seems afterwards to
have thought.4 It is very true that his name seems never to have
been considered in that connection by the trustees, and the evidence
is moreover conclusive that both himself and Harney joined in

*In the second edition of The New Purchase (published in one volume, at New Albany, In d.
in 1855, by John R. Nunemacher), the treatment of this matter is very much curtailed and con-
siderably softened. The motives underlying the alterations are indicated in a series of manuscript
letters from Hall to Nunemacher, which recently came into the possession of the University by
gift from Nunemacher's daughter. Under date of March 13, 1855, Hall writes: "In the work are
here and there certain words and expressions that have caused me often much sorrow in remem-
brance, and I would have given many dollars if they could have been blotted out. And more
especially there would be so manifest an unkindness in reprinting a vast amount of what pertains
to the late President of a certain college, that I would nearly as soon consent to have a finger taken
off as to continue that." Later he reminds Mr. Nunemacher that "all the chapters and passages
in the second volume relative to Dr. Bloduplex (President Wylie) are by all means to be discarded."
Professor Hall adds, however: "This gentleman richly deserved all that was done to him some
years ago, but he is now in the other life, and I hope in a better one."

« The New Purchase (1843) II, 235-6,

Centennial Memorial Volume 77

presenting Wylie's name to the board; but for all that, Professor
Hall was not the man to press his own claims. He was the man,
however, to think that if he had any claims his friends ought to
know it and push them for him without waiting to be set in motion
by him. He was a man of lofty ambition, and he had come to the
West five years before, as he tells us, to become a leader in its higher
educational work. And so it is certainly quite reasonable to believe
that he himself aspired to the position of president, and I think
the circumstances warrant us in thinking that he did so aspire —
a fact to be kept in mind in following the discussion of the subject
before us.

Dr. Wylie was in many respects a remarkable man. He was born
to lead, not to follow. The painting of him in the library shows that
he had the elongated Andrew Jackson type of face and hea$. He
possessed many qualifications that go to make the leader of men.
He usually saw his way clearly and he went straight to his goal. The
greater the difficulty, the more determined and the more certain he
was to surmount it. What he lacked was in tact. He was not given
to persuasion but to command. He never masqueraded. He might,
indeed, admit that he was in the wrong. I find one instance when he
seems to have done that, but he never sniffled over it. If he was
right, those who followed him were sure to go right, for when once
on the right track, he was sure to stay there. There was nothing
vacillating or uncertain about him. After a fight was over, he never
spoke ill of his enemy, but he was a good hater nevertheless. Taken
all in all, he was rigid, masterful, and uncompromising.

Baynard R. Hall was in many respects the very opposite of An-
drew Wylie. He was genial, jovial, and merry-hearted. He attended
the frontier shooting matches and quilting frolics, and laughed with
the loudest. He was a tactician and went around things. When the
storm came, like the turtle in his shell, he drew his head in and
waited for the storm to blow over. He was emotional, poetic, light-
hearted, and took things easy. But he had a long memory. He
never forgot nor forgave. He, too, was a good hater. Eleven years
after he left the Indiana College a defeated, humiliated man, he
wrote of the causes of his defeat and humiliation, with a pen dipped
in gall.

John M. Harney, young and inexperienced as he was, already
shadowed those qualities and characteristics that were to make him
the great editor that he was destined to become. He was a silent
man, an exacting man, a combative man, a patient man, a strong

78 Indiana University

man, an invincible man. Wylie and Hall were so unlike that they
could never fight a pitched battle, for Hall would draw off his
forces and treat for peace or abandon the contest entirely. But
between Wylie and Harney there was great similarity. Both were
pugnacious, and if there was any compromise in either it certainly
never manifested itself in the great faculty fight of 1831-32.

Men admired the tall, graceful, grave, stately-stepping, and dig-
nified Wylie. Men loved the blue-eyed, jolly, laughing, easy-going
Hall. Men feared the erect, precise, nervous, heavy-jawed, firmly-
stepping, neatly dressed, military-looking Harney.

I am slow to accept Professor Hall's statement that the trouble
began quite soon after Dr. Wylie's coming. Still, the character of
the three men and the complexion of the times in which they lived
corroborate the New Purchase version.

But there is other and perhaps better corroborative evidence.
The first catalog of which we have any knowledge was printed for the
collegiate year 1830-31, and it was not written by a committee of the
faculty, nor under the supervision of a committee. From language
used in that first catalog, it is quite evident that the faculty as such
had little or nothing to do with the domestic management of the
institution; and the fact must, no doubt, have been a cause of irrita-
tion to the two professors, and especially so to Professor Hall, who
had for so long a time been at its head and, as we have seen, prob-
ably been an aspirant for the presidency himself. In truth, Hall in
connection with his statement that the trouble soon began suggests
as a cause that, from the first, the president treated him and Har-
ney as if they were no more than ushers in the school.

This view is corroborated by Dr. E. N. Elliott who, succeeding
Harney to the chair of mathematics, was here from 1832 to 1836, and
of course had excellent opportunity to learn all the facts. Indeed, he
says that Dr. Wylie gave him a full account of these very trouble-
some times, and therefore, when I quote him, I do it with the under-
standing that I am giving Dr. Wylie's version thru Dr. Elliott's
memory. This you will see is but hearsay evidence, but it is deemed
relevant in the courts of history, if not in the courts of law. Dr.
Elliott says :

As the trustees knew nothing about the management of colleges, and Dr. Wylie
had had extensive experience in Washington and Jefferson colleges, he considered
himself entitled to have a controlling voice in the management of the institution.
This the professors resented, as it not only diminished their power but also the
esteem in which they were held in the community.

In view of all the circumstances, I think it very probable that

Centennial Memorial Volume 79

trouble began in the faculty very soon after its organization, and
both Hall and Elliott agree that it arose over the question of where
the power of local government lay.

But there is another material fact to be considered in this place.
A number of students followed Dr. Wylie from his Pennsylvania col-
lege, and between these and the students already on the ground there
soon sprang up an intensely sectional ill-feeling. Professor Hall in
his book hints at this, and all who were students here at the time with
whom I have talked concerning it have proved it to be true. One
man, now a venerable ex-judge of the state, said to me that, to add
to the ill-feeling existing between the two factions, the "foreigners"
were better dressed and had more money than the "natives", and
withal were perhaps a little wickeder ; and that the girls of the village,
attracted by these glittering parts, gave their smiles more freely to
the former than to the latter. Some of you will perhaps remember
that the statement was made last year, that in the beginning and up
to 1832 there was but one literary society, the Henodelphisterian,
connected with the institution; but in that year there was a with-
drawal of members, who were mainly "foreigners", who founded the
Athenian Society. The cause of this withdrawal may be seen in the
jealousies between the "native" and "foreign" students.

It is remembered that the "foreign" faction began, shortly after
their arrival, to find fault with Professor Hall. Their charge was
that he was "indolent", "neglectful", "unaccommodating", and "in-
competent". In the making of the charge, there seems to have been
an assumption of superiority on the one side which was peculiarly
galling to the other. At any rate, the other side most earnestly and
indignantly denied that there was any ground at all for the charge.
They, the old students of the institution, had learned to look with
love and reverence upon their first professor, and we can readily
imagine the bitter length to which such a controversy could be car-
ried by the contending factions.

Professor Hall, no doubt, suspected from the first that Dr. Wylie
inspired this student criticism, nor can there be much doubt that it
tended to promote ill-feeling in the faculty at an early day, as
claimed in The New Purchase, tho no open outbreak immediately
came of it.

Out of this student factiousness came that which ultimately led
to the first difficulty of which the public could get a glimpse. I refer
to the anonymous letter. Sometime toward the close of the collegi-
ate year of 1830-31, probably in September — which was nearly a
year after Dr. Wylie came — Professor Hall found in his "pocket

80 Indiana University

Virgil, left as usual on the mantel of his recitation room", an
anonymous letter, which taxed him in very plain language with the
same charges current among the "foreign" students — incompetency
and neglect of duty — and demanded his resignation.5

Hall and Harney both promptly came to the conclusion that Dr.
Wylie was the author of that letter. The evidence of that fact was
wholly circumstantial, it is true; nevertheless it appeared to be
flawless, and was convincing to a moral certainty. "It was", says
Matthew M. Campbell, who for so long a time was the worthy
head of the preparatory department of both the College and the
University, and who was a student here at the time the letter was
written, and who for forty years kept the secret of the writer — "It
was strong enough to hang a saint." The letter was written on
Dr. Wylie's own paper, with his own ink, and in a well-simulated
hand. "The style, the words, the expressions", the "grammatical
peculiarities", were believed to be the Doctor's. But, as if to "make
assurance double sure", the wafer or sealing wafer bore the impress
or stamp mark of Dr. Wylie's own desk key\ No wonder that Pro-
fessor Campbell exclaimed that the evidence that Dr. Wylie wrote
it was "strong enough to hang a saint!"

And yet Dr. Wylie did not write that letter. It was written by a
Pennsylvania student, "without", as he himself says, "the knowl-
edge, suggestion, remotest hint or suspicion" on the part of Dr.
Wylie. I do not know that the Doctor ever knew who was its author,
but I do know that he solemnly and indignantly denied its author-
ship to Professor Hall ; and it would seem that Hall, at the time, must
have believed him. But on the breaking out of fresh troubles, the
solemn and indignant denial went for naught, and eleven years
afterwards he painstakingly set himself to the task of proving that
the Doctor was its author.

The letter led to Hall's resignation. "That very week", he says,
he sent in his resignation, "offering however to remain till the meet-
ing of the board". A partial copy of that letter, taken from the old
record which was destroyed by the fire of July 12, 1883, still re-
mains; and it is curious to note that he writes, "The sole reason for
this offer is my dissatisfaction with the present salary attached to
my office, and which, allow me to say, is a reason to be remedied by
your honorable board if it desires to retain me in its employ."

This was certainly strange language to be used in the face of
the anonymous letter ; and I am unable to explain it upon any other

* The New Purchase (1843), II, 230-1.

Centennial Memorial Volume 81

hypothesis, save that Hall was, for the time being, satisfied with the
Doctor's denial.

The board accepted Hall's resignation, but made the usual
mistake in such cases of requesting him to remain a year longer at a
salary of $750, to which he agreed, "unless an offer of employment
came from elsewhere which he could not afford to neglect".

No further trouble is heard of for a period of about nine months.
The fires were smouldering, however, and a"t the coming of the first
breeze were liable to leap into flame. The breeze came in May or
June of the following year (1832). The occasion was a spring ex-
hibition. Exhibitions were important affairs in college life in those
days. Orations, declamations, debates, essays, and dramatical per-
formances were the exercises usually given. Whole days would
sometimes be appropriated to an exhibition. I found an account not
long ago of one given by the students of Franklin College, during
the early period of its history, which occupied the better part of
two days, and they did not charge an admission fee either.

Alas! Alas! One by one the cherished customs of the Fathers
take their flight and come back to us no more, forever. The old-
time spring exhibition, with its odor of cedar browse, its thunder of
the bass drum, its marchings in of the College societies, its warm and
fervid oratory — who that ever spoke his "piece" at a spring exhibi-
tion and received heartier applause and more of it than ever after-
wards he received, can forget the occasion of his greatest victory!

The Indiana College spring exhibition was a less elaborate affair
than the Franklin one of later date. It consisted of orations only,
and probably it was put by in half a day. At any rate, it was held
in the then newly-built Presbyterian church on the corner of Fourth
and Washington streets. It is now occupied by the Baptists and has
been rebuilt on the old foundation. Portions of the old walls have
been built in with the new as is plain to be seen by any passer-by.6

The new church was then unfinished, and it may serve as a bit of
local coloring to the history of the times to state that the carpenters
were at work on the inside finishing, and that all save one aban-
doned their planes and saws for the exhibition. Their benches were
pushed to one side and the floor was swept clean. One grim old
carpenter engaged upon the work, who was a Presbyterian as well
and held that the fiddle in the church was an abomination, declared
his unwillingness to lose his day's work. The exhibition could go
on if its promoters chose, but he was going on also; and so he planed

•Since the delivery of this address, a stone church building has superseded the brick one known
to Judge Banta.

82 Indiana University

away. His bench stood next the north wall; and as the auditors
came in, the first things that caught their eyes were the long ribbons
of wood curling from Carpenter Clark's sharp plane.

Presently the procession from the College, composed of musi-
cians, faculty, officers, students, and citizens came filing in. There
was a triangle, a fiddle, a bass viol, a drum, and a clarinet. James
W. Whitcomb, a brilliant young lawyer of the town and subsequently
a governor, a United States senator, and a foreign minister, played
the fiddle. John Orchard, one of the proprietors of the Orchard
House and a pillar in the church, played the bass viol; and Austin
Seward blew on the wind instrument. Who struck the triangle and
who the drum, the muse of history does not record.

The boys applauded the carpenter, of course, but he kept planing
away. As the house filled up, the last to come in found seats in the
rear, where the curling shavings and the dust and slivers alighted on
the gowns and spring bonnets of the Bloomington matrons and
maidens. At once a vigorous dusting of gowns began, accompanied
by remarks that doubtless made the carpenter's ears tingle. Mean-
while the boys kept on applauding. The commotion catching the
president's attention, he arose, and looking in the carpenter's direc-
tion, and assuming an air of amazement, he exclaimed: "What does
this mean? I wouldn't be more surprised at the sight of a wild bear
from the woods!" The carpenter could stand it no longer. A pro-
position had been made by Mr. Orchard and others to pay him his
day's wages, which he now gladly accepted ; and dropping his plane
he left the house and the exhibition went on.

There was a students' temperance society in existence here at the
time, the members of which elected one of their number, Samuel
Givens, a fiery Kentuckian, to represent them on the occasion.
Givens requested that he be permitted to speak either first or last,
and Dr. Wylie agreed to his request; but when the program was
made out the Doctor, forgetting the request and his promise, the
temperance orator was assigned an intermediate place on it. Be-
cause of this, Givens declined to appear, and when his name was
reached Dr. Wylie rising said, "I see that the gentleman is absent
for reasons which I suppose he may deem satisfactory"; and he
called the next speaker.

"It was the rule then that students were called upon in chapel
Saturday mornings to give in public their excuses for any absences or
failures in duty that had occurred during the week. Accordingly,
Givens was called upon to account for his absence at the spring

Centennial Memorial Volume 83

speaking." He answered, giving as a reason that he did not wish to
speak unless it was first or last, and referred to the promise that had
been made to him in that matter. The president admitted the
promise, but said he had forgotten it until it was too late.

But the young man was not satisfied. With an impertinence that
is astounding to us, but which no doubt came of that factious spirit
so prevalent at the time among the students, he gave the president to
understand that he was not at all satisfied with his explanation. The
Doctor, with a spirit of patience that it seems to me was remarkable
in him, again stated that it was true he had made the promise, but he
had entirely forgotten the matter when he came to make up the pro-
gram, and continuing he asked this question, "Would any gentleman
under the same circumstances and the circumstances known to him
act as you have in this matter?"

Springing to his feet the young man tiptoeing said, "I would, sir!"
"Then", replied the Doctor, "you would be a very mean man", or as
another puts it, "You would act very meanly."

The impertinence of Givens could not very well be overlooked
and something had to be done. Professor Hall says that the Doctor
on his own motion pronounced an "immediate sentence of dismis-
sion" of the "noble and ingenious young man" ; but no corroborating
evidence exists. That the faculty disagreed as to what the discipline
should be, there is no doubt; and it is very reasonable to suppose
that Wylie was in favor of extreme measures while Hall and Harney
were in favor of mild. Givens evidently belonged to the student
faction that was favorable to the professors and was getting in his
"lick" at the president.

Now followed one of the most remarkable proceedings to be
found in the whole range of modern college annals. It was neither
more nor less than an appeal of the case by the faculty to the stu-
dents. Both McPheeters and Bollman, as students "trained"
in opposite factions, always represented that the faculty submitted
the case to the students by agreement ; and Campbell writes of it as
an "open appeal by the faculty to the students". On the contrary,
Hall writes that both himself and Harney were greatly surprised
when, on what was long known as "the celebrated Saturday", Dr.
Wylie brought the matter to the attention of the students; and while
the case was, in a sense, appealed to the students, I cannot believe,
in the absence of the actual statement of someone present in faculty
meeting, that such an appeal was the result of an agreement made
beforehand.

84 Indiana University

But we are not entirely left in the dark as to the Doctor's motives
and purpose. According to Dr. Elliott, Dr. Wylie proposed some
measure affecting the College government — he does not state what,
but it was probably the expulsion of Givens — "which was openly
opposed by the professors and their party", their party consisting of
all citizens and students who sided with them. "Anxious to en-
lighten the community and the students, he was discussing it in the
chapel", when the circumstances as hereinafter stated took place.

Be all this as it may, sometime between the day of the spring ex-
hibition and July 16, 1832, came "the celebrated Saturday".

Mr. Bollman — who came to Bloomington from Pennsylvania
with Dr. Wylie and took his course in the College, and was ever Dr.
Wylie's fast friend and not the friend of Professor Hall, for he spoke
bitterly of the latter to the very last — said on one occasion that on
the morning of "the celebrated Saturday", he was sent for by the
president to meet him at his house before the ringing of the bell ;
that he did so, and there met a number of other students. The
ringing of the bell was begun about the time he got there, and before
or at its close Dr. Wylie said, "Well, it is time we go to College."

Hall makes the charge in his book that the president came to
chapel that morning with a "bodyguard", and Bollman understood
that he and others had been invited to assemble for some such
purpose. The evidence is conclusive that both sides met that morn-
ing in the belief that something unusual was about to take place ; and
the inference is very strong that shortly before that the feelings of
both Wylie and Harney had been wrought up to the highest point
of malignancy toward each other.

As to the cause for the particular enmity now existing between
these two, I am not certain. Harney had from the beginning of the
quarrel espoused Hall's side; and now that Hall's days as a professor
were numbered, it may be that Wylie and Harney had mutually
entered the lists for a death struggle. In The New Purchase it is
stated that the president on his own motion expelled Givens, but
that Harney advised the student to disregard the president's act
on the ground that the faculty alone could expel, not a member of the
faculty. Be this as it may, on assembling that Saturday morning
the faculty took their places on the rostrum, the president in the
middle and a professor on each side as usual. The president read a
chapter and offered the usual morning prayer, after which the unusu-
al scene began.

It began by the president making a speech. Two versions of that
speech are before me. One is the New Purchase version, which is too

Centennial Memorial Volume 85

extravagant for credence. The other is Matthew M. Campbell's ver-
sion. After the lapse of fifty years, he undertook, as he says, "to
give something like it". In one thing both agree — the president
assailed Professor Harney. The New Purchase statement is that he
charged him, by innuendo, with spitting in his face, but from no
other source comes even a hint of this, and so we discard it entirely.
Whatever ground that speech may have covered, of this we may feel
assured, Dr. Wylie did not spare his enemies — the professors. Dur-
ing its delivery we may well suppose that, as Hall says, the "pro-
fessors sat as in a dream". Presently the one thing occurred which
everyone present no doubt remembered to the day of his death.
Harney was sitting with a pen-knife in his hand — a "little pen-knife"
said McPheeters ; an "old pocket-knife" with a "round-ended
blade", says The New Purchase;"a new knife with a very glittering
blade", says Dr. Elliott, who got his information from Dr. Wylie;
and simply a "pen-knife" says Campbell. He was "whittling a
stick as was his custom", says McPheeters; "he was opening and
shutting it just that its click, as I think, might somewhat divert
his own riveted attention", says Campbell; "he was snapping it
open and shut", says Dr. Elliott; "as was his habit, when having
nothing to do, he began strapping a round-ended blade of an old
pocket-knife on his boot — said boot tastefully reposing on the
knee of the other leg", reads The New Purchase.

Here you see is a disagreement among the witnesses, but it is as
to a minor matter. As to the essential facts that there was a knife
displayed by Harney, and that it was not a deadly weapon, there is
entire agreement.

But the president saw that knife, and actually fearing or feigning
to fear an evil intention on the part of Harney, he exclaimed against
it. "What! Does he mean to stab me in the back while I explain
to you his late conduct with me?" is Campbell's statement; while
McPheeters' is, "I see a knife behind me here, but I hope it is for
no evil purpose!"

A commotion followed. Harney sprang to his feet, but Hall
seizing him by the skirt of his coat pulled him back into his seat, at
the same time telling him he would speak in answer. The president
went on with his speech and no quarreling, as such, ensued. Camp-
bell even thinks there was no great excitement evinced by the stu-
dents. Doubtless they kept their seats and certainly they did not
applaud.

When the president was thru, Hall arose and began his answer.
What he said no one has assumed to repeat, but there is evidence

86 Indiana University

that he began the making of a very exasperating speech. Mc-
Pheeters says that Hall "was a brilliant orator and in the language
of the boys he 'ripped the Doctor up the back' ". At any rate, his
words greatly enraged the president, who called upon him to curb
the temper of his speech or he would dismiss the College. But
Hall, paying no attention to the threat, kept right on, when Wylie,
advancing to the front, cried: "College is dismissed. My friends
will follow me!"

With that there seems to have been a rush for the door, and when
outside, the president's friends followed him, and the professors'
them. Some who held aloof from either faction, lolling on the grass
in the shade, talked the extraordinary occurrence over.

This is the story of "the celebrated Saturday", as I have been
enabled to weave it out of the tangled skeins that have come dow n to
our time. In The New Purchase, Harney is represented as denying in
the most positive of terms any wrong purpose with reference to his
knife, and I have no doubt he did so, for it was most natural he
should ; yet while everyone whose statement regarding the matter I
have taken hastens to acquit Harney on that score, not one remem-
bers him as saying a word at the time.

Events now followed in quick succession. On July 16 we find the
board convened in extraordinary session. Professor Hall, as
we have seen, had already resigned but was teaching under a special
agreement. He no longer appears as an actor in these disgraceful
scenes. Henceforth the battle was waged between the president and
the mathematics professor. Each went before the board, and each
presented his side of the case and demanded an investigation.

What was the board to do? There was no precedent. The like
had never been known before. For three days the board doubted,
and on the third it straddled. By resolution it declared that the
"conduct of each member of the faculty has not been free from cen-
sure", and wound up by recommending the members "to make every
consistent effort to arrive at perfect harmony among themselves";
and then the trustees adjourned and went to their homes.

The advice was good, very good; but the time for advice was
passed. What the parties wanted was a trial ; what the board could
not afford to give was a trial. There is but one step that can be
taken with absolute safety to an institution in such an emergency,
and that is to cut off somebody. No management can with safety
to its college sit as a tribunal to condemn or to vindicate its quarrel-
ing professors. Other tribunals, lay and ecclesiastical, have been
specially ordained for that purpose.

Centennial Memorial Volume 87

Certainly no darker hour was ever struck in the history of our
beloved institution. The factional differences between the students
had become so intensified as alone to be a sufficient cause from
which to apprehend a disruption. Hall, it is true, says the students
"generally remained neutral", but he charges that all the "flourish-
ing ornamental trees set out by him years before" were girdled;
that the beautiful woodbines shading his doors and windows were
cut down, and that the swine were turned into his kitchen garden —
all of which he lays to the door of the adverse student faction.

That the students were wrought to a high pitch of excitement
cannot be doubted; for when the time came, as it shortly did, that
the professors had to go, the number of students that turned their
backs upon Indiana College was so great that Dr. Maxwell, the
president of the Board of Trustees, in his next annual report to the
legislature, felt it his duty to call attention to the fact.

In addition to these agencies of disturbance, we must not over-
look the fact that the people of Bloomington took sides and helped
carry on the war. Fortunately, however, with them there was
division — a division which goes far towards sustaining that deliv-
erance of the board that the "conduct of each member of the faculty
has not been free from censure' ' . To such a pitch was the contention
carried among the citizens of the town that, according to Dr. Elliott,
who succeeded Professor Harney in the chair of mathematics,
the social life of the people for the time being was made to hinge
upon the faculty controversy. The friends of the one side held no
social intercourse with the friends of the other side. The social
parties were either Wylie parties or Hall and Harney parties.

And yet, to the credit of president and professors be it said, that
after the board had given its bit of good advice and gone home, the
College work went on as if all were peace and harmony in that little
College world. Commencement day came on the last Wednesday in
September of that year, and until that time president and professors
met in the chapel each morning, when there was reading of the Scrip-
tures and prayer, after which followed lectures and recitations — all
as of old. Everything was done in decency and in order, and a
stranger would never have dreamed of the tempests of ill-feeling
raging beneath the surface.

It is quite evident, however, that the disagreeing faculty were not
taking the good advice of the board. They never do in such cases.
Out of doors all was discord and confusion. Sometime during the in-
terval between the July meeting and the September commencement,
the president and the mathematics professor had a personal collision,

88 Indiana University

but the event had more of the farcical than the tragical in it. The
story is about as follows : That stream which crosses the city school
lot and is so nicely concealed beneath College avenue by an arch of
masonry was at the time in question an open stream from street
boundary to street boundary, save that it was spanned on the west
side by a foot-log. One Sunday morning the president and the pro-
fessor met at that foot-log. The president fancied, and doubtless
his fancy was the fact, that the professor was measuring his steps so
that the meeting should take place midway of that log, and if the
truth were known, it would doubtless appear that the president was
not just then caring whether the inevitable meeting took place on the
log or off it. At any rate it is certain that he did not change his gait.
He left it to the mathematics professor to do the necessary fast
walking and slow walking, in order to bring about the meeting in the
most desirable place. And the mathematics professor was a very
capable and practical mathematician, and he so managed it that
each stepped upon his end of the log at the same time. But the
president had been thinking as well as the professor. "I made up
my mind", said he sometime afterward to our Dr. Wylie (Professor
Theophilus A. Wylie), "that I would push him off if I could"; and
it was characteristic of the old Doctor that when he once made up
his mind to do a given thing, he was very apt to do it. At any
rate the parties met in the middle of the log, as the mathematics
man had calculated they would; and "just as we came together",
said the old Doctor to the young Doctor, "I drew my arms close
around me and gave him a hunch with one shoulder, and off he went
sprawling".

Had the mathematics man seized his antagonist by the leg and
dragged him down into the mud and mire, we might have had more
respect for him!

Commencement fell this year on the last Wednesday in Septem-
ber. There were two terms a year, of five months each, with two
vacations of a month each, one covering the month of October and
the other the month of April. From the beginning up to this year
of 1832, the collegiate years closed in the last of October, and the
vacation months were November and May.

Whether the trustees were astonished at the continued hostility
of the main actors in this drama, on their assembling at the Septem-
ber commencement, is nowhere stated. We learn from Dr. Max-
well's report to the General Assembly that Hall had withdrawn two
weeks before commencement, but no reason for this is given. We
can only suppose that the position he occupied had become so in-

Centennial Memorial Volume 89

tolerable to him that he sought relief by abandoning the field. He
was a man of peace, who took no pleasure in war.

Another effort was made to effect a reconciliation between Wylie
and Harney, but with no better effect than the one of six weeks
before. What would the trustees now do? The entries in the old
record are in general brief and often unsatisfactory. Enough,
however, was written to show the great strait in which the trustees
now found themselves. They were evidently doubting. In July
they had declared both parties in the wrong; and as nothing had
taken place to warrant a reversal of that opinion they must have
still considered both parties in the wrong. This is evident, or else
they would not have again counseled a compromise.

Again, professors were harder to come at in those days than they
are now. Let one drop out today, and tomorrow twenty will be
found ready to take his place. Jt was otherwise sixty years ago.
Men competent to fill presidents' chairs, and to teach Greek and
Latin and the higher mathematics, generally lived on the other side
of the Alleghanies. If either Wylie or Harney went, who could be
found to supply his place? Hall was already out, and a Greek and
Latin man had to be found; and the board shrank from the task of
finding still another. One at a time was enough. Moreover, as
neither the president nor the professor would resign, and the board
had declared both in fault, how could one be taken and the other
left?

To this, add the clamor from the outside. The president had his
friends, and the professor his. The town was in a tumult. Every-
where was confusion. When the pinch finally came, the trustees
themselves could not agree. Tradition says that scarce two thought
alike. The matter was talked over and over, and proposition after
proposition was made, but nothing could be agreed upon. At last
the keynote was struck by the humblest member of the board. He
is represented as saying:

I am not a lawyer, nor a doctor, nor a preacher, and I know next to
nothing about public business ; but if I had two good hands employed on
my farm and they should quarrel and fight, I would do my best to
have them make it up; but if after a fair trial I found they would
not have peace, I would consider which one I could get on the better
without, and would dismiss him at once.

And Harney was dismissed.

The black cloud which uprose with the beginning of this faculty
fight now hung like a pall over what many thought was a dead
College. No other calamity, whether from fire, or adverse litigation,

90 Indiana University

or political or sectarian ascendancy, or what not, ever proved so
great a calamity to the institution as did this wretched personal
difficulty. It had done more in the short space of twelve months to
chill the ardor of state effort in the cause of collegiate education than
all the assaults by politicians or sectaries from the outside were ever
able to accomplish. The unseemly and disgraceful squabble was
carried on, in spite of official admonition, until it became a state
scandal, and until it put an effectual end, during that generation at
least, to any thought of state aid to the Indiana College. I think it
safe to say that never at any time since the culmination of that
petty quarrel has the institution had as many active and cooperating
friends thruout the state, in proportion to the whole number of
people, as it had before. Up to that time it had been the hope of
Dr. Maxwell and other far-seeing men, that the Indiana College
should be to Indiana what the Michigan University has since
become to Michigan ; but it was soon seen, after the close of that de-
plorable dispute, that whatever the future might have in store for the
scion of their planting, that hope could not become a reality during
their generation.

I realized in the outset the gravity of the task I had undertaken.
We are not so far from the actors and their times that a matter of
such a personal nature as the one presented can be probed without
danger of hurting somebody.

It may be said that the matter presented in this paper is but an
episode that ought to be forgotten. But history is largely made up of
episodes, and especially is this true of the history of our institution.
And it is true, moreover, that every single episode has in its composi-
tion more or less of the unpleasant because of personal matters;
and so if we were to leave all out that is unpleasant, we would have
left very little that would be worth recording as history.

I have not felt that it was any part of my duty to find which side
took the initiatory wrong step, nor which went to the greater length
in the wrong. A review of the evidence at hand warrants me in
believing, as the Board of Trustees believed at the time, that neither
side was without fault. As to the relative degrees of wrong the
board expressed no opinion, and neither do I.

But looking beyond all that — whether Dr. Wylie was to blame or
not to blame; whether Hall and Harney, or Hall or Harney, were to
blame or not to blame — one fact stares us in the face, and that is
that their personal controversy worked a grievous wrong to the
institution.

In everything a man does, he may be said to appeal to history

Centennial Memorial Volume 91

and certainly this is true of every man who engenders or wages a
faculty war. It is a war out of which no soldier ever comes unhurt,
and for which hurt no soldier ever receives a pension.

The board proceeded at once to the reorganization of the faculty
by the election of Beaumont Parks, who was at the time at the head
of a classical school in Madison, in this state, to the chair of lan-
guages; and Ebenezer N. Elliott, who was at the head of a similar
school at Rising Sun on the same side of the river, to the chair
vacated by Professor Harney. And then the board adjourned, in
the belief that the College was dead. Nor did it again meet for two
years. That was the period known as the interregnum.

V. FROM COLLEGE TO UNIVERSITY (1833-381)

THE STORY of the Indiana College as thus far told on Foundation
Days has been brought down to the close of the "faculty war" in
1832. It begins today with the reorganization of the faculty.

Dr. Wylie was continued as president at a salary of $1,300, and
Beaumont Parks was elected to the chair of languages and Ebenezer
N. Elliott to that of mathematics and natural philosophy, each at
$750 per year. Both were taken from Indiana schools, Parks from
the head of a classical school at Madison and Elliott from the head
of a like school at Aurora. The former was Connecticut born, and
was educated at Dartmouth; the latter was a South Carolinian,
but came to the Kentucky side of the Ohio valley in boyhood and
was educated at the Miami University.

The Greek and Latin professor is remembered as much for his
eccentricities as for his learning. He was seldom or never without
his "quid in his mouth and was always begging for tobacco". He
did all sorts of unexpected and astounding things. In the middle of a
recitation, without a word of warning, he would spring to his feet
with the announcement that he must go home and kill a chicken for
dinner ; and off he would go, not to return till the next day. Happily
the tribe of eccentrics has about disappeared from the western col-
leges— a fact that would seem to indicate that there must have been
a deal of simulated eccentricity among the college men of old.

Professor Elliott moved in the usual orbit, except that he was
endowed with an inordinate egotism. He still survives, or did a few
months ago; and I think you will agree with me, when you have
heard his own account of some of his achievements while a professor

^Delivered in the Presbyterian Church, Bloomington, Indiana, at the annual Foundation Day
exercises held January 20, 1893.

92 Indiana University

in the Indiana College, that he is in his old age — whatever he may
have been when a younger man — most delightfully self-conscious of
the importance of his own acts.

Thus far the history of the institution had had in it more of dis-
appointment and failure than of success and triumph. Nevertheless,
it had met with its successes; and in spite of all its drawbacks, past
and to come, it was destined in a very few years to attract the
general attention of the country and draw students to its classes
from all over the West and South.

It is not to be supposed that the new faculty entered upon their
duties in the belief that the evil days were past and that there was
to be no more war. Too many battlefields were still in sight, and
too many old soldiers who had fought for or against the College on
these fields survived, for that. A generation — yes, two generations —
must step down and out before there could be a perfect peace. The
old politicians and the old ecclesiastics must all give place to the
new before the Indiana College battles were to be no more. Still, it is
a reasonable conclusion that the "faculty fight", which was the
theme of the last Foundation Day's paper, was not an unmitigated
evil. It had its one compensation at least, for while the internecine
strife went on the foreign enemy stood aloof observing the strictest
neutrality. After the domestic broil was over the attacks from the
outside came with such lessened vigor as to indicate a permanent
weakening in the ranks of the enemy. Battles were still to be fought
in defense of the State College, but the issue was never again to be
so doubtful as it had been in the past.

When the new professors came, in the fall of 1832, they found the
people of Bloomington in a state of angry discontent. They had
very generally taken sides in the faculty controversy, and altho Hall
and Harney were gone, leaving Dr. Wylie as the only one of the
original combatants to occupy the field, the two factions were not
ready to cease the warfare. The population of the town did not
exceed six hundred; but six hundred soldiers, it must be conceded,
can fight a stout battle. Theirs, it must be remembered, was a very
combative age. Everybody in those days was ready to fight with
tongue, pen, fist, or sword, on the slightest provocation. If you will
take the pains to examine the old court dockets of any of our
counties, you can see from the great plenty of slander cases and
assault and battery cases how very pugnacious the Indiana people
were.

The people of Bloomington were no worse and no better than
were their neighbors in this respect. When the faculty contest

Centennial Memorial Volume 93

began, they joined in with a will. But when the principals in that
unhappy affair ceased their strivings, their valorous adherents were
hardly ready to cease theirs ; and so the warfare continued, between
the Hall and Harney faction on the one side, and the Wylie faction
on the other.

The people of Bloomington were a social people in those days,
and in this way they were much like their neighbors, for sociability
was a characteristic of the times. The people of the towns were
much in the habit of meeting around the hearthstone and of eating
and drinking and making merry. But here in Bloomington the
suppers were Hall and Harney suppers, or else Wylie suppers. An
adherent of one faction was seldom or never a guest with the other.
Indeed, Professor Elliott says in so many words that, when he ar-
rived, so bitter was the feeling between the two factions, "no in-
dividual of the one party visited , or even spoke to one of the other
party".

This state of affairs must have been intolerable to the new pro-
fessors ; and one of them at least, according to his charmingly gossipy
story, determined to put an end to this social thralldom for his own
and his family's benefit, as well as for the benefit of the College.
He exclaims:

Fortunate it was for me and for the College, that my wife, whom I had just married,
had been reared in the best society of Kentucky, and that Bloomington was some-
what numerously settled by Kentuckians, and that Noah Noble, the governor
of the state, was a Kentuckian and a neighbor and a playmate in childhood of
my wife's. This gave us an entree to all the society v/hich Bloomington could
boast. A succession of entertainments followed [his coming, which was just
sixty years ago the fourteenth of last month] and many shrewd speculations were
indulged in as to which party the new professors and their families would attach
themselves to. I had brought out with me two young ladies, nieces of my wife.

The townspeople representing both factions had done the handsome
thing by the new members of the faculty, and it now became their
duty to pay their debts. "Mrs. Wylie", continues the chronicler,
"led off by inviting the Doctor's friends only. Mrs. Professor Parks
followed by inviting the same, and both entirely ignored his en-
mies."

It was now the turn of the mathematics professor and his wife,
and there was much discussion between the two. After the lapse of
sixty years the matter seems trivial enough to us, but as a result of
that discussion it was determined, writes our chronicler, "to ignore
both parties and invite all, and make the resuscitation of the College
the paramount object". And so all were invited — Hall and Harney

94 Indiana University

retainers and Wylie retainers — and all came ; so that the mathema-
tician's parlor (to use his own language) was "crowded by both
parties, but on opposite sides of the room, glaring at each other and
wondering what next".

Well, what next? Let us have the story to the end without
break or comment.

My wife had marshaled her forces, her two attractive young ladies, her nieces,
some Kentucky students, and as auxiliaries her Kentucky friends in town. The
object was to mingle the heterogeneous factions and transform them into a homo-
geneous whole. Much as I had admired her before [they had recently been
married], she that night excelled in entertaining anything I had thought possible.
She and the young ladies were everywhere; she had a word or a repartee for each
one; and she so managed that, by the time supper was announced, her guests
were pretty thoroughly mixed. These tactics were followed up by a judicious
round of visits and invitations to call. This was the deathblow to partyism; and
from that time the institution started on a new career of prosperity, so that when
our trustees returned, after a two years' absence, they found the College, to which
they had as they thought bidden an eternal farewell, flourishing, the new building
finished, the chapel complete with rostrum and orchestra, a fine brass band, two
society halls, and (best of all) a large increase of students.

As a bit of local coloring the story as told by Professor Elliot *
could not be overlooked, but the results of his and his worthy wife's
diplomacy were hardly as great as he would have us believe. The
finished building, the completed chapel and rostrum and orchestra,
and the brass band and society halls and increase of students, were
due to causes other than that supper. In a word, the supper did
not save the College ; nevertheless the social life of Bloomington, and
of all those connected with the College, too, for that matter, was no
doubt greatly benefited by it. It was the beginning of better
things, and by reason thereof deserves to be remembered. Still,
the revolution it set in motion was not instantaneous, for as late as
1838 the Hall and Harney and the Wylie factions were still making
themselves felt as factions in the social life of Bloomington.

Let us turn now to matters of a graver nature.

The year after this institution had been made a possibility by the
constitution of the new state of Indiana, a new disease which was in
a very few years to prove a scourge to mankind the world over began
to attract the attention of the medical profession of the civilized
world. The year after the institution passed by legislative enact-
ment from the Indiana Seminary into the Indiana College, that fell
disease passed beyond the confines of its Asiatic home and entered
Europe. The next year (1831) it touched the coast of England, and
on June 9, 1832, cholera for the first time found a foothold in the

Centennial Memorial Volume 95

New World. This was at Quebec ; and in thirty days it was claiming
its victims in Chicago! On June 24 it broke out in New York,
whence it swept like an ocean storm to Philadelphia, Washington,
Baltimore, and to other towns on the Atlantic side of the Alleg-
hanies. In September it runs like lightning up and down the
Ohio. Cincinnati, Lawrenceburg, Madison, Louisville, Evansville —
all are stricken, and the mortality is great and men fear and tremble.

As the cry of anguish goes up from the people of the river towns,
"See!" exclaim they of the interior places, "it clings to the water-
ways!" and they regain their courage.

With the coming of the October frosts the scourge suddenly dis-
appeared, and it was devoutly hoped that it would never return. In
the long winter evenings that followed, the people around their fire-
sides recalled the horrors of the visitation and the striking incidents
of its year. Not the least of these was the fact that the winter
of 1831-32 was the coldest that the people of Indiana had ever
known; that the following spring was extremely cold and backward,
and the summer noted for the absence of sultry weather. There
are those yet living who remember the extraordinary fact that in
the harvest field that year laborers were compelled to keep in motion
to keep comfortably warm.

And it is moreover on record, that the floods in the Ohio valley
reached a higher level that spring than had ever before been known —
higher by eight feet than the great flood of 1826, and higher by
nearly six feet than the still greater of 1815.

As the people sat around their firesides of the long winter even-
ings and talked of frost and flood, of summer cold and stalking
cholera, they wrapped themselves in the mantle of their own fears
and waited forebodingly for the worst. And the worst for Indiana
was yet to come.

On April 27, 1833, the Indianapolis papers announce that the
"frightful disease" has again made its appearance in Cincinnati.

Once more does this pestilence stalk at noonday up and down the
Ohio, smiting with death the inhabitants as it goes. It menaces the
interior places as it had not done before, and finally leaving the
river basin it flies like a destroying angel southward, thru the blue-
grass towns and on down into the Tennessee country.

All this was going on in May and June, and toward the last of the
latter month the alarm began to spread to the Indiana towns; and
well it might, for they in general were as void of sanitary regulations
as were the Potawatomi villages on the border.

In Evansville the people were using and drinking stale river

96 Indiana University

water from old whiskey barrels, and everywhere the public square*
and the streets and the alleys were the receptacles of garbage and all
kinds of litter and filth. The wells in general thruout the state were
shallow, and usually curbed from bottom to top with wood; surface
drainage was scarcely thought of, and the vaults in the villages were
in little if any better condition than they generally are today.

In Indianapolis June 26 was observed "as a day of special fasting
and prayer", and a public meeting was called to consider the situa-
tion.

In Bloomington they neither prayed and fasted nor called a
public meeting, so far as I can learn, but waited — and hoped that the
pestilence would pass them by.

On June 29, the Indianapolis Journal assures its readers that all
is still well — that while there are sporadic cases occurring in various
places, cholera "is not yet prevailing as an epidemic".

On July 7, the editor exclaims, "Indiana thus far most merci-
fully spared!" But in a postscript — for editors wrote postscripts
to their editorials and even news items in those days — he says, "We
understand that cholera has broken out with great violence at
Salem." And so it had. Eight days before the editor seems to have
heard of it, it had "assumed a malignant form" in that unhappy
town, according to what is now known. And now the pestilence was
abroad in Indiana's interior places, and "terror and consternation",
to use the language of another, everywhere prevailed.

Two centers of attack were made, one in the eastern part of the
state and the other in the southern. At Greensburg, a small village
of a few hundred inhabitants, 30 deaths occurred in a few hours. Out
of a population of 150 in Newcastle, 16 fell victims. The mortality
was less at Richmond. In the south, the severest sufferer was
Salem. Here the mortality was appalling. In the town 65 died and
48 in the country round about, 113 in all. From Salem it marched
to Paoli; it is next heard of at Bedford, and thence it passed on
to Bloomington.

On Saturday morning, August 9, as certain ten-o'clock church-
goers passed the residence of Mr. George Johnson, on the south-
west corner of the square, on the lot now occupied by the First
National Bank, Anneka, the colored family servant, was seen gather-
ing fuel to start the dinner fire. At two o'clock, the same church-
goers, and other persons, were giving her a hasty burial. Between
the hours of 10 a.m. and 2 p.m. she had been stricken and had died
of cholera, and her very hurried funeral testifies to the extreme alarm
that had possession of the town.

Centennial Memorial Volume 97

The same afternoon a student by the name of Huntington, from
Indianapolis, was attacked and died during the night. He was
buried early the next morning, the faculty and most of the students
attending the funeral. Mr. William McCollough, a prominent
citizen, died about the same time, and others followed in quick suc-
cession.

All was now alarm and confusion. A few families fled the town,
one in particular seeking safety at Ellett's tavern on the road to Gos-
port. But on reaching the place, the landlord and his wife were both
found in the agonies of death from the dread disease.

All College work now ceased, and the great majority of the stu-
dents left at once for their homes. Says the venerable Judge Roache,
who was here as a student at the time, "Those who were able to se-
cure conveyances or horses went in that way, but my recollection is
that the great majority could not secure any sort of conveyance, and
in their wild hurry to escape from the pestilence left town on foot."
On their leaving Dr. Wylie admonished them to pursue their home-
ward journeys leisurely and cheerfully. Three Indianapolis stu-
dents, Judge Roache remembers, — Hugh O'Neal, who afterwards
became somewhat celebrated as a lawyer, David Beaty, and a young
man by the name of Pogue, who belonged to the family of that name
which is reputed to have been the first to settle on the after-site of
Indianapolis — made the journey as far as Martinsville afoot. As
they passed a residence a mile north of town, they were observing
President Wylie's admonition to pursue their homeward way
cheerfully, by shouting "Good-bye cholera! Good-bye cholera!"
Shortly before reaching Martinsville they were amazed at finding
that the pestilence was hard on their track. Young Pogue was strick-
en down and died in that town. No other deaths of students are
remembered. Quite a number of citizens of the town and of the
country round about died, but the pestilence soon abated.

A vacation of two weeks was announced at the time the students
left, but we learn from the Indiana Democrat that the president of
the College, toward the close of the month, gave notice that work
would be resumed in the institution on the first of September. The
announcement contained the cheering intelligence that the plague
had run its course in Bloomington, and that general good health
once more prevailed.

Commencement day came that year on the last Wednesday in
September. Two-thirds of August had been lost, but there was no
postponing of the day of commencement on account thereof. It is
remembered, however — and it shows the severe notions that college

98 Indiana University

men entertained in those days concerning fidelity to what they con-
sidered their trust — that the time was made up the following colle-
giate year by a shortening of the fall vacation by three weeks.

Commencement was held that year in the new chapel, and three
names were added to the roll of Alma Mater's alumni. Says Dr.
Elliott:

The commencement that year was held in the new chapel, and the orchestra
was composed of two flutes, one of them cracked. Imagine the discord. Dr.
Wylie whispers to a professor, "What makes more noise than a pig in a gate?"
Reply, "I give it up." The doctor, turning his thumb towards the orchestra,
says, "Two of them!" This orchestra led to the formation of the first band in
the College. It was organized by Professor Elliott and Mr. Seward, the black-
smith, and met weekly for instruction and practice in the recitation room of the
former, who was its president until he returned to the South.

So many episodes that touch upon the history of the College and
of the times during this period beckon to one for attention that it be-
comes difficult to make a satisfactory selection. There is one, how-
ever, that was so peculiarly the product of the age, and came with
such threatening to the life of the College and yet, comet-like,
passed it by with so little harm, that I feel justified in selecting it to
complete this paper.

In the early period of the state's history men fairly deified labor.
The most desirable quality a man or woman could possess was the
power and the will to perform manual labor. The young man who
stood at the head as a railmaker, or a woodchopper, or the like, was
in general hard to turn down in the esteem of the fathers and mothers
who had marriageable daughters. And so the young woman who
could spin her eighteen or twenty cuts a day, and weave the fall web
of jeans, and dip the winter candles, and the like, was quite sure of
not being overlooked by the able-bodied railmaker or woodchopper.

The supreme miss ion of men here in the West in those days was
to subdue the forest a nd surmount the physical conditions that ob-
structed their way; and this they could do, and only do, by the ex-
ercise of physical prowess. Hence they enthroned labor and made it
the chief thing.

For this cause the m an who was disabled to such an extent that
he could not engage in manual labor — who was lame, too fat, too
feeble, had the phthisic or had fits or was too lazy to work — well,
they usually made schoolmasters out of these, and thus got what
good they could out of them.

All professional men — lawyers, physicians, and preachers — who
did not show a willingness on occasion to turn their hands to what

Centennial Memorial Volume 99

was denominated in the vernacular of the times as an "honest em-
ployment" were very much in danger of being placed under the ban.

There was more reality in this than we are nowadays apt to
think. Thirty and forty years ago the Indianapolis banker deemed
it morally hazardous to lend money to a business man who would go
hunting or fishing. Mr. Dunn, in his history of the slavery episode
in Indiana, tells us how Jonathan Jennings secured his first election
to Congress. He saw that if he would succeed it must be thru the
votes of the men living in the eastern part of the state, so, mounting
his horse, he rode into those parts. The first men he met were at a
log-rojling during the morning hours. Not one did he know of the
sturdy log-rollers, and no one knew him ; nevertheless he dismounted
and took his place in the rank with a hand-spike, and rolled logs all
day with the best of them. By night all knew him and were for
him, and thence his fame went forth till all in eastern Indiana were
for him, and he was elected and Indiana was made a free state.

Out of this reverence for labor came trouble to the schools, and
especially to the Indiana College. There was a very general senti-
ment prevailing that education and manual labor ought to be mar-
ried, and two of our colleges — Franklin and Hanover — sprang from
that kind of a union. An effort was now made to degrade the Indiana
College by converting it into some sort of a labor institute. The
pressure was so great that the governor of the state felt called upon
to refer to it, but he advised that nothing be done unless it should
first meet with the approval of the College management.

Let us, however, listen to Dr. Elliott's story of the matter, for
had he not seen fit to contribute it no thing scarcely could ever have
been known of it, for the legislative records of the times were framed
apparently with a view to concealing what was done, rather than
making it known.

This was the era of the "manual labor" craze in colleges. It was believed
that by working certain hours per day on a college farm, a student could not only
support himself but pay his tuition; acquire an education, but also lay up money;
and some colleges tried it, and we had to take our turn. In the Indiana legisla-
ture for 1833 the senator from Switzerland county [John Dumont] had introduced
a bill to reorganize Indiana University [he means College] into a manual labor
institution. It made provision for purchasing a large farm, erecting expensive
buildings, purchasing all kinds of agricultural implements and machinery, stocking
it with all kinds of stock, making it obligatory on the students to work certain
hours each day on the farm and all day Saturday, and appointing as superin-
tendent at a high salary the laziest man in Monroe county.

This was the time of mud roads and corduroy turnpikes, and communication
with Indianapolis was like angels' visits, and the bill had passed its first two read-
ings before we heard of it. Our Board of Trustees were scattered all over the

100 Indiana University

state and the faculty were left to their own resources. Professor Elliott was
instructed to go to Indianapolis at his own expense and work to get the bill
defeated. He adopted the tactics of "a still hunt" — approached the senators
one by one, showed them that the provisions of the bill would absorb all their
funds, drive off all the students, and close the doors of the College. He received
their pledges to vote against it, until he secured three-fourths of the Senate
before the bill was ordered to its third reading. The Senate had been very polite
to Professor Elliott and had given him a seat in their chamber opposite to Senator
Dumont's. It had been agreed to let Dumont make his speech, and then with-
out reply to take the vote. As no reply was made, Dumont was confident that
it would carry unanimously. When the Senators began to vote "No!" "No!"
"No!" he looked around the chamber with alarm and astonishment, until his eye
fell upon Professor Elliott. He crossed the chamber and, seating himself beside
him, said: "Ah, Professor! you are a pretty long-headed fellow. I see what
you have been doing. You have beaten us this time, but I hope to see the day
when there will be a professor of agriculture in every college in our country."

But we need read no further from the manuscript of this charm-
ing old octogenarian. Whether the defeat of the Dumont measure
was altogether due to the "fine Italian hand" of the mathematics
professor, I think may be doubted ; but that the absurd measure was
defeated, and that Professor Elliott aided materially in the defeat,
and all at his own expense, there cannot be a doubt. Had the bill
passed, the end no doubt would have been the wrecking of Indiana
College.

Let us now pass on to the collegiate and legislative year of 1837-
38. In this year the corporate life of the Indiana College ends and
that of the Indiana University begins. The five years intervening
between 1833 and 1838 abound in matter interesting enough to the
historical prowler, but no event of them all affords so good an ending
place for these Foundation Day papers as the change from College
to University.

During the intervening years the president of the College was
brought to trial before the board on what appears at this distance
to have been a trumped-up charge of an abuse of trust in the matter
of buying books for the library, but he was triumphantly acquitted.
Following that, was an effort to bring the matter before the General
Assembly of the state, but that proved a failure also.

Notwithstanding the occurrence of many things to harass and
annoy, the institution gathered strength and the attendance of stu-
dents increased. Professors during these intervening years resigned
and went to other fields of labor, and thus it began to be made plain
to the people that the College was a thing separate and apart from
the men who happened to fill its chairs. To begin the discernment of
this was a point gained, but it was many, many years before the

Centennial Memorial Volume ItJl

lesson was fully learned. During these years one reads between the
lines that the people of the state were beginning to be impressed
with the idea that the College was in some way necessary to the
welfare of the state. I do not know whether it would have been
possible to carry thru the legislature a measure appropriating money
to the institution or not, but I hardly think it would. And this for
the one reason, if for none other, that the general opinion was that
the institution, if not abundantly, was at least sufficiently endowed.
It was only a few years before this time, as we have seen on a former
occasion, that a legislative committee had in a report shown that the
endowment of the institution could be made to amount up to $100,-
000 in a very few years; and the committee expressed the opinion, in
the utmost confidence of its correctness, that a hundred- thousand-
dollar endowment would be ample for all the purposes of a university
such as was contemplated by the provisions in the constitution of
1816.

Well, the funds available as a source of income amounted to
between sixty and seventy thousand dollars, and there was remain-
ing and unsold something over ten thousand acres of land, which
when sold would, it was reasonably hoped, bring the endowment
up to the hundred-thousand-dollar mark. What more could
any college want? An appropriation would have been impossible.
No member of the General Assembly ever proposed it by bill or
otherwise, so far as I can learn. Yet there were men in the state
who saw clearly enough the necessity for it. Governor Ray, as we
have heretofore seen, recommended it; and Governor Noble, in his
annual message to the General Assembly in 1837-38, renewed the
recommendatio n .

And how much better it would have been had the recommenda-
tions been heeded ! What was needed at that time above all things
was for the people of Indiana to know that the Indiana College was
not an institution the administration of whose affairs it was the
duty and privilege of the state thru its legislature merely to overhaul
annually and approve or condemn, but that it was a ward of the
state — an institution of the state which had to be supported by the
state. Had that lesson been learned fifty years ago, how different
the condition of the institution would be from what it is! And that
lesson would have been learned, I have no doubt, had Indiana Col-
lege been less efficient than it then was.

It has already been stated that after the faculty fight of 1832,
the politicians ceased measurably their attacks upon the College and
its management.

102 Indiana University

But in their place came an army of ecclesiastics, backed up by a
great church organization, and the war went on against the Indiana
College. There is not time now to give any account of that contro-
versy. I can only say that the battle wras fought out with a ferocious
courage that was common to the men of that day, and that the
Indiana College came out of the contest with great loss. Students
fell off and professors resigned, and something had to be done.

In December, 1837, Governor Noble, in his annual message, after
paying a high tribute of praise to the thoroness and effectiveness
of the academic work which the College had already done, declared
"this to be a propitious time for carrying into effect the constitution
of Indiana with regard to the establishing of a State University",
and concluded by recommending that the College have bestowed on
it that distinction together with the necessary endowment.

This was at the commencement of the session in December. Bills
were presented in both branches of the Assembly and on February
13, 1838, the Senate bill was concurred in by the House. By a
vote of the General Assembly of the state, the Indiana College was
thus transformed into the Indiana University.

VI. PERILS FROM SECTARIAN CONTROVERSIES AND
THE CONSTITUTIONAL CONVENTION (1838-50)1

MR. ROOSEVELT in his charming history, The Winning of the
West, tells us of two Kentucky hunters of the early day who lived
alone in the wilderness, far from any settlement. They held to
opposing religious creeds, and in spite of their common danger they
argued, quarreled, and separated. The one kept the old camp, while
the other took up his abode in a hollow tree, but within shouting
distance. Every day on arising they cried "Good morning!" but
not another word would they speak to each other the whole day long.
And this habit, the author tells is, they kept up for many months
during which they saw no other faces.

To us who live in this liberal year of grace, Mr. Roosevelt's story
seems incredible. And so I suppose the story of the assaults made
from time to time upon this institution — as Seminary, College, and
University — by religionists, or rather in the name of religion, seems
likewise incredible to many.

On past Foundation Day occasions attempts have been made to
tell the story in sufficient detail to give you a fair idea of the trials
thru which the institution passed from that May Day in 1824, when

^Delivered in the Old College Chapel, as the annual Foundation Day address, January 19, 1894.

Centennial Memorial Volume 103

it received its first instalment of students on down till after the
Seminary became a college. The story is not a pleasant one to tell.
The story-teller is liable to be misunderstood. There has been such
a great and radical change in the thought and sentiment of the people
of all sects, and of no sects, within the past fifty years, that we of
the present are apt to misunderstand the story when told.

It was said (was it not?) at the last Foundation Day exercises
that you were hearing the last of the sectarian controversies that
were waged about our school. Further investigation, nevertheless,
reveals the fact that the true condition of the institution for many
years cannot be understood without a further reference to church
interference with its affairs.

In the beginning, and for many years thereafter, the professors
in the school either belonged to or sympathized with the Presby-
terian faith. Today nobody seems to care to what church a professor
belongs, or whether he belongs to any ; what his religious belief is, or
whether he has any. If he demeans himself aright and can teach
successfully, people for the most part are satisfied. But in the early
days of our College history, the fact that the professors were of one
faith was to most people of other faiths conclusive evidence of the
fact that sectarianism was taught in the College.

That sectarian tenets ever were taught in Seminary, College, or
University, the evidence, in so far as I can discover, utterly fails to
prove. On the contrary, all the evidence that I have thus far found
proves there was no such teaching. But that doesn't matter now.
Some people of the long ago said there was such teaching, and many
people believed them and the College suffered.

Right here the College management, it seems to me, was at fault.
Everything should have been done that rightly could have been
done to take the sting out of the charge. The board ought to have
mixed the religion of the faculty, if that was possible. The peculiar
temper of the times made that a politic and a proper thing to do. The
exigencies of the institution made it a proper thing to do. But the
board did nothing, and so the charge was kept up.

In 1832 the Indiana Methodist Conference was established, and
the first Conference meeting was held in New Albany. At that
session a committee was appointed "to consider and report on the
propriety of establishing a college, or conference seminary". The
committee reported that it was "very desirable to have an institution
under our own control, from which we can exclude all doctrines
which we deem dangerous, though at the same time, we do not wish

104 Indiana University

to make it so sectarian as to exclude or in the smallest degree repel
the sons of our fellow-citizens from the same".

But it was decided not to attempt the founding of a school yet
awhile. "It was thought", says Dr. Holliday in his life of the Rev.
Allen Wiley, — "it was thought if we could receive something like an
equitable share of privileges in the State University at Bloomington,
it would answer the wants of our people for several years."

This then was the beginning of the last and of the most formidable
assault made upon the institution in the name of religion. Up till
this time a fusillade had at intervals been kept up all along the line
by all the sectarian warriors, on the grounds that the institution was
to all intents and purposes a Presbyterian institution. Now the
Methodist church steps in, reiterating the old charge and demand-
ing "an equitable share of privileges in the institution" — whatever
that meant.

In 1834 the Conference memorialized the General Assembly of
the state on the subject. In this memorial the charge was made,
that "one common hue, one common religious creed, characterizes
every member" of the faculty, and that the youth of all the churches
save the Presbyterian find the religion of their fathers only "toler-
ated" not "domiciled" in the institution.

The direct relief asked for by the memorialists was that the election
of the members of the Board of Trustees be taken out of the hands of
the board itself, and be restored to the legislature — a proposition
which, if considered apart from the motive of the memorialists, cer-
tainly seems a very proper one. For as the law then stood, giving
the board the power of filling vacancies, it created what is commonly
called a close corporation.

But right here I deem it proper to say that, so far as I have been
able to discover, the board was never charged with having abused
their privilege. The truth is the Board of Trustees seem to have
always been careful to have all sects, parties, and interests fairly
represented. No sect ever complained of want of representation
on the board', but of want of representation in the school.

We need not stop to inquire particularly what was meant by the
equitable share in the privileges of the institution that would have
satisfied the Methodist want of half a century ago. From the lan-
guage of the memorial, it may seem that as Presbyter ianism was
domiciled in the school the "equitable share of privileges" would
have followed the domiciling of Methodism also. Dr. Wylie, in his
book, Sectarianism is Heresy, tells us that Mr. Mayfield, a Method-
ist member of the Board of Trustees, proposed to him that a chair

Centennial Memorial Volume 105

in the College be established to be called the "Wesleyan chair"—
which warrants the inference that Mr. May field, at least, had in
view the inculcation of sectat ian tenets ; and if we concede what was
claimed by the Methodists, that the Presbyterian professors were
teaching Calvinism, it would certainly follow that Methodist pro-
fessors might with equal right teach Arminianism.

Dr. Cyrus Nutt, who was for so long a time [1861-75] president
of this University, and who, as a Methodist minister and educator of
long and honorable standing, may therefore be appealed to as an
authority, says in an article contributed by him to Goodrich and
Turtle's History of Indiana that the Methodist church

tendered the support and patronage of the denomination to Indiana College,
provided the General Assembly would so modify the organization thereof as to
make the trustees elective by the legislature; or, if the trustees would place a
Methodist in the faculty. These requests were steadily denied until 1836, after the
Conference had selected Greencastle as the location for the University for which
the legislature had just granted a charter. Then the authorities of the State Col-
lege elected Augustus W. Rutter, a Methodist ... to the chair of political
economy and modern languages. But this liberality came too late, for the de-
nomination had a college of its own.

Dr. Holliday, in his life of the Rev. Allen Wiley, says that a
professorship was offered to him — but when he does not say, and the
College records of the period are destroyed.

The consequences resulting from this effort of the Conference to
secure their "equitable privileges" in the State College were far-
reaching. We are told in the History of Methodism that, on the pre-
sentation of the memorial to the legislature, "a storm of indignation
was raised among those who controlled the State University' ' . They
charged that it was an effort made on the part of the church to
capture the institution and to reorganize it for church purposes.

Of course the Methodists indignantly denied this, and an angry
debate followed. "It was tauntingly said in the halls of the legis-
lature", it is recorded in the Indiana Methodism — "that there was
not a Methodist in America with sufficient learning to fill a pro-
fessor's chair if it were tendered him." The speaker of these ob-
noxious words was Samuel Bigger, a Presbyterian from Rushville.
In 1840 Samuel Bigger was elected governor of the state on the Har-
rison ticket. No power short of the direct interposition of God could,
we may assume, have defeated him that year. Three years after-
ward he was a candidate for reelection, but there was no log-cabin
and hard cider to rally around this time. The Governor's ill-advised
speech of eight years before, ghostlike, confronted him. The time

106 Indiana University

for revenge had come, and the bishops and elders passed the word
down the line that the offender must be beaten, and he was beaten.
Subsequently Bishop Ames said, in the hearing of Mr. W. W. Wool-
len, as stated in his Biographical and Historical Sketches of Early
Indiana, that "it was the Amen corner of the Methodist church that
defeated Governor Bigger, and I had a hand in the work."

But what of the College amidst this battle of the sects? Dr.
Nutt says that, because of the illiberality of those in control of it,
"the legislature withheld all financial support for thirty years, and
the State University made no progress".

It is certainly true that comparatively little progress was made
by the institution for thirty years, and for many more than thirty
years; but it is too much to say that it was all due to the cause as-
signed. Many causes existed, each of which had something to do
with retarding its growth ; but the chief one was sectarianism in some
form or other. Our poor weak institution was the football that was
kicked back and forth whenever the mighty Methodist and puissant
Presbyterian athletes saw fit to have a game. True, other sects, as
heretofore has been shown, kicked on occasion. After Dr. Wylie's
death, which occurred in 1851, a Presbyterian president, Dr. Ryors,
was chosen to succeed him. But at the end of his first year the
Methodists made a touchdown, and Dr. Daily went in; and thence
on for more than twenty years they held the banner. As a matter of
fact, there never was any real, any substantial, any notable growth
of the University until there was an absolute cutting loose from all
sectarian or church influences as such. Not that there ever was any
sectarian teaching in the school, for there was none — none any more
than there is today. But the "outs" always insisted that there was.
The "outs" always insisted that the institution was a tail to some-
body's church kite, and the effect was paralyzing.

The contest for sectarian control continued, first and last, for
more than fifty years, and it was a contest that had to be. The age
was a pugnacious one. The true relation of the College to the state
was generally misunderstood. To most men it was inconceivable
how a college that was not under some sort of church supervision
could exist and not be infidel. Out of this belief came a call of the
faithful to arms. How natural the question, "If some church, why
not my church?" And so it became a conflict over, and not with,
the institution.

From the battlefields of the past come the blessings of the
present. But for Runnymede there might have been no Magna
Carta. Asbury, now DePauw University, was born of the contest

Centennial Memorial Volume 107

I have thus briefly attempted to set forth; and after many, many
years our own University, relieved from the shackles of ecclesiastical
contention, leaped at a bound to her present position of usefulness
and of high honor.

As has been stated on a former occasion, the Indiana College was
legislated into the Indiana University in 1838. The annual income
of the institution at that time from all sources was less than $5,000,
and this was thought by most persons of the state to be an adequate
income for the support of either a college or university.

The question naturally arises, "Why was the change in name
from College to University made? Why was a University charter
granted to supersede the College charter?"

In those days men not infrequently petitioned the legislature for
a change of name because of some odium attaching to it, and it may
have been that a like reason was thought to exist in this case. The
life of the Indiana College had certainly been a most stormy one.
Beginning with the great faculty fight of ten years before, the insti-
tution had been in a continuous state of turmoil ever after. Indeed
the warfare was still going on, and the legislature may have thought
that a change of name would be followed by an era of peace and
prosperity.

But another and better reason may be suggested.

The Indiana College was a typical American college. It had its
fixed curriculum of studies, which required four years for the student
to complete in order that he might receive its one earned degree.
These studies were divided into four groups — the classics, mathe-
matics, the sciences, and the humanities. Each student was re-
quired, or at least expected to give the same attention to each of the
studies embraced in each of the groups. There was only one College
bed, and every sleeper, whether long or short, had to conform to it.

This division was common to all the American colleges of a half-
century ago ; indeed, it is still the plan of most colleges. It does not
mean an identity in subjects taught in the colleges of today, nor did
it mean such in the colleges of fifty years ago. The colleges always
differed, for instance, as to which of two classic authors should be
read, and as to whether this or that study in the humanities should
be pursued, and the like; but as to the general classification here
given they were all of one mind. A school whose curriculum recog-
nized this classification and presented in something like equal
proportion subjects appropriate to each group, to complete which
would ordinarily require four years of study, was (and still is) a
college of arts and sciences; and such was the Indiana College.

108 Indiana University

Now, to such a college add one or more professional schools, and
according to the prevalent idea of fifty or sixty years ago there
would result a university. The added school might relate to en-
gineering, pedagogy, agriculture, theology, medicine, law — one,
some, or all of these. The idea seems to have been one of addition
to, rather than of incorporation with, the College. The College
was to remain a college. The Procrustean bed was to remain.
The candidate for the A.B. degree was to have his yearly stint of
classical, mathematical, scientific, and humane learning as of yore.
The name "university" was simply descriptive of a college of arts
and sciences upon which had been grafted one, two, three, or more
schools relating directly to certain of the activities of life.

This, I think, was the old American idea of what was required to
constitute a university. It marks the first step in the development
of the American university out of the American college.

This is certainly the idea that the General Assembly had when
they passed the University charter act; for they expressly declared
that schools of medicine and law should be established. And it was
certainly the understanding of those having in charge the conduct
and management of the institution for more than forty years there-
after.

No effort was ever made, so far as is now known, to add a school
of medicine until 1872, when an arrangement was made with an
Indianapolis medical school whereby it became a part of the Uni-
versity. But the arrangement soon fell thru with, and nothing of
the kind has ever [till 1903] been repeated.

In a very short time after the granting of the University charter
the board began to cast about for a law professor, but it was not till
1842 that one was found. In that year David McDonald, who was
the judge of the tenth judicial circuit — which circuit was composed of
ten counties, of which Monroe was one — moved from the town of
Washington in Daviess county to Bloomington. On June 7 he was
elected to the office of professor of law, and on December 7 following
he read the first law lecture that was ever read in this institution.

The law year in the beginning was limited to three months. It
was the purpose of the founders of the school that the law terms and
law year should coincide with the collegiate terms and year, but it
was a long time before that purpose was carried out. In 1848 a
half-month was added, and some time in the sixties another half-
month was added, and subsequently another half -month — making
a four months' term ; and early in the seventies the original purpose
of the founders was carried out.

Centennial Memorial Volume 109

The change from College to University (in name) was not fol-
lowed by that revival of its fortunes that the friends of the institu-
tion no doubt hoped for. The war that for so long a time had been
waged against the institution, first by one foe and then by another,
went on with scarcely a break in the ranks. New enemies were ever
present to take up the fight when the old ones left off.

At the very next session of the legislature, three Bloomington
citizens, two of whom were members of the Board of Trustees,
knocked at the doors of legislation with a memorial containing sun-
dry charges of evil-doing against the president.

The legislature declined to act, as it had so often done before, but
referred the matter back to the board. On the second of April,
1839, this body was convened — David Wallace, the governor of
the state, and by virtue of his office its vice-president, being present.

Dr. William C. Foster, a citizen of the town, appeared and filed
a long string of charges— which, after the lapse of nearly fifty years,
and after the deaths of accuser and accused and triers, look as if they
owed more to the malevolence of the accuser than to the evil-doing of
the accused. Duplicity of conduct, mistreatment of professors,
refusal to read from the rostrum the by-laws of the institution,
inadequate punishment of two wicked students, were some of the
charges.

It was not the first time that the medical doctor appeared as the
public prosecutor of the divinity doctor. During College days he
had caused the president to plead at the trustees' bar to a charge of
malfeasance in the purchase of books for the College library; but
the decision was against him. For five days the board now sat as a
court, and heard the evidence from more than twenty witnesses
who were examined and cross-examined by the two doctors.

At the close the decision was rendered. The president was ac-
quitted on all the charges — "triumphantly vindicated", wrote the
governor of the state in his next annual message to the legislature.
This was not, as already stated, the first public trial before the
Board of Trustees that President Wylie was subjected to, nor for
that matter the last. Four times during his administration of
twenty-two years he was required to plead to charges preferred
against him, and as many times was he "triumphantly vindicated".
From first to last he was, in more senses than one, a much tried man.

A College cyclone followed at the close of the trial of which I
have just given some account. The reader of the contemporaneous
record cannot help drawing the inference, from sundry hints and
innuendoes, that it was not a state of perfect peace and harmony in

110 Indiana University

the faculty at that time. If there was a lion and a lamb in that
faculty — or, for that matter, a lion and two or three lambs — they
were certainly not lying down together. But be this as it may,
three professors out of five were beheaded by one resolution, and
the catalog showed the teaching force to be a president, one professor
(our present Dr. T. A. Wylie), and Matthew M. Campbell, of the
preparatory department.

The number of students that year dropped to 89 — 52 in the four
College classes and 27 in the preparatory. The next year the total
number dropped as low as 64 — the lowest ever reached — 41 of whom
were in the four College classes, and 23 under Professor Campbell.

After this lowest point of depression, growth came — slow to be
sure, but steady growth. The faculty chairs were filled, the Law
School was added, and (by 1846) 198 names of students appear in the
catalog. Thence on till President Wylie's death, which occurred
in 1851, the number never fell below 163.

The want of time forbids that we follow the story of the misfor-
tunes that happened to the institution during the years that inter-
vened between 1840 and 1850 ; and I am glad that the want of time
does forbid it, for the story is not a pleasant one to dwell upon.

It will not startle you, I know, if I tell you that the public grew
weary of the contentions over the University at Bloomington. Long
enough had it been made by friend and foe a disturbing element in
state politics. Long enough had it been a bone of contention for
combative ecclesiastics to fight over. Long enough had it been the
victim around which the Bloomington factions gathered and fought
and brought scandal to the state. And so the question began to be
bruited in the legislature, Whether the cause of education in Indi-
ana, and especially the best interests of the University, would not
be promoted by a removal of it to a more peaceful and appreciative
locality.

The state was in this temper when the constitutional convention
of 1850 met. Most of us know the great prominence given to the
University in the constitution of 1816. "It shall be the duty of the
General Assembly, as soon as circumstances will permit, to provide
by law for a general system of education, ascending in a regular
gradation from township schools to a state university, wherein
tuition shall be gratis, and equally open to all."

There is no mention made of the University in the constitution
of 1850. Why? The question is not hard to answer. In truth it is
harder to tell how it happened that it was not made possible, by the

Centennial Memorial Volume 111

convention that framed the organic act, for the institution to be
robbed of its endowment and left to perish off the face of the earth.

The convention of 1850 was the most remarkable lawmaking
body that was ever convened in the state. Never before nor since
did the people of Indiana so generally disregard the claims of party
as they did in the selection of delegates to represent them in that
convention. Among its members were found many of the ablest
lawyers of the state and the best debaters. Many of the best men
of other callings were there, and of the rank and file there were few
who were not looked upon as safe men and of most excellent judg-
ment. Robert Dale Owen, a philosophic statesman of a high order
of merit was there. Daniel Read, a professor in this University and
a man of wide reading and of sound learning, was there. John I.
Morrison, of Salem, for some time a professor in this University
and an educator of high rank, was there. And so were the two
Carrs, and Pettit and Kilgore, and Bright and Rariden, and others
that I could mention but of whom many of you most likely have
never heard ; but they were considered strong men in their day. I
could mention some of whom you have heard, Coif ax and Hendricks,
and Holman, also Hovey, but they were comparatively young men
then.

There were men in that convention who aspired to seats in the
United States Senate and who reached the goal of their ambition.
There were — I do not know how many, who had served in Congress,
and more who subsequently served. There were judges, more than
I know of, in esse and in posse. There were two members who were
destined to reach the vice-presidential chair. And it does look as if
the Indiana University ought to have sailed thru summer seas into
the haven of that constitution.

But from the first it was apparent that the University was in
hard lines. From the first a disposition to cut it up root and branch
was shown that is almost incomprehensible to us of the present.

Two causes, I think, may be assigned for the existence of this
spirit toward the institution. Some time 'ago there was presented
from this platform a discussion on the want of educational facilities
in our state during the middle ages of its history. I have no inten-
tion of repeating on this occasion what was said on that. My only
purpose is to remind you of the very low standard of common school
education in Indiana at the time of the meeting of that convention,
and that the low standard had borne fruit. The illiteracy of the
state was appalling. There were over 73,000 persons in Indiana
over the age of twenty years, as shown by the census of 1850, who

112 Indiana University

could neither read nor write. There were 1,000 illiterates out of a
population of 11,283 here in Monroe county, and Monroe county
was no worse off in this respect than were her neighbors.

The public men of the state were alive to this state of affairs, and
had been for years. Law after law had been passed to stem the tide
of ignorance, but in vain. The academies (and their name was
legion) and the colleges were doing their work fairly well ; but it was
in the common schools that the failure was. It was the common
school children of the state who were the victims of the great wrong.
So prominently did the inadequacy of the common school stand
out, and so self-evident was it that the great tide of ignorance would
continue to roll over the land until the common schools were re-
created, that their wants, their needs, tended to obscure the use-
fulness to the state of that higher education which the University
was ordained to give. And so, many of the constitution makers of
1850 could see no educational want on their horizon but that which
centered immediately in the common schools.

Mr. John I. Morrison, chairman of the committee on education,
early in the session introduced a series of resolutions in the interest
of the University; but these were followed by counter resolutions,
gravely proposing to sandbag the University and rob her of her
patrimony, by distributing the income to the district schools of the
state.

A report from Mr. Morrison's committee to the effect that the
University fund came from a donation from the federal government
for the purposes of higher education, and that it could not therefore
be legally directed to common school purposes, soon put that scheme
to rest.

But it was shortly followed by another. Judge Borden, a dele-
gate from Allen county, was instructed, he declared, to do something
adverse to the institution. He was an educated gentleman and an
immigrant from the state of New York. I think it likely that he was
acquainted with the New York plan, for he now proposed to dis-
tribute the income from the University fund among all the colleges
of the state, in proportion to the attendance of students. And a
battle was fought in the convention over that ridiculous proposition.
Many speeches were made, and the debate took a wide range. The
defense was mainly made over the sacredness of the trust. Time
forbids that I should follow that debate. Doubtless to the friends of
the institution there seemed at the time grave cause for apprehend-
ing the worst. But there were too many men in that convention
who clearly foresaw the odium that would justly be encountered by

Centennial Memorial Volume 113

the state for any such act of bad faith as that; and so, when the
Hon. John Pettit, a member from Tippecanoe county, presented a
resolution in these words, "All trust funds held by the state shall
remain inviolate and be faithfully and exclusively applied to the
purposes for which the trust was created", the friends of the institu-
tion rallied to its support and passed it, and made it a part of the
constitution of .the state.

If the University be not mentioned by name in this constitution,
the wise and timely section just read was made a part of it for the
express purpose of forever placing its endowment beyond the reach
of legislative dispersion. At the very time that this constitutional
inhibition was passed, there was an act pending in the legislature of
the state to distribute the University funds among the common
schools of the state. Whether that act would have become a law or
not, we do not know. But I think this much may safely be said —
that but for the constitutional provision just read, there would have
come a time when no fund, University or common school, would have
been deemed so sacred as to escape the touch of unholy legislative
hands.

Our present state constitution is characterized by many wise and
statesmanlike provisions. One of the greatest of these is the one
which provides that all trust funds shall forever remain inviolate,
and be faithfully and exclusively applied to the purpose for which
the trust was created.

PART II

[Except where otherwise indicated, the following addresses were delivered at
the Centennial Educational Conference, held by Indiana University, May 5-7,
1920. With the exception of the second address by Dr. Warthin, they are ar-
ranged in the order of their places on the program.]

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THE AMERICAN UNIVERSITY: TODAY
AND TOMORROW

Jacob Gould Schurman was born at Freetown, Prince Edward Island, Domin-
ion of Canada, May 22, 1854, the descendant of a New York Dutch family. In
1875 he won on examination the Gilchrist scholarship, open to all Canadians
under twenty-one years of age, and on this scholarship he studied for three years
in England, Scotland, and France, receiving from the University of London the
A.B. degree with first place in Honors Philosophy in 1877, and the A.M. in 1878.
He studied in Paris and at the University of Edinburgh in 1877-78, receiving from
the latter the Sc.D. degree in Mental and Moral Science. In June, 1878, he was
awarded one of the two Hibbert Traveling Fellowships, which were open to
graduates of all British universities, and for which there were over sixty compet-
itors from Oxford, Cambridge, Dublin, London, etc. On this fellowship during
the next two years he studied at the Universities of Heidelberg, Berlin, Goet-
tingen, and in Italy. The following institutions have conferred the LL.D. degree
on him: Columbia University, 1892; Yale, 1901; Edinburgh, 1902; Williams,
1908; Dartmouth, 1909; Harvard, 1909; Brown, 1914; University of Pennsyl-
vania, 1917; Dalhousie, 1919; Rutgers, 1920. In 1919 he was appointed a Chev-
alier of the Legion of Honor. He began his teaching career at Acadia College and
Dalhousie College, in 1880, as professor of philosophy. From 1886 to 1892 he
was Sage professor of philosophy in Cornell University, and president from 1892
to 1920. He was president of the first United States Philippine Commission
and spent most of 1899 in the Philippine Islands. He served as minister to Greece
and Montenegro in 1912-13, and as Stafford Little lecturer at Princeton in 1914.
In 1915 he was the first vice-president of the New York state constitutional con-
vention, and a member of the New York state food commission in 1917-18. His
published works include: Kantian Ethics and the Ethics of Evolution, The Eth-
ical Import of Darwinism, Belief in God, Agnosticism and Religion, A Generation
of Cornell, Report (to Congress) of the Philippine Commission (joint author),
Philippine Affairs — A Retrospect and Outlook, The Balkan Wars, Why America
is in the War.

(117)

THE AMERICAN UNIVERSITY: TODAY
AND TOMORROW1

By JACOB GOULD SCHURMAN

EDUCATION is a development of human faculties and powers.
It has reference, therefore, to a goal, an end, a purpose, a final
cause. Whither would we go, at what would we aim, in and by
our educational processes and methods? I know not how we can
ever answer that inquiry without facing the still more formidable
and fundamental question: What is the chief end of man?

THE ENDS OF LIFE: RELIGIOUS

But the answer which the Christian catechism gives to this
latter problem, however true, is not specific enough for our present
purpose. We believe, indeed, in our best moments that human life
is charged with some divine mission, that we are fellow-workers
with God even in this life, and that we shall not be separated from
Him in the life beyond the grave. The conviction is inextinguish-
able in the human heart that our being's life and home is with in-
finitude and only there. But this general conception and this
fundamental faith, while investing the life of man wth ineffable
dignity and inexhaustible significance, do not reveal to us the ends
at which we should aim generally or the elements that enter into
the summum bonum of human existence. It is no disparagement of
Christianity to say that it is a religion and not a theory of educa-
tion or a philosophy of life. What it contributes to every system
of thought is the declaration of the supremacy of righteousness
over any other end which men may pursue. Seek first the King-
dom of God and His righteousness. Or, in the more legalistic
language of the Old Testament but with the same substance of
doctrine: Fear God and keep His commandments, for this is the
whole duty of man.

A self-surrender and obedience to the divine will: these are
the supreme demands made upon the heart and mind and conscience
of the children of men. But while the highest, they cannot be the
only objects of life. They are the end of our spiritual and moral
nature. But we are also endowed with rational natures which de-

*Foundation Da Address, January 20, 1920.

(119)

120 Indiana University

light to think and reason and know. And we have an animal
organism for which there must be provided food, clothing, shelter,
and other objects for the gratification generally of our instincts and
impulses — an organism which has led to the creation of that vast
economic system which revolves round the poles of capital and
labor.

THE ENDS OF LIFE: RATIONAL

If the Jews have been the moral and religious guides of Europe
and America, the Greeks have been their intellectual teachers.
And as the Jews emphasized the supremacy of the moral and
spiritual, the Greeks exalted and crowned the rational and ideal.
Aristotle, the greatest thinker of their race, and still the "master",
as Dante called him, "of those who know", declared that the end
of human existence, the summum bonum, was to be found in the
activity of the rational powers of man.

We accept the result of Aristotle's masterly analysis of the
ends of life. We recognize that the exercise of the powers of rea-
son and reflection is a higher and nobler pursuit than wealth,
pleasure, fame, or any of the other objects that he discusses. It is
not Aristotle's fault that he lived three hundred years before the
Christian conception of life was revealed to the world. How he
would have regarded it we can only conjecture. It is not improb-
able that with the predominant intellectualism of his race — an in-
tellectualism that led Socrates to declare that men could not know
the right without choosing it — he would have rejected the trans-
cendental claims of goodness and righteousness and self-sacrifice,
even if he had not felt, like the later Greeks, that the cross was a
symbol of "foolishness". But we, the heirs of all the Christian
ages, should in this matter be wiser than even the greatest of the
pre-Christian sages. And while we accept Aristotle's doctrine of
the dignity and excellence of the rational nature of man, we hold
with Bishop Butler "that conscience, if it had might as it has right,
would absolutely govern the world".

There is a similar one-sidedness in Aristotle's conception of our
appetitive and impulsive nature. And the system of slavery prac-
ticed even by the Greeks made it still easier for him to look down
upon the toilers by whom the imperious needs of that nature were
satisfied. There was for Aristotle in all manual labor, as Professor
Butcher has pointed out, something not only menial but ignoble.
He was in this respect also the child of his age. The Greek ideal
left out of account the disinherited, the fallen, the weak and op-

Centennial Memorial Volume 121

pressed. The aristocratic sentiment, which was very strong in
the ancient democracies, colors all Aristotle's thinking. Not
only slaves but artisans, laborers, and shopkeepers were excluded
by him from the body of citizens. Aiming to develop the highest
and most complete life for man he fixes his attention only upon the
favored few, the gifted,the strong, the noble. In his ideal Greek
gentleman you find, not only a certain exclusiveness of mind, but
also a certain tone of contempt for what is commonplace. Perhaps
if Aristotle could have looked ahead two and twenty centuries and
seen mechanical industries rationalized by science he would have
abandoned his attitude of haughty contempt and regarded with
more sympathetic and kindly eyes not only manual labor but also
the human toilers who perform it and made it the duty of his state
to develop in them also the highest and richest type of life of which
they are capable. As it was, Aristotle's conception of the summum
bonum, his ideal of the highest or perfect life, could be realized
only in those who devoted themselves to statesmanship, to knowl-
edge and speculation, and to certain forms of art.

THE ENDS OF LIFE: MATERIAL AND ECONOMIC

The modern world corrects Aristotle's narrow exclusiveness.
We recognize that rational objects are higher than material. But
as long as man has a body he must include among the ends of life
not only the things of the spirit and the things of the mind but also
the economic goods that enable him to live and work and provide
himself with a suitable measure of physical comfort and enjoyment.

All this brings us back to the popular conception of man as a
being made up of spirit, mind, and body. Christianity, like Juda-
ism and every other great religion, proclaims the supremacy of the
spiritual interests among all the ends of human existence. On the
other hand, philosophy, which is an effort to think out the ground
and significance of the universe, has, not unnaturally, tended to
glorify the rational nature of man as his highest endowment and to
find in it the key to the interpretation of the world. This tendency
was most marked in Aristotle, the greatest of philosophers. It was,
indeed, implicit in the best thought of his race, which pictured man
as a synopsis or exemplar of the universe — a microcosm facing that
macrocosm — and conceived of Logos or Reason as the common
ground of both. And from ancient Greece this sublime Rational-
ism has spread thruout the entire civilized world. But in modern
times the spread of democracy and the application of science to

122 Indiana University

industry and the development of a vast system of mechanical pro-
duction and transportation have tended to focus attention upon the
material interests of mankind, to enhance their value in the scale
of human ends, to invest manual laborers with a new importance and
dignity, and to stimulate on their behalf radical and even revolu-
tionary doctrines of the rights of man and of the functions and duties
of the state which perplex timid thinkers and alarm the stolid sup-
porters of existing institutions.

THE ECONOMIC READJUSTMENT

But the world is not headed for anarchy in its politics or ma-
terialism in its philosophy or scepticism in its religion. Not
anarchy, because man is a moral and political animal and must
live in a society based on justice. Not materialism, because while
man has a physical organism he is in his inmost essence mind and
spirit. Not scepticism, because the divine spark in man cannot
permanently estrange itself from the all-embracing divinity in whom
we live and move and have our being.

What we are witnessing in this age is another phase of the
ever-recurrent process of adjustment to new conditions. History
reveals to us epochs of faith and epochs of doubt, periods of liberty
and periods of oppression, centuries of science and centuries of
superstition. Great thinkers arise and dominate men's modes of
thought. There was a Ptolemaic age and a Copernican age, a
system of Locke and a system of Hegel, a theory of Darwin and a
theory of Karl Marx. While Darwin was in the ascendant men
thought in terms of evolutionary biology; Marx's theory of eco-
nomic materialism and the class struggle is today an infallible
gospel for the half-educated and ignorant men and women who try
to philosophize on the problems of labor and capital.

In all this there is no real ground for alarm or even anxiety.
The phenomenon is not unfamiliar to the historian. What is hap-
pening is that a class hitherto inadequately recognized is asserting
its power and its rights. That class calls itself "labor" — a lin-
guistic monopoly of service far more pardonable than the maim-
ing of personality implied in the employer's designation of "hands".
And if in asserting its own rights and magnifying its own services
this class often disregards the rights and services of other classes
and shows scant concern for the rational and spiritual ends of life
or for any other object than wages and manual labor, this is only a
narrowness and one-sidedness born of the ardor of strife for a new
cause.

Centennial Memorial Volume 123

Man must, it is true, have economic goods if he is to live. And
the producers of those goods must receive in the future a larger
measure of social and industrial justice than they have enjoyed in
the past. No result of the Great War seems to me more certainly
assured than this. But when it is realized — and you, young men
and women, are likely to witness it — it will still remain true that
man lives not by bread alone, that moral and political and intellec-
tual and spiritual ends are all higher than material ends, and that in
the state we are all members one of another, and that no class can
be permitted to exploit others, whether the exploiter be educated or
ignorant, capitalist or wage-earner, politician or private citizen.
Absolute justice is the supreme law of the state ; equal opportunity
is the first condition of industrial democracy ; reason and righteous-
ness is the highest end of the life of man.

THE UNIVERSITY AND MATERIAL PROSPERITY

The university is pre-eminently the organ of reason and knowl-
edge. I shall have more to say on that subject later. At present I
desire to call attention to the services which our universities have
rendered to the industrial world. From the beginning of univers-
ities with the foundation of Bologna and Paris in the twelfth cen-
tury to the present time European universities have kept themselves
unsoiled by contact with manual labor and machinery. They have
been schools of the liberal arts and sciences and of law, medicine,
and theology, and also latterly institutes of research. But in the
United States we have grafted on to the parent stem schools of
technology and agriculture, so that workers in the factoiies and
mines and on the farms might be assisted by the light of science
which for centuries had illuminated the practice of the lawyer, the
physician, and the preacher. The university has thus symbolized,
and at the same time ministered to, the democracy of knowledge
and the democracy of social groups. And in this process it has
kept in the closest touch with the rising tide of "labor". Perhaps
that very fact gives university men peculiar qualifications for under-
standing and appreciating the new demands and ideals of "labor".

It is impossible to exaggerate the value of the service which
our universities in the last three or four decades have rendered to
the industries of the country and in the last two decades to its
agriculture. The public have taken all this for granted. To realize
the character and magnitude of this service let us for a moment
imagine that our schools of applied science had never come into

124 Indiana University

existence. What then would have been the condition of our in-
dustries? Obviously they would have been paralyzed in their
higher functions. For the aim of modern manufacturing, or of
farming, is to wrest from nature her resources and by means of
nature's powers make them available for use by man. But we
command nature only by obeying her laws. Of those laws science
is the revelation. In the absence, therefore, of schools of applied
sciences, our manufacturers and farmers, and transporters, too,
would have been as men wandering in utter darkness and attempt-
ing to perform tasks for which the best kind of illumination was an
absolute necessity.

SCHOOLS OF APPLIED SCIENCE

I recognize the pre-eminent position which American industry
has as a matter of fact attained. I recognize the part played in that
splendid development by the initiative, skill, and labor of the
American workman and the courage, enterprise, and organizing
genius of the American capitalist. But the public makes a great
mistake in stopping at this stage of the analysis. There is another
factor equally important and equally indispensable. That factor
is the enlargement of science and the training of young men in its
application to the production and transportation of economic goods.
This immense contribution to the industries of America is the work
of our universities — and practically of our universities alone. If
the United States is the richest and most prospeious country in the
world the universities have had a large and leading part in the
creation of that wealth and prosperity.

No development of the modern university in America has been
more successful than the schools of applied science. Wherever they
have fallen below their opportunity, it has been due to emphasis on
the mechanical arts and crafts to the neglect of the scientific prin-
ciples on which the whole mechanism of modern industry depends.
Nothing has been more clearly established by American experience
than the conclusion that if you want to give a young man the best
technical education you must steep him in the sciences of mathe-
matics, physics, mechanics, chemistry, and biology which lie at the
foundation of all our industrial enterprises. Drawing and manual
training and shop-work have their place in the curriculum, but these
exercises for the training of hand and eye can never take the place
of pure science, which is the indispensable food for the nourish-
ment of the technician's mind.

Centennial Memorial Volume 125

The technical school furnishes a professional training that
ranks it with the older schools of law and medicine, which in this
twentieth century have also made great progress in the United
States. The most earnest and effective educational work done
amongst us in the last quarter of a century has been done in these
schools and in the graduate schools of arts and science, which are
also in effect professional schools. The explanation is twofold.
First, they all appeal to the student's interest in his life work. And,
secondly, with the possible exception of engineering, the students
in these professional schools are more mature both in years and
training than the undergraduates in arts and science.

THE UNIVERSITY AN ORGAN OF THE INTELLECTUAL LIFE

In spite of this seeming paradox, the colleges of liberal arts
and pure science are nevertheless the heart and center of the
American university. If they fail, success elsewhere cannot atone
for the failure. An institution that consisted of a group of even
the most excellent professional schools would not, however desig-
nated, satisfy our ideal of a university. The most essential element,
indeed, would be wanting. The university is an organ for the de-
velopment and training of mind. In its higher functions it pre-
supposes a delight in ideas, a spontaneous thirst for knowledge
and beauty, a disinterested love of truth for its own sake. It pro-
vides for free converse of the mind with the objects on which it
feeds and by which it is nourished. It takes the whole life of man-
kind for its province — what man has done and suffered and achieved
and created and embodied in language, thought, literature, and
institutions. And the mind of the individual grows and expands
by feeding on the products which the great intelligences of the
race have created. His sympathies are broadened, his emotions
are stirred, his imagination is kindled, his conscience is quickened
and purified, his understanding is illuminated and deepened, his
power of expression is multiplied, and the once passive intelligence
of the man develops into an independent, active, and self-creative
reason.

Nor is this all. For if the proper study of mankind is man, it
can never be his exclusive study so long as he finds himself con-
fronted by an objective world of infinite vastness and power by
which his life is so profoundly influenced and so largely controlled.
That intellectual curiosity which leads him to explore the life and
creations of the human race challenges the mystery of Nature and

126 Indiana University

compels her to give up her secrets. The results in generalized and
systematic form are what we call science. The laws of nature are
crystallized reason. And the active reason of man can therefore
read at least a little in nature's book of infinite secrecy. Is it sur-
prising that this contact of human intelligence with divine intelli-
gence latent in the universe should react on the inquirer and
educate him? And is it not obvious that such education would be
defeated if the inquirer were actuated by any other motive than
the pure and disinterested love of truth? If his object is practical
utility and love of gain, Nature will not open her mysteries to him.
Nor could he be rationally educated if she did.

DEFECTS OF OUR INTELLECTUAL TRAINING

If the development of the rational powers of man is, after
goodness and justice, the supreme end of life, we must hold that
that part of the university which is peculiarly dedicated to that
function is of incomparable importance for mankind. Yet our
colleges of liberal arts and sciences, whether in the undergraduate
and graduate departments of the universities or separate institu-
tions, do not hold a place in public estimation at all commensurate
with their high mission. Nay, we must go further and confess that,
whatever the explanation, the results achieved by these colleges fall
far below the plane of the lofty ideals to which they are devoted.
There is no other feature in the whole university system of our
country which is so disquieting, so alarming even, to thoughtful
educators. Here are institutions devoted to the evoking of the
highest powers of human intelligence. And I fear that the paucity
of the scientists, scholars, thinkers, and poets they have turned out
in the last generation is proof that they have not been very suc-
cessful.

It is easier to explain the failure than to remedy it. As water
does not rise higher than its source, the level of thought and culture
which students bring to the universities is that of their homes and
schools. The general intelligence of the American people is higher
than that of Europe, but the "high spots" of Europe, which so
largely monopolize the universities, are higher than anything with
us. It is a part of our democratic sentiment that everybody should
enjoy everything, and in obedience to it hosts of students enter our
colleges and universities with no special aptitude for, or call to, the
intellectual life. Others are "sent" by loving and ambitious parents
perhaps for social purposes and sometimes with no conscious object

Centennial Memorial Volume 127

higher than that of qualification for admission to the local university
club. No doubt the overwhelming majority of parents have a
genuine appreciation of the higher education, which is often the
more movingly accentuated by the fact that many of them are
themselves uneducated. And the normal American boy, if not
generally animated by a love of learning or caring even in his best
moments for research, nevertheless has a high and loyal regard for all
American institutions and takes his college course as a part of the
best possible American life. The alumni and alumnae also want
their sons and daughters to enjoy the educational privileges which
fell to them. And perhaps taxpayers who support state institutions
are the more insistent on that account that their sons and daughters
shall go to the state university.

These and other considerations tend to fill our universities with
students of very different qualifications from those selected for a
higher education a generation ago. The country has become rich
and prosperous, and no advantage shall be denied to the rising gen-
eration which money can purchase. And if masses of people still
remain poor, by self-help and thru the aid of scholarships and
loans the obstacles which poverty puts in the way of securing the
highest education may be largely overcome. The universities,
therefore, will, if existing conditions remain unchanged, continue to
be thronged with all kinds of students. All divisions of the uni-
versity will be affected by the character of this student body. But
for obvious reasons the menace will be greatest to the division of
liberal arts and pure science.

THE WAY OF REFORM

It is especially incumbent, therefore, on our faculties of arts
and science to consider this evil and, if possible, to devise a remedy.
And their task will not be an easy one since the social and political
conditions which in part create the danger are unalterable or can be
altered only by the passage of time and the process of education.
But it is imperative that relief be obtained if our universities are
not to undergo deterioration and ultimate decay. The faculty of
arts and science is the natural educational leader among the faculties,
and its solution of this grave problem is pretty certain to be
adopted by the professional faculties, in so far as the need exists.

I venture one constructive suggestion, which, however, is
fundamental. The ideal of the university and the existing reality
must be brought closer together — and that not by diluting the ideal

128 Indiana University

but by improving the reality. As I have already said, the university
is an organ for the highest development of the human mind and
reason. It is no place for those who are not above everything
else interested in the things of the mind, who are not lovers of ideas,
who are not curious to know, or resolute to see and think clearly.
Those to whom this intellectual life makes little or no appeal may
be excellent fellows and well fitted for other activities, but they
waste their years at the university and they hurt the institution by
dragging down the level of its work. For a university differs from
a school by the circumstance that it aims at the highest intellectual
development, which of course is achieved only by the most stren-
uous intellectual work.

My ideal of university reform is theiefore a more rigorous
selection of students, more strenuous and robust intellectual work,
the prescription of severe and searching annual examinations which
shall test both progress in scholarship and in intellectual develop-
ment, and the grading of successful candidates in first, second, and
third rank with the ruthless elimination of all who fail to reach the
required standard. The present term examinations are not only too
easy, but they cover too short a period of time, they are also too
scrappy; and they treat education too much like a mechanical com-
bination of separate compartments instead of an organic process of
stimulated activity and growth. By this or some similar reform we
must manage to reserve the universities for those who are qualified
by natural endowments, by previous training, and by industry and
serious interest to profit by the inestimable privileges of intellectual
development which they offer to the picked youth of successive
generations.

Is SUCH REFORM PRACTICABLE?

Is this ideal of reform a counsel of perfection? Will the legisla-
latures which appropriate funds for the maintenance of our state
universities denounce this test of intellectual fitness as exclusive
and aristocratic and insist that their universities remain open
to all the graduates of the public schools? Will the privately en-
dowed colleges and universities languish for funds if they restrict
themselves to educating only youth endowed with superior mental
powers and animated by marked intellectual interests and ambitions
who devote themselves to study with all their heart and mind and
strength?

Perhaps these questions will be answered in the affirmative.

Centennial Memorial Volume 129

Perhaps the American public will not support such a system of high
class universities as I have pictured. But no one can make me
believe that the most intelligent opinion of the country does not
recognize the necessity of such institutions both for the highest
education of our youth and the vitalizing and energizing of American
civilization.

There is also one step which the existing colleges and univeis-
ities might take in the direction of this ideal. They might exclude
at the end of the first year, not merely those who fail in the term
examination, but all those students who had demonstrated their
obvious incapacity or unfitness for the intellectual life. There
would remain, not only the superior but also the average and the
inferior students. These should be set off in different groups, the
first classification being into honor and "pass" students. The
"pass" group might again be subdivided, but the experience of
foreign universities shows this is scarcely necessary. And for these
groups of honor and "pass" students there should be different
curricula, different methods of instruction, and, if practicable, dif-
ferent teachers. For the honor men can do more work and work
more independently, while the "pass" men will continue to need
the assignment of definite lessons, the routine of daily drill, and the
constant supervision of studies which in the view of the layman it is
the sole business of the teacher to supply. The teaching of the
honor men, certainly of the best of the honor men, will be dynamic
and inspiring ; the teaching of the worst of the "pass" men will be a
depressing task.

THE FACULTY MAKES THE UNIVERSITY

This is only a mitigation, it is not a correction, of the worst
evil which oppresses our colleges and universities at the present
time. One would like, in Hamlet's words, to "reform it altogether".
And, since a university is a community, the evil can be eradicated
only by changing the character of its membership. Now the mem-
bers composing a university are teachers and students. And since
the professors serve the students, the character of the professors will
be determined by the nature of that service. But the American
public conceives of the essential function of a professor as the
instruction of students, and especially of the throng of "pass" stu-
dents who nowadays frequent our universities. The professor is
above all else to be a drill-master and pedagog! And so long as
"pass" men dominate, as they now dominate, the student body of

130 Indiana University

our universities, this conception of the American professor is likely
to persist. And if our faculties are recruited from this type of pro-
fessor and instructor, the scholar and investigator animated by
celestial fire is alienated from the university which is his natural
home. If this process of deterioration has not gone farther in
America, it is because wise university presidents and their intel-
lectual colleagues in the faculties have resisted the process of natural
causation and at least delayed the otherwise inevitable consumma-
tion.

The faculty makes the university. A great university is an
assemblage of great scholars, scientists, investigators, and writers.
It is a place where the lamps of learning are kept burning and
aglow, where men are curious to know and tireless in investigating,
where intellectual life is restlessly active, where new ideas are
sought more than hidden treasure. In such a place, encompassed
by such an atmosphere, youth of intellectual interests and ambi-
tion are caught up as it were in a flame of fire and transported to the
seventh heaven. Education for them is participation in that throb-
bing intellectual life and activity.

THE MENACE To THE PROFESSORIATE

In a true university all the members are intellectually alert.
American universities are overwhelmed with undergraduates who
are intellectually inert. The inevitable tendency is the deteriora-
tion of the professoriate.

But that is not the only cause which is affecting unfavorably
the quality of our college and university faculties. The public
renders lip homage to education, but it pays the men who train the
mind less than the men who mind the trains. To the dreadful
irksomeness of drilling indifferent and uninterested students is added
the terror of destitution for the wife and children every normal
young man dreams of and hopes one day to call his own. Thus the
poets and thinkers and scholars and scientists whom Providence
meant us to have we are driving from their natural homes in the
universities and forcing into commercial and mechanical pursuits
merely that they may find suitable clothing, food, and shelter.

Sure, he that made us with such large discourse,
Looking before and after, gave us not
That capability and god-like reason
To rust in us unused.

The waste of intellect now going on in America is inconceiv-

Centennial Memorial Volume 131

able. Somehow we must make our universities the hearth and
home of the talent and genius of the country. It is born in all
classes, poor and rich alike. Can we not provide better means of
discovering it and of attracting it from the shops and factories and
farms and country homes where it now lacks opportunity for
service?

At any rate let us hold on to what we get under the present
system, and utilize it to the highest potency for quickening the intel-
lectual life of the nation. We are not doing that today. The
duty of teaching the throng of mediocre students that come to the
universities absorbs the energy of the faculty, and the professor who
might become a great writer or investigator is given no time or left
with no energy for that higher function. Yet the discovery of one
new law or principle in a university laboratory, such as has been
made in the past, might do more even for the material welfare of
mankind than the activity of all the legislators, statesmen, and
financiers who now monopolize the attention of the world. One im-
provement, even under our present system, is not, I think, im-
practicable. We might have professorships, with very light teaching
duties — for I would prescribe some teaching — open to men and
women who gave assured promise, or who had demonstrated
capacity, of successfully undertaking original research or productive
scholarship. On this point I cannot do better than quote from
the speech of Professor Bjerknes of the chair of mechanics and
mathematical physics in the University of Stockholm in a speech
delivered in New York City a few years ago:

I have been impressed with the material equipment of your universities, with
your splendid buildings, with the fine instruments you have placed in them, and
with the enthusiasm of the men I have found at work there. But I hope you will
pardon me, gentlemen, for saying, as I must say, that, when I found you attempting
serious investigation with the remnants of energy left after your excessive teaching
and administrative work, I could not help thinking you did not appreciate the
fact that the finest instruments in those buildings are your brains. I heard one
of you counsel his colleagues to care for the astronomical instruments lest these
become strained and cease to give true results. Allow me to substitute brain for
telescope, and to exhort you to care for your brains. I have been astonished to
find that some of you, in addition to much executive work, teach from ten to fifteen
and even more hours per week. I myself teach two hours per week, and I can
assure you that, if I had been required to do so much of it as you do, you never
would have invited me to lecture here in a difficult branch of science. That,
gentlemen, is the most important message I can leave with you.

132 Indiana University

BERLIN UNIVERSITY IN 1879-80

In other European countries also — in England, France, and
Italy (to mention only the large Allied Powers) — the same con-
ception of the professor's office and function prevails. His fine
talents and high training are not, as with us, used and exhausted in
the tasks of the pedagog and drill-master. No nation had given
more intelligent consideration to this subject than Germany. And
before the German universities were captured by the government
and converted into agencies of domestic and foreign propaganda, no
nation had more efficient universities or more illustrious scholars
and scientists. I knew them personally before the process of
deterioration set in. I enjoyed the honor of acquaintance and social
intercourse, and even friendship, with some of their most distin-
guished members. I recall glorious days and nights at Heidel-
berg, where I first learned German, and later at Goettingen and
Berlin, forty years ago. Consider only the University of Berlin in
the winter of 1879-80. In the faculty were Mommsen, Helmholtz,
Zeller, Du Bois-Reymond, Paulsen, and others of world-wide repu-
tation. Nearly all these I not only met in the classroom but knew
socially, some of them quite intimately in their own homes. It was
a great galaxy of scholars, thinkers, and scientific discoverers.
But the high functions which they performed for Germany and for
the world were rendered possible by immunity from drudgery in
university classrooms, by concentration in seminars upon the ablest
students, by freedom to pursue their own special lines of investiga-
tion, and by reducing the small number of weekly hours given to
lecturing, or even omitting them altogether, when the claims of
research were most pressing. At times Helmholtz was entirely
absorbed in his laboratory experiments and new discoveries in
physics ; Mommsen would be off to Rome to gather new materials
for his history; and Zeller and Paulsen, if they were regular in their
university duties, combined them with the demands of their own
unintermitted research and publication. Nowhere in the world was
there a better realization of the ideal of a university as an organ for
the maintenance and advancement of the intellectual life of man-
kind.

If you will pardon the digression I should like also to recall an-
other figure of those far-off days. I attended some of von Treit-
schke's lectures, in the large auditorium of the university, to mixed
audiences of students and officers and civilians. The consolidation
of the new Geiman Empire had only just begun — its marked fea-

Centennial Memorial Volume 133

ture being the process of centralization at Berlin — so that there was
then no question of Germany against the rest of the world but
merely of Prussia against the other German states and especially
those of the south. Von Treitschke was intensely pro-Prussian.
His glorification of Prussia was resented by auditors from other
German states. But I recall no other criticism which his lectures
provoked. Von Treitschke prepared us for the Prussianization of
Germany, for the beginnings of centralization were already in
evidence. But who could have dreamt that in the short span of
thirty-five years the ideas von Treitschke championed would have
brought Germany into collision with the world, entailing her down-
fall as a great European power, and overwhelming her with terrible
hardships and with disasters unparalleled?

AMERICAN UNIVERSITIES BEHIND EUROPEAN

From this digression I hasten to return to our American uni-
versities. We must instruct the public as to what the university
essentially stands for in American life and civilization, we must
eradicate from their minds the idea that it is a glorified high school.
We must teach them that it is an arena for the highest intellectual
effort. We must show them that it is a place of the noblest culture
and the finest reason. We must convince them that the highest
education is not only the privilege of the intellectually fit but an
impossibility for the intellectually unfit. And above all we must
compel them to recognize the fundamental principle that there
never can be a great university without great professors, and that
great professors are the product of superior mental endowment,
high and strenuous training, and a life of free, fresh, and energetic
devotion to the pursuit of truth and culture.

Till America learns and practices this lesson its universities
are destined to lag behind those of Europe. America, it is often
said — said sometimes in astonishment and sometimes as a reproach
— America has not contributed her share to the civilization of the
modern world. We are told that our literatuie, our art, our phi-
losophy, our science are none of them first class. I do not think
we can rebut this criticism. And, what is worse, I do not see how
we can escape it until we have places for the training of thinkers
and scholars and scientists and artists. And our universities
cannot now perform this essential function efficiently for obvious
reasons. In the first place, they are overrun with throngs of
mediocre, indifferent, and half-trained students. In the second

134 Indiana University

place, the energy of teachers is exhausted in the drudgery of train-
ing these young men and women, who might do vastly more for
themselves and for the community if engaged in more congenial
and more suitable pursuits. In the third place, the tendency is
unavoidable to recruit our faculties largely with men adapted to
the performance of the drill-master's task, which has become the
major function of the institutions. And, fourthly, the professo-
riate falling thus into disesteem both socially and professionally, the
compensation has declined below that of the mechanical vocations.
I recognize that we cannot change the fundamental conditions
of American society. But I believe the American people want
universities second to none in the world, and will be willing to
furnish the means necessary for their support. Towards the reali-
zation of this high ideal I believe the most helpful first step would
be the grading of our students and concentration of effort on the
ablest and most devoted among them. But even before that reform
it will be necessary to provide that men of high intellectual power,
thoro training, and productive capacity shall be encouraged to
devote themselves to the university career by the assurance of lei-
sure for the application of their powers, in all the fullness of fresh
energy, to the highest creative work as scholars, thinkers, and inves-
tigators.

THE UNIVERSITY AND MORAL AND RELIGIOUS TRAINING

I have been speaking of the university as essentially an organ
of the intellectual life of mankind. But I have also shown that the
discovery of scientific truth has an incalculable utilitarian value
for the practical life of individuals and nations, — the application
of science to industry having indeed contributed more than any-
thing else whatever to their enrichment and to the comforts, con-
veniences, and even the luxuries of the modern world. But the
aims of education are not exhausted by these achievements in both
the rational and the material spheres of human life. For man also
is a moral, spiritual, and political being; and the university, if it
is to train the whole man, must endeavor to make good men and
good citizens, and especially to train select youth for leadership
in that great and promising field of moral, social, political, and
economic service which is already white unto harvest.

Practical moral and religious training is to be accomplished
at the university less by formal instruction in the classroom than
by the example of teachers devoted to high ends, living honorable

Centennial Memorial Volume 135

lives, and conscientiously spending themselves for the improve-
ment of their students and the promotion of the things that are
true and honorable and lovely and of good report. I do not under-
estimate, on the contrary I highly appreciate and would do my
ulmost to encourage, the ministrations of preachers and other
religious teachers and workers. The only point I am now concerned
to emphasize is that all those moral and spiritual agencies are most
effective in their practical influence on individual students when
voluntary and dissociated from the official life and work of the
university.

I shall not discuss the training of religious leaders, because
owing to the variety of our religious denominations this function
is generally performed in their respective theological schools. If
I might presume to offer them a suggestion it would be to recom-
mend a reorganization of the curriculum with the elimination of
mere traditional subjects and the introduction of courses by com-
petent experts dealing with the moral, social, and economic environ-
ment of modern humanity.

THE UNIVERSITY AS SOCIAL AND POLITICAL TEACHER

The life of man in society and the state is perhaps the most
vital subject of contemporary thought and interest. As in the
seventeenth and eighteenth centuries the greatest thinkers of the
world gave themselves up to mathematical and physical research,
and in the nineteenth to biological, so in the twentieth century they
are turning to man — and especially to man as a social and political
being — exploring his nature, investigating the institutions he has
established, and assessing their value both in the scale of efficiency
and by the standard of right and justice. Our science has hitherto
been almost altogether naturalistic ; it seems now destined to become
humanistic also. You students are likely to see subjects like ethics,
history, economics, politics, and sociology quickened with a new
interest and invested with a new significance. They have become
essential for the intelligent understanding of the institutional organ-
ization of our lives and for the correct appraisal of the challenges
today made upon it, both at home and abroad, with ever-increasing
emphasis and sometimes even with an unwonted accompaniment
of hostility and revolutionary menace.

Many good people are perturbed. Some tremble for the ark
of the Lord. And our rulers, it would seem, know no remedy
but force and suppression.

136 Indiana University

O ye of little faith! Cannot error be overcome by truth?
Nay, can anything else overcome it? Shall we cower in the pres-
ence of revolutionary Socialism and Bolshevism when we might
learn from history and politics that our own system of Constitu-
tional Democracy is the best government ever devised by the art of
man? No doubt like every growing organism it is in need of con-
tinuous adjustment to its environment; but are we so blinded by
ignorance and so perverted by Bourbonism that we cannot survey
these natural .and necessary modifications, whose effect is altogether
ameliorating, with the equanimity and even the satisfaction of
reasonable beings and good Americans? Because nations with the
worst government imaginable have in this terrible crisis in the history
of the world become political madhouses, must we with the best
of actual governments lose our heads and join in their grimaces and
contortions?

Let us possess our souls in confidence. Let us put our trust
in truth. Let us speak the words of soberness. Let us trust the
sound sense of the American people. Let us meet the folly and
errors of the fanatics with the all-conquering weapons of fact and
reason. If the Bolsheviks rule Russia by force and murder, let
America, now as heretofore, govern herself by free discussion and
enlightened public opinion and the deliberate vote of the majority.
Our laws must of course be enforced, and sedition rigorously put
down. But America cannot save her soul by stifling free thought
and inquiry or by deporting ark-loads of alien revolutionists or
denying constitutional rights to radical and even mischievous citi-
zens and parties.

THE PROMISE OF SOCIAL REFORM

The university stands for truth. It is today summoned, as it
never has been summoned before, to the exploration and propaga-
tion of truth in the fields of economics and politics. Our Bourbons,
who put their trust in force, would even muzzle the universities
lest they should discover some scientific warrant for changes in
the order of our institutional life.

Changes are inevitable because the world moves and the reali-
zation of justice in society is a continuous and unending process.
We shall find in the future means of improving our existing insti-
tutions at many points. There will be better and juster methods
of taxation; property will be more widely diffused and more equally
distributed and the power of wealth curtailed and pauperism

Centennial Memorial Volume 137

largely eliminated ; public service will cease to be the arena and
the means of private profit; equalization of opportunity will be-
come a fact and not merely a shibboleth ; education will be provided
for the children in the country not inferior to that now offered
in city schools; youth of talent in all economic groups will be
selected and given the highest possible education; spiritual and
intellectual callings will not rank lower than mechanical and indus-
trial pursuits; and government, more democratic than ever, will
be no longer a reckless strife of parties but an intelligent and busi-
ness-like ordering of the public life of the community and a um'on
with other civilized communities for the promotion of peace and
good-will and prosperity thruout the world.

There are vast and unimagined possibilities for the future of
the race. We can foresee not only better health and increased
prosperity for mankind, but, what is more important, nobler
character and higher reason and finer culture both for individuals
and entire communities and their organization in juster and more
perfect commonwealths. There are many agencies at work in the
world contributory to that great consummation. But I speak alike
with moderation and profound conviction when I say that the
university, as the organ of truth and knowledge, is by far the
most important and assuredly the rnx>st promising.

THE GROWTH OF INDIANA UNIVERSITY

For such service to the state and to mankind Indiana Univer-
sity was chartered one hundred years ago today. Already the
memorable ordinance of 1785 had reserved the sixteenth section of
every township of public land "for the maintenance of public schools
within said township", and declared that "religion, morality and
knowledge being necessary to good government and the happiness
of mankind, schools and the means of education shall be forever
encouraged".

The enabling act of Congress authorizing the formation of a
state government for Indiana contained, among other items, the
grant of an entire township to be designated by the President of
the United States for the use of a seminary of learning. The
convention which framed the constitution under which Indiana was
admitted as a state accepted the grants of Congress and pledged
that the ordinance should forever remain irrevocable and inviolate,
thus obligating the state to cherish and sustain the institution thus
founded. This same convention, as further endorsement of the

138 Indiana University

broad plan, declared in the constitution (article 9, section 2) thai
"it shall be the duty of the General Assembly as soon as circum-
stances will permit, to provide by law for a general system of edu-
cation, ascending in regular gradation from township schools to a
state university, wherein t^tion shall be gratis, and equally open
to all". This constitution was adopted in 1816. And on January
20, 1820, the General Assembly took the first definite step toward
the establishment of Indiana University. It was opened in 1824
under the name of the Indiana Seminary, with one instructor and
ten pupils, and the only subjects taught were Latin and Greek.
It was raised to the dignity of a college in 1828, and in 1838 the
General Assembly conferred upon it the name and style of Indiana
University.

The growth of the University was for many years slow. Up
to 1850 the maximum annual attendance was 115. And it did not
reach 200 prior to 1884. It was 321 in 1890. And since that date
the decennial figures indicate great and rapid expansion. In 1900
the enrollment was 1,016; it mounted to 2,564 in 1910; and now in
1920 it is nearly 4,000.

This enlargement of the student body and the consequent mul-
tiplication of courses has created for Indiana University the same
problem as now oppresses the universities generally of the United
States. Your enrollment has risen from 321 in 1890 to nearly
4,000 in 1920. But your teachers here in Bloomington, where the
vast majority of these students receive their instruction, number
only 129 in 1920 as against 28 in 1890.

THE CRISIS FOR AMERICAN UNIVERSITIES

I am sure that President Bryan, who has played such a large
and honorable part in building up the University, will agree with
me that Indiana and along with Indiana the entire sisterhood of
American universities and colleges now face the gravest situation
in their history. Fundamentally it is a question of the possibility
of realizing and maintaining in America the ideal of a genuine
university. I have endeavored to make clear what that ideal is
and to indicate the perils by which it is menaced. The university is
the organ of the intellectual life of mankind. Its essential con-
stituent is a faculty devoted to the things of the mind and competent
to promote them by research and inspiration and instruction. This
function demands the best brains with which Providence endows
mankind. Two causes, however, are today operating to deter the

Centennial Memorial Volume 139

ablest youth from entering on a university career. One is the
insufficiency of the provision made for professorial support which
drives ambitious and talented young men who are attracted to the
intellectual life against their will into callings that offer them at
least an adequate livelihood. The other is the lowering of the
standards of university teaching in the effort to educate the masses
of mediocre students who frequent the universities and the undue
limiting for the same reason of the time and mental energy which
the teacher may devote to independent scholarship and research.
Unless we make and keep our universities genuine laboratories of
creative intellectual work they will sink to the level of pedagogical
institutes. Their salvation lies in able, well-trained, and intellect-
ually alert professors with adequate provision for creative work
on the part of all who are competent to undertake it.

THE FUTURE OF AMERICAN UNIVERSITIES

I have set forth with the utmost frankness the grave and even
dangerous situation in which our universities today find themselves.
A thoro knowledge of the evil is essential to reform. But let
no one imagine because I have diagnosed the disease that I have
any doubt of our ability to expel it. On the contrary, I have
supreme faith in the ultimate soundness and vitality of the Ameri-
can university.

There are two considerations in particular that strengthen my
faith and inspire my confidence. And with this personal confes-
sion I will close.

In the first place, the order of all development, cosmic as well
as human, is first that which is natural, and next that which is
spiritual. Hitherto we have been largely engaged in laying the
material foundations of American universities. We have provided
them with spacious grounds; with numerous buildings, large and
useful, if not generally beautiful; with well appointed laboratories,
well stocked libraries, and all kinds of equipment and illustrative
material. I do not think any country in the world has ever before
laid such solid and elaborate foundations for a system of univer-
sities. Good use, too, has been made of these establishments by the
professors in charge. It is at once in harmony with the embryonic
character of the institutions and with the practical talent and inter-
est of the American people that their most conspicuous achieve-
ments should hitherto have been displayed in the field of applied
science. This, however, is the media via from the natural to the

140 Indiana University

spiritual. And so I confidently anticipate the time when the energy
which our people have hitherto put forth in establishing securely
the foundations of their universities will be concentrated upon,
and applied to, the intellectual and spiritual objects for the sake
of which they exist. And when that day arrives the Archimedean
boast, "give me leverage and I will move the world", may become
a sober fact in the history of human civilization.

THE SPIRITUAL AND INTELLECTUAL RENASCENCE OF AMERICA

In the second place, I have an ineradicable faith in the ideal-
ism of the American people. No doubt we are a practical people,
and we delight in turning material things to human uses. We have
a high opinion of the value of mere physical comfort — of good
clothes, good houses, and good food (tho Europeans consider
us deficient in the art of cookery). Our manufacturers are enter-
prising, our traders shrewd, and our people generally want to make
money, which is a thing that can be turned at any time into any
kind of economic goods. Our environment, too, has stimulated
the development of these practical talents and interests. For we
have been called upon to subdue a hostile continent and make it
safe for human habitation and generous for human subsistence.

But this work is now completed. The American people are at
last free to gratify their native idealism. I believe that with all
their practicality they are one of the most idealistic nations in the
world. At times they carry idealism to the very verge of senti-
mentality. In great crises of their history — in the Civil War and
in the recent World War — they have exhibited, and been sus-
tained by, the noblest idealism. Now at the heart's core of all
American ideals is a profound belief in the value of education and
a devotion to it which overcomes all obstacles and endures every
sacrifice. Witness the great words of the constitution of your
infant state demanding "a general system of education in a regular
gradation from township schools to a state university".

The day for the realization of the educational ideal of the
American people has arrived. I appreciate to the full the magni-
tude and urgency of the economic and political tasks to which the
new age calls us. But above all other voices I hear the angels
of our higher nature summon us to a spiritual and intellectual
renascence of America.

RESEARCHES ON SPIROCHAETA
PALLIDA

Aldred Scott Warthin was born in Greensburg, Indiana, October 21, 1866.
He received the A.B. degree at Indiana University in 1888; the A.M. at the Uni-
versity of Michigan in 1890, the M.D. in 1891, and the Ph.D. in 1893; and a
teacher's music diploma at the Cincinnati Conservatory of Music in 1887. In
addition, he did postgraduate work in medicine at Vienna, Munich, Dresden,
and Freiburg. In 1891, he became assistant in internal medicine at the
University of Michigan, and the next year demonstrator in internal medicine,
which position he held for three years. In 1896 he became demonstrator in
pathology; in 1897, instructor; assistant professor in 1899; junior professor in
1902; professor and director of the pathological laboratory since 1903. Among
the societies in which he has held office at various times are : American Associa-
tion of Pathologists and Bacteriologists, president, 1908; International Associa-
tion of Medical Museums, president, 1910-13; member of council for the United
States in this same society, 1914-20; vice-president of its American section, 1914;
Michigan Association for the Prevention and Relief of Tuberculosis, secretary,
1907; president, 1908-9; Michigan Social Hygiene Association, president, 1917-
20; Ann Arbor Anti-Tuberculosis Association, secretary; International Associa-
tion for Study and Prevention of Tuberculosis, corresponding member. He is
a member of Phi Beta Kappa, Sigma Xi, The Association of American Physicians,
and The Society for Experimental Medicine and Biology. Dr. Warthin is the
author of Practical Pathology, editor and translator of Ziegler's General Pathology,
the author of General Pathology and Medical Aspects of Mustard Gas Poisoning,
and of over one hundred articles in medical journals and textbooks. He was the
editor of the Bulletin of the International Association of Medical Museums from
1913 to 1919, and editor of the department of pathology in the second and third
editions of Wood's Reference Handbook of the Medical Sciences. His most im-
portant researches are on the anatomy and pathology of the haemolymph glands,
the pathology of diseases of the blood and blood-forming organs, cardiac syphilis,
atent syphilis, tuberculosis, and toxic action of mustard gas.

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RESEARCHES ON SPIROCHAETA
PALLIDA

By ALDRED SCOTT WARTHIN

As A GRADUATE of the literary class of 1888, 1 consider it, indeed,
a very great honor to be chosen to represent the medical alumni
of my Alma Mater, on this occasion, the Centennial of Indiana
University. In his very gracious introduction, Dr. Wynn has
offered an explanation of my scientific work, in that he has dis-
covered that I am a nature lover and fond of the high mountains.
But how could anyone come out of Indiana and not be so? I owe
three very distinct influences upon my life and work to the circum-
stances of having been born in Indiana, graduated from a high
school in a small country town of Indiana, and of having attended
Indiana University. In the county in which I was born and passed
the early period of my life three distinct geologic ages stood on
edge across its surface, revealing themselves in all the banks and
cliffs of the creeks and river valleys. The records of the life of past
ages in the form of fossils were everywhere; even the very slabs of
the village pavements exhibited the remains of corals, cephalopods,
and crinoids to the interested eyes of the young Hoosier school-
boys of that day. Alas, that such potent stimuli to early scientific
interest and research should now be replaced by uninspiring cement!
But the old stone slabs did excite us to the collecting of fossils and
to the desire to find out the meaning of the strangely interesting
things we dug from bank and cliff or gathered from the gravel of
the streams. Actually, I believe that there is not a stream bed in
Decatur county, Indiana, that, as a boy, in the tremendously
exciting adventure of collecting, I did not measure, for the greater
part of its course, upon hands and knees. To this potent influence
of the natural environment, there was added in the high school
period the inspiration of a wonderfully gifted "born teacher" of
the natural sciences. May I take here the opportunity of paying
tribute to the memory of William P. Shannon, a Hoosier school-
master, obscure, and unknown to scientific literature or fame, but
possessing in a most notable measure the divine fire of scientific
enthusiasm and the art of inspiring others to the same appreciation
of the wonders of the world of nature. Could any member of his
high school classes ever lose from his life the effect produced, when

(143)

144 Indiana University

the teacher standing upon an outcrop of the Lower Silurian bade
them look across the bed of the shallow sea of the Upper Silurian to
the coral reefs of the Devonian, and pictured for them the condi-
tions of those earlier ages! It was such an influence that led me to
Indiana University in the early days of President Jordan's career
there, and of the first faculty chosen by him. In many ways it was
a very primitive University, indeed, but it was also unique in its
atmosphere of intellectual freedom, and its insistence upon scientific
methods and the worth of the sciences in an education. Can it
be only thirty-five years ago that the warfare between the classics
and the sciences was being so bitterly waged? Was it only so
short a time ago that the family pastor urged against my going to
the State University on the ground that it had a faculty of infidelsl

There can be no doubt that the resuscitation of Indiana Uni-
versity by Dr. Jordan, and the ideals of intellectual liberty for which
he and the majority of his colleagues stood marked a new era in
American education. To those working with him the outside
world became the greater University, exercising infinitely greater
influence upon us than the confines of the classroom and the text-
book. Again I crept along rocky ledges and the banks of streams,
explored underground caves, collected and studied the fauna and
flora of Monroe and Brown county woods and hills in the passion-
ate pursuit of a knowledge of life and the world inhabited by it.
Much more of an education did I receive from those woods and hills
than from the curriculum itself. And so to Indiana and to Indiana
University I wish to give thanks for the part they have played in
my education. For the passion yet remains of seeing things min-
utely, of caring for finest details, of comparing and contrasting, of
discovering likeness and difference, of knowing things fully, and
endeavoring to add some new fact to the sum of knowledge already
acquired by the race. And this has led me in the years of my own
scientific activities to the pursuit of the knowledge and the
investigation of disease and the causes of disease. It may seem
a far cry from the woods and limestone ledges of Indiana to the
interstices and crannies of the organs and tissues of the human
body, but the adventure has been the same.

I consider it a very great honor to be asked at this time to give
you a resume of my researches in the pathology of one of the most
important diseases afflicting mankind, syphilis, the "Captain of
the Band of Death", as Osier put it. For five centuries no other
disease has been so well known to the medical profession in its
clinical aspects as has syphilis. Its insidious and often latent

Centennial Memorial Volume 145

course, its relationship to disease of the bones, liver, and central
nervous system, and its very frequent manifestation in various
forms of skin affections, as well as its congenital transmission thru
one or more generations, its apparent incurability, — all of these
facts have long been recognized. The great European pathologists
and clinicians of the latter half of the nineteenth century express
their appreciation of the importance of the disease in such aphorisms
as "syphilis, the most protean of all diseases", "Know syphilis,
and you know all medicine", or "Syphilis is ninety per cent of all
dermatology, and fifty per cent of all internal medicine."

Nevertheless, in spite of such appreciations of the importance
of this disease from the most experienced masters of medicine,
syphilis has been and remains to this day to the average practi-
tioner a dermatologic affection. Its tremendous importance in
internal medicine has not been, and even today is not, generally
recognized, because of the fact that the early manifesta-
tions of syphilis, the chancre and the various syphilides, are chiefly
cutaneous, the disease has come to be thought of as dermatologic,
and its diagnosis and treatment to be the concern of the derma-
tologist. Only the syphilitic affections of the central nervous
system have been conceded as lying legitimately outside of the
field of dermatology. The internist, especially, has been very
slow to realize the fact that non-dermatologic syphilis forms a very
large part of his material, and that syphilis is often masquer-
ading in the form of the heart, vascular, hepatic, or other organic
disturbances presenting themselves to him. He frequently has
suspected this, but in the absence of positive etiologic and patho-
logic proof has not in the past been able to justify his suspicions.

Even the pathologist up to within the last fifteen years has
suspected many pathologic conditions to be syphilitic without
being able to prove positively that they were. The etiologic agent
was unknown, his pathologic criteria for the positive histologic
recognition of syphilis were limited to the caseating vascular
granuloma, known as gumma or syphiloma, that since 18 74 has been
practically the sole lesion accepted by pathologists in general as
syphilitic in nature. Without the presence of a definitely gumma-
tous lesion no pathologist dared to make a positive pathologic diag-
nosis of syphilis, however strong his convictions might be that
certain non-gummatous conditions, such as arteriosclerosis, aortic
aneurysm, hepatic cirrhosis, orchitis fibrosa, tabes, paresis, leuco-
derma, leucoplakia, and other conditions frequently associated with

146 Indiana University

the recognized lesion of syphilis, or with a definite clinical history
of syphilitic infection might be actual syphilis, or the results in
some way of this disease. In explanation of the relationship to
syphilis of these non-gummatous conditions, both clinician and
pathologist were forced to the hypotheses of li posts yphilitic", "meta-
syphilitic", and "parasyphtiUic" processes — conditions bearing a
certain relationship to syphilis, but which were not this disease, nor
even necessarily caused by it.

Up to the last decade our knowledge of the pathologic lesions
of syphilis has been limited to the conception of the gumma, and
the pathology of syphilis, as given in our textbooks today, is essen-
tially based upon the occurrence of this type of granuloma. As
late as the Harvey Lecture in 1915, Fordyce says: "Aside from
gummatous involvement of the viscera little is known of the effects
of the infection on the various organs." Gummata, however, are
relatively rare, particularly in certain organs and tissues, and this
is the explanation of the fact that the recognized pathology of
syphilis has never been able to correlate itself with either the
clinician's or the pathologist's suspicion of a much greater incidence
and importance to be ascribed to syphilis than the frequency of
occurrence of the gumma would indicate.

Only with the discovery of the etiologic agent of syphilis, in
1905, did it become possible for us to make progress in our know-
ledge of this disease. My own clinical and pathologic studies in
Vienna during the nineties had convinced me of the tremendous
importance of syphilis. As other pathologists had done, I also had
noted the association of aortic aneurysm and arteriosclerosis with
cases of known syphilis, and with tabes and paresis. In addition
I was struck by a similar association in the case of fibroid myocar-
ditis, chronic interstitial pancreatitis, fibroid orchitis, and slight
localized inflammatory changes of a very chronic character in many
organs and tissues. These I suspected to be syphilitic in nature,
but could not prove it.

With the announcement of the discovery of Spirochaeta pallida
by Schaudinn, in 1905, and the corroboration by the other inves-
tigators, during the following year, of the association of this organ-
ism with syphilitic lesions, I at once, in 1906, began a series of
investigations that have occupied me largely during a period of
almost fifteen years. It is the result of this long period of inves-
tigation that I am now intending to present to you in a very con-
densed form, aided by a series of lantern slides that will, I think,

Centennial Memorial Volume 147

speak more clearly and forcibly than any verbal description can
possibly do.

My first investigations were concerned with congenital syphilis
of the heart. In a series of cases of congenital syphilitic infection
I was able to demonstrate conclusively the fact that the heart is
one of the chief organs involved in congenital syphilis, that Spiro-
chaeta pallida occurs in great numbers in the myocardium, often
without causing any recognizable changes in the heart muscle, in
other cases associated, with focal fatty degeneration, atrophy, or
necrosis of the muscle, while other cases still show a definite form of
myocarditis due to the presence of the spirochaetes. This form of
myocarditis had been noted once only in the literature as possibly
syphilitic in character, and this supposition I was able to confirm
with certainty by the demonstration of the constant presence of
the spirochaete in this form of tissue lesion. This type of myo-
carditis is characterized by diffuse infiltrations of lymphocytes and
plasma-cells, fibroblasts and angioblasts, with a relatively slight
new-formation of stroma or reticular tissue, often semifluid or
mucoid in character, giving mucin-staining reactions. These lesions
occur in the intermuscular spaces, along the smallest vascular
branches ; less frequently do they develop around the larger coron-
ary branches. They occur also in the endocardium and in the peri-
cardium; congenital syphilitic endocarditis and pericarditis are
realities. The myocardial changes vary in degree, from very slight
proliferation of the interstitial cells to larger infiltrations that may
take on the character of gummata. Caseation is, however, very
rare. Associated with this type of myocarditis there occur rarely
myxoma-like masses of the same type of cells replacing the heart
muscle, and containing large colonies of spirochaetes. In the
interstitial form the spirochaetes occur in great numbers, either
diffusely or localized in the infiltrations; any portion of the
heart wall may be involved. The number of the spirochaetes,
however, bears no definite relation to the severity of the reaction.

A fortunate series of autopsy cases of congenital syphilis in
older children, adolescents, and young adults threw further light
upon the nature of myocardial syphilis and its relation to fibroid
heart. Progressive and permanent damage to the heart muscle,
with resulting fibrosis and cardiac insufficiency, were found to
follow directly upon the type of myocarditis described above.
Active lesions and healed ones were found existing in the same
heart, even in cases as old as twenty-one years. In congenital
cardiac syphilis the lesions are more widely scattered than in the

148 Indiana University

adult myocardium, the right ventricular wall being as often involved
as the left. Fibrosis is the ultimate sequela.

Other features of congenital syphilis were also studied with
reference to the localization of the spirochaetes and the associated
lesions, particularly in the case of the liver, spleen, pancreas, and
placenta. The same type of pathologic lesion as in the myo-
cardium was found to be the rule; gummatous lesions were the
rare exceptions. It was demonstrated beyond any doubt that
the essential lesion produced in congenital infections by the Spiro-
chaeta pallidawas of the nature of a mild interstitial or productive
inflammation, leading ultimately to fibrosis and diminished func-
tion. It must, however, again be emphasized that in congenital
syphilis the spirochaetes may occur in various tissues in enormous
numbers without the production of any changes in the tissue-ele-
ments recognizable by any of our methods of examination, thus
indicating a high degree of commensal adaptation.

From the study of congenital cardiac syphilis it was a natural
step to the study of myocardial changes in acquired syphilis. My
autopsy material gave me abundant opportunity for this. The
hearts of cases of known syphilis were first studied, particularly
those of aortic aneurysm, tabes, paresis, and other forms of chronic
syphilis. The histologic study was carried along parallel with the
search for the spirochaete by means of the Levaditi silver-impreg-
nation method. In every case of known syphilitic infection char-
acteristic lesions were found in the myocardium, in the form of
slight, or more marked, infiltrations of lymphocytes and plasma
cells between the muscle fibres. These infiltrations are diffuse or
patchy ; very rarely are they focal or sharply circumscribed. Miliary
infiltrations occasionally occur, but larger caseating gummata of
the myocardium are very rare. In the great majority of cases the
infiltrations are of very slight degree, the cells being arranged in
close single file between the fibres. To the inexperienced observer
there may seem to be only a slight increase of the interstitial nuclei.
Polymorphonuclears rarely occur in these infiltrations, and eosino-
philes are not present. The cells of the infiltration are probably
chiefly histiogenetic and endothelial lymphocytes and young form-
ative cells derived from the stroma. Larger epithelioid fibroblasts
are also very common in the healing areas. There is an increase of
the reticular fibres; in the earlier and more active areas fluid spaces
occur^, between the fibres, and in these a staining-reaction for
mucin is often obtained. ^Evidences of a progressive healing and
fibrosis are always present in the chronic cases. In older healed

Centennial Memorial Volume 149

areas the stroma becomes fibroid and hyaline. The fibroid heart
is the ultimate outcome of these interstitial lesions. The heart-
muscle fibres are apparently very resistant to the infection, but
as the stroma increases and becomes fibroid, and with the oblitera-
tion of the capillaries, the muscle becomes atrophic and many of
the fibres, disappear, so that the cicatricial areas increase in size.

The myocardial lesions in acquired syphilis are found chiefly
in the wall of the left ventricle, in the anterior portion of the wall
just above the apex, the adjacent portion of the septum, and less
often in the posterior wall of the left ventricle near the mitral ring.
The infiltrations are found more frequently near the endocardium
than toward the epicardium as in congenital syphilis. These
lesions are in the great majority of cases microscopic, and may be
found in marked degree, even when there are no gross changes in
the heart. In other cases dilatations, hypertrophy, atrophy, and
fibroid patches in the wall of the left ventricle are apparent in the
gross examination. Thrombosis of the left ventricle, aneurysmal
dilatation of the anterior wall just above the apex, and rupture of
the heart occur as sequelae of syphilitic myocarditis. I have seen
over thirty cases of thrombosis of the left ventricle in which the
thrombus was attached directly over an area of syphilitic disease
in the ventricular wall.

In the myocardial lesions spirochaetes of syphilis have been
demonstrated often enough to convince me that they are due to
nothing but the Spirochaeta pallida, and that they represent abso-
lutely specific lesions of syphilitic infection. The search for the
spirochaete is, however, very difficult and time-consuming in the
case of chronic acquiied syphilitic infection. The organisms are
not numerous, and many blocks and great numbers of sections must
often be examined before a group of the spirochaetes may be found.
Moreover, the Levaditi method, the most reliable method available
during the greater part of the time in which this research was in
progress, is very capricious, and so much depends upon freshness
of tissue, conditions of fixation, etc., that the method must be
regarded as a difficult one, even in the hands of experts. For this
reason, my laboratory has also engaged itself with the problem of
improving the technical methods necessary for the demonstration
of the spirochaete. My own modification of the Levaditi method
has been found to give better and more constant results than the
original; but we have recently replaced this method by one much
superior, which I shall describe later.

From the study of hearts of known syphilis our studies progressed

150 Indiana University

to the hearts of patients in whom a syphilitic infection had never
been recognized or suspected. Such cases appeared in my autopsy
material in striking numbers — in about forty per cent of the entire
autopsy material. The majority of the patients showing an unrec-
ognized latent syphilis present the clinical picture of the cardio-
vascular-renal complex. Their symptoms were those of cardiac
incompensation, myocardial insufficiency, hypertrophy or dilata-
tion of the heart, chronic passive congestion, general arterioscler-
osis, and frequently renal disease. They died a cardiac death;
and the microscopic lesions in these cases were identical with those
found in known cases of syphilis, and in them also were found
repeatedly typical spirochaetes of syphilis. These cases, therefore,
were syphilis — latent infections, unrecognized. In other cases
giving history of early infection but supposedly cured and running
many years without recognizable signs of syphilis, with negative
Wasserman reactions, the same tissue-lesions in the heart, associ-
ated with the presence of Spirochaeta pallida, were found.

Taking up the aorta in all of these cases, also known cases
of syphilis, "cured" and uncured, and unrecognizable clinically,
the microscopical examination showed characteristic infiltrations
of plasma-cells and lymphocytes along the course of the vasa
vasorum thru the adventitia and media, associated with slight
or marked atherosclerotic changes. An aorta presenting no path-
ological changes to the naked eye may show on microscopic examin-
ation typical syphilitic infiltrations in media or adventitia. The
gross appearances of the aorta cannot be taken as an absolute
criterion of the condition of the vessel. Syphilis of the aorta may
exist in apparently normal aortas, or in aortas showing the pic-
ture of an ordinary atherosclerosis, or when the gross pathologic
picture is that of a syphilitic mesaortitis. In these aortic lesions
the spirochaetes are found with greater difficulty than in the myo-
cardium. The number is usually small. The more active the
process, the more easily found are the organisms. The lesions
are found most often in the arch of the aorta and in the abdominal
portion. Our work has confirmed the syphilitic nature of aortic
aneurysm. I have not seen a single instance of the latter that was
not syphilitic. While in congenital syphilis a localization of
spirochaetes in the intima of the aorta may occur, I have never
noted such in the aorta in acquired syphilis. The atherosclerotic
changes in the intima and media appear to be due to a slow anaemic
infarction resulting from the obliteration of the arteries of the
vasa vasorum. The lymphocytic and plasma-cell infiltrations are

Centennial Memorial Volume 151

in the early stages most marked in and around the walls of the
small arterioles; later these become obliterated by a concentric
proliferation of the endothelium, giving the appearance of a small
tubercle or gumma.

Similar syphilitic lesions were found in the pulmonary artery
and in the wall of an aneurysm of the latter vessel, with demon-
stration of the spirochaete. The microscopic changes are the same;
infiltrations in the adventitia and media, along the vasa vasorum,
with obliteration of the latter and the production of atherosclerotic
changes in the intima. A similar syphilitic mesarteritis of the pul-
monary arteries was found also in a case of chronic cyanosis and
polycythemia (Vaquez's disease), enabling me to interpret this case
as one of "Ayerza's disease", the first one to be reported in this
country. It was noted also that sclerotic changes in the pulmon-
ary arteries were not uncommon in the lungs of cases presenting
syphilitic lesions in the myocardium and other organs; and that
a more or less patchy fibrosis of such lungs was usually coincident.

Extending the study of syphilis of the arteries to the femoral
and popliteal arteries and their larger branches, as well as to the
walls of aneurysms of these vessels, identical syphilitic lesions with
those in the aorta and pulmonary artery were found. In one case
the entire systemic arterial trunks and their smaller branches
showed the most marked degree of syphilitic inflammation associ-
ated with multiple thromboses.

Following the study of syphilis of the blood vessels, the pan-
creas of all cases showing syphilitic lesions in the myocardium and
aorta was carefully studied. In all of the older cases of syphilis
the pancreas showed more or less atrophy, with patches of chronic
interstitial pancreatitis. In every one of these cases active areas
of plasma-cell infiltrations, with stroma increase, were also present.
These lesions were identical in kind with the syphilitic lesions of
the myocardium and aorta and in two of the cases Spirochaeta
pallida was demonstrated in the pancreatic lesion. Syphilis of
the pancreas had been practically unknown before. It is a most
interesting fact that out of twelve cases of diabetes coming to
autopsy, only two did not show the presence of syphilitic lesions in
the pancreas and other organs. If interstitial pancreatitis leading
to fibrosis of the islands of Langerhans is a cause of diabetes, then
syphilis being a cause of this condition must be reckoned with in
the etiology of diabetes.

In the adrenals of cases showing syphilitic lesions in the heart,
aorta, and pancreas, the same small infiltrations of lymphocytes

152 Indiana University

and plasma-cells were found. They occur in the medullary portion
or in the inner portion of the reticular zone. In three cases of
Addison's disease the syphilitic infiltrations and fibrosis were so
marked as to cause nearly complete atrophy of the organ. Syphil-
itic infiltrations were found also in the semilunar and adrenal
ganglia. Another striking feature observed in the adrenals of
chronic syphilis was a marked lipoidosis of the cortex.

The liver of all the cases of latent chronic syphilis, as well as in
clinically active cases, showed chronic passive congestion and
atrophy, while inflammatory lesions, varying from slight infiltra-
tions of the periportal tissues to the most severe forms of cirrhosis,
were also constant findings. Ten cases of atrophic cirrhosis, one
of the Hanot type, and three of the Glissonian, occurred in this
material, in addition to five cases of gumma and eight cases of hepar
lobatum. All of these showed characteristic plasma-cell lesions
of the same type as in the other organs.

In all male cases of acquired syphilis, active or latent, the testes
showed marked lesions in the form of atrophy, fibrosis, and plasma-
cell infiltrations. Spermatogenesis was dimished in the mildest
cases, and in older, more severe infections the entire organ may be
fibroid. The interstitial cells remain preserved, and often appear
hypertrophic, even in cases in which the patients had complained
of a premature loss of sexual desire. It is evident that the testes are
especially affected by the syphilitic infection. In congenital
syphilis enormous numbers of spirochaetes may be found in this
organ without any perceptible histologic changes; but in the older
cases the spirochaetes occur only in the active areas of infiltration.
A seminal transmission in old and latent syphilis seems very pro-
bable.

It is impossible, in the time allotted me here, to take up each
individual organ and tissue in detail. It must suffice to say, that
in the brain and spinal cord, in the spinal nerves and ganglia, in
the prevertebral tissues, root of mesentery, along the branches of
the portal vein, in the pelvic tissues, in the lungs, and elsewhere,
there constantly are found in the bodies of old syphilitics minute
peri vascular infiltrations of lymphocytes and plasma-cells, associ-
ated with fibroblastic and angioblastic proliferations, leading to
obliteration of the vessels, and eventually to fibrosis. Only in the
spleen, kidneys, ovary, and uterus have such typical lesions of latent
syphilis not been found ; but it must also be stated that no especial
study has as yet been made of these organs.

The results of these researches are very important; in fact,

Centennial Memorial Volume 153

they have been said to be epoch-making in so far as the history of
syphilis is concerned. They show that the gumma is not the essen-
tial pathological lesion of syphilis, but that it is, on the contrary,
a relatively rare formation. The great majority of cases of syphil-
itic infection run their course without the formation of gummatous
granulomas.

The essential pathology of late or latent acquired syphilis is
the occurrence of a chronic irritative or inflammatory process,
characterized by lymphocytic and plasma-cell infiltrations in the
stroma about the blood-vessels and lymphatics, with slight angio-
blastic and fibroblastic proliferations, leading eventually to fibrosis
and atrophy of the parenchyma, with corresponding loss of func-
tion. In the active lesions relatively avirulent spirochaetes are
found in small numbers; these disappear as fibrosis develops.

The syphilitic becomes a "spirochaete carrier", the host of an
organism symbiotic in a high degree. In this respect it is to be
classed with the trypanosome, oiganisms of malaria, the bacilli
of leprosy and tuberculosis, the pyogenic cocci, and perhaps even
more commensal organisms, as the colon bacillus, etc.

Syphilis is a generalized process from the very beginning most
probably. The spirochaetes spread thruout the entire body, and
colonize particularly in the interstitial tissues, around the smallest
blood-vessels, especially in the nervous system, myocardium, aorta,
liver, pancreas, adrenals, and testes. Wherever they produce
irritation, the characteristic inflammatory infiltrations are found.
In individual cases especial predilection for one system, organ, or
tissue may be shown; but there is, as yet, no explanation of such
predilections. The infection is a steadily progressive one. Healing
areas and active ones occur side by side, and in the old cases the
evidence of extensive healing is found in the occurrence of wide-
spread fibrosis. I have, however, seen no case histo logically
"cured"; in every one examined active syphilitic areas were still
present. "Cured" syphilis is latent syphilis, and the carrying of
the spirochaete produces an immunity against new infection with
this organism. The price paid for this immunity is the slowly
progressive defensive inflammatory infiltration, which after many
years results in fibrosis and atrophy, with a corresponding diminu-
tion of function, asserting itself clinically as myocarditis, aortitis,
aneurysm, hepatitis, diabetes, tabes, or paresis, or in other milder
forms of functional disturbance.

Mild for many years, the syphilitic infection may atany time rise
violently above the clinical horizon in more virulent form, and with

154 Indiana University

a more rapidly progressive course. What lies at the bottom of
this increase in virulence or lowering of tissue-resistance we do
not yet know. The individual affected with syphilis has always
this sword hanging over his head. It may fall at any time, or it
may never fall; but his expectancy of life is lowered, and he is most
likely to die a premature death from affections not ordinarily
recognized as syphilis. Particularly does he die a myocardial
death. My work has shown that death in the middle years of life
is in an extraordinary degree the result of latent syphilis — the result
of a long period of a mild infection with a highly symbiotic organism
producing slight injuries, until the sum total of such injury causes
functional disturbances leading eventually to death.

This work throws also much light on the question of the inci-
dence of syphilis in our population It is undoubtedly much greater
than is usually supposed. Latent syphilis undoubtedly lies at the
bottom of many conditions not suspected of being syphilis, either
because the patient gives no history or sign of having ever had a
chancre or skin lesions, or having had these, is regarded as abso-
lutely cured. Undoubtedly many cases are innocent infections,
many congenital, and many acquired without any recognition of the
earlier stages and without any diagnosis until years after.

My work has shown further that the ultimate diagnosis of
syphiljs is a microscopic one, resting upon the microscopic determ-
ination of specific tissue-lesions caused by the Spirochaetapallida.
The etiologic agent of the disease being known, and the character-
istic lesions produced by it now demonstrated by this work, the
importance of syphilis in producing internal affections and dis-
orders has been made clear, and the Spirochaeta pallida receives
consequently an increased pathogenic value. More than ever is
syphilis the "Captain of the Band of Death"!

In solving the etiologic problem of so many internal disorders,
the way to prevention and therapeutic management is also indi-
cated. The individual infected with syphilis usually receives an
intensive treatment for a limited period, after which he is dis-
charged as "cured". If he is a "spirochaete carrier" with certain
possibilities of danger to him because of that fact, the damage
resulting from the latent infection may be reduced to a minimum,
by careful attention to general hygiene and an avoidance of all
conditions tending to lower the general resistance of the body. A
periodic antisyphilitic treatment may also serve to keep the infec-
tion from becoming more virulent at any time.

Centennial Memorial Volume 155

Since the diagnosis of syphilis depends upon the demonstration
of the spirochaete in the tissue-lesions it becomes very necessary
to obtain a method by which this can be carried out as quickly and
easily as possible. Levaditi's silver-impregnation method has been
the only method available. This has, however, required ten to
fourteen days, and the tissue is impregnated in mass, so that histolo-
gical control is difficult, as it cannot be applied to single sections.
Moreover, the results obtained by this method are very uneven and
uncertain. In connection with Mr. A. C. Starry, the writer has
evolved two methods, by which silver -impregnation is carried out
in single sections mounted on cover-glasses, cut from paraffin-em-
bedded formol-fixed tissue. Ordinary diagnostic blocks can be used.
With the second of these methods, our agar-silver method, prepara-
tions of spirochaetes can be obtained within one hour after cutting
the sections and mounting them on cover-glasses. We have found
this method, moreover, to be much more certain of good results
than the original Levaditi, and have obtained spirochaetes by its
use in tissues in which the original Levaditi absolutely failed. We
consider this method a great technical advance in the demonstra-
tion and study of Spirochaeta pallida in the tissues.

In closing, the researches outlined above create a new pathology
for an ancient disease, and thereby, a new clinical attitude and an
altered therapeutic conception. The aphorisms of the older
physicians have been confirmed, the suspicions of the older patho-
logists justified, and syphilis stands today revealed in truth as the
Great Killer of mankind.

THE UNIVERSITY MEDICAL SCHOOL
AND THE STATE1

By ALDRED SCOTT WARTHIN

THE SPEAKER preceding me has spoken of state medicine. I wish
to go a step farther than he has done and to say a few words for
university state medicine or state university medicine, as you may
choose to interpret it.

The great social ferment of the times, following upon the
upheaval of the Great War, does not leave medicine untouched.
The profession of the art and science of healing, in its origin an
institution of social service, but developing, thru the exigencies of
modern civilization, more and more into a business vocation in
which large financial rewards are possible to the successful prac-
titioner, does not today escape the charge of commercialism.
Assertions are made, that, in spite of all the social service medicine
still renders thru the medium of charitable institutions, a large
per cent of the working population does not, or cannot, have effic-
ient medical treatment or adequate protection from disease. The
laborer does not want charity, but only the very rich can ob-
tain the most highly skilled medical service. Based upon these
claims arises the cry for a further socialization or nationalization
of the practice of medicine, in the form of "compulsory health
insurance", "state medicine", "communal medicine", and the like.
The strength and significance of this movement cannot be
doubted, and the medical profession cannot ignore it. In this
country the Association for Labor Legislation has for several years
conducted a vigorous campaign for compulsory health insurance,
and its program has received the approval and vigorous support of
the majority of the labor organizations, as well as of other societies
or associations less directly connected with labor. It has become a
plank in a political platform. In eight states commissions have
been appointed for the consideration of a health insurance program,
and in two states actual health insurance bills have already been
introduced. In England, the National Insurance Act was passed
without adequate consultation of the medical profession upon whom
the burden of carrying this law into effect was thrown; and again

Response to toast at a dinner given at the Claypool Hotel, Indianapolis, May 5, 1920, for the
guests and the medical faculty of the University.

(157)

158 Indiana University

in 1919, the income limit, within which insurance in England was
made obligatory, was extended, with certain exceptions, from £160
to £250, without consulting the practitioners at all. In the report
of the Local Government Board for 1917-18, it was shown that of
the 24,000 registered practitioners of England and Wales, over
16,000 were engaged in insurance domiciliary practice, while the
great majority of the others were associated with some kind of
communal medical service. We may well ask, what further ex-
tensions may be demanded, and granted? Shall compulsory health
insurance be extended to all classes of citizens? Shall all medical
work be placed upon a communal basis, with the practitioner acting
as the full-time salaried servant of the community? A few medical
men support this latter program with enthusiasm; but from the
reports of committees in the American Medical Association and
many local medical societies, the majority of American practitioners
would reject it as undemocratic, destructive to initiative, freedom
of action, and the personal relation, so important in the practice of
medicine.

But that some form of communal medicine is inevitable, there
can be no doubt. In fact, it is already here. The greatest func-
tion of the state is the preservation of the life, liberty, and happi-
ness of all its citizens ; and this means the preservation of the health
of its citizens. It is to the self-interest of the state to keep its citizens
well. Upon this line the state has already proceeded far, in its
development of preventive medicine, thru the communal mechan-
isms of state and local departments of health . Public safety against
the epidemic contagious diseases was primarily sought, but state
medicine has been extended to occupational diseases, industrial
hygiene, child labor, protection of water supplies, disposal of sewage
and garbage, street cleaning, medical and dental inspection of school
children, mothers' pensions, educational campaigns against the fly,
mosquito, tuberculosis, and the venereal diseases, and along a hun-
dred other lines of preventive medicine. The state also assumes to
take care of its insane and mentally incompetent, and in some degree
of its indigent sick, in some form of charity at least. In the full
development of its function in the prevention of disease the state
health department has developed the diagnostic laboratory, by
which means bacteriologic, serologic, toxicologic, and even path-
ologic examinations are furnished free, or at cost. The most im-
portant and productive field of medicine, today, and to many minds,
the most attractive, is that of preventive medicine, rather than cur-
ative.

Centennial Memorial Volume 159

The advances in state preventive medicine have been very
notable in the more advanced states of the Union, altho much yet
remains to be accomplished in this field of state medicine. The
division of the state into communal health districts, according to
population, with the establishment of local laboratories and health
centers, as provided in the bills introduced in several of the states,
will place state preventive medicine on a still higher plane of effic-
iency. The question, however, that we must now face is the
enlargement of the field of state medicine from its present one of
the prevention of disease to that of the diagnosis and treatment of
disease. Shall the state invade the field of the practice of medicine?

That some form of state diagnostic and curative medicine is
coming is inevitable. It may be found necessary as the final de-
velopment of preventive medicine; or it may come as the only
solution of our medical social problems. Indeed, as far as the first
necessity is concerned, the state has already undertaken curative
measures in the case of rabies, malaria, hookworm infection, tuber-
culosis, and the venereal diseases, as well as affections of the eyes,
nose, and teeth, and orthopedic conditions. If the necessity claimed,
of insufficient and inadequate medical service for the laboring
classes, actually exists, then either compulsory health insurance or
some other form of state medicine must be developed to give them
the medical help they should have. The majority of the American
medical profession apparently regard compulsory health insur-
ance as non-American, undemocratic, and destructive of personal
initiative and liberty ; but to an alternative plan of state medicine
by which the state can offer to those who need it, at rates within
their means, efficient diagnostic and medical services from skilled,
or event expert, laboratory men, physicians, and surgeons, there
seems to be but little opposition. Such medical services should be
elective, and not obligatory. A mechanism by which such a state
medicine can be accomplished has already been touched upon by
the previous speaker, in the form of health centers, scattered thru-
out the state, according to density of population, each center to
have attached to it a hospital for the diagnosis and treatment of
disease, with a staff of full or part-time salaried laboratory and
clinical experts, who will give an equal service to all who ask treat-
ment, the compensation for such services being determined by the
income or earning-power of the patient. But many practical
problems present themselves, as to the means of financing and
the control of such communal hospitals. The evils of political
patronage, apparently so inseparable from our state health set-

160 Indiana University

vices, could create infinite damage if introduced into medical
practice. What more dangerous union could be imagined than that
of politics and communal medical service!

This brings me to the chief point I wish to make; and that is,
in the event of the adoption of any form of state medicine of the
kind just described, the control of such local hospitals should be
under the state university medical school, their policies directed by
it, and the standard of service and the fitness of the medical ap-
pointees determined by the ideals of medical education inculcated
by that institution. Why should not the state, thru its university
school of medicine, enter the field of medical practice, and give to
all of the citizens of the state who desire it the service of the best
men in medicine it can enlist in its faculty? Where should the best
medical men in the state be but on that faculty? A state hospital,
or several, or many state hospitals, under the control of the uni-
versity medical school, would seem the ideal way of developing a
really efficient form of state medicine. A central hospital at the
school itself, with local branches developed to meet the needs of
different communities, a body of full-time salaried laboratory and
clinical men of the highest type, chosen on university criteria,
possessing teaching and research qualities and the desire for social
service, giving equal service to all who apply, and a compensation
determined by income or earning-power — all of this seems a prac-
tical and sane form of state medicine. I believe that this is a
feasible plan and that it would result in a highly efficient system of
state medicine. It would pay its own way.

Progress has already been made in some of the states towards
such a system. If I may be permitted to point out what a sister
state, Michigan, has already accomplished, you will realize the
advanced position she is holding in state medicine today. How-
ever, the beginnings were not primarily altruistic. With a medical
school located in a small university town, it became necessary in
the earlier years of the school's development to obtain clinical
material for the instruction of the medical students. Fortunately
for the university, and for the state, various efforts to remove the
medical school to the neighboring city of Detroit have never been
permitted to succeed, and the school remains at Ann Arbor, where
it has developed for itself adequate clinics for instruction with an
abundance of clinical material, and, incidentally has furnished a
striking example of university state medicine. The evolution has
been a most interesting one. The university hospital is not, and
has never been a charity hospital; it has but a few free beds, and

Centennial Memorial Volume 161

these have not been furnished by the state. It has offered its
services — those of a well-trained group of teaching clinicians — at
a low or moderate cost — to the citizens of the state, who had not
the means to pay the regular charges for such services, or who were
sent for consultation to the hospital by any practitioner of the state.
As a concession to the profession of the state, the university hos-
pital was not made available to the well-to-do or the rich of Michi-
gan, except as the physician of such patients desired to send them
there for aid in diagnosis or treatment. In addition to the service
rendered the poorer citizens of the state, the hospital thus became
used as a consulting center. As the service rendered to the state
came gradually to be appreciated by the citizens, various bills were
passed by the state legislature, with the effect not only of increasing
the clinical mateiial available for instiuction, but also of empha-
sizing the hospital's social service to the state. One of these public
acts, passed in 1913, provided for the medical and surgical treat-
ment at the university hospital of any child deformed, or afflicted
with a malady that can be remedied, and whose parents are unable
to provide proper treatment, such child to be sent to the hospital
thru the probate judge of the county, the expenses of such treat-
ment to be audited by the auditor-general, and paid by the state
to the university. In 1915, another act provided free hospital
service, and medical and surgical treatment to any adult legal
resident of any county who can be benefited, and who is unable to
pay for such care and treatment, as well as for the care of any
pregnant woman unable to pay, and for the children of such during
the period of hospital care, under a similar probate court jurisdic-
tion, and payment of the hospital expenses by the state or county.

The result of the social service thus rendered to the state of
Michigan by its university hospital has been a greatly increased
appreciation of this service by the citizens, and a growing tendency
toward a further development of this form of state medicine. The
hospital facilities becoming inadequate, the last legislature was
asked for a new and adequate building, the entire cost to be ex-
tended over a number of years in divided grants. In place of the
smaller sum asked for, an immediate grant of one million dollars
was voluntarily offered and given, the sentiment in the legislature
being for an extension of the services rendered by the hospital. In
the history of state university requests and legislative grants, when
did the like occur before? Such an event certainly marks a new
era.

One form of state medicine — the state university hospital — has,

162 Indiana University

therefore, shown itself practical and worthy. It has won the con-
fidence of the citizens of the state to such an extent that it is now
entering upon a new stage of progiess. The two chief clinical
departments, medicine and surgery, have been put upon a full-time
basis, with salaried clinicians working for the hospital alone. The
rich, as well as the poor, are to be treated equally, the compensa-
tion to be adjusted to ability to pay; the hospital, itself, is to be-
come commercial to the extent of paying its way from the income
received. This stage of development is still experimental; the
outcome will be watched with great interest by all other medical
schools, particularly those of the state universities. Iowa has
already followed Michigan to the extent of copying the laws above
mentioned, furnishing clinical material to the state university
hospital. Upon the success of Michigan's new venture will depend
the action of other schools. It is evident that new problems are
involved in the new scheme. Under the old plan of half-time
clinicians engaged also in private practice, the private hospital
grew up for the accommodation of the well-to-do excluded by law
from the state hospital, but who desired the services of the same
body of clinicians. Under the new system these parasitic institu-
tions must pass away. Will the old commercialism, however, be
replaced by another form, even more dangerous to medical teach-
ing and research than the divided interests of the old situation?
In any scheme contemplating a division of profits such a danger is
a very real one; but with a fixed salary basis it could not exist.
Undoubtedly the right men for this work are those who would
welcome a fixed adequate salary, with the added opportunities
for teaching and research.

In closing, some form of state medicine seems inevitable. I
believe that the safest form would be, what I have attempted to
outline above, a system of state hospitals, or a hospital, controlled
by what should be the most enlightened body of medical meri in
the state — the faculty of the state university medical school — in
other words, a state university medicine. What Michigan has
accomplished in this direction is also possible for Indiana University
and your Medical School. Such an institution in Indiana will do
what it has done for the University of Michigan, it will bring the
citizens of the state into a closer relation with the University, it
will make them more sympathetic with its needs, lessen opposition
to increased taxation and greater budgets, and make for greater
understanding and appreciation of all the functions of the Univer-
sity.

GRADUATE MEDICAL EDUCATION:

EXPERIENCE WITH THE

MINNESOTA PLAN

Elias Potter Lyon was born at Cambria, Michigan, October 20, 1867. He
received the B.S. degree at Hillsdale College in 1891, and the A.B. in 1892; the
Ph.D. at the University of Chicago, 1897; the honorary M.D. at St. Louis Uni-
versity in 1910; the LL.D., St. Louis University, 1920. Dr. Lyon became an
instructor in Hillsdale College in 1890, where he remained for two years, going
from there to the Harvard School, of Chicago. From 1897 to 1900 he was in the
Bradley Polytechnic Institute at Peoria, 111. He became assistant professor in
Rush Medical College in 1900, which position he held for four years. From 1901
to 1904 he was also assistant professor of physiology and assistant dean in the
University of Chicago. In 1904 he became professor of physiology in St. Louis
University Medical School, where be became dean in 1907. Since 1913 he
has been professor of physiology and dean of the University of Minnesota Medi-
cal School. Dr. Lyon was biologist in the Cook Greenland Expedition in 1894,
and investigator for the United States Bureau of Fisheries from 1908 to 1911.
He was a member of the staff of the Marine Biological Laboratory for ten years.
He is a fellow in the American Association for the Advancement of Science, a
member of the American Physiological Society, of the Society of Naturalists, and
of the Society for Experimental Biology and Medicine; he was president of the
Association of American Medical Colleges, 1913-14. He is a contributor to the
American Journal of Physiology and other biological publications.

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GRADUATE MEDICAL EDUCATION:

EXPERIENCE WITH THE

MINNESOTA PLAN

By ELIAS POTTER LYON

MEDICAL SPECIALISM is indispensable and the training of special-
ists is of vital importance, alike to the medical profession, to the
general public, and to the state. I propose to discuss the question
of the education of specialists in general, and then tell you what we
are doing as regards the education of medical specialists at the
University of Minnesota.

Let us note first how specialists are trained and tagged in some
other professions.

Consider first the profession of college teaching. If you exam-
ine the faculty list of any of our great colleges, you find that most
of the professors have the letters Ph.D. following their names.
Others are masters of arts or science. There are doctors of phil-
osophy in chemistry, physics, and the other natural sciences; in
history, economics, sociology; in language and literature. Just
what does this degree mean?

First, you may be sure that in almost all cases the Ph.D, is an
earned degree.

Second, you may be certain that before he started to earn his
Ph.D. the student had a fair preparation, as evidenced by a bach-
elor's degree.

Third, the Ph.D. means that the possessor worked for three
years or more on the particular subject for which the Ph.D. was
awarded. It means that he also acquired a thoro working know-
ledge of related subjects. If he is a Ph.D. in chemistry he did
considerable work in mathematics and physics, because without
these he cannot know chemistry. The Ph.D. indicates, to use our
familiar medical word, that the holder is a "specialist" in some field
of knowledge.

Fourth, the Ph.D. connotes something which is of special
interest to this audience because there is a feeling among doctors
of medicine against the word "philosophy". They think that the
Ph.D. implies impractical theorizing, a detachment from the world
and the world's affairs. Some men, it is true, may be impractical
and detached, but it is not their degrees that make them so. On

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166 Indiana University

the contrary, the possession of the Ph.D. (and this is the fourth
point referred to), implies the possession of the technique of the
branch of knowledge for which the degree was conferred. This is
quite apparent if we take such a science as chemistry, where
acquaintance with the methods is indispensable. A man must know
how to use the methods, else he is not a chemist. But there is just
as truly a technic of history, a technic of mathematics, a technic of
archaeology.

Fifth, the Ph.D. implies that the possessor has done at least
one piece of creditable research, his doctoral thesis. This again
implies that he is familiar with some of the original literature, knows
how to work in a library, and has developed some critical judgment.

Sixth, the Ph.D. placed after the name of one of your faculty
implies that some university thru its responsible experts has certi-
fied to all of the foregoing. Naturally these experts have found
it necessary to subject the candidate to some sort of examination
before such certification. Thoro written and oral examinations
before faculty committees constitute the ordinary mechanism for
the purpose.

Naturally, your University in selecting a professor or instructor
cannot look upon the degree alone as sufficient qualification for
appointment, but at least the degree is a mark of serious prepara-
tion in some given specialty. And the graduate school which con-
ferred the degree is an organization for the education of specialists.

The Minnesota idea or experiment is merely that the mechan-
ism of the graduate school can be used to instruct, standardize,
and certify medical specialists exactly as well as scientific and
literary specialists. It can give them thoro knowledge ; it can give
them technical experience ; it can start them on the road to research.

Some medical men may be inclined to think that the only diag-
nosis a doctor of philosophy in a teaching position is able to make
is a diagnosis of ignorance ; and that his only prescription is a dose
of mathematics or chemistry or Latin — as the case may be. That
his only death certificates are flunk notices; and that, finally, he is
engaged in a despicable form of contract practice for a starvation
salary. However, most of you on a little more reflection will
admit that in the crisis of war the university scholar was able to
extend expert service to the nation; that in the present condition
of society his diagnosis and suggestions should be sought ; and that
the present drain of college professors into business and industry
indicates that their specialized training and knowledge are valuable
in the world of affairs.

Centennial Memorial Volume 167

The truth is that what the world needs is productive scholarship
as exemplified by men who can grapple new situations, men with a
broader training than that obtained in the ordinary college or in
the experience of business, manufacturing enterprises, or industrial
processes. The graduate school selects, trains, and certifies such
scholars. No institution of learning is really a university unless it
supports an active graduate school where research and the training
of investigators are the primary aims.

If we turn now to agriculture, which as a profession is based,
like medicine, on applied science, we find that quite generally the
certification of experts has taken the same form as that described
for the expert in language, literature, or science. Doctor's and
master's degrees are given in university graduate schools in such
subjects as soil chemistry, animal husbandry, and plant pathology.
The holders of such degrees occupy in large measure the prominent
positions in college work, government experiment stations, and
private highly organized agricultural enterprises. In a con-
siderable number of cases they establish offices for themselves and
offer their services to the public on a fee basis exactly as do doctors
of medicine. I know a man who is a doctor of curative and pre-
ventive medicine for timber. Lumber men consult him with
reference to tree diseases, and railroads call him to "cure" their
ties and bridge beams. He tells them what "medicine" to use in
particular situations, and they actually speak of this as timber
"treatment".

In engineering, specialization begins in the undergraduate
course. A man graduates as a civil, mechanical, electrical, mining,
or chemical engineer. This is safe and practicable in engineering
because the young engineer is not likely to assume any heavy
responsibility. On the contrary, the young doctor's first case may
be a life or death affair.

Quite in harmony with what we should expect, there is little
real graduate work in engineering and little research in engineer ing
schools. The same thing is true of law, in which self-made specialism
is also the rule. It seems to me, therefore, that we in medicine
should take our cue for graduate work from the sciences and agri-
culture, rather than from engineering and law.

I shall now try to make clear exactly how the University of
Minnesota has adjusted the ideals and machinery of the graduate
school to train medical specialists.

The graduate school is the division of the university which o^'1
instruction in advance of the bachelor degree. It is conse*uent v

168 Jn (liana University

the division chiefly concerned with research and with the training
of investigators and specialists of all kinds. The dean of the
graduate school is Professor Guy Stanton Ford, head of the depart-
ment of history. The school has an executive committee repre-
senting the great groups of subjects, such as social science, natural
science, medicine, and agriculture. It has a faculty consisting of
those men in all departments of the university who have been
chosen by the dean and executive committee as fitted to give ad-
vanced instruction and to train research students. The Mayo
Foundation for Medical Education and Research is a part of the
graduate school, and certain of its members are on the graduate
school faculty. Similarly, certain members of the faculty of the
medical school are members of the graduate school faculty. But
membership in the medical faculty does not necessarily give mem-
bership on the graduate faculty.

All graduate work is conducted under general rules prescribed
by the graduate faculty, but the detailed control of each great
branch is under a special committee; for example, the committee
for agriculture and the committee for medicine. The latter com-
mittee consists of the president of the university, the deans of the
graduate and medical schools, Director Louis B. Wilson of the
Mayo Foundation, Professors J. P. Sedgwick, C. M. Jackson, J. C.
Litzenberg, and L. G. Rowntree of the medical school, and D. C.
Balfour, W. F. Braasch, and M. S. Henderson of the Mayo Foun-
dation. The committee, which is organized as two subcommittees
located respectively at Minneapolis and Rochester, is the immediate
administrative body for all graduate work in medicine and makes
recommendations to the dean and executive committee of the
graduate school, and thru them to the board of regents, on the
appointment of fellows, the appointment of members of the grad-
uate faculty, the conferring of degrees, etc. Particulaily this
committee is charged with recommending the annual budget of
the Mayo Foundation.

Under this organization a student may work for the degree
master of science or the degree doctor of philosophy in any of the
pre-clinical sciences such as anatomy or pathology, or in any of the
clinical branches. For admission to graduate work in the sciences
a bachelor's degree is required; for work in the clinical branches the
M.D. degree from a "Class A" school and a year of interneship are
required, in addition to the bachelor's degree or its equivalent.

Many of the graduate medical students, but not all, hold
fellowships. By this is meant that they receive small annual

Centennial Memorial Volume 1GO

salaries and are expected to give a certain amount of service. At
Minneapolis the fellows assist in the clinics, or in teaching medical
students, or in the conduct of the University Health Service. The
Burch Fellow assists at Dr. Burch's office. There is a new fellow-
ship in tuberculosis supported by the Hennepin County Anti-
Tuberculosis Committee. We hope to see a large number of such
fellowships gradually developed as endowments or more temporary
gifts. At Rochester the fellows are assistants in the Mayo Clinic,
St. Mary's Hospital, and the various laboratories.

Educationally the service, whether teaching or assisting, is
valuable, because it contributes to the students' knowledge and
power. Economically the system of fellowships finds indorsement
in the fact that few men are able financially to undertake a long
graduate course after the six years of the regular medical course
and the year of unpaid interneship. It is not essential to the plan,
however, that all graduate students hold fellowships. Some pay
their own way and carry on their studies without obligation of
service.

All graduate teaching is essentially individual. There are few
classes; few required lectures. Every student is under a faculty
advisor who is responsible for making out the student's program
from year to year. Every student selects his major subject and
also a minor or supporting subject. For example, major in path-
ology and minor in anatomy; or major in pediatrics and minor in
biochemistry. The student's advisor must see that the student
gets thoro, all-round training in his major, a fair knowledge of his
minor; and also sufficient acquaintance with any other work which
may be fundamental to either major or minor. At the beginning
of the second year's work each candidate for the Ph.D. is required
to submit, with the approval of his advisor, a tentative program
for his entire course, which requires the approval of the graduate
medical committee.

The primary purpose of the graduate school is to make produc-
tive scholars. Productive scholars must be able to earn a living;
consequently they must be trained as skilled specialists in practical
technical fields. Really tjiese are two aspects of the same job
which the graduate school must do. The training of scholars takes
time; hence the rule requiring at least two or three years for an
advanced clinical degree. A scholar must be familiar with the
literature of his specialty; hence the requirement of a reading
knowledge of French and German. The test of productive scholar-
ship is original investigation; hence a thesis involving new facts in

170 Indiana University

some phase of the major subject is required. The certification
of advanced scholarship is a serious responsibility; hence the
graduate school demands searching written and oral examinations
of all candidates for the Ph.D. degree. For the master's degree in
the clinical branches we expect as thoro training in diagnosis and
other technical procedures as for the Ph.D. degree. But the thesis
and the final examinations are not so exacting.

These in general are the requirements. They are quite different
from those of an undergraduate college. There is no hand feeding,
no formal reciting, no prescribed lessons, no reporting of absences,
no routine laboratory exercises. The essential environment con-
sists of libraries, laboratories, and clinical material, with competent
supervision — and, above all, criticism. The student with his
advisor as a guide is turned loose to educate himself. Mostly he
learns by doing, which is the natural way. If he has stuff in him,
he arrives. If he is only an imitator or absorber or bluffer, he shows
what he is.

In the winter quarter, the University of Minnesota had 169
graduate students in medicine who were candidates for higher
degrees, 37 of whom were at Minneapolis and 132 at Rochester.
There were also 23 graduate students at Rochester and a few at
Minneapolis who were not candidates, for advanced degrees. This
is the largest number of strictly graduate medical students any-
where. About 20 will come up for degrees at the coming commence-
ment. The student body is of a high order. There are many more
applicants than available places, particularly in surgery, urology,
pediatrics, and oto-laryngology.

Now, if you have followed this hasty sketch you will see that
in a sense every medical school and every good hospital is a center
of graduate work. There are assistants in the laboratories and
clinics who render service and receive in many cases small salaries,
but who are there primarily to learn. However, you who are
teachers do not usually think of these men as students. You
assume no responsibility for their education. You do not lay out
definite work for them; especially you do not look to their training
in the fundamental sciences. You may favor research, but few
feel it their duty to insist upon it as part of the training of assistants.
Your institution takes no responsibility for these men; does not
acknowledge them, when they leave you, as alumni. Many of
them go out well trained, but you have no standards which they
may set before themselves and which you may enforce. There is
no goal to be striven for. There is no certification of quality which

Centennial Memorial Volume 171

either the man can value or the public can rely upon. It is just in
these particulars that we believe the Minnesota plan of supervised,
formal education to be superior to the hit-or-miss method under
which most specialists in this country — practically all, indeed,
worthy of the name — gained their right to that title of distinction.
To accomplish our purpose we have to arrange matters that
would not be thought of unless we had in mind the ends to be
attained. We know that good training in the laboratory branches
is essential, and that the undergraduate medical student gets only
the elements of these subjects. We have to arrange that the grad-
uate students shall have time for such work; that materials and a
place to work are provided; that instructors are at hand when
needed. At all times about twenty-five graduate students, many
of whom are majoring in clinical branches, are at work in the
department of anatomy. More are in pathology; some are in
biochemistry. The department of physiology gives advanced
work in optics for students of ophthalmology, and so on. This
adds work, but also interest and enthusiasm to our laboratory
departments.

Then there is the thesis, required for reasons already set forth,
and highly valued in our scheme of graduate medical education. A
student cannot do research if he is kept busy all day examining
patients. We have to arrange time for research. At the Mayo
Foundation the fellows are on a "double shift". One group works
in the clinic mornings and the other afternoons. Every man has
several hours each day for work in the laboratories and for seminars,
demonstrations, reading, etc. At Minneapolis our system is less
formal, but we see to it that ample time is provided for these pur-
poses. You must do this if you wish to produce a scholar rather
than a technician.

Our motto that these men are students and not employees or
assistants or servants is kept always before us in considering their
welfare. One of the Pediatrics' fellows is now in New York for
some special study. His stipend goes on. Dr. Jackson tells me
he recently found one of the Mayo fellows in the Surgeon-General's
library digging away on his thesis bibliography. His expenses were
being paid by the Mayo Foundation.

In clinical training, also, supervision is exercised. In surgery
care is taken that operative skill is not put before diagnostic ability.
In medicine, the comparative study of complete histories of cases in
large groups and the laboratory side are insisted upon. In pedi-
atrics, experience in contagious diseases is required. Just now one

372 Indiana University

of the Pediatrics' fellows is serving as resident in contagious diseases
at the Minneapolis General Hospital, and the university continues
his stipend. Another is to go there as resident in medicine.

In our opinion it is the graduate school with its definite require-
ments and rigid rules which influences students and faculty alike
toward concrete ends well thought out in advance. One has but
to note the responsibility which the professor feels for his graduate
students and the pride he exhibits over their achievements in order
to be convinced of the advantages of our plan of organization.
Once a quarter at Rochester each student is graded by his advisor
and other instructors on the basis of their personal knowledge.
This tends to a feeling of responsibility on the part of instructors
and creates a constantly critical as well as helpful attitude.

The University of Minnesota began the plan of graduate medi-
cal teaching six years ago. The Mayo Foundation became part
of the university five years ago. The first degrees were confeired
three years ago. The war interfered with our work, but the fol-
lowing list gives the names and thesis subjects of the men graduated
in clinical branches during the past three years:

G. L. McWhorter, Ph.D. (surgery): "Some Clinical and Experi-
mental Observations on Gastric Acidity".

Rood Taylor, Ph.D. (pediatrics): "Hunger in Infants".

H. W. Woltmann, Ph.D. (neurology): "The Brain Changes
associated with Pernicious Anemia".

R. E. Morris, Ph.D. (medicine): "The Graphic Recording of
Reflexes, Clonus, and Tremors".

E. L. Crispin, M.S. (medicine): "Clinical Studies in Abdominal
Disorders".

F. B. McMahon, M.S. (surgery): "Primary Pulmonary Carci-
noma and Its Roentgen Diagnosis".

H. W. Meyerding, M.S. (orthopedic surgery): "Cystic and Fibro-
cystic Disease of the Long Bones".

A. W. Adson, M.S. (surgery) : "Experimental and Clinical Results
of Nerve Anastomoses".

V. C. Hunt, M.S. (surgery): "Torsion of Appendices Epiploicae".

F. A. Olson, M.S. (surgery): "A Study of the Roentgenographic
Findings in Renal Tuberculosis".

J. de J. Pemberton, M.S. (surgery): "Blood Transfusion".

C. E. Nixon, M.S. (neurology): "The Pathogenesis of the Lesions
of the Nervous System found in Cases of Pernicious Anemia".

Carleton Dederer, M.S. (surgery): "Transplantation of the Kid-
ney and Ovary".

Centennial Memorial Volume 173

«
E. J. Horgan, M.S. (surgery): "The Histogenesis of Carcinoma in

the Islets of the Pancreas".

I. W. McDowell, M.S. (surgery) : "Cancer of the Stomach".
W. O. Ott, M.S. (surgery): "Surgical Aneurysms".
W. J. Tucker, M.S. (surgery) : "Infections of the Kidney".
T. B. Reeves, M.S. (surgery) : "A Study of the Arteries Supplying

the Stomach and Duodenum and their Relation to Ulcer".
E. H. Weld, M.S. (surgery): "Renal Absorption with Particular

Reference to Pyelographic Mediums".
J. L. Butsch, Ph.D. (surgery): "Ulcers of the Gastro- Intestinal

Tract with Special Reference to Gastro- Jejunal Ulcers".
L. W. Barry, Ph.D. (obstetrics and gynecology): "The Effects of

Inanition in the Pregnant Albino Rat with Special Reference

to the Changes in the Relative Weights of the Various Parts,

Systems, and Organs of the Offspring".

"Not a very formidable list", you may say. But they are all
good men. Five of them are now on our medical faculty. One is
on the Rush Medical Faculty. Several are on the staff of the Mayo
Clinic. -When other universities begin to call men of this type of
training to their chairs, we shall have medical faculties which are
more than selected representatives of the local practitioners. Our
medical faculties like our arts and science faculties will be cosmo-
politan bodies of produclive scholars.

Perhaps we may even solve the perplexing problem of the full-
time teacher in the clinical branches by creating a race of doctors
interested in the pursuit of science and in the academic life! This
may be a vain dream, but during our long polar winters in Minne-
sota it is pleasant to dream.

However, we naturally expect that most of our graduates will
go into special practice. We think they are prepared. They may
not, at graduation, have had as much clinical experience as those
who spend an equal time as assistants in a big clinic. But we
believe that the better foundation in science and theory, the stim-
ulus of systematic study, and the experience in research more than
counterbalance. We know that the practitioner will be in contact
with cases all his life; with teaching laboratories, perhaps never
again.

Now the reaction of some of you to what I am saying may be
somewhat like this: "Oh, this is a fine scheme. But it must take
a lot of money. A rich university like Minnesota can carry it out,
but we could not." That's just where you make a mistake.

174 Indiana University

The University of Minnesota is not rich. It is true that we
have the splendid facilities of the Mayo Foundation. But without
that and without more money than the Medical School needs for
undergraduate teaching, we could do something worth while.

Every major university has a graduate school. Probably your
laboratory departments of the medical school are already part of it.
You have but to organize your clinical departments in relation to
the graduate school, lay out your courses of study, enroll your
instructors, residents, and other existing clinical assistants as
students, and think of them and treat them primarily as students.
As soon as you create this atmosphere for faculty and students
alike, you will have a graduate school of medicine on the Minne-
sota model. On account of the informal nature of the instructio n
and the use of existing facilities, the expense will be slightly, if an y,
greater. We believe it .will pay you to consider this subject.

Naturally the question arises whether the universities of the
country could supply the need for specialists if all were to be
trained as I have outlined. Can we expect that at some time an
advanced degree will be the universal title to specialism?

The committee on graduate work of the Council on Medical
Education has recently reported, thru its chairman, Dr. Louis B.
Wilson, that there are above 2,000 assistantships, residencies, etc.,
in the "Class A" medical schools. This would be a considerable
body of students if organized and instructed as our plan demands.
It is from this body that specialists have been and are chiefly
recruited. But is this number adequate?

Dr. Wilson's figures show 235 such places in ophthalmology and
oto-laryngology. However, Dr. Edward Jackson, of Denver, has
estimated that this country needs 10,000 ophthalmologists — one to
10,000 population — and that 400 new ones will be required each
year. I think it will be agreed that the existing clinical facilities
of medical schools would not properly train such a number. But
does that mean that the universities should not attempt to meet
the need nor contribute the great weight of their influence as
examining and standardizing institutions? I think not.

In the first place, the universities constitute the only place
where training in the science laboratories can be obtained. They
must hold out the necessity of such training for specialists and pre-
pare themselves to offer it. The medical teachers, both laboratory
and clinical, must stand ready to supervise research, approve theses,
and offer final examinations. As for clinical training, it matters
little where it is obtained, provided it is good; and the graduate

Centennial Memorial Volume 175

school is broad-minded in the matter of in absentia study. I offer
the suggestion that, gradually, strong clinics all over the country
may become affiliated with graduate schools, and their assistant-
ships take the form of fellowships under the Minnesota plan. The
university, of course, must assume the responsibility for the ade-
quacy of the instruction and for the final certification of the student.
But I believe this is a legitimate function of a university which
less and less will be a cloister, and more and more a part of the
world. Such a plan, universally carried out, would at length make
the universities the training camps for medical specialism, just as
they are now for pure science.

We are, perhaps, about to take a significant step in this direc-
tion at Minnesota. The chief of our department of ophthalmology
and oto-laryngology, Dr. W. R. Murray, has outlined a one-year
course in laboratory and theoretical work for prospective specialists
in his field. Very little clinical work would be included, the students
being expected to get that later in special clinics or hospitals for
eye, ear, nose, and throat. No degree or certificate would be given
for the one-year course; but one has but to imagine a student, after
this year, securing the privilege of in absentia registration in an
approved clinic, selecting a topic for research and carrying it to
completion in a satisfactory manner, and finally passing satisfac-
tory examinations in accordance with the rules of the graduate
school in order to obtain a degree from the University of Minne-
sota. It is not at all impossible that this may happen in partic-
ular instances. Personally, I hope it will happen.

You will note that I have said nothing of short courses nor of
the so-called postgraduate schools existing apart from universities.
The Committee of the Council of Medical Education, already
referred to, has recently visited all such schools; and you are
referred to the excellent report about to be published. Suffice it
that these schools chiefly supply continuation courses for general
practitioners and extension courses for men already partially trained
in a clinical specialty. "Few [postgraduate] schools attempt to give
complete special preparation for practice in limited clinical fields."

That there is need of opportunities for practitioners to obtain
additional training in short courses there can be no doubt. But I
cannot see how medical schools with undergraduate classes can
supply this need. What is required for the practitioner on vaca-
tion is well organized class instruction for small groups, with ample
clinical material for illustrative purposes. The undergraduate
medical school can fit long-term graduate students into its organi-

176 Indiana University

zation as assistants and teaching fellows to the actual strengthen-
ing of undergraduate teaching. But it cannot admit groups of
short-time students in any such way. The medical school may
admit physicians to regular classes and clinics and to its laboratories.
It may organize summer courses, but it can hardly be expected to
do more.

My notion is, therefore, that the short courses for practitioners
should be developed in special schools organized for the purpose. I
do not like the name "postgraduate", and perhaps a better one can
be found. In the great cities there are hospital facilities not used
for undergraduate medical instruction. They ought to be used for
practitioner courses. The important question is organization and
staff. As long as only fees are available, the best results are far
away.

I would like to be turned loose in New York with a free hand
and five million dollars of endowment. I would organize short
courses for practitioners with competent paid instructors. I would
tie up the school with the extension department of some university,
for there is where short-course instruction belongs. But I would
have all my full-time assistants enroll in the graduate school under
the Minnesota plan. With this two-edged sword I should expect
to make some havoc with hydra-headed ignorance. But this
again is a cold-storage dream, which we will now carefully place
next to the ammonia coils in the archives of this meeting. Perhaps
fifty years from now someone may bring it out and say "what a
good suggestion that is, and in such a good state of preservation!"

Having wound up and run down, it only remains to stop. I shall
be satisfied if I can strike twelve before the pendulum ceases to
swing.

1. Specialism is a necessary and permanent part of medicine.

2. The education of specialists is very important.

3. All prospective specialists need further training in the
laboratory sciences.

4. All prospective specialists should learn the history and
literature of their field.

5. All prospective specialists should learn research methods.

6. As many specialists as possible should be competent and
continuous contributors to the specialty.

7. Every medical specialist should be a competent clinician.

8. The university is the best organization for giving these
various sorts of training.

Centennial Memorial Volume 177

9. The university should standardize, supervise, and certify,
with appropriate degrees, this training.

10. The graduate school was organized for just this purpose,
so far as science and language are concerned.

11. The training of medical specialists under the graduate
school organizalion and ideals is the Minnesota plan.

12. The Minnesota plan works.

THE THOMAS JEFFERSON THEORY OF
EDUCATION

Samuel Moffett Ralston was born in Tuscarawas county, Ohio, December 1
1857, and is a graduate of the Central Indiana Normal College (Danville). He
was admitted to the Indiana bar in 1886, and practiced at Lebanon until he
became governor of Indiana on the Democratic ticket in 1913. During Gov-
ernor Ralston's administration the levy for the state educational institution
fund was raised from two and three-fourths cents on the hundred dollars to
seven cents. Of this amount Indiana University received by this act two and
four-fifths cents, instead of one cent, on each hundred dollars of taxable property.
(The General Assembly of 1921 passed an act which changes these provisions
to a certain extent.) Since 1917 Mr. Ralston has practiced law in Indianapolis.

(179)

THE THOMAS JEFFERSON THEORY OF
EDUCATION

By SAMUEL MOFFETT RALSTON

THOMAS JEFFERSON was an advocate of the popular will. This
is another way of saying that he stood for the rule of the people.
To the outside world, as well as to the citizenship of the American
Republic, no other man in this country represents, in so high a
degree, faith in the masses as does Jefferson. He was born an
aristocrat, yet he was thru and thru a commoner. Instances can
be cited of men born in the humblest walks of life who afterwards
became aristocrats. Argument does not have to be addressed to a
thorogoing American to convince him that men of the former class
are immeasurably superior as citizens of this country to those of
the latter class. This is necessarily true, else the theory of our
government is false.

Jefferson's devotion to the interest — the common interest — of
all the people is seen underlying every great measure he ever advo-
cated. In his first draft of the Declaration of American Inde-
pendence he showed his abhorence of human slavery, altho his senti-
ments as expressed were not retained in the Declaration as finally
adopted. Long before any of his contemporaries saw the evil of
the system^ he declared in opposition to a measure of the Virginia
legislature, which did not contain an emancipation provision:

What a stupendous, what an incomprehensible machine is man, who can
endure toil, famine, strifes, imprisonment, and death itself, in vindication of his
own liberty, and, the next moment, be deaf to all those motives whose power sup-
ported him through his trial, and inflict on his fellow men a bondage, one hour
of which is fraught with more misery than ages of that which he rose in rebellion
to oppose.

Lincoln believed, however, that the Declaration of Independence
as it came from the pen of Jefferson, with its slight modifications,
was broad enough to embrace all men of whatsoever color, for in
his opposition to the spread of slavery he made this reference to
Jefferson and the Declaration of Independence:

All honor to Jefferson, to the men who, in concrete pressure of a struggle
for national independence by a single people had the coolness, forecast and
capacity to introduce into a mere revolutionary document an abstract truth,
applicable to all men in all times, and so to embalm it there that today and in
all days to come it shall be a rebuke and a stumbling block to the very harbinger
of reappearing tyranny and oppression.

(181)

182 Indiana University

If the great emancipator were living today, he would doubt-
less not be offended at the promulgation of truths "applicable to
all men in all times" and designed to broaden the sweep of civili-
zation and to keep the world at peace.

The references I have thus made to Jefferson are quite sufficient
to show that he would not have been true to his nature or loyal
to his conception of truth and the underlying principles of our
government if he had not been an advocate of an educational system
broad enough to embrace all the people. He was such an advocate
and a very effective one.

Considering the times in which and the conditions under which
Jefferson lived, I doubt if this country has produced a man whose
contribution to the cause of education has equaled his, and yet
our educators and schools of today are giving him but little, if any,
credit for his labors in this field of public service.

Last Saturday I examined one of the latest encyclopedias and
six other separate volumes on the subject of education and I found
a reference in only one of these connecting Jefferson's name with
that subject. That reference was this quotation from him on the
relation of democracy to education:

There are two subjects, which I claim a right to further, as long as I breathe,
the public education and the subdivision of counties into wards. I consider the
continuance of republican government as absolutely hanging on these two hooks.

WILLIAM AND MARY COLLEGE

Jefferson was an alumnus of William and Mary College. He
was always strongly attached to his Alma Mater, but he did not
think it was pursuing as broad lines as in justice to itself and the
the public it should adopt. Holding these views, he first attracted
attention to his interest in education when, in 1776, he proposed a
revision of the curriculum of this institution with striking innova-
tions :

1. A chair of modern languages — and among modern lan-
guages he included Anglo-Saxon, which he truly urged was simply
"old English".

2. In the foundation of this school, provision was made for a
school for Indian boys. Jefferson proposed as a substitute for this

the appointment of a missionary who should visit the Indian tribes and investi-
gate their laws, customs, religions, traditions, and more particularly their lan-
guages, constructing grammars thereof, as well as may be, and copious vocabu-
laries.

Centennial Memorial Volume

183

The work he sought to have undertaken in 1776 by this insti-
tution of learning was entered upon a hundred years afterwards
by the Bureau of Ethnology. If it had been started in Jefferson's
time, we might now know a great deal that is hopelessly lost. The
suggestion of the study of Anglo-Saxon, which Jefferson always
insisted on, and which is now adopted in various colleges, was the
first made in this country.

BILL FOR DIFFUSION OF KNOWLEDGE

It was three years subsequent to his attempt to change the
curriculum of his Alma Mater that he first attracted in a broad
sense public attention to his passion for an educated citizenship.
This he did by introducing in 1779 in the Legislature of Virginia
"A Bill for the More General Diffusion of Knowledge". He was
then but thirty-three years old and had never been overseas to get
any of his ideas from foreign countries. The preamble to this
measure set forth most lucidly, and, I think most eloquently, Jef-
ferson's reason for believing that the happiness of mankind depends
upon a system of education broad and rational enough to afford the
people the means of enlightenment. I quote a part of it :

And whereas it is generally true that that people will be happiest whose laws are
best, and are best administered, and that laws will be wisely formed, and honestly
administered, in proportion as those who form and administer them are wise and
honest; whence it becomes expedient for promoting the public happiness that
those persons, whom nature hath endowed with genius and virtue, should be
rendered by liberal education worthy to receive, and able to guard the sacred
deposits of the rights and liberties of their fellow citizens, and that they should be
called to that charge without regard to wealth, birth or other accidental condition
or circumstance; but the indigence of the greater number disabling them from so
educating, at their own expence, those of their children whom nature hath fitly
formed and disposed to become useful instruments for the public, it is better that
such should be sought for and educated at the common expence of all, than that
the happiness of all should be confined to the weak or wicked.

Under this law the qualified voters of every county were required
to choose annually three of the most honest and able men of their
county as aldermen, whose duty it was to divide their county
into hundreds, an English term, regulating the size thereof so
that they would

contain a convenient number of children to make up a school, and be of such
convenient size that all the children within each hundred may daily attend the
school to be established therein.

In this provision is seen the principle of local self-government.
This law set forth the branches that should be taught in these

184 Indiana University

schools. They were reading, writing, and common arithmetic.
Jefferson was always partial to a study of history. He appreciated
keenly the great advantages to be derived from a study thereof,
but in establishing his system of education he was fought at every
turn by those who were opposed to being taxed for popular educa-
tion. It behooved him, therefore, to devise a system that would
enable children attending the primary schools to acquire therein
all the knowledge possible. So he wisely provided that instruction
in reading should be given from books that would impart a know-
ledge of Grecian, Roman, English, and American history. Not a
bad idea to be followed today and it is now, I am glad to see, in a
measure being adopted.

All free children of both sexes were entitled to receive these
educational advantages free of charge for three years, and beyond
this period, at their own expense, if they or those over them chose.
This provision for the coeducation of boys and girls preceded by
ten years the time when Boston first allowed girls to attend her
public schools. How the ears of this "hub" of culture could be
made to burn by comment on this fact at a suffragist meeting.

SCHOOL SUPERVISION

Jefferson was far-sighted enough to see that even a law creating
an educational system for all the people would result in but very
little good to the public unless it was wisely operated. He, there-
fore, made provision for a supervision of these local institutions
on which we have made but little, if any, improvements. Under
this law

Over every ten of these schools .... an overseer shall be appointed
annually by the aldermen at their first meeting, eminent for his learning, integrity,
and fidelity to the commonwealth, whose business and duty it shall be, from time
to time, to appoint a teacher to teach school, who shall give assurance of fidelity
to the commonwealth, and to remove him as he shall see cause; to visit every
school once in every half year at -the least; to examine the scholars; see that any
general plan of reading and instruction recommended by the visiters of William
and Mary College shall be observed ; and to superintend the conduct of the teacher
in everything relative to his school.

The standard for measuring an overseer of these primary schools
on the mountain sides and in the valleys of the Old Dominion was
certainly as exacting as are the qualifications we require for our
county superintendents. The overseer was to be a man eminent
for his learning. Certainly we are not demanding anything beyond
this in our school superintendents in that respect. He also had

Centennial Memorial Volume 185

to be "eminent for his fidelity to the commonwealth". We make no
such requirement of our superintendents today.

"Fidelity to the commonwealth" is a happy and most suggestive
phrase. When we induct a man into public office we have him to
take an oath to support the Constitution of the United States and
the constitution of Indiana, but we are nevfcr over-scrutinizing
as to what the facts show as to his fidelity to the commonwealth.
Under Jefferson's plan "fidelity" was also a qualification for a
primary teacher. He believed that the virtues of a state should be
reflected by the mind and heart of an instructor, and that unless
they were he was not a safe guide for children.

GRAMMAR SCHOOLS

Jefferson's scheme as set forth in the bill we are discussing
created grammar schools in which there were to be taught the Latin
and Greek languages, English grammar, geography, and the higher
part of numerical arithmetic, that is, vulgar and decimal fractions
and the extraction of the square and cube roots.

It is interesting to note the equipment that was to be provided
for these schools. The buildings were to be of brick or stone;
offices were to be placed on the school grounds. The grammar
school was to contain a room for the schools, a dining-hall, four
rooms for a master and usher, and ten or twelve lodging-rooms for
the scholars. I use "scholars" because that is the word used in
the bill.

Among the scholars that were to be admitted to the grammar
schools were those who had attended at least two years at some one
of the schools in the hundred and whose parents were too poor to
educate them further. They were to be of the best and most
promising genius and disposition and they were to be appointed by
the overseer of the hundred after the most diligent and impartial
examination and without favor.

LOCATION OF SCHOOLS

There were no public health boards in Jefferson's day to de-
termine the location of schoolhouses. I am glad to say, however,
that there would have been had my good friend, Dr. Hurty, then
been born.1

This did not prevent Jefferson, however, from considering the
impediment poor health is to the acquisition of an education. Con-

:Dr. Hurty is Secretary of the State Board of Health of Indiana and is so earnest in his work
that his enthusiasm excites praise.

186 Indiana University

sequently when he came to provide by law for the establishment of
grammar schools he was careful to make it the duty of the overseers
in locating the schoolhouse to place it "as central as may be to the
inhabitants" of the county; to provide that it have good water, that
it be near a supply of provision and fuel, and that the location "be
healthy" (healthful).

UNIVERSITY OF VIRGINIA

In addition to his plan for primary and grammar schools, Jeffer-
son favored the establishment of a university for his state. He
wanted an institution of this character in which all the branches
of science then deemed useful should be taught in their highest
degree. With great particularity he classified the sciences that
should be taught. He maintained that the professors to hold chairs
in his proposed university must be men about the finish of whose
education and qualifications there could be no question. He set
his standard high, when he first launched his movement for an
educational system and he never lowered it. He believed that at
the outset teachers from overseas would have to be secuied, and
they were to give to this institution, when established, the splendor
and pre-eminence desired for it.

Here it is proper to add that, by a system of selection, pupils of
"the best and most promising genius" in the hundred schools were
to receive free instruction in the academies; and, by continued
selection, the most promising were to get "free" instruction in the
university.

A LONG STRUGGLE

Jefferson's plans were not carried out until 1818, nearly forty
years after he inaugurated his fight for an educational system
designed for the enlightment of all the people. His common school
feature was not adopted fully, an appropriation by the state for
these schools being substituted for their support by local taxation,
as urged by Jefferson. But the action obtained in 1818 was directly
under Jefferson's influence, the active agent in the legislation being
Joseph Carrington Cabell.

Cabell was himself an educated man, having studied several
years in German schools. He became interested in Jefferson's
educational theories and successfully brought about his own
election to the Virginia Senate, in which he served for twenty years.

Centennial Memorial Volume 187

During all this time his central thought and greatest efforts were
given to embodying in the form of law tin- Ji-iu •r.snni.m theory of
education, whirh embraced popular education and free schools by
local taxation and a university to be supported by the state. CaU-ll
was truly a patient and faithful patriot. Had it n..t been for him,
the University of Virginia would not have been created, in my judg-
ment, when it was, if ever.

The univeisity was founded under the law of 1818 on Jefferson's
plans, not only as to its methods of instruction, but also as to its
system of government and the arrangement and construction of
its buildings, for many of which he made with his own hands the
architectural drawings. Some of its original features that have
since had quite general adoption are the following:

1. The elective system of studies under which the student
follows the lines he specially desires, instead of a fixed course out-
lined in a curriculum. Jefferson never could understand why a
boy with an aptitude and liking for mathematics, but none for Latin
and Greek, should be denied the right to become a first-rate civil
engineer because he couldn't master the roots of a tongue foreign
to his own.

2. Student self-government, or putting the student "on honor"
as to his conduct, with the student body as the tribunal for passing
on individual infractions of discipline.

3. Nonsectarian religious instruction.

4. Manual training and vocational instruction. These subjects
are attracting wide attention today and in giving instruction in
them, educational institutions are touching upon almost every
practical phase of life, involving manual labor. Jefferson saw the
importance of this sort of education and promptly became a pioneer
in it. In providing for higher education by his university, he did
not lose sight of the importance of instruction in agriculture and
in the use of tools.

PRACTICAL TURN OF MIND

Jefferson was not a light-headed theorist. He usually saw
clearly, before he started, the end of everything he undertook. Note
how practical he was in what he desired to accomplish by his plan
for primary education. He stated his objects thus:

1. "To give to every citizen the information he needs for the
transaction of his own business;

2. "To enable him to calculate for himself and to express and
preserve his ideas, his contracts, and accounts in writing;

188 Indiana University

3. "To improve, by reading, his morals and faculties;

4. "To understand his duties to his neighbors and country,
and to discharge with competence the functions confided to him
by either.

5. "To know his lights, to exercise with order and justice those
he retains ; to choose with discretion the fiduciary of those he dele-
gates; and to notice their conduct with diligence, with candor, and
judgment;

6. "And, in general, to observe with intelligence and faithful-
ness all the social relations under which he shall be placed."

If any state in the Union has a system of primary education
that is more beneficial to society than what Jefferson meant his
to be, I plead my ignorance of its existence. Dr. Carter believed
this statement "ought to be written in letters of gold and hung in
every primary school thruout the land and be known by heart to
every teacher and student".

OBJECTS OF HIGHER EDUCATION

Turning to the objects Jefferson hoped to accomplish thru
higher education, we are amazed at his advanced views. Samuel
B. Adams, widely known for his historical research, was within the
truth when he declared that "it is safe to say that the relation of
universities to good citizenship and to the practical interests of
American life has never been better formulated by any professional
educator" than by Jefferson. He adds that "American colleges
and universities will need to advance a long way before they reach
the Jeffersonian idea."

The objects are thus classified:

1. "To form the statesmen, legislators, and judges, on whom
public property and individual happiness are so much to depend;

2. "To expound the principles and structure of government,
the laws which regulate the intercourse of nations, those formed
municipally for our own government, and a sound spirit of legis-
lation, which banishing all unnecessary restraint on individual
action shall leave us free to do whatever does not violate the equal
rights of another;

3. "To harmonize and promote the interests of agriculture,
manufactures, and commerce and by well-informed views of
political economy to give a free scope to the public industry;

4. "To develop the reasoning faculties of our youth, enlarge
their minds, cultivate their morals, and instill into them the pre-
cepts of virtue and order ;

Centennial Memorial Volume 189

5. "To enlighten them with mathematical and physical
sciences, which advance the arts, and administer to the health, the
subsistence and comforts of human life;

6. "And, generally to form them to habits of reflection and
correct action, rendering them examples of virtue to others, and
of happiness within themselves."

You know something I do not, if you know of an institution
of learning anywhere that is today in its work going beyond what
the father of American democracy, a century ago, conceived should
be the aim of a university.

JEFFERSON'S HOBBY

Jefferson's educational theory was a hobby with him. He
never became so engrossed in other affairs that it Ceased to be the
apple of his eye. He had no doubt of its being the only sure means
of the people becoming the guardians of their own liberty. An
educated citizenship he believed to be the only enduring founda-
tion a democracy could have. He emphasized this thought most
forcefully thus: "If a nation expects to be ignorant and free, in a
state of civilization, it expects what never was and never will be."

He recognized of course that in children there are diffeiences in
ability and he sought to make it possible for the state to avail itself,
thru his plan of education, of those talents of greatest promise,
whether found among the rich or the poor.

Nothing Jefferson ever said or favored shows more strikingly
his faith in the people for self-government and the necessity for
affording them educational advantages, thru public taxation, than
his preference for a common school education over a university
course, in the event but one of these could be had.

To his friend Cabell, Jefferson wrote on January 23, 1823:

Were it necessary to give up either the primaries or the University, I would
rather abandon the last, because it is safer to have a whole people respectably
enlightened than a few in a high state of science and the many in ignorance. This
last is the most dangerous state in which a nation can be. The nations of Europe
are so many proofs of it.

REACTIONARY SPIRIT

Having the faith he did in the people, he was quick to see,
following the Revolutionary War, any attempts to weaken their
voice in their government. That there was a strong reactionary
spirit after the war in favor of government by kings instead of by

190 Indiana University

the people is an established historic fact. There has never been as
much said about the dangerous tendencies of this brief period in
the life of our nation as the facts warrant. This period has been
referred to by some as "A Suppressed Chapter of American His-
tory". In it, so good and wise a man as John Adams said:

All projects of government, formed upon the supposition of continual vigil-
ance, sagacity, virtue, and firmness of the people, when possessed of the exercise
of supreme power, are cheats and delusion.

Again Adams declared:

The proposition that the people are the best keepers of their own liberties,
is not true; they are the worst conceivable; they are no keepers at all; they can
neither judge, act, think, nor will, as a political body.

Sentiments like these spurred Jefferson on to greater efforts
in providing means wherewith the people might equip themselves
to "act" with wisdom "as a political body".

This lack of confidence in the people and indifference to their
enlightment, so soon after they had thrown off the kingly yoke,
doubtless moved Jefferson to make the declaration, which he often
repeated, that

A system of general instruction which shall reach every description of our
citizens, from the richest to the poorest, as it was the earliest, so it will be the latest,
of all the public concerns in which I. shall permit myself to take an interest.

He believed that it was impossible for a people to continue in ignor-
ance and remain free, but he had not a doubt that by and by the
master in the schoolroom would displace the man on horseback.

COMING INTO His OWN

Jefferson was denied the privilege of seeing the people of his
own state adopt fully and whole-heartedly his broad and generous
notions of an educational system. He was far ahead of his times
and too democratic in his ways to please the man of property who
would be called upon to pay in part, thru taxation, the expense
of maintaining a system of popular education and who was too
shortsighted to see the advantages society would derive therefrom.

But if his own state made the mistake of not promptly falling
in with his ideas, that fact did not prevent the great West beyond
the mountains and Michigan, Minnesota, Iowa, Illinois, and Indi-
ana, while he was yet living, from adopting his position that "no
other sure foundation than education can be devised for the preser-

Centennial Memorial Volume 191

vation of freedom and happiness" and from creating a system of
local and state taxation to make the proposition good.

But Jefferson is now coming into his own in his native state, if
I may so express myself. Educational reports indicate that the
common schools of Virginia, since 1870, have made most gratifying
progress and that it has been made thru an approach to the Jef-
fersonian idea. This means that the Virginia educational
system and methods have been improved, and the more closely
the people of that commonwealth study them the more clearly
they understand and the more cheerfully they now endorse the
educational views of their great commoner.

His university has long ago become famous thru its achieve-
ments. Hamilton W. Mabie says:

It fulfilled Jefferson's noble conception of the place of a university in a demo-
cratic society. It was our first real university. It was literally Jefferson's
creation. It is the most democratic of American colleges in its organization.

Jefferson was of the opinion, when he was laboring to have this
institution established, that in ten or fifteen years it would supply
Virginia with all her officers and that they would be highly equipped
for their public duties.

It is unquestionably true that no other institution has furnished
to the nation as many senators and congressmen fiom its alumni
as has this school. Its voice in national affairs has long been a
power. Its methods of teaching are followed very closely in
colleges thru the South; and it has been said that a graduate thereof
is "a man of exact knowledge and opposed to all shams". A
theory that will turn out that sort of a product is to this nation a
cloud to guide it on its way by day and a pillar of fire to give it
light by night.

THE STATE UNIVERSITY AND ITS SER-
VICE TO BUSINESS

Evans Woollen was born at Indianapolis on November 28, 1864. He re-
ceived the bachelor's degree from Yale in 1886 and the master's degree two years
later. He is president of the Fletcher Savings and Trust Company, of Indian-
apolis. During the World War he served as a member of the State Council of
Defense and as federal fuel administrator for Indiana.

(193)

THE STATE UNIVERSITY AND ITS SER-
VICE TO BUSINESS

By EVANS WOOLLEN

NOT the least important of our duties is the duty not to talk
about things we do not understand, and I have but slight under-
standing of education. However, I may claim to know something
about business, and perhaps this occasion may be regarded as an
opportunity similar to that once afforded by the public school
authorities in Indianapolis.

They did me the honor of inviting me as a man of business to
address their principals in answer to the question: How can the
schools best fit their pupils for business? And that gave oppor-
tunity to express the conviction that the best thing the schools could
do for business would be to leave off the effort to fit their pupils
for business; the conviction that if only the schools would fit their
pupils for life we men of business better than they could do the rest.

Is there a similar answer to the same question about the state
university which is a part of the public school system and as such
expected in a measure to set the standards and to be in adjustment
with and take over the products of the rest of the system?

The answer by the business man of today cannot be in a spirit
of criticism. Rather it must be in a spirit of appreciation of the
endeavor by this institution and others to give business what it
needs. A difficulty in the way of the endeavor has been that busi-
ness, especially the kind that is fond of asserting "business is busi-
ness", has not always known just what it did need. It has not
always known that it needed whole men and it has demanded of the
state university that which it called practical education. And what
shall we now say that business does most need in the youth it takes
from the state university? My answer with reference to the
university as to the schools is that business, that great field of
infinitely varied activity, needs several things more than it needs
vocational training. First, of course, it needs character. And
then, equally of couise, it needs the capacity to think with con-
centration and precision. Health may well come next, health
that brings to the service of business vigor and vitality. If to
these is added the habit of work then nothing else much matters.

(195)

196 Indiana University

In saying that business needs character in the youth it takes
over I do not think so much of the more simple and obvious things
having to do with right and wrong, for they go without the saying,
at least without emphasis. Rather and beyond I think especially
of generous-mindedness that comes with the habit of accommoda-
tion, the habit of trying tolerantly, sympathetically to understand
1 he other man's point of view and to be respectful of his personality.
Character in this sense business needs that it may get on in the
solution of its problems having to do with human relations. These
are the problems that trouble business today and are greatly more
important than problems having to do with things.

Now this generous-mindedness is the result, is it not, of the
process we speak of rather vaguely as liberating the spirit. We
mean, I take it, liberation of the spirit from the little view, emanci-
pation from prejudice against the other man and his cause. The
clash in the world today is the clash of unliberated spirits, and busi-
ness is suffering in that clash.

Here is an illustration. The general manager of a great in-
dustrial concern recently expressed an opinion that has support
among those whose whole philosophy of life is in the phrase "law
and order". The opinion was that for Socialism as for Bolshevism
there is, to quote his words, "but one antidote, namely, governmental
initiative to protect life and property". Now that business man,
vocationally trained but uneducated, honest but unacquainted with
the truth, informed but unliberated, knows all about motor cars but
little about human relations. He understands well the sacredness of
property but perhaps not as well the sacredness of life that produces
property. The implication of his words is that force is the answer
to any questioning of our capitalistic organization of society. Well,
if we had no other answer we should be in a bad way. Government
can put out the socialist but it cannot put down Socialism. That is
the task of people who think clearly and accept the Golden Rule.
Indeed, the answers to all the restless questionings will come not so
much from those who know nothing beyond "law and order" as from
the generous-minded. The problems that trouble business in these
clashing times and frighten the general manager whose business
suffers in the clash will be solved by those of liberated spirit and
they are those whom business most needs from the state university.

How the state university can best accomplish the process of
liberation is not for the business man, but of this I am sure — it is
not accomplished when the vocational motive is dominant, when
information is the aim and not wisdom, when things of the imagina-

Centennial Memorial Volume 197

tion are omitted, when acquaintance with the noble of history and
fiction is foregone. In a word, it is not accomplished by a cur-
riculum detei mined with reference to pocket-filling practicality, with
reference to the "successful career" of a certain type whereof we
have had more than enough. Moreover, the process of liberation
does not require the curriculum extended "over the whole field of
knowledge" to which President Pritchett recently referred as hav-
ing enormously diluted college salaries. And in this connection it is
interesting to note President Thwing's statement that curriculum
extension in the last seventy-five years has been greater than during
all the centuries theretofore since Oxford and Cambridge began to
receive students. The process we are considering does require that
"discipline of the spirit" which Lord Haldane defines in his Yale
Review article as coming "from the sustained effort to understand
and assimilate the teaching of the great masters in literature, science,
art, and religion. . . ." He includes science as he must, it being
an important part of "the life history of the human spirit and its
wonderful adventures", and in a curriculum fit to accomplish the
liberation of the spirit there is a place for science as well as for the
so-called humanities, but for pure science, for science taught not in
application only but philosophically, so taught that the things learned
are, quoting from the same article, "not ends in themselves but the
milestones which mark progress toward liberation".

And then, next to character, business needs in the youth it takes
over from the state university the capacity to think with concen-
tration and precision, capacity for the clear thinking that is helped
and proved by clear expression. It needs clear-thinking youth for
the long pull more than it needs vocationally trained youth with
their temporary advantage. There is no great difficulty for the
manager in training to the established ways of the business the boys
who have had to quit school. The difficulty is in getting the youth
who can think out new ways for the business, whose minds go
hither and yon with precision; who, as the saying is, can get their
worlds "charted and mapped". They are the youth business wants
from the state university. It cannot get them from the correspond-
ence school or the business college. It wants the university to train
its youth not so much to do "a certain set of things" as to infuse
"the way of doing all things with a certain ideal" of clear-thinking
precision. Business, in a word, needs not so much a smattering of
facts as the power to coordinate facts ; needs not so much the stuffed
man as the adaptable; needs not so much him who knows as him
who thinks for "the thinker", as it has been said, "takes the old

198 Indiana University

truth and applies it to the new conditions of the present and of the
future".

Here again it is not for the business man to say that this method
or that is the best for use by the university in the development of
the capacity for clear thinking. It is not for him to appraise the
Harvard method of a general examination or any other. Par-
ticularly it is not for him to adventure into any defense of the
classics when Professor Shorey is on the program, but he cannot for-
bear quoting this from Gordon Hall Gerould:

The case for the classics and for the older studies in general is simply that
they give a boy, if he is properly instructed and is not hampered by congenital
ineptitude, a better chance to gain insight and balance of mind than do most of
the newer subjects, He is less likely to be near-sighted — astigmatic — in dealing
with men and things, because of his experience with minds that have been got
into perspective by the focusing of generations of eyes.

The colleges with their athletics and gymnasiums and otherwise
have doubtless done much toward the physical development of their
students and so toward the reduction of the charge — far greater
than the uninformed would surmise — that illness puts on business.
They have doubtless done much by way of instruction in hygienic
methods of living, much toward the attainment of a public con-
science in the matter of health, toward the acceptance of illness
rather as a reproach than as a misfortune. For these things, for
the healthy minds in healthy bodies that come from the colleges,
for the "ordered lives" that come from academic discipline, for the
vigor and vitality that strengthen and renew business, for all these
things business has reason to be grateful.

And doubtless the state universities are discharging, within
their walls and without, their peculiar responsibilities for the con-
servation of the health, the most important asset of the states by
which they are maintained.

But beyond these things I have in mind the query whether
something more might be done. The query proceeds from a con-
viction that the world's workers are lamentably wasteful of their
potentialities; that half of them, a third, were all the powers of
perfect health evoked, could do the world's work that is being done
today. The query is whether the state university might do some-
thing more toward an understanding of and respect for man's
unbelievable resources in body and mind and spirit ; something more
toward bringing to service the "unplumbed reservoirs" of strength
about which Professor James has written.

Centennial Memorial Volume 199

The habit of work, it is interesting to note, is the thing Charles
M. Schwab, in giving his ideas on college education for business
men, is most concerned about. He hates a loafer. On the other
hand, I have been told that President Jordan used to say of the
university and its students that "It is better to have come and loafed
than never to have come at all." Perhaps so, but I am not sure. I
am not sure that the loafer gets anything that will compensate him
for having acquired or confirmed the habit of loafing. At any rate,
whether it is better for him it is worse for the university and, what-
ever the fact as to a privately endowed institution, one maintained
with democracy's funds cannot be hospitable to the loafer. It can
accept, should accept, the English requirement that the education it
offers be "fit for a gentleman" but, as President Tucker says, "we
have added the implication — a gentleman at work". And surely
this is important/that the state university in its service to business
constrain its youth to acquire the habit, as another has expressed it,
of "hitting the line hard in undergraduate years" because the habit
"carries on" as in quite other fashion the habit of "hitting it sof^'
"cairies on". The undergraduate days are not "dissociated from
what follows" and it is a pity if they are regarded as "an interlude
in the serious life", that being the conception off them revealed, we
are told, in a questionnaire at Harvard. No, college is the tirr^
when our youth should be acquiring the habit of work, of hard
work which the world so much needs today, the habit of devotion to
what Carlyle, as quoted by President Eliot, says "a man is born to
in all epochs — to expend every particle of strength that God
Almighty has given him in doing the work h *3 fit for; to stand up
to it to the last breath of life and to do his best". And so I have
said that a state university wherein youth are acquiring this habit
must not be hospitable to, must not be encumbered by, the loafer
who excludes himself from a precious privilege.

On the other hand, the problem of the near-loafer is, I know,
difficult as is that of the inept. Notwithstanding their ill effect on
the cultural life of the state university, they cannot be excluded and
only the intellectually e*lite retained in an institution which must
"foster the sense of solidarity" and "develop the instincts of co-
operation" that democracy relies on. It is, I say, a difficult problem,
how in the presence of ever-increasing numbers to avoid the over-
coming of the exceptional in the mass of mediocrity, how to make
"the democratic process yield aristocratic lesults". But democracy
needs the exceptional man and the problem must engage attention,
especially if it be true, as Professor Cumings has concluded, that

200 Indiana University

there has been a distinct deterioration in the quality of the intel-
lectual life of American universities in the last thirty years. A
contribution to the solution of the problem may be found in the
honors system recently adopted at Columbia. Another may be
found in the suggestion made here, namely:

A stiff back-bone of courses of exceptional difficulty correlated into an honor
school in which any student may enroll but in which only the student of marked
ability and industry may hope to remain, courses broadly planned to arouse
intellectual curiosity, to develop the love of truth for truth's sake, free from the
taint of practicality and vocationalism, courses to stimulate imagination and
develop the philosophical attitude, such courses leading to a distinctive degree.

Whether such a university of quality within the university o
numbers is practicable I of course cannot judge. But of this I am
sure: were it established, I, for one, speaking not at all as idealist
but quite hard-headedly as business man would prefer that my help-
ers bear its degree evidencing the humanities and the pure sciences
taught philosophically to the end not of qualification but of quality.

I said "hard-headedly" because I am not here concerned with
any plea against materialism but with the needs of business. And
in this plea that business, especially the business that must not falter
in this troubled day, needs from the state university youth trained
no n- vocationally in those things that make for the "energizing of
body, mind, and soul" — in this plea I would not seem indifferent to
vocational training that is a supplement and not a substitute. Par-
ticularly I would not seem indifferent to or ungrateful for the uni-
versity 's noble endeavor thruout a state-wide campus to extend
its privileges to those who have had to stop their schooling some-
where along the way. Perhaps there is also opportunity for service
to business in vocational guidance toward the end of the under-
graduate course. It would seem especially in this time of bewilder-
ing development that the university might do something by way of
aiding its students to get acquainted with opportunities and by way
of aiding business to make selections from its students.

We have been considering the needs of business in meeting the
problems of an increasingly intricate, farther-reaching, world-wide
intercourse and the problems of an under-producing, over-consum-
ing industrial democracy. May I, before concluding, put in paren-
thesis the query whether the same things are not needed by the polit-
ical democracy which created and sustains the state university? The
success of a state university is of course to be tested by reference
to its effectiveness in helping on toward the realization of democra-
cy's ideal. That ideal is not so much that each shall be efficient

Centennial Memorial Volume 201

in the class to which he is born as that each shall have his chance
to move into another class where the outlook is broader and the joy
of the spirit is greater. Democracy's method for the realization of
this ideal is that for the sake of assuring and enlarging that chance
it will forego something of efficiency. It will forego if need be
something of autocracy's occupational efficiency and something of
aristocracy's governmental efficiency. Democracy cannot, however,
forego anything of that education whereof "information is the least
part", the education that liberates. Especially in these challenging
days of labor's enlarging influence, both political and industrial, and
of woman's advancement in suffrage, democracy cannot prudently
forego anything of the culture, mental and spiritual, that is the one
alembic.

And so to the question, How can the state university best fit
its pupils for business? we have found no new thing to bring in
answer, have found no suggestion except that any enlargement of
the vocational be challenged ; that business has plenty of those who
have gone to what have been called "bargain sales" in education;
that fitness for the business of life is after all what everyone should
have for a life of business ; that in these days of threatening prob-
lems in human relations there is special need of emphasis on the
humanizing arts, special need of the fundamentals in the presence
of "fads and follies", of short cuts and quackeries.

A state university striving, as I know this one strives, to meet
these needs, whatever the response to its request for funds for the
"plant", must not be denied its request for abundant funds where-
with to attract and retain the utmost quality in teachers, and thereto
every clear-seeing citizen, convinced that public instruction is indeed
"the most important item in the budget of the state", will pledge his
support in the name of democracy which perishes if it is not edu-
cated.

And that pledge comes with all earnestness from one who,
grateful for the privilege of participation in this occasion, takes
note that for the two objects of his pride and devotion, his Alma
Mater and his State University, the same motto speaks for the
liberation of the spiiit: Lux et Veritas.

THE STATE UNIVERSITY AT THE

OPENING OF THE TWENTIETH

CENTURY

Edward Asahel Birge was born at Troy, New York, on September 7, 1851 .
He received the A.B. degree at Williams College in 1873, and the A.M. in 1876;
the Ph.D. at Harvard, in 1878; the honorary Sc.D. at the Western University of
Pennsylvania in 1897; LL.D., Williams, 1903; the University of Wisconsin, 1915;
the University of Missouri, 1919. In 1875 he became instructor in natural
history at the University of Wisconsin; professor of zoology in 1879, which posi-
tion he held until 1911; dean of the College of Letters and Science, 1891-1918;
acting president, 1900-3; president since December, 1918. Among organiza-
tions in which he has held offices at various times are the following: Wisconsin
Geology and Natural History Survey, director, 1897-1919; president of the com-
missioners of the survey since 1919; Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and
Letters, president, 1890-91, 1918-21; American Microscopical Society, president,
1903 ; American Fisheries Society, president, 1907 ; American Society of Zoologists,
president of the Central Branch, 1908-9; Phi Beta Kappa, senator since 1904,
vice-president of United Chapters, 1913-19, president since 1919; Wisconsin
Commissioners of Fisheries, secretary, 1895-1915; Madison Free Library, director,
1890-1909; president, 1893-1909; member of the Wisconsin Board of Forestry
Commissioners, 1905-15; of the Wisconsin Conservation Commission, 1908-15.
Dr. Birge is a fellow in the American Association for the Advancement of Science,
a member of the Washington Academy of Sciences, of the American Society
of Naturalists, and of Sigma Xi. He has written many papers on zoology and
limnology.

(203)

THE STATE UNIVERSITY AT THE

OPENING OF THE TWENTIETH

CENTURY

By EDWARD ASAHEL BIRGE

I HAVE NOT CHOSEN this title without a purpose, for it at once
states my subject and limits it. The calendar shows us that one-
fifth of the twentieth century has passed, but we need only glance
at the political and social world to be convinced that we have
barely entered upon it. In this respect our century is in no wise
exceptional, altho it might not be easy to find one in which calendar
and fact were so far out of step as they are today ; for the world has
devoted the earlier years of recent centuries to working out the
problems of the past, and it has entered definitely on those of the
present only after some delay.

I suppose that the treaty of Paris in 1815 may be said to date
the change from the eighteenth century to the nineteenth, in the
same sense that the armistice of 1918 marks the close of the
nineteenth century. In both cases years were to pass after the
calendar had registered the advent of a new act before the curtain
was rung down on the last scene of the old one and the stage set for
the new play.

In the same way we may date the eighteenth century as a new one
from the death of Queen Anne and of Louis XIV. Its predecessor
may be said to have opened more promptly with the accession of the
Stuart dynasty ; while the sixteenth century is almost in accord with
the twentieth for it may take its opening date from 1517, from the
nailing of Luther's theses to the door of the church at Wittenberg or
from the election of the Emperor Charles V two years later.

We need not press the point farther, for in any case there will be
no dispute as to the present. There is no need of words to tell us
that we at least find ourselves in the day of change from the old to
the new, and whatever may be said of the world at large, we of the
state universities may be sure that the armistice of 1918 marks
the turning of a new page in our history. We can already see
that the preceding half-century or more was the period of the de-
velopment of conscious relations between the state university and
the state. The coming decades are to witness the evolution of
universities thus related to their respective communities.

(206)

206 Indiana University

The state universities from the first saw that it was their duty
to apply learning to the amelioration of life ; but the Morrill Act of
1862 first made possible definite and active connections between the
public life of the state and the intellectual life of the university.
Nor were these connections at once strong. For the economic life
of communities and states which were still in the pioneer stage or
just passing out of it depended rather on exploitation than on
cultivation; and the simple social problems of a pioneer popula-
tion, sparse and largely transient, did not call for the administrative
aid of experts.

But as the balance of exploitable natural resources decreased,
as population became denser, as administrative and social problems
increased in number and in difficulty, there arose a growing con-
sciousness of the intimate connection between the life of the state
and of the university. This was not confined merely to those
relations of practical assistance, which my words indicate, but
it extended to all intellectual relations. The state university, as
years have passed, has become not so much a state institution,
not so much a representative of the state, as the state itself or-
ganized for the maintenance and development of the intellectual
life of the people.

In the university the modern state has resumed one, and that
the chief, of its older and higher functions. It recognizes no longer
as a matter of theory but in practical form the truth that the state
as well as the individual has a spiritual life which must find full
expression. It looks to the university for whatever aid knowledge
can give in solving the scientific problems of agriculture, the economic
problems of industry, and the social problems of government. But
it looks for more than this. It turns toward the state university as
pre-eminently the organization in which the life and aspirations of
its people express themselves, which gives opportunity to youth
from all classes of its people, not merely aiding those who need help
but attracting those who seek expression of their mental powers.

Thus the state university, standing at the head of the public
schools, has come to express the higher life of the people in a sense
that no other institution expresses it. Out of that relation, felt
equally by university and by state, there has developed a new
consciousness on both sides. On the side of the state there has
arisen a sense of possession — a feeling of pride in an institution
which gives visible expression to that which is best in the state.
On the side of the university there has developed not only a new
and higher sense of duty toward the state but also on its part a new

Centennial Memorial Volume 207

sense of pride in its position as embodying and as inspiring the
higher life of a great people.

This conscious relation between state and university is im-
mensely stronger today than ever before. Nation and state have
alike emerged from the war with a keener sense of their personality.
Nationality has become a vital force in a new sense, and with this
change the personality of the state also has gained a similar ex-
pansion. It is with a new sense of that personality that the citizen
now looks toward his university — toward the institution to which all
the ways of education converge, in which the intellectual strivings
of the people become articulate, in which their aspirations toward
a higher life may be clarified, guidedg and brought to fulfilment.
Nor is this all. Not only does the state university offer to its
citizens the path of opportunity, the way thru which they may enter
a larger life of thought and of freedom ; it is also the source from
which must radiate influences that touch the general life in all its
parts, from which the citizens and their organizations of all kinds
may derive constant inspiration and counsel.

Thus the people turn to us today with a heightened conscious-
ness of the personality of the state as embodied in the university,
with a new sense of their own necessities, and with a quickened con-
fidence in the duty and the capacity of the university to meet these
needs; and, let me add, with a new readiness to criticize and con-
demn failure in meeting them.

At such a time it is both easy and difficult to speak of the
future, equally easy and difficult to speak of the present in the
case of universities, whose present is but a bit of the future. Easy —
because in a time of confused issues "any guess goes" for the day
and is forgotten tomorrow; difficult for those on whom rest even in
small part the responsibilities of that tomorrow and whose guess
must in some sense forecast action if not policy. Perhaps I should
rather use the word impossible than difficult, for the new century's
base line of experience which we would prolong into the future
is one not measured by years but rather by weeks.

Yet in spite of these severe limitations I shall venture to speak
of the present problems of the state university — I shall speak
of them as the past year has forced them upon us — only partly
formulated, quite without final solution, often without even partial
solution. I shall consider them under three heads, the problem of
numbers, the problem of standards, the problem of progress.

No educational fact of the present year is so striking as the
enormous increase in the registration of university students. Not

208 Indiana University

at one or two exceptional institutions, but everywhere classrooms
are overcrowded, laboratories are inadequate, teachers are pitifully
too few, even living facilities are grossly overtaxed. Is this situa-
tion, arising this year for the first time, merely temporary? Is it
the result of the release of youth from war duties and will next fall
see the tide of college registration begin to fall?

There is but one answer to these questions. Perhaps there
will be no great additional rise next fall in the registration of
students. But do not all of us know that the unprecedented num-
bers of 1919 may be capped by another unprecedented increase in
1920? Can any of us find warrant for a belief that the number of
our students will decline next fall? Can any of us even nurse the
expectation that our numbers will not continue to rise during the
next decade in much the same way as in the past? For myself, at
least, I see no such prospect before us. The attendance of regular
college students at the University of Wisconsin has practically
doubled during every decade of the past half-century. The only
chance that the coming decade will not repeat the story of the past
lies in the word practically. For it is certain that some part of this
year's attendance is abnormal, and we may perhaps cherish for a
time the belief that the normal attendance for 1919 might have
been only 90 per cent or even 80 per cent above that of 1909, instead
of 100 per cent which it really was, and which every preceding decade
has shown. Yet these possible figures give but weak guidance to an
administrator who feels the growing pressure of youth toward
college — a pressure due not so much to the spontaneous intellectual
ambition of individuals as to the public and semi-public necessities
of society, of manufactures, and of trade.

University attendance has passed into a new era — is on a new
basis. The actual registration will fluctuate as in the past — the
resultant of numerous social and economic forces. But the balance
of these forces is and must be toward increase; they will be checked
or accelerated from year to year, as the case may be, but as seen
for any series of years they must move forward with the assured
progress of all natural forces.

I need not press today on that most acutely painful spot in the
administrational anatomy — the increased cost of operating a univer-
sity. Our cheerful friends, the economists and their statisticians,
have for a year or more been predicting a reduction of costs in the
immediate future, and no doubt if they keep on long enough their
prophecies will meet partial fulfilment. But no one is so bold
as to hazard the guess that prices will return to a level even approx-

Centennial Memorial Volume 209

imating that of 1914 during any period which is worth considering*
unless the human lifetime is to be prolonged to the age of Methuselah.
Universities therefore cannot escape the practical certainty that
they must educate students in numbers which only five years ago
would have been thought impossible and at a cost per capita whose
prediction five years ago would have raised doubts as to the sanity
of the prophet.

Nor does this reference to operating costs tell the whole story.
Both buildings and equipment are wholly inadequate to present
demands, to say nothing of those which the immediate future will
surely bring. I question whether anyone who forecasts the capital
needs of his university can fail to see that the cost of these necessities
alone much exceeds the total expenditures of the past.

Here are major problems for us of the state universities, and
problems for which there is no general solution. Like most of our
social problems, they will have to be worked out as we go along.
Nor can any financial solution which might be proposed today
be regarded as more than temporary. For no one can suppose that
any of the enormous additions to capital recently secured by our
endowed universities will yield an income that will long suffice for
their needs. Nor will any increase of income which legislatures may
give to state universities be long adequate to the situation. In 1911
the University of Wisconsin received from the state an increase of
the mill tax from two-sevenths to three-eighths of a mill. This sum
has for nine years constituted the annual contribution of the state to
the educational expenses of the university as an institution of
research and of teaching at Madison. No one can today look into
the future with the expectation or even the hope that this source of
income can now be fixed at any rate which will continue to support
the university during a correspondingly long period.

Under such conditions there is little use in discussing financial
problems. We must meet them as they arise and as best we can.
And it is well that they must be so met; for seen in the mass they
are staggering in their proportions; they seem impossible of solution.
Fortunately they will not have to be solved in the mass. They will
come perhaps not singly, but at any rate in such number and force
that they will be disposed of somehow. But all the same no member
of a state university, harassed by a quick succession of insistent
problems, is likely to escape many practical sermons on the text
"Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof."

The difficulties of the universities due to greater numbers and
increased costs are not so completely the product of the war as

210 Indiana University

their sudden appearance might seem to imply. The problem of
rising costs is no new one, tho greatly enhanced by the war, and the
problem of numbers is the outcome of the slow establishment of the
conscious relation between state and university. But, after all,
their rise to a position of major problems has been dramatically
sudden, and both university and state must seriously consider
their relation to each other as affected by this new importance.

The people of the state regard the university as an institution
of higher learning, of research, of all that historically goes with
the name university. They see also in the university the path of
opportunity for the youth of the state, along which both they and
the state as a whole may move toward life on a higher level. Both of
these purposes are fully included within the duties of a state univer-
sity; only as it meets them both does it justify its name.

But as the state moves forward, as it leaves the simple condi-
tions of its youth, it leaves also many of those easy conditions of
life which go with a sparse population and large exploitable resources.
The overcrowded university is witness to this fact. Modern neces-
sities demand that native wit be supplemented with far more serious
training than any earlier generation needed. Competition is select-
ing for success the youth who are willing to undertake and carry
thru the labor of long preparation. It is this demand of necessity,
this pressure of competition, which today urges students to college
by the thousand, when intellectual ambition drew their fathers
thither by the hundred or the score.

The public must face the fact that the same forces which now
refuse success on the easier terms of the past, which are urging
youth into college as a condition of success, will continue their
work of selection ; and the importance of this truth is emphasized
today by our overcrowded halls and by our larger costs.

For the privilege of university education, endowed and supported
by the state, has been too lightly regarded by quite too many of its
citizens. Too many have been lacking in appreciation of the value
and greatness of the opportunities which the state is offering.
Still more often has there been wanting a sense of the duty of the
student to prepare himself adequately to profit by the privileges
offered by the state.

The ways into the university must be broad and direct, and the
terms of admission must be administered not in a narrow or ex-
clusive spirit but in that of friendly help. But the question is a fair
one — and the state must meet it rather than the university : Ought
the state to provide an education so expensive as university training

Centennial Memorial Volume 211

is now and will be in the future for students who have not had the
definite purpose and plan to make the best use of opportunities so
great and so costly?

Let me illustrate something of that matter-of-course attitude
of many students, this half indifferent assumption by them and their
parents that a university education is a thing which needs no direct
and specific cooperation on their part. I desired some months ago
to know as soon and as accurately as might be the possible number
of students who next September are to come from the high schools of
Wisconsin to our university. I was told by those who know the
schools that there was no use in attempting such an inquiry so early
as March; for at that date, they said, a very large share of the students
would not have decided on their plans for the autumn. Certain
groups of students indeed would have made their plans and would
be far advanced in the process of preparing to carry them out.
Students who are looking forward to an engineering education would
have been definitely working toward this end for at least a year,
more probably for two or three years. Great numbers of students
who expect to enter other courses would be in the same condition.
But there would remain also great numbers of students who are
still without definite plans, who go on to the end of the high school
course without forecasting the future, still less working for it and so
adjusting their studies as to make the coming years as profitable
as possible. Out of this number come that not negligible group of
freshmen who enter college without definite aim and who for the
most part remain there but a short time. Out of this group come
also some who, after dawdling thru high school, receive the stimulus
of a serious education after they enter the university ; and this fact
we are glad to recognize. If the cost of higher education to the state
were a negligible quantity, this opportunity might well be freely
continued. But when the university becomes a chief item in the
state's budget — when the cost of teaching the individual student is
rising so rapidly and to such a level, is it not fair that the state should
demand a serious purpose of those who would enjoy the privilege
thus afforded, a purpose evinced by serious work during the high
school course, definitely directed so as to make the student ready for
university study?

I am not raising at all the old questions of preparatory courses
and of studies which best fit for the university. I have always been
most ready to recognize the high schools as the "people's colleges"
and to take into the university students with the most varied kind of
preparatory study. But experience has shown all of us that the

212 Indiana University

student ordinarily continues to do in the university work of much the
same grade as that which he has done in high school. In the great
majority of cases those whose high school grades are low find them-
selves— or in a much smaller number of cases are found — to be un-
fitted for university study and retire from it or are retired as the
case may be. This process is a wasteful one, both of time and of
money. It is even more wasteful of the time and money of those
who are prepared to profit by university work but are held back in
their progress by their limping comrades. So long as numbers
were small and universities were simply organized institutions, the
waste could be permitted. It could even be encouraged on the
theory that those few students in this group who made good in the
end were a sufficient recompense for the labor of the teacher and
the cost to the state.

Does this situation still continue? We face the problems not
only of great sums for operation but of millions of dollars for build-
ings and equipment. Is it not our duty to put squarely before the
state the question — Ought not the privileges of the university to be
limited to those whose records of earnestness and of success in high
school study show that they are prepared to profit by them — who
give fair hope of making a return to the state for the great sums
which the taxpayers are contributing to them?

Whatever the answer to this question, we still face the problem
of giving an expensive higher education to thousands of students
in every state here in the Central West. We of the universities stand
ready to teach all youth whom the state may send to us, on the
present terms, if the state will provide buildings, equipment, and
teachers. We freely recognize the advantages of the policies
of the past. But we are sure that the state is now confronted with
a new situation in the rapid growth of our numbers and the equally
rapid rise of our costs. Under such conditions, must not the sorting
process which education is always making be applied more vigorous-
ly before the student comes to college instead of being delayed until
after he enters the university? I would not be misunderstood as to
the possible effect of such a change of policy. It would not diminish
the number of our students. It might check the rate of increase
and allow us to consider other problems than those of elementary
courses, and even in some measure to meet them. It would also
— and this is far more important — allow a grade and amount of
work in the first year of college that would add greatly to the in-
tellectual return which the state receives from its investment in
the university.

Centennial Memorial Volume

The problem of standards is like the problem of numbers, an
outgrowth of the discovery of college by the public a generation
ago — and a problem whose insistence has been greatly emphasized
by the experiences of the country in the war. It is also a problem
which is set differently for the state universities and for the endowed
institutions, and in this respect also it resembles the question of
numbers.

I am not concerned here with the pedagogical questions of
academic standards ; those belong rather to a conference of teachers
than to the present occasion. I am looking at the larger question
of the content of the courses of study which the universities shall
offer. A generation ago this question did not exist; for whatever
might be the type of the four-year course of study, no one doubted
that its general aim was rather to graduate youth with a grasp of
fundamental principles than to provide them with equipment for
practical life. The latter service was left to the post-collegiate
training of the larger world. But gradually the public discovered
that college training could be of service in many ways more directly
associated with the outer world than was the older type of college.
Direct and professional training was required in increasing amount
of all who would teach. Business in its larger forms discovered
that much besides a "general education" could be gained in college.
Agriculture found that specific courses of study in farming were
valuable as well as the study of chemistry of soils and of nutrition.
A host of new lines of employment has recently developed — social
work in cities and in large manufacturing concerns, secretarial
and administrative and technical positions of all kinds — and all
of them look toward the college and especially toward the university
to lend direct aid in preparing students for an endless variety of
service to the public.

This situation has been growing steadily and, as we of the
universities thought, very rapidly in the decade or two preceding
the war. But the war has given it an impulse which makes its
earlier manifestations seem both insignificant and slow. The war
on the one hand inevitably placed an enormous pressure on instant
readiness for accomplishing needed results, and on the other hand it
demonstrated to the public in the most dramatic fashion the un-
recognized truth that many capacities of men which it thought were
gifts of nature were really the products of training. Hence has
arisen a demand for training far more specific than universities
have ever given and enormously more extended in range and
variety. The general college course is seemingly threatened with

214 Indiana University

extinction amid the rivalries of technical, semi- technical, and
vocational courses.

There are two matters of interest somewhat to one side of the
main line of my thought which I introduce here. The first is that
while the general university courses have been made more specific
and professional, the professional courses of law and medicine have
been rapidly turning their attention from practical matters to the
fundamental principles which underlie their respective professions.
The graduate of the law school is no longer told that at graduation
he is ready to "hang out his shingle and wait for clients". The
diploma of M.D. must now be supplemented by hospital experience
before the young doctor believes himself ready to treat patients.
This change is the result of the same forces that are modifying
college courses in the opposite direction, the demand for more
adequate preparation for the work of life. This means the introduc-
tion of specific training where it has not previously existed and the
ousting of specific training where it once existed by the demand for
a wider grasp of principles.

The second point is that our troubles come from the apparent
necessity of fitting our studies within the frame of the four-year
course. We are not free to lengthen our courses of study in the
face of a reasonable demand that youth shall be prepared as promptly
as possible for the active duties of life. It is now difficult for
a physician to start independent practice much before the age of
thirty, and more than murmurs are heard of opposition to a
system of education which so long delays entrance upon active life.
And even if there were no such criticism, we should hesitate to
ask our students who are seeking aid in most of these new directions
to give to study a longer time than four years after the secondary
school. In most cases the traffic will not bear a higher tariff;
for the rewards of these professions and semi-professions are not
great. They are mostly positions with relatively small salaries
or occupations with very moderate financial returns. Thus the
easy solution of maintaining the old course and adding another year
or two of professional study is not at present open to us.

Nor can the state universities at least refuse the call for aid
which comes from society. One main function of a state university
is to apply learning to the amelioration of the life of the state
which it represents, and that in no merely remote and indirect
fashion. The responsibility for the advance of the common life
of the state rests upon its university in a fashion which must be
welcomed today as it always has been in the past. We cannot

Centennial Memorial Volume 215

therefore escape these new conditions by asserting the policy that
we will teach only principles, and that practical applications
must be sought in graduate courses and in the teachings of life
outside of college. We have in a hundred directions assumed the
leadership of our respective communities in matters which intimately
concern practical affairs. Experience has shown us that such
leadership is not a function to be assumed for a time and then
dropped or turned over to other agencies. We find that progress
in a state depends on the constant help of men of power in central
positions ; that those who at the first preached the gospel of economic
and social progress to the people and who secured a hearing and
acceptance for it cannot turn over to others their function. They
are no less needed to guide the later movement and to find out still
other workable possibilities of betterment.

The new century seems to bring us face to face with another
group of problems as fundamental and apparently as insoluble as
those presented by numbers and by budgets. On the one hand,
we cannot ignore the challenge of the new world which is so rapidly
developing around us. On the other hand, how shall we incor-
porate the vocational studies called for by those new demands
without losing from our courses that which has given them their
permanent value in the lives of our graduates?

For those who constantly press upon us specific studies as
preparation for specific functions in business and society forget
too often that the permanent value of a university education rests
not in the immediate economic value to the young graduate but in
the grasp of fundamental ideas and principles which it has given to
him and which he will be able to apply in countless ways unsuspected
when he leaves college. It is easy for higher education to degenerate
into rule-of-thumb instruction, and no instruction is so available
for the present or so worthless in the long run as is that of "imme-
diate practical value".

And this demand for specialization is by no means confined to
representatives of the extra-university world who ask direct and
specific help. The call is perhaps quite as insistent within univeisity
walls. Who of us has held an administrative position for even a
few years without being told — for instance — that an elementary
freshman course in history must be different for intending teachers
from that for others? Who has not heard the same statement re-
garding necessity of similar differentiated courses in history for
future students of law, of political economy, and of business?

2J6 Indiana University

The same need of specialized elementary courses is urged upon us
in the case of practically every freshman study — physics, chemistry,
foreign language, English — the university is asked to adjust all of
its lines of teaching from the first to specific future needs of the
student. Neither in nor out of the college is it easy to find the
presumption that the student who has a good elementary
knowledge of a subject can apply that knowledge in many various
practical directions of later study. It does not seem to be presumed
that the student as he passes from history to economics may be able
to review his knowledge from the new standpoint which additional
study brings. Still less is it assumed that this power is a normal
part of a higher education.

Thus the university administrator finds in this relation a com-
plex of problems for which no general solution can even be stated,
much less advocated. He finds a conflict of duties — of duty toward
the fundamental purpose of a university, that of transmitting to the
new generation the results and achievements of human life for its
guidance and inspiration, and of duty toward an equally fundamen-
tal function, that of presenting these results so as to better the social
life not only in general ways but in specific directions. The con-
tinuity of human thought and experience depends in great measure
on the fidelity of universities to the first function and the vigor with
which they execute it. The permanence of human progress depends
also on the maintenance of this continuity. The university cannot
forget this and still remain a university. It is equally impossible
for the state university to divest herself of the duty of leadership
in the new world and of guidance in specific directions.

How combine the old and the new in the all too narrow frame
of a four-year course? The problem, so far as it is soluble at
present, reduces itself to one of time, and thus comes back to the
same point at which we left the problems involved in numbers and
costs. Our school system as a whole must accept the duty which the
times put upon us of bring forward our youth more rapidly, so that at
the age of eighteen or of twenty-two they may be at least a year or
even two years in advance of their present attainments.

But such a movement is by no means a simple or easy one, for
it involves fundamental changes in our school system and changes
which we at least who are older are very reluctant to contemplate
and which we can adopt only under the compulsion of social neces-
sity. Our school system has been open to all on substantially the
same terms, and the student has been free to postpone from year to
year his decision on the most important matters of his educational

Centennial Memorial Volume 217

future. Even six months in advance is too long a time for him.
We may criticize the excessive manifestations of this privilege but
we cannot fail to recognize its possibilities for a democracy or to
regret any necessity of limiting it ; and the same statement applies
even more to the situation as regards the content of courses of study.
For parallel with the growth of high school has come a rise of age
when youth enter into industries. The school systems of our cities
contain thousands of students who are at an age far above that of
their parents when they in their day exchanged the lessons of
school for the teaching of active experience. Many of these students
are past the stage where they are really profiting by that study of
books which is necessary for the youth who is to go on with college
work. The inevitable result is a slowing of the pace of the high
school, a relaxation of its requirements so that it may suit the needs
of students who feel themselves nearing the end of study and are
rather looking to find a few months of relative ease before under-
taking the strenuous activities of business than to acquiring all
possible learning in the few remaining weeks of school. If the
standards are raised, if the pace is quickened, as it ought to be for
the youth who is going to college, standards will be too high and
pace too rapid for many of those who are nearing the close of their
schooling. Yet this common life and common schooling of the
youth of a community have meant much for democracy which we
must not lose. It is no small thing to carry along the youth of a
whole city together in a common system of instruction until they
have reached the age of sixteen to eighteen years. There is a distinct
gain in a system which permits postponement of decision as to
future career to as late a date as possible, which gives to every
ambitious youth a chance of a common education, which keeps
open for them all the paths of intellectual progress and which does
not shunt them into the by-paths and blind alleys of education.
There is a great gain for an educated democracy in a system which
does not attempt early specialization, which, on the contrary, is
definitely concerned to postpone it. Yet the inexorable march of
events is demanding changes in this as well as in many other aspects
of democracy. We older people are being forced to learn that
much which we thought characteristic of democracy is really the
fortunate product of a new country. We, with all the people, are
being forced — however reluctantly — to solve the problem of a
democracy in a time of change, for a crowded population, for highly
organized competitive states and nations.

218 Indiana University

And foremost among the problems which we must solve is that of
time in education. How can we turn out our youth at the age of
twenty or twenty-two, better prepared for active life than now,
and at the same time educated, not merely vocationalized? The
education of a merchant, a manufacturer, — what you will — is one
thing, and a very important one; but the liberal education, the train-
ing for a free man in a free state is still more necessary, not only to
democracy but also to our civilization. And while we must do much
vocational training, do it largely and sympathetically, we must not
leave the other undone, or only half done.

If the preceding conclusions of this paper are correct, the state
univeisities are entering upon a period in which the available
resources of the state will be taxed to meet the increasing cost
occasioned by the increased number of students, the decreased
purchasing power of money, and the necessity of expansion and
diversification in instruction. Yet the problems of the future are by
no means exhausted by this statement. We have hitherto regarded
university education as remaining on the plane which it has reached.
It is the function of the state university to bring its people up to the
level which that education indicates. But for our states this
result is far from adequate. All of these north central states are
now fully out of the pioneer period; they have passed or are
passing out of the purely agricultural stage. All are still primarily
agricultural but all are developing great manufactures and with
them large communities. All of the problems of developing towns,
of great cities, of a dense population, are before us. These include
not only new lines of study on the old plane, but they demand
the advance of university education, the introduction of studies not
of immediate practical value but which will influence the life of the
future and which cannot be extemporized as the need for them arises.
Let me illustrate my point. Does any representative of
the older states here present doubt the great advantage to his
state if its university had maintained for the past generation a
department of art? I do not mean a lectureship or a professorship,
but a department comparable in strength and in cost to the de-
partments of chemistry or geology. Consider the result on city
planning in the scores of smaller towns that have grown into
cities or are now entering that stage, if their citizens had been
accustomed to look to the university for guidance in such matters
as they look in questions of engineering 01 of school administration.
What would have been the effect on the thousands of students
who are now leading citizens in their communities, if they had

Centennial Memorial Volume 219

been conscious thruout their course of an art influence in the
university comparable in power to the scientific influence which
has been present? Our states are now rapidly acquiring wealth
which should express itself in beauty, which desires such expression
and which will find it in a way, but for which no central guidance
is present as it is present for that part of wealth which is spent,
let us say, for roads, for sewers, or for the relief of disease and
want. If we look forward for twenty-five years and foresee the
cities and towns of the future, how imperative will be their needs
of this kind, how civilizing such an influence upon this increasing
wealth! Yet was there in the past any time when we could have
expected our legislatures — with all their appreciation of learning
and with all their generosity toward it — when we could have ex-
pected them to provide thus largely for art in its various forms in
addition to their provision for the standard departments of a
university? And what of the future? Can we expect the public
at large to forecast the somewhat remote future so clearly, to pro-
vide for it so liberally, besides providing in a similar way for the
present and for the years close at hand whose needs are plainly
visible? And what of the present? Do we see that even the most
large-minded legislature will provide for our enormously increased
programs and to this provision add also large means for these
seemingly remote needs?

I believe that in this direction lies the specific duty of the alumni
of state universities. There has always been a difference between
our alumni and those of the endowed institutions. Our alumni have
regarded the university as holding the same relation to the state
that the high school holds to the city. It offers privileges to the
public freely and asks of the individual only that assistance which
comes from public-spirited citizens. This attitude had much
to justify itself in the past. When universities were small institu-
tions, offering mainly standardized courses to relatively few
students, there was no need of other assistance. Nor ought the
state university now to seek aid except from the public in providing
adequate salaries for its teachers, adequate classrooms and labo-
ratories, and the necessary enlargement of the standard work of a
university. But as these items of cost increase, so that the univer-
sity becomes perhaps by far the most expensive single part of
the state government, a new condition is created. Still more is the
situation changed when we can clearly foresee the present need for
much that will be available for practical life only after the lapse of
years. If the university system is to be raised to a higher plane in

220 Indiana University

such matters, it must be by the aid of those who have already profited
by it and can therefore appreciate future needs better than others
who have not had their good fortune.

This duty rests immediately on our alumni — on those whom
the state has raised to the level of the standard university of
their own day, on those who have received at the hands of the state
the elements of the intellectual life and with them the gift of appre-
ciating the higher needs not only of themselves but of the people.

The states have been quick to appreciate and ready to provide
for university education on the standard level. But it will never
be easy, it will often be impossible, to obtain from the public the
large means necessary to raise at once the level of university educa-
tion, to introduce in strength and in vigor those influences in univer-
sity life from which we may not expect immediate returns but which
in the long run are of enormous value to the state.

I use the word introduce intentionally. For these advances
in education will soon come to be part of the standard course,
accepted and supported by the state. However largely they may
be endowed, they will outgrow their endowment and the state will
carry them on in their larger life. And when this happens to one
line of advanced work, our alumni should be busied with others
equally necessary and equally difficult to reach at once in the
strength needed by the state.

For art is only one of the many directions in which the level of
the university course must be raised. There are also needed
opportunities for research enlarged wholly beyond even the hopes
of those of us who administer universities. The state is already
providing generously, tho all too inadequately, for those lines
of research in which science is trying to solve the practical pro-
blems of life. It is granting to all teachers the facilities and the
time necessary to keep their teaching fresh and vital. But none
of us yet sees, except in a vague and general way, how close is the
connection between higher research and public prosperity. Even
less adequately do we realize how necessary to the continued life of
the commonwealth is the spirit of research among the people, how
vital the importance of seeking out and cultivating along every line
that rarest of all intellectual qualities, the capacity for productive
research, not alone that which advances knowledge along paths
already marked out, but that which finds new ways into the world
of the unknown.

All of our states provide in some degree for this kind of research
and some of them make a liberal provision for it. But does any

Centennial Memorial Volume 221

of them appreciate its necessity, its cost, or the long chances of
success, the long time for its fruition in the common life? There is
but one answer and that the one which we must expect. For the
position of our people today in regard to research of this kind
and on this scale is what it was a generation ago in regard to art.
They were then just emerging from the pioneer stage; they had
reached the condition of achieved comfort, but they did not and
could not visualize a future — tho it was only a few years ahead —
when there would be imperative need of providing conditions of
life, public and private, adequate in beauty as well as in comfort.

So of this higher research today. Our people see the need of
studies in agriculture, in engineering, in sociology. But they do
not see how these investigations are made possible today by the
obscure labors in the last generation of organic chemists, of mathe-
maticians and physicists, of statisticians and philosophers. Still
less do they see that the applied research of the next generation —
enormously enlarged in its range and amount — will be fruitless unless
it can have behind it a similarly increased volume and weight of
pure research, directed toward all sorts of ends, even toward those
which today seem most unlikely to yield practical results. Still
less do they see that the youth who are capable of research are, in
the highest sense, the growing points of the public life — the buds
out of which are to come the branches that shall bear blossoms and
fruit for another generation. Can we expect that the larger public
will so forecast the future, so visualize the present conditions of its
still unknown successes and failures as to make large financial
sacrifices for that future?

But our alumni, those to whom the state has given the best
of its opportunities, those whom the state has led along the paths
of education from childhood on, until they have reached the
limit of the knowledge of their day, until they have attained a
position from which they can see over into the future and forecast
its needs — ought not their Alma Mater to be able to turn to them
in confident expectation that they will fully appreciate these needs
and will so act that each coming generation will reach a higher level
than its predecessor?

If they accept this duty, they will not be left to themselves.
The public is somewhat slow to respond to the plea of university
authorities for these higher things. Theirs is a plea pro domo sua
and is subject to the deductions which such a plea always receives.
But when that great confraternity of alumni in every city and
village of the state, in office and shop and farm, is everywhere

222 Indiana University

animated by the determination to raise the intellectual level of
university life and is ready to make personal sacrifices for that end,
then the larger public will be not only willing but eager to take a
full share in maintaining and increasing a work so beneficent.

I do not know whether you have gathered more courage than
perplexity from this summary recital of our problems. All those
might reasonably be perplexed who feel it necessary to forecast ex-
actly the conditions of the future, to foresee future needs and the
means of meeting them. None of us today can know how we are
to be equal to the demands of the coming days, whether financial,
scholastic, or educational. Yet we may be sure that these demands
will be met as the coming days present them in concrete form.
For they are the problems of strength, not of weakness; the dif-
ficulties of youth and manhood, not of infancy or senility. They
arise not from past failures but from past success. The university
and the state are today united far more closely than was even
foreshadowed in our hopes a generation ago. It is out of that ac-
complished union of purposes and of life that our difficulties spring.
They are the material difficulties of a work and an influence en-
larging more rapidly than the resources provided for them. They
are the scholastic troubles of an education which has enlarged
more rapidly than it has solidified, and which is still urged forward
by necessity. They are above all the troubles of those to whom
present success reveals the imperative need in coming days for higher
achievements than are permitted by the resources of the present.

Surely we may "thank God and take courage" as we face these
problems. We shall not be satisfied with our solutions. They will
undoubtedly be quite as inadequate for the large questions of
present and future as were our solutions of the smaller questions of
the past. We shall find no easy or straightforward path of progress.
We shall make many mistakes; we shall meet many reverses,
many disappointments. But thru all of them the powers of the
state university will develop, her usefulness will grow, and her life —
united with that of the state — will be enlarged. That common life
will become clearer and richer and stronger until in state and
university alike the visions of youth shall be fulfilled and the
dreams of age shall come true.

THE FUNCTIONS OF THE STATE
UNIVERSITY

Paul Shorey was born at Davenport, Iowa, on August 3, 1857. He was
educated at Harvard University (A.B., 1878), University of Leipzig, University of
Bonn, American School of Classical Studies in Athens, University of Munich
(Ph.D., 1884). He has received the following honorary degrees: LL.D., Iowa
College, 1905; University of Missouri, 1913; Johns Hopkins University, 1915;
University of Michigan, 1915; University of Colorado, 1917; Litt.D., University
of Wisconsin, 1911; Brown University, 1914; Princeton University, 1920. He
was admitted to the Chicago bar in 1880. From 1885 to 1892 he was professor
of Greek in Bryn Mawr College, since 1892 in the University of Chicago. He
has been head of the Greek department since 1896. In 1901-2 he was director
of the American School of Classical Studies in Athens; Turnbull lecturer in poetry,
Johns Hopkins University, 1912; Roosevelt professor at the University of Berlin
in 1913-14; editor of Classical Philology since 1908; president of the American
Philological Association, 1910; member of the National Institute of Arts and
Letters; member of the American Academy of Arts and Letters. Among his
published works are De Platonis Idearium Doctrina, The Idea of Good in Plato's
Republic; The Odes and Epodes of Horace; The Unity of Plato's Thought; The
Assault on Humanism.

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THE FUNCTIONS OF THE STATE
UNIVERSITY

By PAUL SHOREY

THE DECISION of the Civil War and the general drift of our
development towards unity and centralization tempt us to do
something less than justice to the contribution of our state govern-
ments to American prosperity. In spite of the homogeneity of
our people, the unity of language, literature, and law, and the
leveling of differences by the railway and the telegraph, the im-
portance of the states for American life is greater than we realize.
We lightly say that ours is the first successful federal government on
a large scale. But we take for granted the blessings that this system
has brought us and rarely reflect upon the unique combination
of flexibility with stability that our state governments secure for
the national life. It would be a much more profitable line of re-
flection than the ingenious and unsettling historical science which
teaches that the Constitution of the United States is an eighteenth-
century strait- jacket imposed upon our natural growth and progress
by designing plutocrats. Under normal conditions we are sometimes
a little neglectful of our state governments and console ourselves
for the mediocrity of the personnel that sometimes results from this
carelessness by celebrating the superior dignity and authority of
Uncle Sam. Impatient reformers sometimes seek to extend the
authority of the central government to the regulation of our entire
lives and the wiping out of all anomalies in the legislation of forty-
eight states.

Any and every revolution, they perceive, could then be easily
effected by simply seizing the helm at Washington. In the face of
such designs it is a comforting reflection that a complete collapse of
the central government would not give the American people over to
anarchy. Many of our forty-eight states are indeed almost what
the orators style them, self-contained empires. Not a few of them
could feed themselves and many of them in combination with neigh-
boring states could, if put to it, provide all the essentials of a tolerable
existence.

But I am not now thinking of these material considerations — of
the fact that New York surpasses a Belgium, a Holland, or a Den-
mark in population and wealth or that famous historic states of

(225)

226 Indiana University

Europe could be lost in Texas or California. I have in mind the
fact so familiar that we fail to appreciate its significance that every
one of these forty-eight states possesses an established government
with developed legislative, executive, judicial, military, and tax
collecting organs, and within a month could add to these the func-
tions of coinage, diplomacy, and the post-office, convert its militia
into an embryo army, and stand forth to the world a complete
nation, far more stable in its traditions and politically educated in
its citizenship than half of the nations with which the wars of the
past century have checkered and Balkanized the map of Europe.
A conference of a dozen governors could organize a group of such
states into a league over which neither anarchy at the center nor
invasion at the circumference could easily prevail. Such in the last
resort and from the point of view of political stability and the
balance of power are some of the potentialities of the system of
state governments that we take so lightly and sometimes so hu-
morously.

But it has another significance the consideration of which is
more appropriate for this occasion. The states are, as it were, so-
ciological laboratories for the trying of experiments which might
be hazardous and revolutionary if attempted on a national scale.
In this way, valuable or specious ideas in finance, banking, taxation,
prison administration and reform, charity, and the machinery of
elections may be tested by single states, allowing the nation as a
whole to live by the ancient maxim, Prove all things, hold fast that
which is good. Among the greatest of the subjects thus left to the
states is education. There is nothing in the Constitution to prevent
concurrent action by the national government. Washington and
many since conceived of a national university to complete and crown
the systems of local education. And it may be that in the future the
national government will be more active than in the past in coor-
dination and direction, and in the equalizing of opportunities.
But, in the main, American education hitherto from the kindergar-
ten to the university has been a function of the state by the author-
ity of which all higher degrees are conferred. In the actual order
of development, however, state schools and colleges came later
than the local, endowed private, and denominational institutions,
altho historians of state universities are accustomed to point out
that state initiative, assistance, and control played no slight part in
the foundation and early history of Harvard, Yale, Princeton, and
other of the nine chief Colonial colleges of the original states. But
whatever the history of the idea, state universities in common

Centennial Memorial Volume 227

parlance means the institutions so designated of the southern and
western states. And especially those now thirty in number that
by organizing themselves in 1895 as The Association of State Uni-
versities recognized that for the present they constitute in some
sense a distinct species from the older and larger endowed univer-
sities on the one hand and the small colleges, largely of denomina-
tional origin, on the other.

The rivalry of the state universities with the older endowed
institutions has always been a generous one. In the infancy of the
state universities their faculties were largely recruited from the
older institutions, and as they developed professors passed to and
fro from the one group to the other with no deep sense of difference.
And now that the final predominance of the state university is
assured, none but the few fanatics of democracy and secularism will
make ungenerous use of their triumph or seek to hasten unduly
the inevitable results. Our national culture will profit by the
existence of the two competing types and for many decades to come
the greater endowed universities, strong in the loyalty of their alumni,
will survive, and while changing with the changing world, will
preserve something of older traditions that the world will not will-
ingly let die. But that in the final outcome the state university
is to be the prevailing type hardly admits of doubt. The states are
nothing less than empires. However humble the beginnings of the
state university, whatever the temporary waste of funds, dissipa-
tion of energy, and compromising of ideals before the people have
learned that politics and the university idea cannot keep house
together, there always comes a time when the citizens of a great
state begin to realize what a true university is, and begin to take
pride in the excellence or feel humiliated by the deficiencies of their
own institution; and from this time on there are hardly any limits
to the possibilities of the state university. Why should we do less
than Michigan, Wisconsin, or Indiana has done? the people ask.
And the universities of Missouri, Ohio, Illinois, Texas, California,
Iowa, and Minnesota enter upon a swift expansion that may and will
stir to emulation any and all of the other states. No private en-
dowments can keep pace with the forces thus liberated. The mere
increase of the mill tax resulting from the raised valuation of
property has recently given to one state university an augmentation
of revenue equal to all that will accrue to Harvard from her fifteen-
million-dollar campaign. And a single provision of the inheritance
tax or a lien on copper deposits insures the future of others.

Confronted with the vision of so great a power, the first instinct

228 Indiana University

of human nature is to convert it to the exclusive service of our own
preferences and prejudices. In France the old domination of educa-
tion by the Jesuits was exchanged for the hardly less narrow sec-
tarian tyranny of the secularists who suppressed the long established
schools of the religious orders, banished God and the Bible from the
schools, and tried to instil in an entire generation the spirit of an
Ingersoll, a M. Homais, or a Haeckel. In spite of the numerous
so-called denominational colleges in America, we have suffered little
from such feuds. The state universities have been in the neutral
sense of the word and in comparison with denominational colleges
secular. They have never been militantly secularist, anti-clerical
in the sense of anti-religious.

But there have been times and places where the state univer-
sities seemed to express opposition to another supposed ideal of the
older types of college — namely, the conception of what is called
a general or a cultural, as opposed to a strictly practical or vocational
education. There were many natural causes for this, and plausible
reasons could be alleged in its support. You are familiar with them.
The new state institutions were the universities of the people. As
such they ought to be both practical and democratic. Practical
in the narrower sense meant that they should prepare the student for
life, and to earn a living, should stress what we now call vocational
studies. Democracy was interpreted to mean not only the demo-
cracy of persons — equal opportunity for all and the abolition of
restrictive admission requirements — but the ideal was transferred
from persons to things and it was gravely argued that the principle
of democratic equality involved the equal educational, disciplinary,
and cultural values of typewriting, bookkeeping, Greek, and
mathematics. By a familiar debater's device for turning the
tables on your opponent it was argued that the old education was
vocational. Harvard College was a vocational school for ministers
and lawyers and men of letters and professors. "Vocational your-
self" was the cry. Lastly it could be said that the older endowed
universities sufficed for the demand of the older, so-called cultural
type of education and that the new universities of the people
should provide for the needs of the new time.

Whatever temporary and opportunist truth there may have
been in this contention, the question assumes a different aspect if
the state universities are destined to be the chief, if not the sole,
organs of higher education in America. In that case the exclusion
from them of anything required for the full development of our
humanity would be disastrous.

Centennial Memorial Volume 229

I should disappoint the expectations of those who invited me
to speak today if I did not plead against a policy of such exclusion
and invite your attention to the other side of the shield. As Emer-
son once said, we like every creature to do after his kind be it
scorpion or asp, or, I will add, Greek professor. You expect the
professor of Greek to make his formal and more or less eloquent plea
for the ideal — for the ideals of culture, discipline, literature, tradi-
tion, and the things that he holds to be more excellent. You do not
expect to believe him or to allow your actions to be modified by
anything that he ma}' say. But as the audience steals away,
smothering its yawns, you with forced heartiness assure the speaker
that it did them good. They needed that message. The net out-
come is that of the parson's sermon in Tennyson's "Northern
Fanner":

An' 'card um a bummin' awaay loike a buzzard-clock ower my 'ead,
An' I niver knaw'd whot a mean'd but I thowt a 'ad summut to saay,
An' I thowt a said whot a owt to 'a said, an' I coom'd awaay.

I have delivered addresses of this ideal quality, and may do so
again. However slight the impression on the audience, they are not
wholly thrown away. If the speaker is sincere and fervent, he may
win over a few whose own spiritual hunger inclines them to believe
that not in education either can man live by bread alone. He may
confirm the courage of a few doubters and waverers who else
would be stunned and dismayed by the incessant din of the hostile
voices of the press, the platform, and fellow students. Even that
slight result is quite worth while.

But today with your consent, I am in the mood to present my
appeal in a less emotional way. All reasonable speakers must grow
a little weary of fencing matches conducted in such a fog of general-
ization that there is no real crossing of blades or forcing of issues.
Whether education should be preparation for life or culture, dis-
cipline or practical knowledge, vocational or general, these are
not the alternatives of an "absolute either or". They are questions
of time, place, person, measure, and degree, matters for compromise
and adjustment. And nothing but the number of excellent persons
who persist in the practice hinders me from saying that anyone who
discourses about "education" in general without immediately going
on to limit, distinguish, qualify, and specify some particular type
of education is a charlatan. Such distinctions may check the flow
of eloquence but they are indispensable to any clarity of thought
or definiteness of conclusion. We have little more to learn either

230 Indiana University

from impressive recitals of the achievements of modern science or
enthusiastic surveys of the glories of Greek literature. The con-
troversies of twenty, thirty, or forty years ago have no relevance to
the present situation. There is now no possibility of the predom-
inance of humanistic studies. The question is of their survival.
How did they come to gain their precarious foothold in our practical
state universities, and having thus far connived at their develop-
ment, shall we henceforth suppress them as an alien and parasitic
growth?

An eminent European philosopher once formulated what he
called the law of the heterogony of ends. It means that you may
aim at a low mark and your arrow may take a higher flight. I do
not much care for the pseudo-scientific terminology or the preten-
tious designation "law". But it expresses a fact of human exper-
ience. We do sometimes build better than we know. Saul, the son
of Kish, goes forth to seek his father's asses and finds a Kingdom.
A state legislature decrees an agricultural college and gets a
university. Besides the divinity that shapes our ends, there is a
reason in human nature for this. The soul of man is at least
potentially a fire, as many philosophical and eloquent persons have
told us from Heraclitus and Cicero to Voltaire, Sydney Smith, and
Roosevelt. You cannot kindle the fire and set limits to the flame.
You cannot bring together a large body of aspiring students and
prescribe to them the rigid bounds of their intellectual curiosity.
If you do you will chill the ardors that even the narrow tasks you
set them presuppose. Every academy, technical school, and insti-
tution of higher learning tends by the very law of its being to become
a university in the universally imputed, if not the etymological or
legal sense of the word. The mediaeval university set up the limits
of Aristotelian doctrine and the crystalline spheres of the Aristotelian
heaven. But the new science and the new astronomy swept the
barriers away. And the poet sang:

Past the wall unsurmounted that bars out our vision with iron and fire
Man hath sent forth his soul for the stars to comply with and suns to conspire.

And if the new dogmatisms of science, or the new scholasticisms
of pseudo-science, should seek to suppress what they deem the idle
and unpractical curiosities of the scholar and the dilettante they
would in their turn provoke a no less victorious revolt of the human
spirit.

Two of the colleagues who used to debate against me on the
Greek and Latin question in the faculty of the University of Chicago

Centennial Memorial Volume 231

have become presidents of state universities. Both have written to
me to say that they were distressed by the decline of the Greek
departments in their institutions and to ask me to recommend a
young man competent to build them up. The Germans established
at Hamburg a strictly practical colonial institute for the study of
geography, trade, and a colloquial knowledge of Oriental languages.
It is now a complete university. The French organized not univer-
sities but what they called partial faculties in various provincial
centers. They are now universities. An engineering school finds
that its pupils cannot write English. It imports an eminent pro-
fessor of English, but he cannot and will not teach English composi-
tion apart from English literature. And the teaching of English
literature opens vistas of the entire history of European culture
and imperatively calls for at least a preparatory training in Latin.
The professors of a scientific school try to humanize and broaden its
curriculum by studying the history of science. But you cannot
divorce the history of science from the history of philosophy, and
before they know it they find themselves trying to make out the
^meaning of Aristotle, and delivering lectures on the pre-Socratics.
The more intelligent students and professors of a purely professional
school of law become interested in the history and origins of our
system of law. They set themselves to construing mediaeval Latin
documents and the Latin of Gaius and Justinian, and if not con-
tent with primers they try to read the best books, as the treatises
of Sir Henry Maine, or Carlyle's History of Mediaeval Political Theory,
they find themselves discussing the early history of Christianity
and the influence of Greek philosophy on Roman law.

This kind of infection spreads to the least likely quarters.
I met a hulking athlete at a university reception the other day and
in the endeavor to make conversation asked him what he was study-
ing this term. Household economics was the reply. And what
particular branch are you pursuing just now? I am writing a paper
on the household economics of the Greeks. It was for this that he
had forfeited the opportunity of knowing in the original the wan-
derings of Odysseus in the first and fairest of fairylands, Socrates'
speech to his judges and Antigone weeping for her virginity, and
Alcestis' farewell to her bridal bed. So schools of education whose
classroom exercises consist largely of tirades against the study of
Latin, and demonstrations that the translation will serve as well as
the original, set their graduate students to writing quaintly amateur-
ish dissertations on Greek education or the history of Ciceronianism.
They are like the native who met me at the foot of a mountain which

232 Indiana University

I was about to climb in Estes Park. I asked him if he had ever
been up to the top. "No", he said, "but I have seen it in the movies
at Denver."

The purely agricultural college sometimes displays in its pro-
gram a monstrous disproportion of courses on the philosophy and
history of agriculture. That is of course, in part, the line of least
resistance. It is easier than cultivating corn in the July fields.
But it also illustrates that of which we are speaking — the spreading
of interests, the demand for something other and more than the
immediately practical, the unquenchable fire of intellectual and
ideal curiosity in the soul of man. It is these instincts that have
transformed so many agricultural and engineering colleges into
universities, have organized within these at first predominantly
practical universities historical, literary, linguistic, humanistic
departments, which, beginning timidly with the training of a few mas-
ters of arts, have developed, in rivalry with the older universities,
minutely specialized graduate instruction in the humanities with
publication of monographs on the dative case and dissertations on
the iota-subscript. So that now side by side with papers on bridge
building or the care of milk, the Universities of Wisconsin, Michigan,
and California publish monographs on Solon and the use of the
adjective as a substantive in the De rerum natura of Lucretius. This
spontaneous development of philological research in the state
universities has not gone unopposed. Some politicians have fought
these studies in the name of democracy and the practical needs of
the people and some men of science misled by obsolete battle cries
still regard them with distrust. There has doubtless been some
pedantry, waste, and futility in this specialized productivity. In
what field of research do we escape the wasteful methods of nature
that scatters a thousand germs for one that comes to fruition?

The opponents of humanistic studies by which I, of course,
mean more than Latin and Greek, plume themselves on their
modernity. But their controversial methods are at least thirty
years behind the actual situation. In view of the statistics and the
preponderance of newspaper and student opinion, the conventional
denunciation of Greek and Latin as obstacles to the pursuit of
practical and modern studies is ludicrous or insincere. For the now
meaningless antithesis of classics and science, of culture and prac-
tice, we must substitute a classification more nearly in accord with
actual conditions. We may distinguish three or four groups of
studies for this purpose. There are as the first two groups the pure
physical sciences and their practical applications. There is then that

Centennial Memorial Volume 233

method of study of mind and the products of mind which endeavors
to treat them as the matter of sciences analogous to the physical
sciences; and there is finally the cultural, humanistic, and critical
study of mind and its products. For convenience of designation we
will call the one the unnatural sciences or the pseudo-sciences, and
the other humanistic studies, the German geistige Wissenschaften. I
shall try later to justify my use of the term "pseudo-sciences", but
meanwhile you may take its disparaging implications as a mere
expression of my prejudices. At any rate the humanist's first plea
is that the representatives of the real sciences will take note of
this distinction whether they accept it in its entirety or not. No
reasonable humanist denies today that our entire civilization rests
on the real sciences and their industrial applications, or challenges
the prior lien of these studies on all educational subsidies that their
effective development requires. When the apologists of our
cause repeat as they all must and as Mrs. Humphrey Ward did only
the other day the truism that man cannot live by bread alone,
they are not disparaging the real sciences or sneering at those prac-
tical applications of science that have given man dominion over
nature if not over himself. We are pointing to the plain fact that
in every university many students have not the qualities of mind
required for the successful investigation of physical problems, and
many more will not be satisfied to study nothing but science. They
have other spiritual needs, other intellectual curiosities; and in
respect of such students the question today is not the simple alter-
native science or classics, it is shall they meet these imperative
needs partly by the preparatory, the humanistic, the critical study,
or exclusively by the premature and pseudo-scientific study of the
human mind, its history, and its products.

In spite of the overwhelming victory of science all along the line,
scientific men still complain that pure science is not adequately
honored and encouraged in America and that they need more and
better students to recruit the ranks of research. This may be true,
but it is not true that the monopoly of promising talent by human-
istic studies is in any appreciable degree responsible for the de-
ficiency. It is from the swollen classes of the pseudo-sciences and
the dilettante fringe of the literary courses that they must recruit
their numbers. And when they have enrolled these recruits, if they
find a large proportion of them too woolly-minded, too recalcitrant
to severe logical thinking, too ignorant of the nature of precise
language to profit by serious scientific teaching, they will perhaps
have some inkling of the meaning of our contention that in spite

234 Indiana University

of the misleading usurpation of the prestige of the name science, the
discipline of the pseudo-sciences is an inferior preparation for
genuine scientific work to that which we offer.

Before proceeding further I must redeem my pledge to justify
the term "pseudo-science". Outside of mathematics, chemistry, and
physics our terminology can never be quite colorless. A scrupulous
debater will use a word of derogatory suggestions only when he
sincerely believes that popular opinion inclines so far in the opposite
direction that his otherwise question-begging designation operates
solely as a needed and justifiable rectification. A few years ago,
for example, I would not have employed the word "radical" as a
merely denunciatory epithet. The writers whom I would so desig-
nate have themselves to thank for the growing popular misuse of
the word. They themselves intentionally substituted the poisonous
revolutionary cant term "reactionary" for the comparatively color-
less conservative They are merely "hoist with their own petard"
now that the rough and ready language of the people discards liberal
for radical and interprets radical as revolutionary. For practical
purposes, in the present line-up to save America the instinct of the
people is right. And we need have no scruples in adopting their
use of language in this respect.

The justification of the term "pseudo-science" is still clearer.
Originally it may have been used to characterize the irresponsibility
of certain exploitations and popularizations of the real sciences.
It was the Champagne science mousseuse satirized by O. W.
Holmes of which every newspaper and some sessions of the American
Academy of Science offer specimens. Huxley incorporates the word
in the title of two essays. But he uses it mainly of the amateur
science displayed by the Duke of Argyle and British bishops in their
attacks on the science of Darwin and Tyndall and Huxley himself.
If Huxley were now living he would be the first to recognize that
times have changed and that the foolish of today tafke the name of
science in vain not to assail the real sciences but to support their own
social and economic and political opinions by remote and imper-
tinent scientific analogies, as when a silly clergyman exhibits the
skeleton of an extinct armored dinosaur as an argument against
preparedness, or a militant feminist argues that husbands among
rotifers are pigmies attached to the female and parasitic upon it,
or a behaviorist solemnly pretends that it matters two straws to real
human psychology whether "the avoiding reaction in paramecium"
is to be interpreted as tropistic or a case of trial and error. In any
case it is not with reference to abuses within the real sciences that

Centennial Memorial Volume 235

I wish to use the term "pseudo-science J. Men of science, it is true,
tell me that the most exact sciences do have their lunatic fringe.
But I do not believe that this kind of pseudo-science can do much
harm. I presume that the scientific men themselves will explode it.
And tho I can sometimes divine its presence, my ignorance makes it
unsafe to pronounce the judgment that some acquaintance with
their subject-matter makes me willing to hazard in the pseudo-
sciences proper. When the academy of sciences debates the ques-
tion of other worlds than ours and the infinity of the universe, I may
have an uneasy surmise that they really know nothing about it,
and that they are giving their minds a holiday in cosmogonical
metaphysics and poetry. But I am silenced by the possibility that
there may be a definite mathematical meaning underlying language
which my ignorance cannot distinguish from the rhetoric of Plato's
Timaeus, Poe's "Eureka", and Bergson's Creative Evolution. When
an eminent physiologist tells me that it is the presence of "creatin"
that gives distinctive taste and odor to roast beef, I translate his
queer Greek, "the presence of meatiness makes roast beef meaty",
and am tempted to ask what is the difference between this and the
formula of the Platonic Phaedo that the presence of heat makes
things hot. But I am dimly aware that, however odd his language,
the physiological chemist may attach a definite and verifiable
meaning to creatin in terms of CHN and O. If Professor Wilamo-
witz of Berlin reconstructs an entire lost epic of Hesiod out of three
fragments in the scholia of Pindar, I know precisely what to think
of the performance and am not afraid to say it. But when science
presents me with two photographs of the bust of Haeckel's missing
link or pithecanthropes reconstructed by M. Eugene DeBois from a
remarkable tooth, a skull cap, and a piece of thigh bone found
sixty feet away «n the island of Java, my ignorance again ties my
tongue. I open my mouth and shut my eyes, and am willing to
believe that investigators of the physical sciences never pyramid
their hypotheses, or are tempted to startle the world with pre-
mature announcements of unverifiable discoveries — or, at any rate,
that if they do their colleagues will take care of them in time.

But what I unrepentingly call the "pseudo-sciences" cannot
overawe and silence me in that way. For the material of the pseudo-
sciences is that of the conjectural philology of Berlin, and of my own
less ambitious and less systematic studies. It is the human mind,
its products, and its history, of which language and literature are
the chief records and documents, and here the experience, the tact,
the common sense, the trained critical instinct, of the humanist
claim their rights,

236 Indiana University

It is not necessary that you should go all the way with me in
order to allow some force to this argument. You may believe that
pseudo-science is an unfair and question-begging term. You may
hold that the studies thus designated contain the promise and
the germs of real future sciences and that those who prophesy their
failure are merely repeating the error of the mediaeval, the Renais-
sance, the nineteeth-century opponents of Roger Bacon, Galileo,
and Darwin. You may argue, as their advocates do, that laboratory
psychology, pedagogical psychology, sociology, the science of educa-
tion, the sciences of anthropology and of prehistoric human origins
are still admittedly in the tentative stage, and that it is unfair to
challenge them to produce results comparable to those of the
established physical sciences. All this could be conceded without
affecting the humanist's main contention. The justification of
the term "pseudo-sciences' ' is that the present disproportion between
pretensions and performance in these subjects exceeds the measure
allowed to human fallibility. Humanists may err in excess of scepti-
cism. They do not dogmatically and prophetically deny the future
possibilities of the pseudo-sciences. But the representatives of
these subjects do attempt to discount their own prophecies in the
cash of present control of all educational policies and the substitu-
tion of their methods of study of the human mind and its products
for the methods of a critical humanism. Any illustrations of this
that I may quote are merely typical. Professor King fo; example
writes in his Development of Religion: "The scientist is perfectly
safe in assuming that his realm may finally be extended so as to
include everything. For there could be no science on any other
assumption." A similar spirit of confident prophecy, as you re-
member, inspired an act to establish the catholepistemiad or
University of Michigania, which in anticipation of the limitation of
university presidencies to professors of education prescribes that
there shall be "a didaxia or piofessorship of catholepistemia the
didactor of which shall be president of the institution". In 1916
Professor Munsterberg wrote: "You turn to me because one whose
life work is psychology may best foresee the days that are to come."
It may be argued that these are not fair or representative examples,
but I could quote scores ir the same style and to the same purport
It is only under the immediate fire of humanist criticism that
they fall back on the modest evasion that they are merely experi-
menting in the direction of a possible future science. Effectiveness
of assertion, says Mr. Bernard Shaw, is the Alpha and Omega of
style; and the pseudo-sciences have been successful in capturing

Centennial Memorial Volume 237

public opinion. How else explain the infatuation of a man of the
caliber of Henry Adams who in his own pseudo-scientific essay,
"The Rule of Phase Applied to History", writes and is taken serious-
ly by the public when he writes, "Thus results the plain assurance
that the future of thought and therefore of history lies in the hands
of the physicist, and that the future historian must seek his educa-
tion in the world of mathematical physics." Mr. Adams must have
known that a training in mathematical physics does not fit a man to
interpret historical documents or write readably about them.
But to obtain a hearing today one must advertise himself as the
discoverer of a mare's nest. The popular reviewer accepts literally
the paradox of Professor James that mere sanity is the cheapest
and least significant of the mental qualities. And the modernist
critic habitually sneers at one of the best informed and most instruc-
tive of recent French writers, Emile Faguet, because "he has left no
theory by which we may perpetuate his name"; and at America's
foremost man of letters, Lowell, because "he had a weakness for
stopping short of the ultima* e."

Those then who are repelled by the negative and obstructive
attitude of the humanist towards these tendencies of modern
thought may receive his criticism merely as a check on their excesses,
and a warning against their aberrations. That I think is the attitude
of some of my friends who profess these new sciences. They feel
that they can afford to smile good naturedly at our railings while
profiting by the detail of our criticism, because after all they have
the ear of the public and we are impotent to shake their control.
To take one typical example, there can be no question that the
better informed psychologists have in late years hedged on the
question of the existence of disciplinary studies under the pres-
sure of humanistic criticism, tho they may cover this retreat by
reports of new series of experiments. President Stanley Hall and
some of his pupils still assure the public that "science has pro-
nounced" that there is no such thing as mental discipline. But the
prudent majority are more cautious.

I need not then, and obviously cannot here consider how far
the pseudo-sciences are literally what the term implies, and so
deserve to rank with astrology or psychical research or Freudism.
I have touched on the subject elsewhere and shall sometime take
it up in detail. Such a discussion would begin with a challenge
to name specific results not as well obtainable by other methods.
That challenge has never been met, except recently by the claim
that the psychologist's tests of intelligence proved of immense

238 Indiana University

practical value in the rapid organization of the United States army.
I mention this claim not to examine it here but merely in order not
to seem to overlook the main, if not the only, argument in rebuttal
of the humanist's scepticism. To test the claim would involve a
discussion of the line of demarcation between psychology and
physiology, an examination of the enormous mass of uncritical
evidence, and experiments on a large scale as to the ability of edu-
cated men who are not professional psychologists to sift a mass of
raw recruits by a roughly sufficient classification of their degree of
intelligence. That is impossible and unnecessary here. For I am
not advocating the suppression of the pseudo-sciences, or prophesy-
ing that nothing will ever come from all the enormous labor now
apparently wasted on them. We are merely pleading for the sur-
vival of critical humanism, both as a check upon them and as an
indispensable element in the complete self-realization of the human
spirit. We only ask you to consider what kind of world, what
culture, what sort of university faculties, what histories, what
literature would result from an unrestricted domination of the
pseudo-sciences, and the entire suppression of humanists and all
the things of which they are the imperfect representatives?

The radical labor leader, Mr. Foster, testifying before the
Senate committee, said, "I take the position that Lester F. Ward
takes." "Who is Lester F. Ward?" said Senator Sterling, and the
New Republic waxes eloquent over the ignorance that knew nothing
of "our most distinguished philosopher". Unlike the Senator, I
have read Lester F. Ward. I reserve for another time the examina-
tion of the claim that he is our most distinguished philosopher.
But here is the substance of a sentence from his Glimpses of the
Cosmos: "What .... strikes me is that in every case of a
claim to the discovery of new truth that I have thus far met with
. . . . it is one or some small part of one that I have not only
stated earlier, but fully set forth, carefully analyzed, and connected
with other related truths." To put the issue concretely, is this the
temper and attitude of mind that we wish to see flourish in our
universities uncontrolled by the criticism of a different tradition?
Do we wish the next generation of our college faculties apart from the
strictly physical sciences to consist wholly of emulators and dis-
ciples of the Lester F. Wards, the Stanley Halls, the Thorndikes, the
Veblens, the Miinsterbergs, the Pattens, the Scott Nearings? of
young men who think their thoughts, share their tastes, reason with
their logic and in their categories, and express themselves in their
diction? Shall there be no qualifications of the academic atmosphere

Centennial Memorial Volume 239

and the ideals that such men would establish by the witnessing or
protesting presence of a few teachers and students who may or may
not have heard of Lester F. Ward, but who have heard of Lowell and
Gildersleeve? Would you prefer an England wholly dominated by
the mind and temper of the Herbert Spencers, the Buckles, the
Bains, the Cliffords, the Professor Graham Wallases, unrelieved by
any survival of the spirit of Arnold, Tennyson, Froude, Jebb,
Jowett, Mackail, and Murray? Would your preserve the France of
Taine, Tarde, LeBon, Binet, Calparede and abolish or forget the
France of St. Beuve, Cousin, Renan, Gaston Boissier, Croiset, and
Faguet? Are you interested only in the Germany of Buechner,
Haeckel, Ostwald, Freud, and do you care nothing for the Germany
of Curtius, Mommsen, and Wilamowitz? That is quite literally the
issue and the choice presented to the American university of the
next two decades, and more particularly to the state universities.
To transfer this issue from persons to things and books, the prac-
tical abolition of critical humanistic scholarship in our universities
would bring about a rapid deterioration of all historical, literary,
and linguistic knowledge and teaching thruout the nation. And in
the end it would reduce to hopeless confusion and insecurity the
very materials upon which the pseudo-sciences try to build. It
must be admitted that our Germanized philology in its abuse of
hypothesis sometimes vies with the crudest pseudo-science in the
diffusion of misinformation. But whatever its temporary aberra-
tions, humanism never abandons the principle of the control of
its facts by a critical mastery of the original sources. Neither the
pseudo-scientists, nor alas! the scientists outside of their laboratories,
seem to have the slightest conception of what this involves. They
complacently publish, they put on the reference shelves of their
courses, they send their students to consult books that are confused
compilations from secondary and tertiary authorities, who cannot
be trusted to put any of their facts correctly and in the right
historical perspective. Lewes' Biographical History of Philosophy,
Draper's Intellectual Development of Europe, White's Warfare of
Theology and Science, Benn's Greek Philosophy, and the historical
parts of nearly all books on the science of literary origins, the
science of institutional origins, and the science of religion might
serve as illustrations. A voluminous history of science published
by Professor Henry Smith in 1914 devotes an entire volume to the
history of ancient science. It is hopelessly unscientific and uncritical.
But probably neither the author nor the majority of its readeis
has any notion why its statements are so untrustworthy and its

240 Indiana University

methods so inadequate. Instinctive Tightness of perception in
such matteis is as impossible without long discipline in the inter-
pretation of original texts as it is in the physical sciences without
the habit of the laboratory. The university that, be the students
few or many, supports its humanistic departments both for under-
graduate culture and for the intenser graduate study that in this
field is the equivalent of research is preserving from atrophy one of
the essential critical organs for the ascertainment of truth — that
total truth to the pursuit of which it is consecrated by its very name.
What makes a university is not the science of the individual pro-
fessor, at the best a vanishing quantity in the face of the infinite,
but the potentialities of the collectivity — the fact that somewhere
and by somebody every present possibility of human knowledge
is embodied and represented in its highest form, the fact that there
is someone whom you can consult who knows, who is not dependent
on the encyclopaedia or the latest newspaper report of European
work. Men of science accept and respect this university ideal in
other fields. When they have freed their minds from the preju-
dices of obsolete controversies they will appreciate its application
in this case. The study of the so-called classical humanities, apart
from their tried and tested direct disciplinary cultural and forma-
tive value for young minds, is the systematic and critical investiga-
tion of fifteen hundred years of continuous literature, philosophy,
and civilization, a civilization significant in itself and doubly signi-
ficant as the chief original tho now no longer the chief basis of our
own. When once they have rid themselves of polemics no longer
relevant it is not conceivable that thoughtful men of science should
wish so vast a domain of knowledge to be represented in the Uni-
versitas Studiorum only by dilettante, amateurish, and secondary
methods of study, or by the structures of hypothesis that the pseudo-
sciences erect with material uncritically compiled from translations
and handbooks.

Do I need to answer the naive suggestion that is sometimes
put forth that provision should be made for a definitive translation
of all the classics and for authoritative textbooks in antiquities and
the history of ancient thought, and that when this is done one
custodian of such a library in every university would amply suffice
for all the requirements of culture and science? There can of course
be no definitive translation or textbook. In the past eighty years
the new material and the progress of classical studies have been only
less marvelous than those of the physical sciences. But even if
the time should come when no further accession of material could be

Centennial Memorial Volume 241

looked for and all the accounts were closed the interpretation of
fifteen hundred years of the life of humanity, and its shifting applica-
tions to our own ever-changing life and thought could never cease
to be a living and growing thing. And if it could be confined in a
definite system and a final canon, the custodian of such a dead
corpus of knowledge would die to living science himself and cease
to be capable of interpreting or imparting it.

In spite of Carlyle, a university will always be something more
than a collection of books. The highest thought, as the Aristotelian
metaphysics teaches, is identical with its object, and exists only as
realized in the "active intellect". The book without the illuminating
mind is, as Plato says, an inert and unresponsive thing. It cannot
convey real knowledge. That lives in the communion of master and
disciple, and in the tradition of true teaching. The writing of
textbooks, he says, is a form of play, an entertainment of leisure, a
memorandum against oblivion and forgetfulness. Intellectual
seriousness begins when the teacher, finding a fit soul, in the inter-
change of active discussion sows and implants thoughts wedded to a
true science, capable of defending themselves and their author, not
sterile, but bearing within them the seed that in the continuance
of a living tradition shall make our knowledge and the transmission
of knowledge to our successors immortal.

Something will be lacking, this is our final plea, something
will be lacking to the university which comes short of this Platonic
ideal in any considerable department of human knowledge. And
most assuredly to the university in which the originality, the beauty,
the rationality, the wealth of thought and suggestion, the lessons of
moral and political experience, the enormous material for modern
comparisons and analogies, the incomparable human and humanizing
interest of the civilizations of Greece and Rome survive only in the
dusty tomes of the library and fail of due spiritual reincarnation
in fitting souls.

THE OBLIGATION OF THE STATE
TOWARD SCIENTIFIC RESEARCH

James Rowland Angell was born in Burlington, Vermont, May 8, 1869. He
was educated at the University of Michigan where he received the bachelor's
degree in 1890, and the master's in 1891, at Harvard (A.M., 1892), at the Uni-
versity of Berlin, the University of Halle, and at Vienna, Paris, and Leipzig. The
University of Vermont conferred the Litt. D. degree on him in 1915. He became
instructor in philosophy at the University of Minnesota in 1893; assistant pro-
fessor of psychology and director of the psychological laboratory at the University
of Chicago, 1894-1901; associate professor, 1901-5; professor and head of the
department, from 1905; senior dean, from 1908; dean of the University faculties,
from 1911; acting president, 1918-19. In 1921 he was elected president of
Yale University. He was formerly president of the University of Chicago
Settlement ; a member and president of the American Psychological Association ;
member of the committee of the adjutant-general's office on classification of
personnel in the army; of the committee of the War Department on education
and special training, from 1918; appointed exchange professor at the Sor-
bonne in 1914; is a member of Phi Beta Kappa, Sigma Xi, and the National
Academy of Sciences; chairman of the National Research Council, 1919-20;
now president of the Carnegie Corporation of New York. He is the author of
Psychology, Chapters from Modern Psychology, and Introduction to Psychology.

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THE OBLIGATION OF THE STATE TO-
WARD SCIENTIFIC RESEARCH

By JAMES ROWLAND ANGELL

ALL DISCUSSIONS regarding the state and its obligations are in
this country beset with the difficulty of distinguishing between the
federal state and the states which compose it. Far be it from
me to plunge into the jungles of political philosophy and constitu-
tional law which open up before one who attempts to elaborate a
philosophy of the state which shall do justice to these rivals for
consideration! It is difficult enough for our courts to untangle the
purely legislative and legal complications of their relations. But in
the present instance, I am thinking of the forty-eight great common-
wealths, among which Indiana holds so honorable a place. It is
their opportunities and obligations in the matter of research which
I would discuss.

My thesis, which is perhaps an article of faith rather than
a demonstrable proposition, is that the obligation of the state to
promote research is simply one phase of its obligation to promote the
welfare of its citizens, and to some incidental commentary upon this
thesis, I forthwith proceed. That I shall bring conviction to any who
dissent from the doctrine at the outset, I regard as altogether
dubious. I conceive my function as primarily that of formulating
certain of the grounds upon which one who entertains this view may
be justified of his belief.

Let it be recognized that whatever the theoretical justification,
many of the states, and conspicuously Indiana, have already in
practice committed themselves to the support of research. It
matters not what motives may have originally prompted the decision
to embark on this course. The fact itself is the significant thing,
and, as such, it has created a precedent in no way likely to be per-
manently reversed. The real issue, I take it, is rather as to the
extent to which research shall be endowed by the state, and the par-
ticular fields of investigation which may be held to justify such
investment of its financial resources.

There has, for example, been no special hesitation to establish
stations for agricultural research, and the results of the work of
many of these stations are looked upon with unqualified pride,

(245)

246 Indiana University

and have undoubtedly secured substantial advantages to the com-
munity. Unquestionably in these instances the motive has been
economic gain, and the support so willingly given by legislatures has
been procured upon the assurance of such economic return. Many
of these stations have been established in connection with the agri-
cultural colleges of the states, and their investigatory work has often
tended to fuse with the purely instructional work of the college.
Indeed, in not a few instances, the energies of these institutions
have been so monopolized by the obligations to teach the college
students and the surrounding farming community, that their activ-
ity as agents for research has been gravely compromised. This fact
must not, however, for a moment be allowed to screen the more sig-
nificant fact that the states have recognized in their establishment
the legitimacy of financing scientific research with public funds.

While I believe that numerically there are probably more
instances of the financial support of research in agriculture and the
allied sciences than in any other single group of scientific interests,
there have also been numerous illustrations of a similar subsidy of
research in engineering of various types, and of investigations of
natural resources, such as minerals. I believe there are also a few
instances of the subsidy of medical research in the field of public
health. In any event, I have no thought of attempting a complete
census of these varied ranges of research upon which one or more of
the states have already embarked, but simply wish to call somewhat
vividly to your attention the fact that a considerable group of
investigatory interests have already secured state support.

It will appear at once from the mere rehearsal of this list
of research undertakings that, superficially considered at least, they
all represent the fields of applied rather than of pure science, and
this is measurably true, altho certain of them inevitably runout
into investigations which would usually be classed as belonging to
pure science. This is the fact, for example, in certain of the botan-
ical investigations undertaken in connection with agricultural
problems. But the case is even stronger than this, inasmuch as
practically all the states which have state universities have com-
mitted themselves to research in pure science, including the social
and humanistic sciences, as well as the natural sciences. The extent
of this support has varied very widely in different parts of the coun-
try and at different times. It has on occasion been frank and open
and administered with wide public understanding of what was
being done. On other occasions it has been accomplished quietly

Centennial Memorial Volume 247

by indirection, and almost by subterfuge, and with no attempt to
justify it in any general way to the supporting public.

Every college president who has to go before a state legislature
for funds is quite familiar with the difference in the practical
problems which confront him when he seeks financial support for
research in pure science, and for research in such forms of applied
science as may presumably be of commercial or industrial signi-
ficance in the state. It is indeed an audacious executive who would
attempt to secure from such a legislature funds for investigation
in the ancient languages or in many branches of historical and social
science. To be sure, a few highly intelligent states have discovered
that a competent research bureau dealing with matters of political,
social, and economic science can render enormous aid to a legislature
in its attempt to devise new and helpful legislation which shall im-
prove upon the experience of other communities, and even other
nations, and shall escape the interdict of unconstitutionality im-
posed by the Supreme Court. But, broadly speaking, it is only
those branches of natural science whose relation to applied science
in agriculture, medicine, and the industries is likely to be fairly
obvious that the university president finds his task at all simple in
securing funds for the prosecution of research. He is in practice
most apt, if he does anything to encourage such research, to accom-
plish it by private agreement with the men he appoints to his pro-
fessorial positions, ostensibly as teachers, but actually with the
understanding that they are to carry on such investigational enter-
prises as they are able.

It appears, therefore, at once that while the principle of state
support for scientific investigation has already been conceded, the
practical operation of it leaves very much to be desired, and this is
peculiarly true at that point where the practical bearing of the
subject-matter of research upon the interests of daily life becomes
obscure to the plain man and the common citizen. This twilight
zone is encountered very early in any invasion of the humanistic
field.

There are at least two great services rendered by scientific
research. In the first place, it represents the principle of life and
growth in science itself. It may be compared to the reproductive
process in organic life, by means of which new generations of thought
and discovery are brought into being, and the future enriched with
new ideas and new methods for promoting the welfare of humanity.
Without it, science and knowledge in all its branches is not only
sterile, but ultimately dies and decays. Moreover, nothing is more

248 Indiana University

certain than that without incessant research in pure science, no
continued discoveries of practical value can accrue. Altho it is
perfectly impossible to predict from what direction in pure science
the next discovery will come which will revolutionize or profoundly
affect the affairs of daily life, nothing is more certain than the fact
that only from the results of such research conducted with utter
freedom and in all fields of endeavor can the race hope to progress
in its mastery of nature. The nation that slights pure science will
assuredly fall behind in the race for equality, to say nothing of
supremacy.

So long as the human mind continues to function, there need
be no fear that research will ever wholly disappear, for it may fairly
be said that there is intrinsic to the human intelligence an essential
instinct for, and interest in, the discovery of the novel, and there
are abundant influences in human life which compel intelligence to
exert itself in the mastery of new fields. On the other hand, how-
ever, there are the widest possible differences in the results to be
attained, depending upon whether in the one case research is fos-
tered and encouraged, both by social recognition and by financial
support, or whether, in the other, it is disregarded and allowed to
struggle with circumstances wholly unaided. A civilization which
recognizes the paramount value of scientific investigation, and which
furnishes to it resources and the recognition of public esteem, is
certain to outstrip its contemporaries in its promotion of the
breadth and depth of human life.

In the second place, there is as a universal by-product of the
prosecution of research the creation of an atmosphere of intellectual
alertness, of independence of judgment, of freshness of outlook,
which compared with intellectual surroundings where knowledge is
regarded as complete, finished, done once and for all, is wholly
unmistakable and of the utmost value. It is quite possible to
demonstrate by actual observation the correctness of this verdict.
Without venturing the invidious mention of names and places, it
may still be said with absolute confidence that there are certain
educational institutions, for example, where the dogmatic and
intellectually self-complacent attitude of those in charge bespeaks
the pedant who believes himself thoro master of his field, and for
whom that field contains no dark corners, no unexplored recesses.
The atmosphere of such an institution is not only intellectually
smug and vain, it is to all real mental development mephitic, a place
where none can breathe who are really alive intellectually. Over
against such an atmosphere, one finds other institutions in which the

Centennial Memorial Volume 249

entire attitude is one of open-minded observation of the truths just
ahead, and one of constant critical re-examination of the supposed
truths with which we are now provided. Such an atmosphere is
tonic, bracing, and inspiring, intolerant of scholasticism! and
intellectual dogmatism. It speaks of growth, of life, and of progress,
and is in its educational effects as different from the first as darkness
from light.

But we must come back to the underlying question of the signi-
ficance of research in pure science, and of research in the humanistic
branches of learning, as constituting the real problem. What can be
said by way of justification, and by way of convincing appeal, for
the intelligent public support of research in these directions? We
must qualify our enquiry at the very outset by recognizing the
necessity for a certain division of functions among the various re-
search agencies of the country, and we must also be prepared to offer
reasonable assurance that the research work whose promotion we
propose shall be carried ou t by thoroly competent persons, and that
funds devoted to such purposes shall not be squandered upon the
miscellaneous endeavors of the unfit.

From the standpoint of ultimate scientific, social, and economic
advantage, it is quite indefensible to attempt to secure public sup-
port for branches of investigation already adequately provided for
thru extant agencies. Owing to motives of local pride, and some-
times of selfish interest, state institutions are peculiarly exposed to
the danger of injudicious and unjustifiable duplication of work done
in neighboring communities. In the case of the state university,
this often takes the form of propaganda to have the local institution
the largest of its kind, to have it cover the entire field of human
learning, and, in general, to gratify the usually laudable human
desire for pre-eminence. The interests of research in such imperialis-
tic propaganda have commonly been secondary, but they have
nevertheless often been involved. The state university, for example,
must have the greatest engineering school, covering engineering in all
its branches; must have the largest and best equipped agricultural
establishment; must have the finest school for journalism and
commerce; and so forth and so on. Incidentally, to each of these
added items in the educational program, there is likely to be a foot-
note devoted to the interests of research, and in time this footnote
tends to expand into a full-fledged paragraph in the body of the text.
Now there are undoubtedly certain fields of investigation — chemis-
try may serve as a case in point — in which it is highly improbable
that for some time to come there is any likelihood of excessive pro-

250 Indiana University

ductivity. But there are abundant instances of a very different
character. The amount of marine engineering which can be
profitably developed in interior agricultural communities is certainly
not very large; the amount of research in vertebrate paleontology
which the scientific demands of the time intrinsically justify is in the
nature of the case somewhat limited; the extent of the profitable
forms of research which can by many institutions be undertaken in
the field of the ancient languages unquestionably has its limits ; and
abundant other instances will readily suggest themselves. It must
then be frankly recognized, as part of any intelligent attempt to
secure general public endorsement of research, that there is an in-
trinsic fitness in things which makes it inappropriate to undertake
in certain institutions and in certain regions types of work which are
obviously indigenous to other institutions or communities, or which
are for one reason or another already adequately cared for elsewhere.
Any attempt to expand either the instructional or the investigative
work of our institutions beyond the boundaries of essential intel-
lectual propriety and the general effectiveness of our national
program as a whole, must in the long run bring discredit upon its
promoters and undermine the public confidence in scientific and
educational experts. It may be remarked that the National Re-
search Council is hoping to bring about thru cooperative means
a wiser and more judicious distribution of these responsibilities than
now exist.

In a similar way must be recognized the necessity for exercising
every possible care to protect the research career from exploitation
by the pedant, the fakir, and the crank. Research work is in the
nature of the case of a character to render prediction of its ultimate
value always precarious and frequently impossible. It belongs, like
certain of our agricultural processes, to a group of undertakings
where, for the best interests of the community, there should always
probably be some excess of attempted production over the actual
needs, in view of the fact that inevitably a certain fraction of the
effort expended will either be temporarily or permanently unfruitful.
But, on the other hand, research must in the long run justify itself
to public opinion, and this it will do only if it be confided to the best
trained and the intellectually most competent. There is, according-
ly, peculiarly urgent need for the exercise of drastic selection of the
men privileged to participate at public expense in the administration
of research. Nor should it be supposed that this obligation is in any
sense confined to scientific investigation. It is similar in character
to the obligation resting upon a public service commission to see

Centennial Memorial Volume 251

that the community is served by the scientifically competent, that
its bridges are safe, that its roadways are durably built, that its
water supply is pure, and that its courts are honest and intelligent.
It differs solely in the fact that the public mind has not as yet
come to recognize so fully as in these other cases the cardinal relation
of successful research to the highest development of the community.

With these two qualifications in mind, to wit, an intelligent
distribution of the responsibility for research, and the further obliga-
tion of careful selection of the personnel entrusted with this high
privilege, we may again revert to the discussion of the general
justification of investigation in pure science and in the humanities.

In the language of the market-place, it is relatively easier "to
sell" research in pure natural science than it is in the humanistic
branches and in part at least, because the utilities which ever and
again arise from the practical applications of investigations in these
sciences are more obvious, and generally more closely related to
direct economic gain. In part it is because of the less perfected
technique by which humanistic investigation is conducted, as well
as by virtue of the more esoteric character of some phases of the
subject-matter. A few illustrations may bring out what is here in
mind.

It is fairly clear even to the uneducated how a discovery in pure
chemistry, tho made with no thought of its practical value,
may improve the processes in an industry like that of the pulp
manufacturers or that of the dye-makers, and the saving in
money and the improvement in the output are both reasonably
obvious. Similarly, it can be readily understood how other dis-
coveries may lead to improved fertilizers with a great increase in
agricultural productivity. But it is not at all clear what possible
relation to ultimate community advantage exists between an
archaeological discovery in the upper valley of the Nile and the
conduct of village life in central Indiana. Nor is it easy for the
average individual to discern what ultimate advantages can accrue
to American communities from a study of early Icelandic. The
typical scholar of the Victorian or the pre-Victorian period is at once
disposed to throw up his hands and insist upon the intellectual
immorality of attempting to discover any immediate practical values
in these fields, urging as the sole justification for pure research —
knowledge for knowledge's sake. This is a comforting doctrine
and one which states undoubtedly a psychological truth so far as
concerns the investigator. Again and again he has been of a mind
to glory in his specialty in the measure in which it quite certainly

252 Indiana University

could have no practical value. But in the larger conception of the
social organism, and particularly in the conception which is obliga-
tory for the directors of a state educational system, there must
ultimately be some significant contact points between research
which the state can reasonably be asked to finance and the public
consequences of such investigations.

On closer analysis of the situation it is found to subdivide it-
self into a considerable series of differing fields. In economics, for
example, and political science, in certain phases of both sociology
and history, it is entirely clear that research may have direct and
immediate value for the political and social institutions of a state,
even when the investigations are undertaken entirely from the point
of view of their theoretical and intellectual interest. Legislation
may be improved, institutional organization may be bettered, and
the general public appreciation of its own problems may be im-
mensely enhanced as the result of such investigations. Indeed, it is
hardly an exaggeration to say that amateur legislation is the worst
enemy of democratic institutions. But it is much more difficult in
the field of the linguistic studies to exhibit this direct and possibly
immediate return to community advantage. Certainly the argu-
ment for it has to be based upon more indirect and elaborate con-
siderations, and even then it is often difficult to justify the promo-
tion of research as such in distinction from the mere diffusion of
already acquired knowledge.

Education in the United States has recognized this situation
practically by the limitations in the actual languages taught in our
various institutions. In an earlier generation Greek and Latin
were universal in colleges. Later came French, German, Spanish,
and Italian, with here and there Portuguese, Russian, Chinese, and
Japanese. But many of the languages of modern Europe are to the
best of my knowledge and belief entirely unrepresented, to say
nothing of the oriental tongues. This is neither the time nor the
place to enter upon any extended analysis of the educational
principles which should control the mere teaching of ancient or
modern languages, and without this it would be difficult to discuss
intelligently the corresponding limitations of justifiable research.
Suffice it to say, that as a pragmatic principle the state can hardly
be asked to endow research which may not be expected in the long
run to make some measurable return to the intellectual life of the
community which fosters it; and, at any given time, financial re-
sources being in the nature of the case limited, it will always be
necessary to choose where development shall first occur. Under

Centennial Memorial Volume 253

these conditions one may predict with entire certainty that resources
will not generally be available for investigatory work in fields for
which the public has absolutely no appreciation. Funds for work
in these fields must either be secured from private benefactors or
must wait upon the slow education of the public mind. In the mean-
time, it will always be legitimate to seek and urge such support
wherever the case may be made clear that the outcome of such
research, either immediately or indirectly, may be expected to
contribute to the essential development of the community. In this
conception of the community there is implied not simply its physical
comfort and the decencies of life, but its intellectual, moral, and
spiritual development, which constitute after all the great and
lasting criteria of national development. American communities
as a whole are at the moment peculiarly deficient in an appre-
ciation of the fine arts and in opportunities for growth and dis-
cipline in such appreciation. In this field alone the possibilities of
education are almost limitless, and with such education will come
a higher evaluation of many lines of humanistic study and investiga-
tion.

Altho the fundamental aims of education still constitute a
favorite subject of debate at educational conventions and other
similar gatherings, there is a general concensus that the education
afforded by a state should at least train for effective citizenship.
If society would only stand still, and if the various agencies which
it employs to carry on its business would similarly remain static for
a little while, the problem proposed to the educator would be
relatively simple. One could train a young man for a specific job
with some certainty that when he was delivered by the university
for the use of society he would be ready to take up his calling with
little or no necessity for readjustment. Unfortunately for this
theory of education, life is provokingly fluid; little or nothing stays
put. Whether we call it progress or decay, we have at least to reckon
with the fact of constant change, and if this be true, it seems fairly
clear that the dominant emphasis in our educational program
should fall upon such forms of training as promise to convey in
largest degree the power to do constructive thinking and the ability
to master new situations. These powers are of the very essence of
research, and any educational program which substantially disre-
gards them may be challenged as fundamentally defective.

Oddly enough, one-half of this principle is very generally ac-
cepted. Certainly it is a commonplace to hear our educational
leaders harp upon the necessity of ability to master new tasks, and

254 Indiana University

to accomplish constructive work; and yet in the face of this, prob-
ably the great majority of them are still advocating forms of educa-
tional training in which this constructive element is all but wholly
lacking. Surely a good case may be made for the obligation of a
state, in so far as it desires really trained young people, to see to it
that each and every one is from the earliest practicable point
brought up in an atmosphere saturated with incentives to critical
thinking, to research, and to constructive intellectual independence.
How far our conventional academic processes fall short of this ideal
is best known to those engaged in their administration. It surely
needs no magnification by the present speaker on this occasion.

While we are considering education, we may well touch upon
certain other significant points. It is common to contrast with
one another, as tho the two were wholly antithetical, research work
and teaching. The common assumption is that teaching is, as such,
an inevitable impediment to the conduct of research. So much is
this the case that one constantly hears lauded the advantages of
research institutes, in centra-distinction to university appointments,
as giving the investigator complete freedom from the interruptions
of teaching. Unquestionably, there is a large measure of truth
in this antithesis, for there are many forms of research which require
for their successful prosecution the uninterrupted time and attention
of the investigator, and just in that degree in which he is obliged
to give his time to instruction in the classroom is his accomplishment
in investigation likely to be curtailed.

On the other hand, there is a deeper sense in which teaching and
research are to be considered simply phases of a common process,
and, despite the possibility of exaggerating the extent to which this
is true, the consideration merits a brief discussion because it pre-
sents a conception of the situation ordinarily neglected and often
denied.

Men dealing with the advanced aspects of a subject and with
classes made up of fairly expert graduate students find that it is
possible to conduct the instruction quite in the spirit of research.
It is, indeed, often possible for the productive investigator to take
advantage of such opportunities to present his own investigatory
work in ways which are immensely stimulating to his students and
clarifying to himself. But the condition of the man dealing with
young students and very elementary subjects is generally thought
to be of a radically different kind, and one precluding the possi-
bility of any thought of research. Certain it is that not a few instruc-
tors of elementary classes carry on their work in a spirit utterly
remote from that of investigation ; but it is doubtful whether there

Centennial Memorial Volume 255

is any field in which this is altogether necessary and it is certain
that for the most part a competent instructor can always surround
his work with a critical atmosphere of scientific investigation. The
best and most inspiring teaching is always of this kind. Indeed,
it may perhaps be called the only true teaching. Around large
ranges of our academical work it is entirely practicable to throw
the spirit of investigation, and only when this is done does such
work take on a genuinely university character.

In the last analysis then, it is in part, at least, a fallacious
antithesis to set investigation and teaching over against one an-
other as mutually incompatible. The facts are quite otherwise
and there is a large body of thoroly competent opinion holding that
the investigator is in the long run sure to be more productive of
sound research, provided he is kept in contact with a group of well-
trained and alert young scholars. No one can doubt that the clari-
fying effect upon scientific thinking which comes from the necessity
of making lucid exposition of new discoveries and theories to a
competent and critical audience is of immense value. Moreover,
the history of scientific research is replete with instances of in-
vestigators who have multiplied many times their own efficiency
thru the immediate stimulating effect which they have exercised
over students under their tutelage — an effect which would have been
much more slowly and much less widely propagated had such men
been working in relative isolation.

The state which possesses a well-equipped university has at
its disposal a body of experts who may and should be called upon
whenever the state is confronted with new scientific problems. But
the state cannot maintain a competent staff of this kind unless it
affords the university adequate resources to retain such men, and
a precondition of their retention is the supplying of opportunities
for research.

The university also enjoys one peculiar advantage as a center
for scientific investigation in that it normally has within its faculty
men representing a considerable range of scientific fields. Most of
the great scientific problems confronting a modern state involve
a considerable group of sciences for their solution. Water supply,
sewage, public health, all run out into questions where the chemist,
the bacteriologist, the physician, and the engineer, to mention no
others, are involved. The presence of men in all these fields on a
well-appointed university faculty renders it possible to secure there
a cooperative attack upon these basic problems such as no other
group of institutions can offer. That the universities have not been
more widely used in this way reflects no great credit on our state

256 Indiana University

governments, but conditions have in this particular in many states
improved very rapidly of late.

While the states have gone far to recognize certain forms of
research, their universities have for the most part come in for a
disproportionately small share of the corresponding financial sup-
port. University budgets are drawn primarily to cover instruction
and administration. Any funds for general research purposes are
ordinarily smuggled in under cover of one or other of these headings.
The exceptions to this rule are so few as practically to prove it cor-
rect. Now while it is undoubtedly true that the best university
teaching is always done from the point of view of discovery and in-
vestigation, it is equally true that this spirit cannot be kept alive
by mere act of will. There must be adequate libraries, laboratories,
and equipment to permit the actual conduct of scientific research,
otherwise the spirit flags and the whole operation presently becomes
a farce. These facilities require money and in relatively consider-
able amounts, and it is part of the duty of the intelligent citizens of
the state to see to it that legislatures have this fact brought vividly
home to them. To leave this task wholly to the university author-
ities is stupid and unfair. It puts upon them more than their just
share of the burden of intelligent legislation, and it greatly decreases
the possibilities of prompt action, for legislatures inevitably regard
all such officials as somewhat partisan and prejudiced.

To sum up the whole matter then, the situation appears to be
one in which the obligation of the state to support research is
hardly open to question. Enlightened self-interest, if nothing
higher, indicates unequivocally the wisdom of this course. Whether
the state shall accomplish its objects exclusively thru special
boards, bureaus, institutes, and commissions, or thru the machinery
of its state educational institutions, the speaker has made no attempt
to assert. Indeed, the conditions in the different states vary so
widely, and for that matter the intrinsic character of certain of the
problems to be solved, that probably no general rule is or should be
valid. In any event, the detailed execution of a plan is in this case
of far less moment than the recognition of a fundamental oppor-
tunity and obligation.

In the interests of education, for the sake of public health and
happiness, and for the promotion of the highest intellectual and
spiritual development of the community, a liberal support of a well-
considered program of scientific and humanistic investigation is in-
dispensable. A bold and fearless campaign for the recognition of
this principle is one of the pressing obligations resting on all good
citizens.

THE FUTURE OF LEGAL EDUCATION

Roscoe Pound was born at Lincoln, Nebraska, on October 27, 1870. He
received the A.B. degree at the University of Nebraska in 1888, the A.M. in
1889, and the Ph.D. in 1897. In 1889-90 he attended the Harvard Law School.
The following institutions have conferred honorary degrees upon him: North-
western University, LL.M., 1908; University of Michigan, LL.D., 1913; Univers-
ity of Nebraska, LL.D., 1913, D.C.L., 1917; University of Missouri, LL.D., 1916;
University of Chicago, LL.D., 1916; Brown University, LL.D., 1919; Harvard
University, LL.D., 1920. Dr. Pound was admitted to the bar in 1890, and prac-
ticed at Lincoln, Nebraska, 1890-1901 and 1903-7. In 1899 he became assistant
professor of law at the University of Nebraska, and dean of the College of Law
in 1903. In 1907 he went to Northwestern University as professor of law, where
he remained two years, when he went to the University of Chicago. In 1910
he became Story professor of law in Harvard University; in 1913, Carter professor
of jurisprudence; and dean of the Law School in 1916. Dr. Pound served as
director of the Botanical Survey of Nebraska from 1892 to 1903; commissioner of
appeals, in the supreme court of Nebraska, 1901-3 ; Nebraska commissioner on uni-
form state laws, 1904-7. He is a member of the Nebraska Academy of Sciences,
Ecological Society of America, and American Microscopical Society; Associe
Libre de 1'Academie Internationale de Geographic Botanique; a fellow of the
American Association for the Advancement of Science and of the American Acad-
emy of Arts and Sciences; member of the Botanical Society of America. He was
chairman of the section of legal education of the American Bar Association, 1907;
secretary of the Nebraska State Bar Association, 1901-7; president of the Asso-
ciation of American Law Schools, 1911; and is a directo'r of the American Judi-
cature Society. Dean Pound is the author (with Dr. F. E. Clements) of Phyto-
geography of Nebraska, Readings on the History and System of the Common Law,
Readings on Roman Law, Cases on Torts (editor), Lectures on the Philosophy of
Freemasonry, and of many monographs and articles in European and American
legal and botanical periodicals. He is one of the editors of the International
Journal of Ethics and was one of the editors of Flora of Nebraska and of Reports
of the Botanical Survey of Nebraska, from 1892 to 1907.

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THE FUTURE OF LEGAL EDUCATION

By ROSCOE POUND

IN THE GOOD OLD DAYS of household remedies, the prudent house-
wife who was well instructed in the wisdom of her foremothers was
wont to prepare an annual draught for the children of the household
and to administer it in early spring, that their systems might, as it
were, undergo a wholesome house-cleaning in preparation for an-
other year. Originally she gathered her own herbs and distilled her
own extracts. But today, if there are any that adhere to the ancient
ways, a paternal state, by means of pure food and drug legislation,
enables them to buy the ingredients with assurance at the neigh-
borhood drug-store. A current view of education pictures teaching
as a process of this sort. It is the administration of a series of tonic
and alterative and possibly purgative draughts in the springtime
of life, that the system may be toned up for the strenuous compe-
titive years that are to follow. Ladle in hand, the teacher stands
beside a bowl of chemically pure dope which the wisdom and ex-
perience of the past have prescribed. Its ingredients are guaranteed
by state inspection and the mixing has been done under state super-
vision. It contains everything which organized zeal and organized
interest have been able to impress upon the legislative wisdom and
it is free from anything which the latest wave of propaganda has
been able to move the lawmaker to exclude. An orderly procession
of youth passes before the teacher and each receives the appointed
dose. It is the teacher's function to fill the ladle scrupulously, to
administer the dose fairly, and to see that it is duly swallowed. In
this spirit, the president of our greatest university in point of num-
bers has told us that all we need in teaching is laborious, steady-
going mediocrity. The teacher must be a person who will not be
tempted to slip anything of his own into the officially certified
mixture; he must be one upon whom we may rely to fill the ladle
to its full capacity, to drop none of its contents, to let no one go
by undosed, to pour the full content down each student throat, and
to see that it goes down. That such instruction by dosing the mind
is as futile as we now deem the dosing of the body, to which it bears
so obvious an analogy, was one of the heresies for which Socrates
was executed. Faith in a spring medicine which will safeguard

(259)

260 Indiana University

the mind of youth against disturbing doubts and restless thoughts
and rebellious ideas is as naive as the old-time faith in the efficacy of
sulphur and molasses to fortify the youthful body against disease.

Altho law was one of the first subjects of academic study in the
universities of modern Europe, our Anglo-American law has had
primarily a non-academic development. Blackstone's teaching at
Oxford bore fruit on this side of the water much more than at home.
Even now university teaching of law has made but little progress
in England. The oldest American law school is entering on its
second century. But it has pursued the study of law by the method
of the university, as distinguished from the method of the law office,
for not more than half of its existence, and scientific study of law in
university law schools has come into general recognition in America
within a generation. During the greater part of its history, the legal
profession in the United States was trained after the manner of
apprenticeship in the offices of practitioners. And today, when the
majority of those who are admitted to the bar have come to be
school-trained, they proceed for much the greater part from schools
which preserve the methods and modes of thought of the law office;
from schools which adhere to the sulphur-and-molasses theory of
instruction and look askance upon the scientific and academic.
The good side of this story — for it has a good side — is not our con-
cern at this moment. What concerns us now is to note how the
system of apprenticeship under a preceptor in a law office has left
its stamp both on the law and on lawyers. To the latter, the tradi-
tion in which they had been trained seemed the legal order of nature;
arbitrary rules resting upon history seemed to exist for their own
sake; time-consuming procedure seemed "scientific" because it had
lost all relation to realities, and solving words, in the absence of
general ideas, passed for principles. Truly when a body of law so
shaped came into the universities it came upon dangerous ground.
Not the devil, says Lord Acton, but St. Thomas Aquinas was the
first Whig. For when the Angelical Doctor taught men to sustain
authority by reason, he taught them to try authority by reason and
presently to overthrow it by reason. When Judge Baldwin urges
that the academic law teacher of today has created a "new peril"
in our law, a crisis comparable, it may be, to the twelfth-century
conflict of state law with church law, to the sixteenth-century con-
flict with Roman law, to the rise of equity, to the development
of the law merchant, and to the movement for codification and in-
fluence of French law at the beginning of the last century, he speaks
truly from the standpoint of one who could say judicially that our

Centennial Memorial Volume 261

happily obsolete fellow-servant doctrine rested "upon considerations
of right and justice that have been generally accepted by the people
of the United States". May we not hope much from this "new peril"
when we note what each preceding peril achieved for the legal ad-
ministration of justice and what element of the legal system was
imperiled in each case?

For what is it that scientific teaching of law in universities puts in
jeopardy? "Reason", says Lord Coke, "is the life of the law; nay
the common law itself is nothing else but reason." In the university
this reason becomes a living reason, in touch with and stimulated
by all the intellectual movements of the time. Law becomes in
truth one of the social sciences. Its materials are not measured and
shaped solely with reference to themselves. Its methods and ideas
must pass the ordeal of comparison with the methods and ideas of
economics and politics and history and sociology. Much that has
been dear to the practitioner of the past is threatened in such an
environment. But it was already moribund and the question was
only whether it should fall before critical study and be rebuilt upon
scientific lines or should fall before the legislative steam roller and
be replaced by the offhand products of the legislative exigencies of
the moment. The main point in teaching law, as in all teaching, is
to know truly the subject. Nothing can be known thru itself alone.
"To know rules of law", said the Roman jurist, "is not merely to
understand the words, but as well their force and operation." It is
not in the atmosphere of the client-caretaker, who is the leading type
in the American bar of today, nor in schools which reflect only his
ideals, that law will be understood or taught in its force and opera-
tion. We must rely rather upon the atmosphere of a university
where the teacher of law will be held to justify his learning before
scientific colleagues in many cognate fields. One needs but look at
the legal periodicals which are issuing from American university
law schools to see that while the law in law sheep-binding or law
buckram is abstract and lifeless, the law in our schools is concrete
and living. In any rational use of the term, the practical law of
today is the law taught in our academic law schools, not the defini-
tions and hollow formulas and arbitrary rules of our examinations
for admission to the bar.

President Butler thinks of sociological jurisprudence as legal
osteopathy and is shocked at the idea of a professorial masseur
massaging the Corpus Juris. Perhaps some may feel that there are
dry bones in the law that would not be the worse for such a process.
But before we condemn the professorial healer, let us see what the

262 Indiana University

regular practitioners have done and are doing. Within a generation
they have allowed the whole law of public utilities to pass from the
domain of adjudication to that of administration. Within a decade
they have allowed a large part of the law of torts to pass from courts
to industrial commissions. Because of their indifference to a matter
of grave concern to the mass of the people, the whole conduct of
petty litigation bids fair to depart from judicial methods and to
become administrative. In one state but the other day the settle-
ment of mutual accounts between farmers and commission
merchants was taken from courts of equity and committed to an
agricultural commission. Even in criminal law, which has been
par excellence the domain of the common law, juvenile courts,
boards of children's guardians, parole and probation commissions,
and administrative individualisation of penal treatment are con-
stantly narrowing the actual field of judicial justice. For more than
a century the lawyer's main interest has been in the security of prop-
erty and contract. Today these fields too are invaded by administra-
tive jurisdiction. After courts have vainly sought to adjudicate water
rights and regulate the exercise of them with the traditional pro-
cedural machinery and along traditional lines, an increasing number
of states are committing these things to boards of engineers. After
courts have stubbornly refused to take account of the exigencies
and the methods of modern business, the mercantile community is
more and more turning to extra-legal adjustment of business con-
troversies. As to new problems, such as industrial disputes, no one
thinks of referring them to judicial cognizance. We turn at once
to administrative industrial tribunals. A condition in professional
thought and judicial administration which drives a people of our
traditions to revert to personal justice — to set up administrative
tribunals proceeding after the manner of Harun al Raschid or of
St. Louis under the oak at Vincennes — such a condition cries out for
juristic osteopathy.

Another serious obstacle to the development of legal education is
popular aversion to the imposition of standards for admission to the
profession. Here lawyer and layman work in concert. The prac-
titioner feels that the scientifically trained lawyer will not revere
formulas for their own sake nor credit apocryphal reasons author-
itatively set behind historical anomalies and thus will unsettle what
has long been established. The layman feels that it is "undemo-
cratic" to exact a scientific training of one who is to practice a
profession so nearly related to politics as the profession of law.
The distrust of the competent is an old-time by-product of demo-

Centennial Memorial Volume 263

cracy. The Athenian Demos feared the exceptional man and
Athenian political institutions were adapted to the elimination of
the superior. It was thought dangerous to have any man in the
community whose powers and abilities were above the ordinary.
Even philosophers became infected with this feeling.
Plato says, speaking, of the ideal state :

Shall we not find that in such

a city a shoemaker is only a shoemaker and not a pilot along with shoemaking;
and that the farmer is only a farmer and not a judge along with farming; and that

the soldier is only a soldier and not a business man besides And if

a man who through wisdom were able to become everything and to do everything
were to come to our city and should wish to show us his poems, we should honor
him, .... but we should tell him there is no such person in our city, nor
is there any such allowed to be, and we should send him to some other city.

There is nothing peculiarly American in our cult of incom-
petency. But it puts a heavy strain on institutions where so much
is made to turn upon the law. Our common-law doctrine of the
supremacy of law makes the most vital social and political questions
into legal questions and expects the judges to pronounce oracles
upon them. When a conscientious but narrowly trained bench
delivers narrow pronouncements that write the word "can't" over
every clause of our constitutions, state and national, we begin to
doubt the wisdom of the founders and experiment with political
nostrums rather than try the dangerous expedient of insuring that
only competent and thoroly trained lawyers enter the profession
that leads to the bench. Surely scientific training of the bar is
much less of a wrench to our institutions than many things we have
been doing in the endeavor to get away from petty interpretations
of a great legal document. In the end, nothing less than this train-
ing of those who are to interpret and apply that document may be
made to serve our need. We must admit in our practice and not
merely in our speech that law is a science.

Our law must be studied as other great sciences are studied and taught at the
universities; as deeply, by like methods, and with as thorough a concentration
and life-long devotion of all the powers of a learned and studious faculty.

But we are told that law is a practical thing and that the law of
academic law schools is too much what ought to be and not what is.
Engineering is a practical matter; medicine is a practical matter;
architecture is a practical matter. Yes, agriculture is a practical
matter. In each of these practical subjects the practitioner has had
to learn that what ought to be and what is are inseparably connected;
that what is can only maintain itself by being or becoming what
ought to be, and that much doing of a routine process by rule of

264 Indiana University

thumb does not of necessity give insight into what is nor capacity
to judge of what ought to be.

Note for a moment what the so-called practical legal education
has done for American administration of justice. For one thing it
has filled our law books with specious solving words which cannot
stand up before analysis and defeat the ends of law in their applica-
tion. One has but to read the current decisions on "mutuality" in
equity to see the mischief such words may do in giving an appearance
of justification to arbitrary and unjust results. He has but to read
the current decisions as to "waiver" to see how the law may be un-
settled by such words while preserving an appearance of certainty.
The critical student of law will think also of "malice", "privity",
"remoteness", "estoppel", and many more of this breed of over-
worked and much-enduring words that should be given an eight-hour
day and pay for over-time.

Again, in the last generation "practical" legal education gave us
that faith in procedure for its own sake the results of which still dis-
figure the application of law in our courts and drive an impatient
people more and more to administration at the expense of adjudica-
tion. There has been much improvement in the past two decades.
Perhaps ability to "get error into the record" is no longer the accept-
ed test of a skilful lawyer. Perhaps we are not so sure as we
were a generation ago that it is unscientific to win a case upon its
merits. But hypertrophy of procedure is still the distinguishing
mark of American law, and improvement has gone along with
the advent of scientifically trained lawyers and has gone farthest
where such lawyers have had the most influence.

Again, in the last generation "practical" legal education gave us a
joy and faith in subtle logical distinctions for their own sake. If it
could be shown logically that a harsh and unjust rule was logically
demanded by analysis of our traditional legal materials, that result
was hailed as a triumph. The imperative demands of justice and
good sense have made most of these juristic or judicial triumphs of
the nineteenth century short-lived. But the teacher must still
struggle with the remnants of imputed negligence and non-liability
of manufacturer or vendor to third persons and many like examples
of the "practical" in action. In truth they were so completely
practical that they proved wholly impractical.

For another example, one may vouch the joy and faith of the last
generation in arbitrary long-established rules for their own sake; its
belief that the fixed rules of our law of evidence were an organon for
the discovery of truth ; its belief that the feudal rules of our law of

Centennial Memorial Volume 265

real property had some intrinsic universal validity and that every
part of the administration of justice could and should be subjected
to strict rules after this model. The past generation of lawyers saw
virtue in such things. A rule that was arbitrary and at variance
with common sense proved that law was law. It reminded us, to use
Coke's words, that if reason is the life of the law, yet this means the
"artificial reason and judgment of the law and not every man's
natural reason". Thus every departure from the dictates of con-
venience and the requirements of justice seemed to justify itself.

Again, the "practical" training of the past gave us the assump-
tion that the common law is a body of fixed principles and the faith
in absolute deduction therefrom which has led in so many subjects of
vital present concern to a throwing over of law and resort to ad-
ministrative boards, when a scientific development of our traditional
methods and traditional legal materials would have sufficed.

But, above all, the so-called practical legal education led in the
last century to a na'ive faith in abstract justice. Abstract justice of
the content of abstract rules was everything; the results of their
actual application to concrete cases were a negligible detail. The
abstract justice of a universal formula was something valuable in
itself, be the results in action what they might. The classical story
of the English judge, before the setting up of the divorce court, who
in sentencing a workingman convicted of bigamy explained to him
how by three legal proceedings and the expenditure of some nine
hundred pounds he would have been legally competent to remarry
after his wife had deserted him and gone to live with an adulterer,
and assured him that it had ever been the glory of England not to
have one law for the rich and another for the poor, is a just satire
upon the general attitude of the profession in the last century. Our
own reports are full of solemn pronouncements of the same sort,
when measured by the facts of everyday life. Within a generation
American courts were telling us that a statute as to hours of labor
made the laborers "wards of the state" ; that statutes as to payment
of wages in cash treated laborers as imbeciles; that a statute for-
bidding payment of employees in orders on a company store classed
them with infants, lunatics, and felons; that an employers' liability
act made the employer liable arbitrarily where there was no respon-
sibility in morals ; and that the fellow-servant rule was but declara-
tory of general ideas of justice entertained by the whole people.
And the results have been quite as bad as the language used in
reaching them. The common-law doctrine of supremacy of law
was needlessly imperiled by twenty-five years of unintelligent

266 Indiana University

judicial obstruction of social legislation. The lawyer's habit of
working out all possible difficulties by a purely logical process on
the basis of abstract propositions and his instinctive fear that any-
thing new might open a way for magisterial caprice has made the
profession much more critical of projects for improving the law
than fertile in devising them. Hence the most effective improve-
ments in the administration of justice today have been worked out
by laymen and are in the hands of administrative rather than of
judicial officers. Hence, also, we are looking to extra-legal or, at
least, extra-judicial agencies to solve the great legal problem of
today — how to secure the social interests which are threatened by
the everyday phenomena of industrial warfare.

Three stages may be perceived in the development of the
American bar. The first stage is marked by the hegemony of the
trial lawyer. The great achievements of the bar were in the forum
and the most conspicuous success was success before juries in the
trial of criminal causes. Hence the modes of thought of the pro-
fession were molded by the exigencies of nisi prius. Apprenticeship
to an experienced, resourceful, busy trial lawyer was the ideal
training. The bench and the legislature were recruited from the
trial bar. The law was largely fashioned to be a body of rules for
use in the trial of causes. This stage lasted until the Civil War and
perhaps still persists in some rural or frontier communities.

In a second stage, leadership passed to the railroad lawyer. A
generation ago the goal of professional ambition and the proof of
professional success was to represent a railroad. The leaders of the
profession were permanently employed as defenders; their energies,
their ingenuity, and their learning were constantly employed in
defeating or thwarting those who sought relief against railroad
companies in the courts. But judges and legislators, especially
where the bench was elective, were seldom chosen from these leaders
and often waged an unequal contest with them, which has left many
marks upon the law of today. In this stage also apprenticeship was
a useful mode of training; but the highest positions called for
trained minds. Yet the training needed was exclusively historical
and analytical, for creative juristic thinking was quite outside the
province of the leaders of the profession.

Today the hegemony has passed to the client-caretaker. He
seldom or never goes into court. His function is to advise; to ad-
minister trusts; to conserve investments; to organize, re-organize,
and direct business enterprises ; to point out dangers and mark safe
channels and chart reefs for the business adventurer; to act, as it

Centennial Memorial Volume 267

were, as a steward for the absentee owners of our industries. The
other functions of the lawyer he leaves to the lower walks of the
profession. The actual administration of justice interests him only
as it discloses reefs or bars or currents to be avoided by the pilot of
business men. The legal order as a means of satisfying human
wants, the great mass of human interests that clamor for recognition,
the perennial problem of reconciling these interests in the administra-
tion of justice between man and man, mean nothing to him. If he
thinks of them, it is to dismiss them as matters for the theorist, as
subjects for professors of economics or of sociology . Thus the lead-
ers of the profession have no interest in the most vital questions of
the law of today, and in consequence the hegemony in our institu-
tions is passing from courts to executives and from lawyers to admin-
istrators. If a state university were training men simply to take
high places in a profession whose leaders are permanently of this
type, its governing board should consider seriously how far they may
justify the expenditure of public funds in maintaining a law school.

To what end does the state provide legal education for its youth?
In part, one may concede, it seeks to train its youth in the different
vocations by which they may make their way in life and take up and
bear the burdens of manhood. But surely the main consideration
is that in our Anglo-American polity so much depends on law that
good lawyers are a social asset. Of the three sides to the lawyer's
activities, namely, (1) the earning of a livelihood, (2) securing the
rights and defending the interests of those who employ him, and
(3) promoting the administration of justice according to law and
advancing right and justice in the world, — of these three, the state
may, perhaps, have an interest in all. But the interest of the univer-
sity is in the third. And the paramount interest of the state is in
the third also. The professional organization of the Middle Ages and
the apprentice system of training took care of the first and second.
But the breakdown of professional organization and ruthless destruc-
tion of professional feeling in the Jefferson Brick era of American
society left us little beyond professional memories and traditional
phrases. Until the rise of the academic law school and the recent
revival of professional feeling, our apprentice system has done
no more than train for the socially least important side of the
lawyer's activities.

When we reflect upon this situation we cannot wonder at the
general distrust of law and dissatisfaction with legal institutions.
We cannot wonder that the thoughtful layman is dissatisfied with
the lawyer and the thoughtful lawyer is dissatisfied with himself.

268 Indiana University

We cannot wonder at the steady rise of administrative boards and
commissions, at the revival of personal government, at the growth
of a government of men at the expense of a government of laws
which has been going forward in every American jurisdiction for a
generation. We cannot wonder at the demand for the packing of
courts by those who see no way of improving the law. We cannot
wonder at the vogue of projects for recall of judges, for recall of
judicial decisions, and like crude and wasteful attempts to secure
the recognition of pressing social needs which those best qualified to
make the legal system a living instrument of justice overlook or
ignore. So long as the leaders of the bar do nothing to make the
materials of our legal tradition available for the needs of the twen-
tieth century, and our legislative lawmakers, more zealous than well
instructed in the work they have to do, continue to justify the words
of the chronicler — "the more they spake of law the more they did
unlaw" — so long the public will seek refuge in specious projects of
reforming the outward machinery of our legal order in the vain
hope of curing its inward spirit. Some years ago, when it was the
fashion in many quarters to urge the recall of judicial decisions, I
used to urge as a substitute the recall of law teachers. For the real
remedy, the enduring remedy, is to be found in a scientifically
educated profession, a profession conscious of and trained to face the
problems of the legal order of tomorrow, a profession which can
furnish safe and conscientious client-caretakers, but has a higher
conception of the law and of the lawyer's duty than is needed for
mere client-caretaking — the enduring remedy is in a profession so
educated, from which to recruit judges and legislators and ad-
ministrative officers.

Institutions of learning were first set up in colonial America in
order to provide ministers for the churches — the prime social need
of that time and place. For the social order then was simple. So-
ciety was homogeneous. The postulates of that civilization were
ethical only. Today the social order is complex. Society is heter-
ogeneous. The postulates of our civilization are not merely ethical ;
they are legal, economic, medical, mechanical, perhaps aesthetic, as
well. None of these may be left to purely trade or professional
development, trusting to internal competition for progress and to
apprentice methods for training.

Surely in a university — even in an American university of 1920 —
we may apply other standards than the canon of pecuniary reward
or the canon of predatory achievement. But the teaching profession
has been so discredited by the current application of these standards

Centennial Memorial Volume 269

that law teachers have hesitated to speak out before the so-called
men of achievement. And yet what the latter have achieved for
the law, when measured by the end of law, is sorry enough and con-
sists chiefly in a steady loss of ground for law, to the profit of ad-
ministration, thruout the English-speaking world. Now it is precise-
ly in the English-speaking world that practical training, so called,
is the rule, and the canons of pecuniary reward and predatory
achievement are the measure of jurisitic and professional success.
If the legal scholar in America finds himself rated low by these
criteria, he may ask what those who are rated high thereby may
show to justify the standards. Judged by their fruits in the ad-
ministration of justice, by their fruits in the form and content of our
legal system, despite the limited opportunities of the scholar, ham-
pered by professional distrust of his science and by valuing of his
opinions by the amount of his salary, the scholar must take the
first place.

Indeed, the man of action deceives himself grossly when he
assumes that he and he only is in touch with reality ; that he and he
only is doing the things that count. The last of the Caesars has
fallen, but the thought of the jurisconsults of the days of the first
Caesar is law in half of the world. Nothing remains of the work of
the men of action of antiquity, but the thinking of Greek phil-
osophers rules the thinking of today and has left its mark upon the
action of all time. When Diogenes was put up for sale as a slave,
he called out to the bidders, "Who buys me buys a master." And
so it proved. For Xeniades, the man of action, is known for nothing
else but that he furnished a home and provided a livelihood for the
eccentric philosopher who was his slave. As beside the fleeting re-
sults of competitive and predatory exertion, the things of per-
manence in our civilization are the work of Hebrew prophets and
Greek philosophers and Roman jurisconsults and mediaeval monks
and modern scientists. The men who achieved fortunes at the bar
have been forgotten and what they did has proved as transient as
their fortunes while the work of Story and of Kent stands fast.
For the reality is human civilization; the real achievement is in
maintaining and furthering civilization. Enduring work in law has
been done by those who saw in it a product of the civilization of the
past, a means of maintaining the civilization of today, and a means
of furthering the civilization of tomorrow; not by those who have
used it in the competitive struggles of the moment. It was not by
looking on law, after the fashion of the "practical" man, as a set of
formulas ordained at the creation or as a body of fixed rules devised

270 Indiana University

by inspired or all-wise forefathers or as a series of enactments
imposed by an omnicompetent lawgiver of yesterday or of today,
that the law of the city of Rome was made the law of the world;
nor will our law maintain itself as a law of the world if left to those
who so regard it. In all ages the law of the "practical" lawyer has
been an illusion. He has thought of fixed rules, of mechanical
application, of settled postulates and a perfect logical technique of
developing them, of eternal legal principles and their necessary
implications, of a closed system admitting only of formal improve-
ment. The reality is a complex and ever-changing legal order where-
by values are conserved and human wants are satisfied, worked out
by men along with all human institutions as both a condition and a
product of civilization and to be studied and taught as such. Law
has not been made by the dogmatic formulas of the books
ground out to order for law publishers for "practical" purposes, but
by the academic lectures of Story and Greenleaf ; it is not making
today by means of digests or encyclopedias, but thru the writings of
Wigmore and Williston. Certainly I need not argue in this presence
that the state is educating lawyers, not in a futile attempt to preserve
forever the status quo of today, not to train money-making lawyers,
not to raise up sagacious client-caretakers, but to advance justice —
"the greatest interest of man on earth" — to maintain, to hand down,
to further human civilization.

As might be expected in a purely apprentice system of training,
the first legal instruction was crudely dogmatic. Coke's Commentary
on Littleton, Serjeant Williams' Notes to Saunders' Reports, Cruise's
Digest of the Law of Real Property were the instruments of teaching,
and the student learned the law as a body of rules tempered by a
series of maxims and a few rigid principles and conceptions. Night
law schools and schools which make a specialty of local law and
practice still teach for the most part in this spirit. Later, the law
schools which developed in connection with our universities, but as
outgrowths of teaching in lawyers' offices, gave us a new type of
common-law textbook, under the influence of the treatises of
Continental Europe. The Continental treatises, products of the
philosophical jurisprudence of the seventeenth and eighteenth
centuries, laid chief stress upon the reasons behind legal doctrines.
Accordingly, for a season, pseudo-reasons and ex post facto rational-
izings of dogma became the fashion in our law teaching. Such
things are still relied on in some quarters where instruction from
textbooks is still in vogue. The English analytical and English and
American historical jurisprudence of the last half of the nineteenth

Centennial Memorial Volume 271

century long ago gave a death blow to this treating of authority as
embodied reason and working up of reasons after the event to explain
and to justify it. With the advent of these methods, instruction in
our law schools became truly scientific and worthy of a university.
But much remains to be done. For our nineteenth-century analytical
and historical methods do no more than criticize the law from within
by a critique drawn from the law itself. In a period of stability
when formal improvement of the results of the period of growth in
the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries was the chief juristic need,
these methods served us well. Today, in a new period of growth,
they are failing us. For when we try to use them for creative work
in legal science our task is like that of Baron Munchausen in pulling
himself out of the swamp by his long whiskers. In jurisprudence, as
in all other sciences, we are turning from the analytical and historical
to the functional ; we are asking not merely what things are and how
they came to be what they are, but what they do and how and to
what end they do it. Nowhere is this modern way of thinking more
fruitful than in the science of law.

Instead of the legal interpretation of society and the legal order
in terms of a social contract, or the ethical interpretation in terms of
"rights", or the metaphysical interpretation in terms of deduction
from a fundamental formula, or the biological interpretation in
terms of a huge super-organism, we are turning to a functional inter-
pretation. We are thinking of the legal order as a piece of social
engineering, as a human attempt to conserve values and eliminate
friction and preclude waste in the process of satisfying human wants.
If we look to physical and biological science to augment the means
of satisfying wants as well as to conserve them, we look to the social
sciences to teach us how men may apply them to their purposes with a
minimum of friction and waste. Hence the jurist must think of a
great task, or rather of a series of great tasks, of social engineering.
For his problem is not one of abstract harmonizing of human wills.
It is one of concrete securing or realizing of human interests. The
central tragedy of existence is that there are not enough of the
material goods of existence, as it were, to go round ; that while in-
dividual wants are infinite, the material means of satisfying those
wants are finite; that while, in common phrase, we all want the earth,
there are many of us but there is only one earth. Thus the task of
the legal order becomes one of conserving the goods of existence in
order to make them go as far as possible, of preventing friction in
the use of them and waste in the enjoyment of them, so that where
each may not have all that he claims, he may at least have all that

272 Indiana University

is possible. But this functional attitude has as yet made little im-
pression on the teaching of Anglo-American law. Nor will it do so
except in universities where law is taught, not in the way of com-
mentaries on authoritative formulations of ultimate reason, but
as a living process of growth and adjustment.

Nowhere may our universities do more for civilization than in
making possible a rebirth of legal science as they have already re-
made medical science. For this rebirth is possible only thru legal
education, and the only legal education that can bring it about
must be had in universities. The future of our academic law schools
is the future of legal education, and the future of legal education in
this country is the future of American law. Nay, more. Our
Anglo-American polity is so characteristically, so completely a legal
polity, that the future of legal education is nothing less than the
future of American institutions.

A PRESENT NEED IN AMERICAN
PROFESSIONAL EDUCATION

Robert Andrews Millikan was born at Morrison, Illinois, on March 22, 1868
He received the A.B. degree at Oberlin College in 1891, the A.M. in 1893, and
the Ph.D. at Columbia in 1895. He spent the year 1895-96 at the University of
Berlin and the University of Goettingen. The honorary degree of Sc.D. was
conferred on him by Oberlin in 1911, Northwestern University in 1913, the Uni-
versity of Pennsylvania in 1915, Columbia University in 1917, and
Amherst College in 1917. Mr. Millikan's teaching career began at Oberlin
College in 1891, where he was tutor in physics, in which capacity he serv-
ed for two years. In 1896 he became assistant in physics at the Univer-
sity of Chicago, associate in 1897, instructor in 1899, assistant professor in 1902,
associate professor in 1907, professor in 1910. Professor Millikan was awarded
the Comstock prize for research in electricity by the National Academy of Sci-
ences in 1913. In 1916 he was Clarke lecturer at Amherst. In 1917 he was
Hitchcock lecturer at the University of California, and was elected vice-chairman
of the National Research Council, Washington. The same year he was commis-
sioned lieutenant-colonel in the Signal Corps, United States Reserves, and chief
of the Science and Research Division of the Signal Corps. He has served as a
trustee of Oberlin College since 1917. Among the organizations and societies of
which he is a member are the American Academy of Arts and Sciences (Fellow,
1914), American Association for the Advancement of Science (vice-president,
1911), National Academy of Science, American Philosophical Society, American
Physical Society (member of the executive council, 1905-9; since 1911; president
1915-17), Sigma Xi, and Phi Beta Kappa. He was made, in 1919, a corresponding
member of La Societe Batave de Philosophic Experimentale a Rotterdam, and
honorary member of the Royal Institution of Great Britain. During the present
year he is American representative on the International Solvay Congress, Brus-
sels. He was associate editor of Physical Review from 1903 to 1916; joint editor
of the University of Chicago Science Series in 1915; and has since 1915 been
associate editor of the Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences. His
writings include: A College Course of Laboratory Experiments in Physics, The
Theory of Optics (translated from the German), Mechanics, Molecular Physics and
Heal, A First Course in Physics, A Laboratory Course in Physics for Secondary
Schools, Electricity, Sound and Light, TJie Electron, Practical Physics, two chapters
in The New World of Science, and more than sixty articles in technical scientific
journals. Professor Millikan was the first to succeed in isolating an electron.

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A PRESENT NEED IN AMERICAN
PROFESSIONAL EDUCATION

By ROBERT ANDREWS MILLIKAN

I WISH to present in the briefest possible compass what, from my
point of view, is the outstanding deficiency in technical and en-
gineering education in the United States. The undertaking may
seem a bit presumptuous in a man who has spent his life in the
pursuit of pure science, and who is today connected with an
institution which has no engineering school. I have myself taken,
however, a considerable part of the engineering-school course; I
have been thrown in my work into the closest contact with the en-
gineering societies and with the most prominent men in the en-
gineering profession; I have been a close student of several types
of technical developments in the United States, and I had excep-
tional opportunity, during the recent war, to see the results of our
scientific and technical efforts, when we were called upon to ex-
ert ourselves to the utmost and to get results in the shortest pos-
sible time. Permit me first to present a few concrete illustrations of
the results of these experiences.

It is to the eternal credit of the United States that the two
most significant and important advances of the last half-century
in scientific and technical lines have had their inception in this
country. The conquest of the air by man after centuries of failure
is due almost entirely to Americans. The names of Wright, Chanute,
and Langley, the three most potent names in the history of this
achievement, are all, I am proud to say, American names.

Again the science and art of the electrical transmission of
speech has been an American product. There is scarcely a foreign
thread in the whole fabric of its development. Bell and Grey, the
original discoverers, were both Americans. The big advance made
by Pupin in the introduction of the loaded line is the result of
work done in an American university, and the immense advance
which has recently been made in the development and use of vacuum
tube repeaters and amplifiers, which are now finding applications
in an extraordinary number of commercial fields, is wholly an
American achievement. Of these things we may be extravagantly
proud.

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276 Indiana University

Now look into the other side of the picture. Despite the
fact that the conquest of the air was first achieved in this country,
when the war broke out, we were so far behind France, England,
and Germany in the development of the art of aviation that we
couldn't see their dust. During the war (barring the development
of the Liberty motor — a credit to America) we attempted to do
nothing in aviation except to copy British, French, and Italian
planes. Why? Because these nations had so much better planes
than we had produced, or could hope to produce in quick time,
that the only wise course was to copy foreign makes. But why had
we not already produced equally good ones? Because the American
public had not had a sufficient appreciation of the possibilities and
the needs of this sort of scientific work to adequately support it,
and because we had not in this country developed a sufficient
number of men of outstanding ability in this field to enable us to
keep neck and neck with our European competitors.

The story of the application of the vacuum tube to the purposes
of the war is remarkably similar. We thought we led the world in
this field, but the special commissioner whom General Squier sent
to Europe to study European developments in signaling came back
and reported that the British and French had greatly outdistanced
us in applying these newer developments to the purposes of the war.
A high official in the company which was itself responsible for the
original application of vacuum tubes to telephony corroborated to
me this statement, and at the meeting of the Physical Society in
Chicago in November one of the most prominent of our own radio-
engineers declared, "I take off my hat to the young British radio-
engineer."

The same sort of a story comes from many other fields of activity.
I was recently standing with a prominent American chemist who
was on the front in a responsible post in the American Chemical
Warfare Service. He showed me a German gas mask with the
remark, "I want you to see the best gas mask which was developed
during the war." "Why", said I, "my chemical friends told me
that the American mask was superior to all others." Said he:
"It was beyond all question the poorest mask which actually was
in use at the front, in absorbing power for the gas which it was
called upon to protect against. The quantitative tests of the re-
search department of the Chemical Warfare Service of the A.E.F.
showed the various masks to run somewhat like this: German 100,
English 70, French 40, American 10 or 15."

Centennial Memorial Volume 277

Now let us frankly admit the possible unrepresentative charac-
ter of the foregoing showings because of the tremendous stimulus of
immediate and dire necessity under which our European friends
worked, in contrast with our own remoteness from the scene of
conflict, and let us make a comparison which has nothing to do
with the war.

Will anyone who knows anything about the situation for a
moment claim that when we count up the world's outstanding men
in scientific and technical lines the number of American names in
comparison with those belonging to England, France, and Germany
is in any way proportionate to our population? Certainly not in my
own field. Here we cannot show more than a half or a third of our
proper proportion. In the field of chemistry one would scarcely
think of comparing the group of men whom we have produced during
the past thirty years with those who have honored Germany, and I
suspect that physics and chemistry are fairly representative of most
of the sciences. To what then is the deficiency due?

I do not think that it is due to a lack in the native capacity of
men born on American soil, and I have a little evidence upon this
point which I should like to present. During the past thirty years
we have had opportunity in the graduate work at the University of
Chicago to compare the students who come to this department
from all over the United States and from Canada. Now the popu-
lation of Canada is exceedingly similar to that of certain portions
of our own country. But we have learned to expect an exceptional
man when we get an honor student from Toronto or McGill. In a
word, it seems to me that the British honor system has had a greater
success in one particular than has our own educational system,
namely in selecting and giving exceptional training to the exceptional
man. Our great public educational system has done one thing
which is immensely vital to progress; it has raised the average
intelligence of our people to a very high level. But it is even more
vital to progress to select and to train leaders intensively, for is it
not her Newtons and her Faradays and her Maxwells who have
made England what she is?

I would not detract from our public educational system, but
I think attention must be directed to the task of superposing upon
it something which it now lacks, and which European educational
systems do not lack in any such degree.

Particularly in engineering education have we focussed atten-
tion upon quantity rather than quality. Unlike law and medicine,
the standard engineering course has remained a four-year course

278 Indiana University

instead of a six- or a seven-year course. Again, the teaching of the
details of industrial operations has crowded out to an ever-increasing
extent thoro training in the fundamentals, that is, in mathematics,
in physics, and in chemistry. The old four-year engineering course
may do for the routine operating engineer, but it will not do for
the creative engineer. If he is to compete on equal terms with his
British, French, or German comrade, he must get, in his under-
graduate course, a more thoro training than he now gets, primarily
in mathematics and secondarily in physics and chemistry, and he
must then do Ph.D work in a university, or else he must get the
equivalent training thru additions made to the curriculum of the
technical school. Perhaps the former is the better solution; but in
any case if we are to keep our place in the forefront of the nations,
it is imperative that we find a better way than we seem to have yet
discovered for selecting and intensively training men who have the
capacity to become the world's leaders in science and its applica-
tions to industry, for if anything has been demonstrated by the
history of the last hundred years it is that that nation which is fore-
most in ferreting out nature's secrets and in applying them to her
industry and her commerce will be the world's leader and teacher
in practically all lines of human effort. The problem which Dean
Pound has just referred to as the age-long problem of mankind,
namely that of finding how to make the world's goods go around,
despite its great importance, is not the most vital of our modern
problems. It is another problem which must command at least some
of the finest brains which this world can produce, a problem which,
with suitable selection of brains and suitable training, the scientist
and the engineer together will solve. It is the problem of the
creation of enough to go around. The total possibilities of improve-
ment by finding some new mode of distribution are exceedingly
limited, while the possibilities in the matter of creation of new
wealth are well nigh infinite and no price is too much to pay for
the selection and the training of the men who have the capacity to
realize them.

So far our immense supply of easily accessible wealth has made
us the most prosperous and the happiest country in the world.
We were producing before the war from two to five times as much
per man-hour in practically all lines of industry as were European
nations, and the common man, the unskilled laborer in this country,
was receiving from two to five times as much for his labor in actual
purchasing power. The parallelism in the figures is not accidental.
We had no better mode of distribution of wealth than had other

Centennial Memorial Volume 279

countries. Our labor received more because it produced more, and
in just about the proportion in which it produced more. The inequal-
ities in distribution are glaring enough and they need remedying,
but they are of very much less general significance than they seem
to be to the superficial observer. If we are to maintain our pros-
perity and increase it, there is in the long run but one way in which
we can do it, namely by maintaining and increasing our production.
But our easily accessible wealth, our timber, our surface coal,
our oil, our most accessible iron and copper are disappearing.
There is but one way in which our prosperity may be maintained,
namely, by growing the brains which can devise new processes, dis-
cover new sources of energy, make the desert a garden, conserve
human life, and teach the rational control of population. These
results cannot be brought about by superficial scientific and en-
gineering education. Such problems require the most careful
selection and the most thoro training of our creative men which
we can devise. The big need in American professional education
today is for a better means than we now have of selecting and training
the exceptional man.

SPIRITUAL FRONTIERSMEN

Francis John McConnell was born at Trinway, Ohio, on August 18, 1871.
He received a bachelor of arts degree at Ohio Wesleyan in 1894, the bachelor of
sacred theology degree at Boston University in 1897, and the doctor of philosophy
degree, Boston University, in 1899. Ohio Wesleyan conferred the D.D. degree
on him in 1905; Hanover College the LL.D., and Wesleyan University (Middle-
town, Connecticut) the LL.D., in 1909. He entered the ministry of the Methodist
Episcopal Church in 1894 as pastor at West Chelmsford, Mass., where he remained
for three years, going in 1897 to Newton Upper Falls, Mass. Later pastorates
included Ipswich, Mass., 1899-1902; Harvard Street, Cambridge, Mass., 1902-
3; New York Avenue, Brooklyn, 1903-9. In the latter year he became presi-
dent of DePauw University and in 1912 he was elected a bishop in
the Methodist church. His writings include the Divine Immanence, Religious
Certainty, Christian Focus, The Increase of Faith, Personal Christianity, Under-
standing the Scriptures, Democratic Christianity, and Public Opinion and Theology.
Bishop McConnell was president of the Religious Education Association in 1916.

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SPIRITUAL FRONTIERSMEN

By FRANCIS JOHN MCCONNELL

THE MEN who founded this university may in a real sense
be called spiritual frontiersmen. It is the merest commonplace, of
course, that the institution was founded upon the frontier at a time
when there was hardly anything to suggest the possibility of material
wealth of civilization which has more recently appeared. The more
we know of the old frontier conditions, the more we realize their inde-
scribable hardness. The battle with the forest and the swamp was so
intense that the spiritual values were likely to be left to one side,
not by choice, but by the inexorable working of a desperate fate. We
make much of the democracy of the frontier, but that democracy
was extremely individualistic. The motto had to be, Everyone for
himself and the devil take the hindmost. To prevent the stern con-
ditions of life from killing off the nobler capacities of human nature,
and to encourage reflection upon the humaner and finer aspects of
life, the founders of universities like this gave themselves to an
earnest endeavor to keep alive in frontier conditions an interest in
the human ideals of the finer spiritual quality.

The old type of frontier has passed away. Not for thirty
years in our country has it been possible to acquire new land just by
moving west and taking physical possession of the land. The tides
of the frontier migratory movement of the old sort have come to a
full stop. Processes of social sedimentation are taking place, and
the problems of the frontier are not those of the conquest of forests
and swamps. There are frontier conditions, however, and in those
conditions the struggle is just as fierce as ever. Everyone knows
that upon a frontier which lacked educational and spiritual re-en-
forcement the law of stern might soon gained sway. The "bad man"
of the early days of the West stormed thru his boisterous career
simply because he knew nothing but the rough conditions of the
pioneer life. The frontiers today are not in the forest, but in indus-
try, and in the realm of international relationships, and in the field
of racial contacts.

We say that there are frontier conditions in these spheres
because the spheres are not yet conquered by civilizing — to say
nothing of Christianizing — forces. Men are finding their way along

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284 Indiana University

as best they can, and too often success goes to him of greatest brute
force. The alignment of classes in industry is a new problem ; so
also is the field of international adjustment; and racial relationships
are in the most rudimentary stage.

One of the great opportunities before educational leaders today
is that of holding on high the human ideals before the contestants
in the industrial struggle. I am not advocating any social panacea
as a solvent for industrial unrest. It is absolutely necessary,
however, to bring the three parties in any industrial situation —
namely, the employers, and the employed, and the general public —
to see that no system ought to expect the support of the educated
man if that system does not keep the human values on high. The
most important question to be asked of an industry is as to the kind
of man it turns out. The most important question to be asked of an
organization of workers concerns the quality of the human character
fostered by the organization. The most important question to be
asked about the attitude of the general public at a time of industrial
crisis is whether that general public thinks most of its own con-
venience or of the welfare of the men engaged in the industry. The
one temptation of all parties in an industrial strife is that of getting
away from the simple, human considerations.

Of these three parties it must today be said in all fairness that
the workers themselves, mistaken as they may now and again be
in calling strikes, and in conducting strikes, have the keener sense
of the human values. Capitalism is notoriously dull in this respect.
In the great steel strike of last year a worker protested that he was
striking for a chance to get acquainted with his twelve-year-old
daughter. He insisted that within a few weeks he had buried a
daughter of fourteen years. As he stood by her grave the bitterest
reflection was that he had not known his daughter. The twelve-
hour day and the twenty-four hour shift had so worked that it had
been impossible for him to become acquainted with her. He was
striking, he said, for an eight-hour day in order that he might be-
come acquainted with his other child. When this case was reported
to a steel magnate, he replied, "The case is very exceptional", but
with fifty-two per cent of the men in his entire industry on the
twelve-hour basis the only exceptional feature in the incident was
the fact that this man's fourteen-year-old child died and was buried
on a particular day. As for the general public, its thought is so
much of its own convenience that nothing else weighs very heavily.
The outlook is dark, not because the problems are intellectually
insoluble, but because it is so hard to get the masses of the people,

Centennial Memorial Volume 285

out of whose thought the great movements of public opinion come,
to see the problem in its simpler, more human elements. If our
forefathers sacrificed to the utmost to found institutions in which
the rigors of a frontier condition could be ennobled by the virtues
which are essentially human, we, the descendants of those old-time
pioneers, can well give ourselves to most earnest endeavor to bring
into the struggles of today — just as desperate as those of the fron-
tier— the same regard for the lofty spiritual ideals.

The second frontier field is that of the international rela-
tionships. It is not cynicism, but sober fact, to say that, apart
from the efforts of individual statesmen here and there, no serious
attempt has ever been made to organize on a large scale a public
opinion which would attempt to deal with international questions
in a distinctively human fashion. In spite of nineteen centuries
of progress, Christianity itself has never yet reached a state where
as a matter of actual fact it could be depended upon to prevent
war. To say that Christianity has never been tried on a large scale
of international relationships is to concede the whole point at issue.
We have not yet got beyond a comparatively narrow limit of strictly
personal relationship as comprising the essential ethics of Christi-
anity. With 7,500,000 of the best of the young men "battle-dead"
since July, 1914, with the nations of the earth at this moment in
fearful competition to find deadlier gases and bombing machines, we
need not dwell much on the unrationalized and unmoralized condi-
tion of the field of internationalism. Now the way out is not so
much by the codification of international laws, or by the perfection
of the technique of diplomacy, as by emphasis on a few fundamentals
which any educated man of normally Christian ideals recognizes at
once. For example, there is no contradiction in private life between
a man's respect for himself and his respect for his neighbor, — no con-
tradiction between a man's love for his own family and his regard for
other families. Is it not preposterous that as soon as we approach
the realm of international contacts, whole-hearted respect for the
rights and virtues of other nations should seem to be an enfeeble-
ment or an impairment of one's patriotic regard for one's own
country? Is any one nation the only one that can have a manifest
destiny? Are not all the nations called each of them to distinctive
excellence of development at the same time that they dwell in
perfect peace with one another? Is the survival of type that comes
as nations cooperate with one another in friendly tasks any less
significant than the survival that comes as the nations leap at one
another's throats? The survival of the fittest between warring

286 Indiana University

nations can only mean that large numbers of the most fit in each
and every nation are killed off, leaving any forward movement of the
surviving groups to be carried on by those who survive not because
they have superior might, but because they have not been strong
enough to be sent forward to the fighting line.

We are all deeply concerned as to the possibility of the or-
ganization of a league of nations. I am talking, however, of some-
thing deeper. I am thinking of the spirit with which the various
nations take their seats around the council table. Suppose they come
with guns in their hands, or suppose they come equipped with the
old-fashioned sinister diplomacy,- — of what value will the league of
nations be? Of what use will the league of nations be, founded upon
a world system of competitive imperialism? The question answers
itself. The only remedy is to see the problem in its human terms.
We are dealing not with mere abstract masses, or with nations as
such, or with markets. We are dealing with men, women, and
children. As long as statesmanship refuses to think of the problem
in these human elements, our sorrows will abound. The great uni-
versities of the world have all been founded not with the idea of
merely putting better instruments into the hands of the rising
generation, but with the purpose of teaching the rising generation
the spirit in which any and all instruments of civilization are to
be used. This is the only way out, — to see the worth of men as men,
and to stand against any sort of industrial or political doctrine that
would treat men as other than men. We abhor an industrial system
which in any way robs men of the distinct values of their own per-
sonal life. We object to hearing men spoken of as a labor market,
and we do not like to hear them referred to as "hands". Much more
do we object to seeing national imperialistic policies founded on
calculations of man-power available for use in warfare. The curse
of war is that, whether we speak of men as cannon-fodder or not,
we think of them in war not as fathers or sons or brothers or neigh-
bors, or even as separate persons. They inevitably become parts of
a machine. If anything suggestive of quick and vigorous personality
survives, the survival is in spite of the machine and not because of
it. I am not a pacifist. I would vote for any war which might seem
to be really righteous. And yet even in such case the simple fact
would be that war is a materializing, vulgarizing, and brutalizing
business.

The third pioneer field is that of the realm of racial con-
tacts. It is possible that enough of humane spirit may soon come to
the leading nations of Christendom to prevent their attacking one

Centennial Memorial Volume 287

another in war. A still greater triumph — one which seems at present
far distant — would be such a conquest of racial prejudice and such
mastery of the tendencies to consciousness of racial superiority as
to prevent clashes between the peoples of different color, or between
the so-called more favored nations and the so-called less favored
nations. Even if we could bring the nations which we now speak of
as Christian into a real spirit of brotherhood — and this brotherhood
could find outward expression in a satisfactory organization — we
would still have left the problem of the relation of these nations
to the nations which we call non-Christian. With a consciousness
of racial superiority there almost always goes something of the spirit
of the bully — the bully being none the less a bully because he
cloaks his bullyings in pious phrases, and makes much of the good
he is doing to those whom he bullies. The contact of the so-called
Christian nations with the so-called non-Christian nations has thus
far been one long horror, with only a few bright spots here and there
to suggest any sort of mitigation. He would be a superficial stud-
dent of history who would say that even the course of the Spanish
conquerors in the West Indies, for example, had been one of deliber-
ate cruelty. Always was there the mixture of motives. The tragedy
is that such motives as that of personal and national gain on the one
hand, and that of devotion to the church and the kingdom of heaven
on the other, could ever have been brought to mix. We are dealing
here with one of those fundamental problems of human nature with
which only trained Christianity can adequately cope. We need a
revival of religion which will not only quicken the inner fires, but
will spread those fires to a class of problems which we have too often
thought of as lying outside of Christianity. If moral progress con-
sists partly in bringing more and more persons within the realm of
our obligations, Christian internationalism also consists in bringing
more and more nations within the realm of the possible application
of Christian principles.

One lesson which the war has taught us has not yet been suf-
ficiently emphasized, namely, the fact that many nations outside
of what we call civilization have measured up to our standards of
conduct and character quite as excellently as have we ourselves.
The ideals of the soldier's life may not of themselves be the best,
but within the past five years we have greatly exalted these ideals.
Judged by these ideals of unflinching courage in the midst of per-
sonal danger, unyielding pertinacity in the midst of long strains
upon vitality, unconquerable optimism in drudgery, the so-called
non-Christian peoples have been just as worthy as ourselves. Black

288 Indiana University

men from equatorial Africa have proved themselves just as good as
white men from France. Yellow men from China, and Hindus from
India, and negroes from the southern states of America, have met
the supreme tests with just as much credit to themselves as have
white men from England and the United States.

At one of the darkest moments of the war, in the spring of 1918,
I was much struck by an incident related to me by a worker on
the western front in France. Asked what was the bravest single feat
of the war, one who had been for four years upon the English battle
line replied : "The bravest thing I personally know of was the exploit
of a Hindu in carrying to the fear the body of an English officer
killed in No Man's Land. The Hindu placed himself at the side of an
Englishman just as the Englishman was about to lead his troops over
the top on a raid. Ordered to go back, the Hindu said: 'I cannot go
back, and be a true Hindu ; the law of the Hindu is that a Hindu must
stand at the side of anyone who has aided his family when that bene-
factor is in danger, to render any possible service in case of injury
or death. In the old days in India this officer's family befriended
mine. I shall go over the top with him, in obedience to the Hindu
law.' And over the top went the Hindu with the Englishman,
and back thru the trenches he carried the dead body of the English-
man a few minutes later." The Tommies who saw it all commented
on it in this sententious fashion: "Pretty good human stuff, — that
Hindu."

Pretty good human stuff! That must be said of all the so-called
less favored peoples, if they have any chance at all. Pretty good
human stuff! That means that the emphasis has to be less upon
rubber and upon oil fields and coal deposits, and more upon fair
dealing with the human stuff. It may be that the Hindus, who to the
number of over a million fought on the western front, have not yet
arrived at the state of fitness for democracy. It is perfectly cer-
tain, however, that they have gone beyond the stage of any legiti-
mate exploitation. They were never intended for exploitation. The
message of any enlightejned a'nd Christian education is that a worthy
spiritual ideal will always look upon men in whatever nation as men,
and will look upon the more favored nations as trustees of civiliza-
tion, the civilization to be used to the uplift of the less favored.

Let us not deceive ourselves. Nothing but the holding on
high of the spiritual and human ideals will ever solve the problem
that confronts us. The only way to counteract the earthward pull of
the downward tendencies of industrial and national and racial selfish-
ness is for men to hold the essentially Christian notions of human-

Centennial Memorial Volume 289

ity on high. Let us not be deluded by any declaration that this is
academic or unreal. The so-called practical men, the hard-headed
business men, have in the past few years shown themselves utterly
unable to solve these problems on the basis of merely practical pre-
cepts. The man whose dealing is with materials thinks that emphasis
on material and use of material, of force — in other words — will check
the tendencies to industrial unrest. He blusters with threats against
the labor world, and calls upon governments to stamp out economic
and social heresies. The result is that the reactionaries become
responsible for the spread of more so-called Red spirit than all
the agitators combined. On the other hand, the man who takes his
intellectual training as a fine thing to be enjoyed in itself, apart
from any great human interest to be observed, gravitates naturally
to the thought and practice of those who hold the privileged seats.
A cynical social student some time ago remarked that a union of the
intellectual forces with the struggling industrial classes is not
possible simply because the Intellectuals long too eagerly for the
delights of fine society and the bright chit-chat of social functions.
This is indeed cynicism, rather than accurate description, for the
really educated are the last ones likely to forget the worth of men
as such. The days of strenuous adventure are not over. Hard as were
the hardships of the pioneers of the early day, the hardships of the
intellectual and spiritual adventurers are more grievous still. It
will be remembered that when Daniel Boone, one of the greatest of
our pioneer frontiersmen, was asked if he had ever been lost, he
replied that he never had, but that he had once been bewildered for
three days ! Anyone who ventures out into the tangle of the social
frontiers will have to run the risk, if not of being lost, at least of
being bewildered for much more than three days. And yet the north
star is always in the north, and the east is always east. Actual
schemes of social and national reconstruction must proceed under
the guidance of cool-headed social engineers. The guiding principles,
however, of regard for certain elementary human values must never
be lost sight of.

Is it not Rudyard Kipling who has told us in a striking poem
of the unrest of the pioneers who always felt that there was some-
thing lost beyond the next range of mountains, and that they must
go forth to find that something? Certainly the pioneers searched
as for lost treasures. In the fields of which I have been speaking
there is always danger of the greatest of losses, the loss of the
fundamental ideals of what human life should be, and the funda-

290 Indiana University

mental understanding of what life really is. It is for these that the
spiritual frontiersman is forever to seek.

I once heard an avowed Socialist speaking on a Wall street corner
at noontime. For a while his speech was dreary and uninteresting.
He was trying somewhat vainly to explain Marx's theory of surplus
value to a crowd of passers-by. But suddenly he changed the
course of his speech. He coolly recited what men were asked to do
in certain mining and manufacturing districts in the United States.
After the recital he quietly asked, Ought men ever to be asked to do
such things? Then he told of the demands upon women in certain
industries, closing with the same quiet question, Ought women ever
be asked to do such things? Once again he described the child
labor situation in the country, and asked, Ought children ever
be asked to do such things? I have never been able to bring myself
to accept the Marxian theory of surplus values, either as expounded
by the street-corner orator or by Marx himself. On the other hand,
I have never been able to get away from that triple question of the
street corner about what should be asked of men or women or chil-
dren. Industry must be judged by what it does to men and women
and children. Internationalism must be judged by its effect on men
and women and children. The racial contacts are in their last
analysis problems of men and women and children.

I stand before you as in a way a representative of the Christian
church. May I say that I can find no contradiction between the
ideals which I have been trying to utter to you and the ideals of
Christianity? More and more the scholars are making it clear to us
that away back at the very beginning — in the Judaism out of which
Christianity came — was an elementary emphasis on the dignity of
human life as such which is quite as remarkable as the ideal of God
which was set forth by the Hebrew seers. In fact the ideal of God
and the ideal for man seemed in the Old Testament times to work
back and forth in mutual re-enforcement. The Hebrews no sooner
found a worthier ideal for man than they made it binding on God
also. And they no sooner discovered a worthier conception of God
than they taught it as a guiding principle for human conduct. In
the life of Jesus, in which the ideal of God and the ideal of man is so
marvelously blended, we find as complete an emphasis upon mas-
tering the right thought concerning man as upon mastering the true
thought concerning God. In fact, Jesus seems to have been sterner
in dealing with those who took a wrong attitude toward man, than
even with those who took a wrong attitude toward God. If a man
made a theological mistake concerning God, Jesus seemed to find it

Centennial Memorial Volume 291

very easy to forgive him. But if a man made a mistake in his essen-
tial and underlying thought of his fellow-man, Jesus spoke with a
sternness at times rushing on into invective. The sin of the rich man
in the parable was not the sin of gross evil in character. It was the
sin of a practical heresy toward the beggar at the gate. The test by
which eternal issues as to character are settled is, according to the
gospel judgment, the test as to whether one has or has not met the
simple human requirements of the earthly human existence.

I said in the beginning that the old-time democracy of the
frontier was individualistic. If one in those days did not like the
neighbor, one could move on. With the passing of the frontier in
the old sense, the population is becoming more congested. One can-
not rid one's self of one's neighbors simply by moving on. We must
come to some sort of adjustment with the neighbor, and with the
ends of the earth crowding in closely upon one another, the nations
are nearer neighbors than ever before. And the so-called backward
people stand at our very doors. Yet after all is it an insoluble
problem? Is it not just the age-old problem of living together? If
it is, however, the problem of living together, we shall find that we
cannot long live together except on some basis of assumption as to
what we are and as to what our neighbors are. No other assumption
can we safely make, than that which the highest Christian scholar-
ship always holds before us, that men are to be treated always as
men, because of their inherent worth as men and because of the
infinite possibilities of humanity, as humanity is looked upon by
those far-seeing prophets who gaze out even beyond all frontiers
toward the reaches of the eternal.

THE SPIRITUAL IDEA OF THE
UNIVERSITY

Sir Robert Alexander Falconer, Knight Commander of St. Michael and St.
George, was born at Charlottetown, Prince Edward Island, February 10, 1867.
As a boy he spent eight years at Trinidad, British West Indies, and attended
Queen's Royal College School. In 1885 he took the Gilchrist scholarship and
graduated with an A.B. degree from London, 1888. At the University of Edin-
burgh he received the A.M. degree in 1889, the B.D. in 1892, the Litt.D. in 1902.
The following universities have conferred the LL.D. degree on him: Glasgow,
Princeton, Pennsylvania, Michigan, Western Reserve, Northwestern, Toronto,
and other Canadian universities. He also holds a D.D. degree, is a Companion
of St. Michael and St. George, and a Fellow of the Royal Society of Canada. In
1892 he became lecturer and professor of New Testament Greek in Pine Hill
College, Halifax, Nova Scotia, and principal in 1904. In 1907 he became presi-
dent of the University of Toronto. His publications consist chiefly of articles
in professional journals, in encyclopedias and dictionaries in Britain and America,
in magazines on educational and public questions, and The German Tragedy
Vnd Its Meaning for Canada, and Idealism in National Character. He is Canadian
editor of Nelson's Encyclopedia.

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THE SPIRITUAL IDEA OF THE
UNIVERSITY

By SIR ROBERT ALEXANDER FALCONER

ONE HUNDRED YEARS seem to us whose lot has been cast in the
newer parts of this continent to be a long period, and a university
which celebrates its centenary is relatively old, but tho the local
institution is old, and the graduates of this university are to be
congratulated on the years and glory of their Alma Mater, a sense
of antiquity and transmitted respect invests even young institu-
tions in this New World. They are the advanced posts of an an-
cient and royal (if you will bear with this word for history's sake)
commonwealth, and are entitled to wear the crest of the noblest
intellectual lineage of the world. The university like the church is
a universal institution of our Western civilization, which in idea is
spiritual but takes concrete forms that vary with age, nationality,
and local habitation.

We must not, therefore, look to our creations in this New World
as tho they were unique. It is true that in each of these new uni-
versities experiments are being made to suit local necessities, but
their raison d'etre is a recognizable spiritual idea ever the same
everywhere which gives our newest ventures the right to this august
designation. The university is not made by a congeries of pro-
fessional schools, such as medicine, law, engineering, dentistry,
agriculture, grouped into an administrative unity. These all may
be held together and directed by one board of trustees, and still
remain nothing but a group of professional schools — concentrated
it is true in one spot, but nothing more than technical training-places
for the turning out of men and women who will know enough
to make a living by the practice of the skill which they have in
part acquired in these places.

It is vital to remember two facts: that these accompanying
elements of a university are professional schools or faculties, and that
they are integral parts of and receive their character from the uni-
versity. We may doubt indeed whether there could be professions
without universities, and one of the main functions of the university
is to qualify for the professions. Let us linger for a moment upon
that word "profession". It has a noble meaning. A profession
involves more than technical skill : it is based on broad knowledge —

(295)

296 Indiana University

not simply on exact acquaintance with the facts necessary for
practice, as for example the few facts about the bones that the skil-
ful bone-setter requires, or the rudiments about drugs or simples
that an old-fashioned doctor was content with — nor the skill of
mere manual dexterity or experience that by years of repetition has
embodied itself in the instinct which is the guide of the middle-
aged. B**oad knowledge of science and human character lies at
the foundation of the education which prepares for the professions.
But more than that, the member of a genuine profession is by
ancient lineage the servant of the people. The three primary pro-
fessions, as far as age goes, the church, law, and physic, have this
in common that they are all recognized by the state as being in-
trusted with great public responsibilities. The mediaeval conception
of the clergy took its professed ideal from the motto of the popes —
Servus servorum Dei; the law finds its supreme embodiment in the
judge who is set apart and surrounded by especial dignity for the
maintenance of justice and order; and the medical man goes back to
Hippocrates for the oath in which he pays fealty to his profession —
"equally free from the mysticism of a priesthood and the vulgar
pretensions of a mercenary craft". This idea of vocation to public
service is essential to the conception of a profession, and no school
which does not instil into its graduating students this spirit has a
right to be called more than a technical institute. Nor will the
multiplication of these schools alter the matter one whit, for size
and numbers have nothing whatever to do with it. If the profes-
sional school is worthy to be called a faculty of a university, it
must be because it is a faculty and not a technical school.

The word "faculty" also is a dignified term. It denotes a body
of persons on whom specific professional powers have been conferred.
They derive their authorization from above, because they are recog-
nized as competent to maintain and create the spirit and ideals of
the profession. They are not a private group of self -constituted
practitioners, but a recognized body of people who have been
granted authority both to teach and to certify that those whom
they have taught are fit and proper persons to receive a degree at
the hands of the superior body like the university, to which there
has been delegated by the state the power to confer the degree.

We may now return to the idea of the university itself. As I
said at the opening, the university is one of the great historical
institutions of Western civilization which remains the same in
essence wherever it may find local habitation. In our New World
we are too often inclined to forget that by origin and lineage we are

Centennial Memorial Volume 297

of old stock, and that our fathers brought to this New World most
of the ideas in germ which have developed and changed somewhat
by reason of the new soil and atmosphere in which they have grown.
Nor must we assume that the changes are always for the better.
Often they are, generally they suit our needs, but it may be that .
they have arisen at times simply thru our taking the easier way in
order to meet emergent demands, and that we have for a season
forgo ttep the idea itself in which the vitality of the institution is
embedded. It is therefore not out of place for us on such an occa-
sion as this to take a brief survey of the history of the most ancient
and one of the greatest of the universities of the world, the Univer-
sity of Paris. Here if anywhere we may get an insight into the idea
of a university, because tho today great professional schools are
ranged round it, its history has been full of vicissitudes and of
errors not unlike those which endanger our flourishing universities
in this New World.

What I have to say is taken from an authoritative recent book
called La vie universitaire a Paris. I shall not linger over the misty
period of origins when the university began to take shape in dif-
ferent colleges, but shall begin with the thirteenth century when
"the university was a centre of extraordinary intellectual life, and
enjoyed such an incomparable prestige and moral authority that
both civil and ecclesiastical powers had to reckon with it". The
secret of this influence lay in the wonderfully developed training
that was given at that time by the practice of dialectic, not as a
matter of mere form and static laws, but as a vital method of deal-
ing with universal human problems of man's being, beliefs, and
conduct. It was an age of faith in that men were profoundly con-
cerned in the things of the human spirit, and this intensity throbbing
in the body of the university made its life. Strange tho it may
appear, "with the advent of the Renaissance the university fell into
decadence for several centuries". In its place came the schools of
the Jesuits, who were great teachers and introduced a new method,
supplanting dialectic with the study of the ancient languages.
In their judgment the cultivation of the taste thru the return to
classical antiquity was the essential purpose of intellectual educa-
tion. This method reached its completion in a perfected dialectic.
Beyond this, however, they could not go, tho their finished product
was one of the factors that has entered into the making of the
French mind of today, and their idea of the function of education
persisted even until the University of Paris was being revived at
the beginning of the nineteenth century. The first fruit of this

298 Indiana University

method is what the French call Finesse, a word which "since the
time of Pascal is sometimes called taste, sometimes psychological
sensibility, sometimes a delicate intuition which warns one of a point
where logic loses its rights" — a spirit of shading and moderation,
the characteristics of the honnete homme, or gentleman who was
polished and refined by Latin oratory, some philosophy, and even
some mathematics. But during the reign of the Jesuits the univer-
sity itself was under eclipse. There was no genuine intellectual
vigour, and tho science was making headway in the world, it was
thru individuals, not in the schools. Thruout the great period of the
seventeenth century the university counted for little. Descartes
wrote and influenced not the schools but the world of thinkers
outside.

At this time when the University of Paris was not a teaching
body and had all but disappeared, "medicine, law, and theology were
merely professional schools without any ideal". It may be said
that the situation was saved by the creation in 1530 by Francis
I of the College de France. It prepared for no examination and until
today is subject to no program. Its teachers, men who are called
because of their learning or their powers of research, are allowed
full freedom for original work, and they offer those who wish to
listen or attend the advantages of their newest discoveries in knowl-
edge.

With the advent of the Revolution science was eagerly pursued,
but for its practical applications, strange to say, and many indivi-
dual schools sprang up which, however, were narrowly specialized.
Napoleon, moreover, turned the faculties of science and arts into
mere examining bodies composed of the teachers from neighbouring
lyce"es. "What was wanting were great and powerful scientific
workshops where thru teachers and students the work of science
could be carried on in a collective and unbroken manner."

We pass over nearly a century of political sunshine and storm
until France went down to military defeat in 1870. But then began
a triumph in spirit over her disaster thru her universities. Intel-
lectual ardor blazed forth. The professional schools were brought
together so that by their concentration a common intellectual life
would flourish, as the idea of the university again penetrated them.
Their leaders had learned that "to provide the mind with the taste
for large things we must give it wide horizons, and in the university,
a truly encyclopedic school, keep it from narrow specialization".

Now for the first time for centuries by the rise of the historic

Centennial Memorial Volume 299

spirit the faculty of arts or letters resumed its rightful place in the
university.

Its aim is to study the intellectual and moral life of humanity in the world in
which this life is manifested under the most general and complete forms. Its
proper domain is consequently literature in the largest sense of the word ; art in so
far as it expresses ideal life; philosophy which synthesizes the conceptions of
thought; history which is the picture of social life; geography which describes its
theater. Its method is scientific and literary.

In the faculty of science the pursuit is made not in love of an erudition which
is self-enclosed, which is an end in itself and never reaches general ideas. On
the other hand, it has great distrust for syntheses, which end in vast systems, in
logical constructions as imposing as hazardous. It likes to keep to a middle
course, in which the details can be seen with precision, and in which nevertheless
a horizon can be found broad enough so that one need not be stifled. It will
sacrifice neither erudition nor taste; neither exact knowledge nor the thought
which illuminates knowledge.

From this brief outline of the history of the University of Paris,
taken from a description made by some of those who know most
about its essential nature, it is evident that the vicissitudes of its
career, traced in curves now almost disappearing and again ascend-
ing rapidly, are due to the vitality or the temporary dormancy
of the spiritual principle. And if we were to turn to Oxford and to
Cambridge this same truth might in them also be illustrated, that
their periods of greatest influence were those in which the spiritual
element was vital within them. They have never been like Paris
renowned for their professional schools. Their "schools" have been
different and each College has had its own individuality. But still
it is true that they lived most when they were awake to the reality
of things spiritual.

Probably I cannot find a better delineation of the ideal of Oxford
University in the nineteenth century than that given by John Henry
Newman, who was one of its most distinctive products, and one of
its greatest ornaments. What he says is of course an ideal, and it
bears the limitations of his own mind, but it is nevertheless a fine
exposition of the aims of an historic university.

If a practical end must be assigned to a university course I say it is that of
training good members for society. Its art is the art of social life, and its end is
fitness for the world. It neither confines its views to particular professions on
the one hand, nor creates heroes or inspires genius on the other. A university
training is the great ordinary means to a great but ordinary end: it aims at
raising the intellectual tone of society, at cultivating the public mind, at purifying
the national taste, at supplying true principles to popular enthusiasm and fixed
aims to popular aspiration, at giving enlargement and sobriety to the ideas of the
age, at facilitating the exercise of political power, and refining the intercourse of

300 Indiana University

private life. It is the education which gives a man a clear conscious view of his
own opinions and judgments, a truth in developing them, an eloquence in express-
ing them, and a force in urging them. It teaches him to see things as they are,
to go right to the point, to disentangle a skein of thought, to detect what is sophisti-
cal, and to discard what is irrelevant. It prepares him to fill any post with credit,
and to master any subject with facility. It shows him how to accommodate
himself to others, how to throw himself into their state of mind, how to bring
before them his own, how to influence them, how to come to an understanding
with them, how to bear with them. He is at home in any society, he has common
ground with every class; he knows when to speak and when to be silent; he is
able to converse, he is able to listen; he can ask a question pertinently, and gain
a lesson seasonably, when he has nothing to impart himself; he is ever ready,
yet never in the way; he is a pleasant companion and a comrade you can depend
upon; he knows when to be serious and when to trifle, and he has a sure tact
which enables him to trifle with gracefulness and to be serious with effect He
has the repose of mind which lives in itself, while it lives in the world, and which
has resources for its happiness at home, when it cannot go abroad. He has a
gift which serves him in public, and supports him in retirement, without which
good fortune is but vulgar, and with which failure and disappointment have a
charm. (Idea of University, p. 177.)

I fancy that in this the great Cardinal is unconsciously taking
himself for his model, and not a few touches of autobiography are
to be found in the extract. But tho in lofty eloquence he carries us
into a region beyond the attainment of ordinary folk, the ideal does
depict the spiritual function of a university. I will allow you to
estimate each for himself his relative place, in the hope that each
will judge his approximation to the standard with due modesty.

But to balance affairs I must take an extract from another
great Englishman, who also had a command of fine English but
otherwise had little in common with Cardinal Newman; I mean
Huxley. He was a severe critic of much in the older universities,
tho no one was more eager for the maintenance of a university
spirit in all the professions. He was a reformer, not a revolutionist,
certainly not an anarchist. Huxley has this to say:

I take it that the whole object of education is, in the first place, to train the
faculties of the young in such a manner as to give their possessors the best chance
of being happy and useful in their generation; and, in the second place, to furnish
them with the most important portions of that immense capitalized experience
of the human race which we call knowledge of various kinds. . . . You do
not care to make your University a school of manners for the rich; of sports for
the athletic; or a hot-bed of high-fed, hypercritical refinement, more destructive
to vigour and originality than are starvation and oppression. [This was a shot
at Oxford.] . • • In an ideal University as I conceive it, a man should be
able to obtain instruction in all forms of knowledge, and discipline in the use of
all the methods by which knowledge is obtained. In such a University, the force
of living example should fire the student with a noble ambition to emulate the

Centennial Memorial Volume 301

learning of learned men, and to follow in the footsteps of the explorers of new
fields of knowledge. And the very air he breathes should be charged with that
enthusiasm for truth, that fanaticism of veracity, which is a greater possession
than much learning; a nobler gift than the power of increasing knowledge; by
so much greater and nobler than these, as the moral nature of man is greater
than the intellectual; for veracity is the heart of morality. (Science and Educa-
tion, pp. 174, 202, 204.)

These great Englishmen, so unlike in almost everything, are
alike in this that they magnify the function of the university as
producing a certain ethos or character in its students. For them it
is not a mere congeries of professional schools, chiefly technical with
an arts college in the center. The spirit that should be the soul of
the arts faculty is to pervade all the others, and is not primarily
a matter of knowledge, for, as Newman says, "The university
teaches men to see things as they are, to go right to the point, to dis-
entangle a skein of thought, to detect what is sophistical, to discard
what is irrelevant." Or in the words of Huxley, "The very air he
breathes should be charged with that enthusiasm for truth, that
fanaticism of veracity, which is a greater possession than much
learning." What a fine vigour Huxley's language has — "fanaticism
of veracity!" the incisive paradox of a man who would doubtless
claim that fanatics had been buzzing round him all his life thru.

Both these men would agree that the function of the university
is to produce intelligence of the highest quality, and probably they
would also accept the definition of the French critic who says:

Intelligence properly so called is open-mindedness, a sense for seeing things
just as they are, the talent for comprehending the fact of reality and of discerning
relative purposes. In social relations we call it Tact, in literature it is designated
taste, in science it is criticism. A sense of proportion . . . confidence in
ideas regulated by a sense of reality.

The production of such an intelligence is a most noble aim, but
nothing less than this lies at the center of the spiritual life, which is
the soul of a true university. And never was it more needed than
today in our enormous state universities of this continent which are
growing, it seems often, more by accumulation than by organic
development from the center of the old arts faculty with its univer-
sity spirit. Fundamentally we must remember that the university
in all its branches deals primarily with persons who are to become
equipped for their professions — that its chief concern is not curricula
or courses which are to be imposed upon absorbent organisms. As I
have already remarked, it is for professions that students are being
educated in the practical schools of the university, and a profession

302 Indiana University

involves definite ethical qualities in the person who is to practice it.
What is generally called culture — at least some measure of it —
is a requisite in any person who is to be a worthy member of a pro-
fession. This is I am afraid just where we are in danger in our New
World. We are turning out experts in medical and surgical knowl-
edge, in the sciences of physiology and pathology, in the technique
of anatomy and surgery ; but what about the refined judgment of the
man who will use this expert knowledge so as to become a safe and
broad-minded practitioner and a wise leader in society? We are
educating men who understand the physics of engineering, of the
strains and stresses, the chemistry of metallurgy and even of sani-
tation, but what about "the passion for veracity which is the heart
of morality", which wins for a great engineer the trust of all for
whom he performs professional duties, whether employer or em-
ployed? If our universities are to grow more complex and increase
in size it will become an ever more difficult but even more important
task, to pervade the newer faculties and departments with the
spiritual aims which historically belong to the university, and
without which it would lose its right to its name and become a mere
agglomeration of professional schools. Possibly if Newman were
to visit the state universities in this New World he would abandon
hope of his ideal, but Huxley, as shown by his vigorous addresses at
the opening of Johns Hopkins University in 1876, would not.
Huxley might be downright critical of us but he would be hopeful
nevertheless, because he would see that science is being better
taught every year. He might also remember the story of the French
university, how a new spirit transformed Paris in the nineteenth
century, until today its professional schools, having imbibed the
genuine university spirit, are incorporated into a great institution in
which knowledge is accumulated, sifted, and diffused. And if
Paris had its years of unidealism but triumphed over them, why may
not we, who have a magnificent inheritance and have so much
to be proud of, be optimistic about our own future? Of course
France is a small country and it has had a long civilization. But
we do not expect results to follow in a day. The process will be
tedious for us, and the universities can by no means produce the
results alone. They must build upon a finer education in the schools,
for all education is one. Years spent in the moulding period of youth
under fine-grained teachers are as determinative as the four or five
years spent in a university.

But there is further good hope for our future: The quality of
our people is such that they will be responsive to any spiritual leader-

Centennial Memorial Volume 303

ship that the universities may give them. They possess funda-
mentally a fine idealism and are not sold over completely to the
material. Indeed, they expect from the universities just the kind
of product that it has always been their boast that they should
produce. They do not want selfish practitioners who convert their
profession into a trade. They expect us to send them men and
women who will be good members of society, and that too not be-
cause as engineers or surgeons they are skilful as carpenters are
skilful, thereby performing a parallel function for the community,
but because they have highly developed minds and spirits, sensitive
and sympathetic to all that concerns the health and social welfare of
the society in which they move — to say nothing of the interest they
ought to add to life, the amenity they should contribute to their
circle by their appreciation of knowledge, and of beauty in morals or
art. Thru the multitudes of graduates who each summer are cer-
tified to the world as fit and proper persons to wear the degrees of the
university, the general taste of the public must surely be raised and
its judgment be educated. They ought to be like the warm airs of
spring that sweep over the well tilled earth and bring to fruition
many of the common virtues that lie latent as seeds in the hearts of
average folk. Instead of that how many a mere expert, finely
trained I grant you, is like a magnificent iceberg dazzling to the eye,
but feared because of the fog of suspicion and self-interest that he so
often creates. He chills the atmosphere and in time disappears, to
the happiness of everyone, in his own cold environment.

I have treated the term "spiritual" in a very broad way, but I
believe that this is essentially the true way of applying it in the
theme which has been assigned to me. Of course the highest concept
of the spiritual must include religion, but I do not intend to dwell
upon the influence of universities on religion, except to say that I
believe that true religion is bound in the long run to profit by the
intensification of the genuine spiritual aim of university education,
as I have defined it, because veracity is the primary virtue of religion.
Where the right attitude of mind exists error of any kind will gradu-
ally cease and truth will prevail, and therefore genuine religion
flourish. Jesus Himself said that the only sin that could not be
forgiven was the sin against the Holy Spirit, i.e. the sin of the per-
verted will that deliberately calls good evil and evil good ; it is not a
sin of knowledge but of the moral character and of an unveracious
mind. Fortunately, the youth of the present day have been
accustomed to an atmosphere in which the former controversies
of science and religion have withered, and lie like dead leaves only

304 Indiana University

fluttered into spasmodic movement as some gust of the late autumn
disturbs them from the path into which the tramp of human life
beats them down.

Let me conclude by a quotation from Bacon, which might be
placed by every university as the motto for all who enter its portals:

Truth which onely doth judge itselfe, teacheth that the inquirie of truth which is
the love-making or wooing of it; the knowledge of truth which is the presence of
it; and the beliefe of truth which is the enjoying of it; is the soveraigne good of
human nature.

As I read these sentences they depict for me the stages of the genuine
student. First, he comes up eagerly to the university with the high-
est expectation bent upon "the inquirie of truth which is the love-
making or wooing of it". May we always meet him in such a spirit
of kindly welcome that his period of love-making will last long and
grow increasingly happy. Then there is "the knowledge of truth
which is the presence of it". May our teachers retain such fresh
and active minds, free from cynicism or indolence that the univer-
sities will be discovered by our students to be homes of genuine
knowledge, to the stores of which competent investigators are adding
every day; also as the undergraduate passes into the graduate
stage may he find that he has acquired during his years not only some
real knowledge but also the correct methods of procuring more for
himself. Finally "the beliefe of truth which is the enjoying of it".
What greater blessing can we wish for our university graduate when
he reaches the maturity of his education than to be able truthfully to
say "I believe"? Much of his knowledge will have been forgotten or
proved erroneous, but each year he will have been securing a sense
of the reality of things, so will have become steadfast in the belief
that there is truth in life, and will enjoy life to the full because he is
persuaded that truth is not an airy phantasm, no more real and en-
during than the iridescent colors in a cloud that is soon to be swal-
lowed up of night, but is a possession to be enjoyed even to old age.
Then will he agree with Bacon that this pursuit of truth is "the
soveraigne good of human nature".

THE CENTENNIAL COMMENCEMENT

[The following account of the Centennial commencement was written by
Ivy L. Chamness, '06, editor of University publications, for the July, 1920, issue
of the Indiana University Alumni Quarterly. The addresses delivered on com-
mencement day are included.]

(305)

THE CENTENNIAL COMMENCEMENT

THE FIRST CENTENNIAL COMMENCEMENT of Indiana University
has passed into history. Gala week festivities, covering more than
the usual number of days, began with the baccalaureate address on
Sunday evening, May 30, and closed with the ninety-first annual
commencement on June 4. The week was crowded full of inter-
esting events, in which there participated more alumni than ever
before returned for the graduating exercises of their Alma Mater.
Everyone was happy to be here, and in the joy of meeting old
friends and of seeing the campus again, forgot even such absorbing
topics as the league of nations, the high cost of living, and the
political conventions. The campus was lovely, as always, and the
weather on most days favorable.

The baccalaureate address, held in Assembly Hall instead of the
campus amphitheater because of rain, was delivered by Allan B.
Philputt, '80, pastor of the Central Christian Church of Indian-
apolis, and formerly a member of the University faculty. He took
for his text Isaiah 30 :31, "And thine ears shall hear the word behind
thee." Dr. Philputt called attention to the achievements of the
past, reminding us that the traces of antiquity are all about us, and
that we owe a debt to the past. Speaking of the history of the Uni-
versity, he said that altho the University is now established and
need not struggle for existence, there are still problems to be solved.
The mission of a university in a democracy is well defined. Edu-
cation gives insight, poise, courage, and calmness of soul in a world
full of hard problems. It is no longer a luxury, the prerogative of
the rich youth, and a college graduate must not expect to get
thru life more easily because he is educated. Rather, he must
go to work, for others as well as for himself. Each one should
feel a personal responsibility in helping to solve the many serious
problems of America today. Those who enjoy the advantages of
education should acknowledge a perpetual obligation to society.
During the war we were filled with a high idealism ; we dreamed of
a better world, of the brotherhood of man, of the putting away of
false gods. We made vows and felt the joy of united effort in a
noble cause. Have we forgotten these vows or did we really intend
to keep them? We now lack confidence in each other; we indulge

(307)

308 Indiana University

in levity, recklessness, and wild extravagance, all of which bode ill.
The churches and schools must hold fast to principles, altho ex-
periment must come. We should not be bound fast by the past,
rather we should use the experience of the past in order that it may
give us courage to travel unbroken fields. Do not be stupidly con-
servative, Dr. Philputt said, but listen to the wisdom of the fathers,
go to them for counsel, but return with caution. Make our own
blunders perhaps, but do not perpetuate the blunders of the past.
Have a care in the clamor for change. Work with the new prob-
lems, but go not after false gods. Hold to the faith of the past.
Isaiah was not a reactionary, but a seer. Follow men of vision,
who see, not visionaries, who imagine. Idealism has been a coat for
many crimes, for instance, the soviet in Russia and the Jacobins in
France. The better forms of government should be obtained not
by a radicalism but by orderly development. The true idealist is a
practical man. His feet are on the ground, but they do not lie on
the ground. "Where there is no vision the people perish." Labor
leaders say and many believe that the public is too indifferent to
many wrongs. Society today needs the services of spiritually-
minded persons. Even ten righteous men could have saved Sodom
from destruction. Our young men helped to save us during the war
and they should help to save the country in peace. The Fathers
believed education to be a sure fortress of virtue. Leaders for
the new day should listen to the voice behind. An ancient proverb
says that the truth of life abideth among the wise. In reply to the
charge that Christianity has been tried and found wanting, Dr.
Philputt declared that Christianity has been found difficult, but has
not been tried. The Golden Rule and the Sermon on the Mount
must save this broken world.

On Monday, designated as All-University Day, the senior
women's breakfast was held in the University cafeteria. Mildred
Begeman, '20, the toastmis tress, called upon Dean Agnes E. Wells,
who urged the women to return in five years to their class reunions,
and Anna R. Clark, '15, Y.W.C.A. secretary who is soon to leave
for China, who admonished the class to do nothing unworthy of
the University. Other responses were made by Emma McClain,
Mary Painter, Lorena Ray, Ruth Duncan, Kathleen Moran, and
Margaret Cox.

The formal exercises usually connected with the flag raising,
ivy and tree planting, and the presentation of the class memorial had
to be canceled because of rain, but a flag was given to the Uni-
versity, and the ivy and tree were set out. The class presented to

Centennial Memorial Volume 309

the University money left from the Arbutus to start a fund for a
stadium back of the Men's Gymnasium. The rain also prevented the
seniors from holding the peace pipe ceremony and the usual exer-
cises at which the class oration and the class poem are delivered.
The annual faculty -senior baseball game was postponed until Wed-
nesday forenoon. The band concert and community songfest also
had to be canceled because of the condition of Jordan Field. The
Alumni Council met during the day in the Faculty Club rooms and
framed some recommendations to be proposed to the Indiana Uni-
versity Association of Alumni and Former Students at their meeting
on Tuesday. The day closed with the senior play, What Happened
to Jones, by George Broadhurst, given by members of the class in
Assembly Hall, after which an informal reception with dancing was
held in the Men's Gymnasium.

On Tuesday, Alumni Day because the state law says that an
alumni trustee shall be elected on Tuesday preceding commence-
ment, the alumni met in Assembly Hall to conduct their business
session. David E. Beem, '60, presided until Frank Elmer Raschig,
'10, the president of the Association, arrived. James William Fes-
ler, '87, the only nominee for alumni trustee, was declared elected.

Humphrey M. Barbour, '15, the alumni secretary, presented
the recommendation of the Alumni Council that the dues of the
Association be raised to $2 and that the price of life membership
be raised to $50. This involved the changing of Article VIII of the
Association's constitution, which, since the recommendation was
passed, now reads: "The dues of the Association shall be two dol-
lars ($2.00) per year, and all members shall be entitled to receive
all publications authorized by the Association. Life membership
dues, payable in one or five annual instalments, shall be fifty dollars."

Mr. Barbour also read a recommendation from the Alumni
Council that Article V of the constitution be amended to remove an
ambiguity. The motion was carried and the section now reads:
'The President, Vice-Presidents, Recording Secretary, Treasurer,
and Executive Committee of this Association shall be elected by
ballot at the annual meeting in June for a period of one year or
until their successors are elected and qualify. The alumni secre-
tary shall be appointed by the Alumni Council in conference with
the University administration."

A third recommendation of the Alumni Council concerned the
financing of the Association, which the Council believed should be
put upon an independent financial basis. "To this end it further
recommends that the Association now instruct the Alumni Council

310 Indiana University

to proceed at once to formulate plans for the immediate raising
of an adequate endowment fund for the complete financing of the
work of the Association." The recommendation was put in the
form of a motion and, after discussion, carried. During the dis-
cussion the question of the amount of the endowment was raised.
It was thought that the alumni office would probably cost $10,000
or $12,000 a year, and that an endowment of $200,000 was neces-
sary to yield this amount. Inasmuch as it would necessarily be
some time before this endowment could be raised, it was proposed
that sustaining memberships be solicited. Dr. Charles Stoltz, ex-'90,
of South Bend, gave $20 as a start and the following alumni pledged
themselves to give $20 a year for a period of five years: Robert
A. Woods, '81, Princeton; Benjamin F. Adams, '83, Bloomington;
John H. Bothwell, '69,Sedalia,Mo.;Thurman Van Metre, '10, New
York City; Humphrey M. Barbour, '15, Bloomington; John C.
Shirk, '81, Brookville; James A. Woodburn, '76, Bloomington;
Ulysses H. Smith, '93, Bloomington; Frank Elmer Raschig, '10,
Indianapolis; William F. Book, '00, Bloomington; Allan B. Phil-
putt, '80, Indianapolis; James M. Philputt, '85, Eureka, 111.; David
A. Rothrock, '92, Bloomington; Grace M. Philputt, '08, Blooming-
ton; Edna Johnson, '98, Bloomington; Charles Wiggins, '04, Winni-
peg, Canada. The following pledged $10 a year for five years:
William H. Wylie, '97, Bloomington; J. Harold Warner, '15, South
Bend; William A. Rawles, '84, Bloomington; Daniel T. Weir, '91,
Indianapolis.

Election of officers resulted as follows: Andrew J. Rogers,
'10, Indianapolis, president; Mrs. Prudence Arnott Craig, '84,
Noblesville, first vice-president; John C. Shirk, '81, Brookville,
second vice-president; Mrs. Kate Milner Rabb, '86, Indianapolis,
third vice-president; Ulysses H. Smith, '93, Bloomington, secretary;
Benjamin F. Adams, '83, Bloomington, treasurer. The executive
committee consists of five Bloomington alumni: Nicholas O. Pitt-
enger, '11, Mrs. Ella Rawles Springer, '88, Schuyler C. Davisson,
'90, Mrs. Ruth Steele Brooks, '10, and William M. Louden, '91.
Dr. Adah McMahan, '89, of Lafayette, and Albert Stump, '12, of
Indianapolis, were elected new members of the Alumni Council.
The election of Councillors was not announced, however, at this
meeting. Old members re-elected for three years were: Lillian
Gay Berry, '99, Bloomington; Uz McMurtrie, '08, Indianapolis;
Dick Miller, '94, Indianapolis; Allan B. Philputt, '80, Indianapolis;
Jacob G. Collicott, '00, Indianapolis.

Centennial Memorial Volume 311

The meeting was cut short because of the All-University con-
vocation in the Men's Gymnasium, the program of which was in
charge of the Boosters' Club, a student organization. Dick Miller,
'94, of Indianapolis, presided at this meeting, and presented to the
audience the captains of the various athletic teams. A cup for
winning the singles championship in the Indiana stale collegiate ten-
nis meet was to be presented to Frederick E. Bastian, '21, of Indi-
anapolis, but he failed to appear when called to the platform. An-
nouncement was made that the Gimbel prize given to a senior or
junior who is trying out for an athletic team "for merit in habits,
college spirit, application, and sincerity", had been awarded to
Spencer G. Pope, '20, of Indianapolis, football star. The Confer-
ence prize for scholarship and athletics was announced as awarded
to Willard G. Rauschenbach, '20, of Stillwell. Head Coach Ewald
O. Stiehm spoke of the athletic record of the past few years, and of
the prospects for success in the future. He went on to speak of
the athletic needs of the University, but was cut short by an alarm
clock calling time on him. President Bryan made a short but
eloquent appeal for physical education and athletics. Quoting Ter-
ence's line, "Nothing which belongs to man is alien to me", he
went on to say that the Greeks, whom we credit with giving us
almost every good thing except religion, laid great stress upon
athletics. Dr. Bryan said that he believed with all his heart in inter-
collegiate athletics and in every other kind of athletics which is good
for man. He concluded with a stirring appeal for united support of
clean athletics in the University. The convocation closed with a
series of Indiana yells. The band played as the audience assembled
and at the close of the convocation. The attendance of students was
required and a roll taken. (This because students were required to
remain at the University for the Centennial celebration, and a check
on attendance was necessary.)

At one o'clock there was an R.O.T.C. battalion parade and
review on Jordan Field. The Indiana-Notre Dame game, which
was scheduled to follow this review, was declared forfeited to
Indiana by a 9 to 0 score because the opponent's team, owing to bad
train connection, did not appear on the field at the time set for the
game. The Indiana nine, however, proceeded to demonstrate its
superiority over the visitors in an exhibition game called almost an
hour late. The Notre Dame team was augmented, in this exhibition
game, by two Crimson players. After the first inning, resulting
1 to 0 in favor of Indiana, the remainder of the Notre Dame players

312 Indiana University

arrived. The score at the end of the seventh inning, when the game
was called because of the pageant, was 4 to 1 in favor of Indiana.
The first of the three performances of the Centennial pageant
was held on Tuesday afternoon. The seats were built in the north-
west corner of the campus, near Seventh street and Indiana avenue,
and the spot of campus north of the evergreens behind the Student
Building, near the River Jordan, formed the stage. The trees
furnished the necessary screening and a few paths between them
served as approaches.

The purpose of the pageant, according to the author, William
Chauncy Langdon, was "to celebrate the progress attained during
the hundred years of the University's existence, and to indicate the
significance of the educational situation in which Indiana University
and all American universities find themselves in the year 1920".
The music was composed by Professor Winfred Merrill, head of the
music department in the University, and it was performed by the
University orchestra. Before each performance the University
chimes rang the Hymn to Indiana, composed by the late Charles
Diven Campbell, '98, in December, 1915, and used in the pageant
of Bloomington and Indiana University in 1916. The parts were
taken by members of the faculty and students of Indiana University,
by their families, and by the citizens of Bloomington.

The first episode was symbolical, introducing Education and
her Influences, the earlier and later Colonists, Washington, Franklin,
Jefferson, America, Success, and groups of various types and classes.
The second episode reproduced almost exactly an episode in the 1916
pageant, in which the first professor, Baynard R. Hall, the first
Board of Trustees, the earliest students in Indiana Seminary, Gov-
ernor Ray, and various parents of pupils appeared in speaking parts.
The third episode returned to the symbolical. New figures ap-
peared: the State of Indiana, Indiana University, Difficulties, Arts,
Pure Learning, Applied Learning, Play, Inspiration, soldiers, Presi-
dents Andrew Wylie, David Starr Jordan, and William Lowe Bryan.
The dialogue in the fourth scene represented commencement day,
with a long procession of seniors. A representative of a business
concern appeared on the scene and carried off the promising young
scholar who had planned to go into educational work, as well as the
affable young man who had "just got by", and who, by the way,
was promised a larger salary in business than the promising young
scholar was to receive in education. Thereupon followed a serious
dialogue between some members of the faculty on the future of
American education. The last episode, called The Greater Victory,

Centennial Memorial Volume 313

introduced new figures: War, the Years of War, Europe and her
Nations, Peace, the Years of Peace, and crowds of workers. The
pageant ended with a great procession, led by Education and Suc-
cess.

The costumes of leading characters and of the dancers were
very beautiful, and the many colors on the background of green were
most effective in the warm sunshine. Scores of joyous, graceful
dancers appeared in the symbolic scenes, dressed, as the Student
reporter said, "in all the colors of the rainbow, and many which
were never seen in any rainbow".

At seven o'clock a band concert was followed by a community
songfest held in the campus amphitheater. A reception by President
Bryan and the faculty, in honor of the seniors and alumni, held
in the Student Building, concluded the day's festivities.

Wednesday, designated as Class Day, was a busy day for the
alumni. The alumnae gathered in the Auditorium of the Student
Building to take breakfast with the women of the senior and junior
classes and with the women of the faculty and the wives of faculty
members. Dr. Cora B. Hennel, '07, assistant professor of mathe-
matics, as toastmistress introduced Dorothy Donald, a junior,
who spoke briefly on what lies ahead of the University in the
next hundred years. Mrs. Frances Morgan Swain, wife of for-
mer President Joseph Swain, gave reminiscences of her days in the
University as a student. Cordelia Smith, '17, of New Albany, in
her toast urged that the alumni serve the University. She men-
tioned some specific things which alumnae associations of graduates
can do: arouse interest in extension courses in towns where such are
offered; try to get the good high school students, not the poor ones,
to come to Indiana University. She told of a New Albany high
school boy, a very weak student, who came to Bloomington to
attend a University athletic contest and came back home, pledged
to a fraternity. His athletic ability was bringing him to the Uni-
versity— nothing else. Another thing that alumnae might work
for was more recognition of the women*professors in the University.
As an instance of the lack of recognition, altho in a minor
matter, she mentioned the fact that at the reception given by
the faculty the night before, not a woman professor was in the
long receiving line. Mrs. Benjamin F. Long (Lucy Nichols, '01)
emphasized the pleasurable associations of college life. Dean
Agnes E. Wells outlined rooming conditions for women stu-
dents, speaking of furnishing the dormitory and another house
for women students, under University management. Mrs.

314 Indiana University

George Ball, of Muncie, wife of one of the University trustees,
made last fall a gift of $1,000, which was used to furnish the dor-
mitory. In March, Mrs. Charlotte Lowe Bryan, '88, made a
gift of $500 for gift scholarships and $500 for cooperative house
furnishings. These were announced with other gifts on Com-
mencement Day. Miss Wells told of plans for housing fresh-
men next year, keeping them as far as practical out of sorority
houses and putting them in University-controlled houses in the
hope of creating a better University spirit. Two more houses
will be leased, one to be cooperative, with expenses reduced to a
minimum. Miss Wells hoped that gifts of money might provide
for the furnishing of the cooperative house in order that the girls
participating need not pay interest on borrowed money. Before the
meeting closed the following gifts of money for this purpose were
made or pledged: Mrs. Benjamin F. Long, Logansport, $250;
Mary E. Cox, '95, Elwood, $25; Ruth R. Maxwell, '07, Oak Park,
111., $25; Carrie Ong, '12, Columbus, $25; Mrs. William E. Jenkins
(Charles Anna Moore, '92), Bloomington, $25; Mrs. Samuel E.
Smith (Martha Rogers, ex-'81), Richmond, $25; Mrs. Ernest Rails-
bach (Irene Neal, ex-'ll), Boston, Mass., $25; Anna R. Clark, '15,
Bloomington, $25; Dean Agnes E. Wells (will collect), $250.

Dean Wells also spoke of scholarship funds. During the past
year Mrs. Elizabeth C. Marmon, of Indianapolis, gave $1,000, $700
of which is to be used as loan scholarships without interest, and
$300, later increased by $222.10 from other sources, used as student
aid. At the meeting the following sums were pledged for gift
scholarships: Mrs. Joseph Swain, Swarthmore College, $250; Mrs.
James William Fesler, Indianapolis, $250; Mrs. James A. Wood-
burn, Bloomington, $50; Assistant Professor Edna Johnson, '98,
Bloomington, $50; Assistant Professor Elizabeth Sage, Blooming-
ton, $50; Mrs. Edgar Hiatt (Katherine F. Schaefer, '98), Richmond,
$50; Lucile Clevenger, '19, Anderson, $25; Mrs. George Shortle,
(Helen R. Shirk, '02), Tipton, $50; Fannie Belle Maxwell, '81,
Lake Forest, 111., $25; Etelka J. Rockenbach, '05, New Albany, $25;
Mrs. Alfred M. Brooks (Ruth Steele, '10), Bloomington, $25; Mrs.
Frank M. Andrews (Marie Opperman, '02), Bloomington, $25;
Cordelia Smith, '17, New Albany, $25; Hattie Listenfelt, '07, Chi-
cago, 111., $25; Jean Bond, ex-'09, Newcastle, $25; Mrs. Robert
Rossow (Ethel Simmons, '06), Culver, $25; Mrs. James K. Beck
(Lena Margaret Adams, '76), Bloomington, $25; Mrs. Henry B.
Veatch, Evansville, $25; Mrs. Frank H. Hatfield, Evansville, $25;
Mrs. Frank H. Hatfield (will collect), $250.

Centennial Memorial Volume 315

At a meeting of the University women held at the close of the
convocation on Thursday, the purchase of three Steele paintings
with $1,100 raised during the year as a Centennial thank offering
was authorized.

A state-wide committee of alumnae — one woman in each con-
gressional district — was chosen by Miss Wells to attempt to do cer-
tain things in their districts, — among other things, to encourage
scholarship, in some cases by working with chapters of the Associa-
tion of Collegiate Alumnae; to advertise the University, to enter-
tain high school seniors once or twice each year, and to inform the
University of promising prospective students. The committee sug-
gested that the gift scholarships be awarded thru competitive ex-
amination, subjects to be determined later. The committee ap-
pointed follows: Mrs. Ruth Steele Brooks, '10, Bloomington;
Mrs. Frank Hatfield, Evansville; Cordelia Smith, '17, New Albany;
Vida Newsom, '03, Columbus; Mabel Ryan, '99, Terre Haute;
Mrs. Katherine Schaefer Hiatt, '98, Richmond; Mrs. Grace Rawles
Wheeler, '91, Indianapolis; Evangeline E. Lewis, '94, Pendleton;
Mrs. Lela Todd Boyd, '10, Kokomo; Mrs. Zella Wiseman Atkinson,
'09, Gary; Flora E. Purviance, '99, Huntington; Marjorie Suter,
'17, Ft. Wayne; Mrs. Ethel Simmons Rossow, '06, Culver; Dean
Agnes E. Wells, Indiana University.

A second meeting of the Alumni Council was held during the
morning, when plans for raising an alumni endowment were dis-
cussed. A committee composed of Lillian Gay Berry, '99, of Bloom-
ington; Benjamin F. Adams, '83, of Bloomington; and Oscar H.
Williams, '05, of Indianapolis, was appointed to chose, in conference
with President Bryan, a new Alumni Secretary to succeed Humph-
rey M. Barbour, '15, who had resigned, resignation to be effective
June 5.

At noon, class luncheons were held on the campus. Since all
alumni were urged to return for the Centennial commencement, no
special class luncheons were arranged beforehand, the matter being
left to the returning alumni. The University cafeteria served the
lunches. About 350 persons participated. Some classes made their
presence known by yells and songs; one (1915) by wearing orange
festoons. The list of classes holding luncheons is reported as fol-
lows: 1869, 5; 1879, 7; 1881, 12; 1883, 12; 1890,26; 1892, 5; 1894,
10; 1900, 8; 1906, 13; 1910, 15; 1912, 20; 1913, 20; 1914, 15; 1915, 40;
1916, 35 ; 1917, 25 ; 1919, 40. (Some of these figures include children
of alumni.) The class of 1883 reported a breakfast held at the home

316 Indiana University

of Mr. and Mrs. Benjamin F. Adams, with Dr. Jordan and Dr.
Swain as guests.

The faculty-senior baseball game, postponed from Monday,
was played in the forenoon, resulting in a victory for the faculty,
10 to 9. The line-up included the following: faculty — Rauschen-
bach (student catcher) , McNutt, Morgan, Cogshall, Rathbun, Lee,
Treat, Stiehm, Schlafer; senior — Bowers, Moss, Hartzell, Byrum,
Parker, Hiatt, Lee, Carson, Reed, Michaelson, Bergdoll. The final
game of the inter-fraternity baseball series was also played on
Wednesday, resulting in a victory for the Phi Kappa Psis over the
Sigma Nus, 5 to 4.

The second performance of the pageant was given at four
o'clock. The weather was ideal, the bright sunshine bringing out
beautifully the coloring in the symbolic scenes. During this per-
formance of the pageant, a U.S. army airplane from Indianapolis
flew above the campus, looping the loop nad performing other
stunts.

The alumni dinner on the campus was a delightful occasion.
The almost triangular section of campus lying between the Kirk-
wood avenue driveway, the Student Building, and the Library was
hedged in with green boughs, and Japanese lanterns were strung
above the branches. The University band furnished the music. No
speeches were arranged for because it would have been impossible
for the diners to hear. Five hundred alumni enjoyed this occasion,
and many were unable to attend because they did not make reserva-
tions in time. After the dinner the guests mingled with each other
and greeted alumni who had come in too late for class luncheons at
noon. Altogether it was one of the most delightful affairs of the
week.

An informal reception and dance in the Men's Gymnasium
closed the day's festivities.

Frank L. Jones, '98, of Indianapolis, presided over the All-
University convocation on Thursday morning, the program of which
was in charge of the Indiana Union. He introduced Mrs. Mary
Maxwell Shryer, daughter of Dr. David Hervey Maxwell, who might
be called the founder of Indiana University. She presented to the
University a wreath of flowers, saying:

In the memory of my father, Dr. Maxwell, the president of the first Board of
Trustees of Indiana University; in memory of Dr. Andrew Wylie, the first presi-
dent; in memory of my brother, Dr. James Darwin Maxwell, '33; in memory of
Miss Sarah P. Morrison, '69, the first woman to graduate from the University;
in the memory of the professors, especially those whom I have known personally,

Centennial Memorial Volume 317

Drs. Wylie, Owen, Ballantine, Kirkwood, Van Nuys, Atwater, and Boisen; and
in the memory of the students of those days who have joined the poet's innumer-
able caravan, I dedicate from all of us this wreath of flowers.

Mrs. Otto Rott (Anna G. Cravens, '01), Indiana state treasurer
of the Daughters of the American Revolution, presented to the Uni-
versity an Indiana state flag. She told how Indiana had had no
state flag until 1917, when the legislature adopted one submitted by
the D.A.R.

Albert Stump, '12, of Indianapolis, announced that the alumni
association of the Indiana Club had established a loan fund,
amounting to more than $500, in memory of two members — Ber-
tram W. Pickhardt, ex-'12, of Huntingburg, and Oman J. Six, '13, of
Gwynneville, who died during the war, one in action and the other
in camp of pneumonia-influenza. The fund is to be known as the
Pickhardt-Six Memorial Loan Fund.

Dr. David Starr Jordan, president of the University from 1885
to 1891, now chancellor emeritus of Leland Stanford Junior Univer-
sity, spoke in a reminiscent vein for a time, and then tumed to his
theme, "The only way out is forward." He spoke of the University
in Dunn's Woods, when there were only two buildings — Wylie and
Owen Halls. There were 135 students, but "there were giants in
those days." In 1883, he, then professor of zoology, and members
of the senior class took a two weeks' tramp in the Cumberland
Mountains. The last time he was here was just before the war. He
tried to believe, he said, that it was honorable for America to keep
out of the war, but when we declared war he gave this message to
the press: "We are now in the war and the only way out is for-
ward." He went on to say that we cannot stay aloof from the
rest of the world now, and that any league of nations is better than
none. The foundations of America are solid, but the penalty of
solidity is service to others. When a great part of the world is
stricken with starvation, with disease, America's mission is the
greatest since the Civil War, and duty points forward.

In introducing Enoch A. Bryan, '78, commissioner of education
of the state of Idaho, Mr. Jones said that he knew four Bryans, three
of whom had been presidents and one who tried to be. Dr. E. A.
Bryan, formerly president of the Washington State College, spoke
of the significance of the hundred years just past. Indiana Uni-
versity, he said, was practically the first of its class. Some of the
so-called state universities which were founded earlier were different
in organization, management, and purpose. Some of their govern-
ing boards were self-perpetuating, and the institutions were some-

318 Indiana University

what monastic in character. Indiana University represented the
state and national ideal in education and it received both state and
national support. It stands for education for the people, and is a
part of the state school system. If it is to rise to the full measure
of its usefulness, if it is to hold its own against competitors, it must
have behind it the resources of the state. In his message to the
alumni he urged them to become conscious of their relationship to
the entire nation. Again, professional men going out must feel
consciously the support of their Alma Mater.

The next speaker, Joseph Swain, '83, now president of Swarth-
more College, president of Indiana University from 1893 to 1902,
set forth what he thought the students of Indiana University can
do to promote its program. The first thing is to develop into the
greatest men and women possible. Opportunities, he said, are much
greater today than in his younger days. Mr. E. H. Gary gave as
his basis for determining the salary rating of a man these four
things: integrity, good judgment, ability to work, and the habit of
success. These, Dr. Swain said, might be near objects of education.
The desire to succeed must be accompanied by the desire to serve.
Herbert Hoover in his college career did not wish to study anything
except that conducive to the making of a great engineer, but later
he heard the call to feed the Belgians and he followed the call. It
is all very well to start out to be a great engineer but one should obey
calls to service. The second thing which the students can do is to
spread the gospel of higher education all over the state. A college
president has said that the college trained man has 250 times the
advantage over the untrained man. Dr. Swain then presented some
figures to show the capitalized value of higher education. In the
third place, he said, the students should realize more fully the
privileges which the state gives them and should pay them back in
some financial way. Do not, he said, be satisfied with presenting
the matter to the legislature, but present it to your own hearts and
minds. Swarthmore College, one-half as old, and with only a frac-
tion of our number of students and alumni, has raised $3,500,000
in the last eighteen years. Indiana University alumni and students
have not begun to appreciate the value of what they have received
and are not awake to their obligations.

Mr. Jones, the chairman, introduced Walter H. Crim, '02, of
Salem, who presented the Rose Loving Cup (donated by the late
Theodore F. Rose, '75, to be awarded each year to the class having
the largest percentage of living members present) to the class of '83.
Clarence L. Goodwin, of Greensburg, Pa., responded with reminis-

Centennial Memorial Volume 319

cences of the two weeks' tramp in the Cumberland Mountains under
the chaperonage of Dr. Jordan, and of the reunion held in the Yose-
mite valley five years ago with Mr. and Mrs. David A. Curry
(Jennie Foster). He said he wished to acknowledge to the Uni-
versity a debt of gratitude, to pay a tribute of love to the teachers
of the early eighties, and to reassert gratitude and loyalty to the
University. Following Mr. Goodwin's talk the class gave the fol-
lowing yell: "Indiana, Indiana, Dr. Jordan, Dr. Jordan, Cumber-
land Gap, Cumberland Gap, Yosemite, Yosemite, Centennial, Cen-
tennial, Indiana, Indiana, Eighty-three, Eighty -three."

In the afternoon Indiana won from her old rival, Purdue, 6 to
5, playing before what was probably the largest crowd which ever
witnessed a baseball game at Indiana University.

The last performance of the pageant took place between four
and six o'clock.

In the evening the band gave another concert and there was
community singing on Jordan Field.

Judge Andrew A. Bruce, recently chief justice of the supreme
court of North Dakota, addressed the Law School seniors in As-
sembly Hall. He spoke on "The Obligations of the State toward
the Legal Education of Its Citizens". The American ideal of gov-
ernment, Judge Bruce pointed out with frequent illustrations, has
been that of government by law, and not government by men, or
government by temporary majorities. But we have given the ballot
to everyone. We have the initiative, the referendum, and the recall.
Everyone may vote on constitutional questions, anyone can be
elected to public office, and anyone may be a lawmaker. The
majority is all-powerful. Whether we shall have property or lib-
erty is after all for the majority to decide. Yet the average voter
knows nothing of the history and the growth of our laws. He
knows nothing of the centuries of trial and suffering and experience
that are crystallized in every line of our constitution. He knows
nothing of the duties of our courts and of the functions that they
serve. Somewhere in our educational system we should furnish an
opportunity for all to acquire the knowledge which all should have
for the welfare of the state. In these days a state university, acting
thru its law school, must do more than merely train practicing
lawyers. It must be a school of jurisprudence; it must be a school
of Americanism. It must educate legally trained leaders who can
guide the social advance. We cannot safely play at politics or at
government any longer. For the sake of the public welfare our
democracy must become legally intelligent.

320 Indiana University

Following his address there was an informal reception by the
senior law class in Maxwell Hall. In the Men's Gymnasium, an
informal reception with dancing and stunts by the Cosmopolitan
Club closed the festivities.

Rain on Friday morning necessitated holding the graduation
exercises in the Men's Gymnasium, instead of outdoors as in recent
years. This change worked an advantage in at least one respect —
the audience could hear the speakers much better than they could
have heard them in the campus amphitheater. An innovation in the
music this year was the singing of two hymns by the audience, led
by the University chorus and orchestra : The Hundredth Psalm and
The Battle Hymn of the Republic. Rev. William Burrows, lector
of the Episcopal Church in Bloomington, pronounced the invocation,
and Rev. Joseph C. Todd, head of the Indiana School of Religion
(formerly the Bible Chair Hall of the Christian church), gave
the benediction.

About ten days before commencement, Major-General Leonard
Wood, who had been engaged to give the chief address of the day,
canceled his engagement because of the pressure of political affairs.

The three former living presidents of the University — David
Starr Jordan, 1885-91, John Merle Coulter, 1891-93, and Joseph
Swain, 1893-1902 — were present and each delivered a brief address.
In introducing Dr. Jordan, President Bryan used the lines of Gold-
smith descriptive of the village preacher:

As some tall cliff that lifts its awful form,
Swells from the vale, and midway leaves the storm,
Though round its breast the rolling clouds are spread,
Eternal sunshine settles on its head.

Dr. Jordan's address was largely reminiscent of the days in
which he was professor (1879-84) and as president (1885-91).

DAVID STARR JORDAN

The great growth of the University makes me but feel that my
place is back among the early founders, not far from the days in
which one professor and the president completed the faculty. In
those days the president and the professor once met on a foot-log
which crossed the stream on the main street of the town. Neither
would budge and the president elbowed the professor into the brook.
And speaking of the brook, I once reminded the Board of Trustees
that they need name no building for me; I asked only that this
brook, coming thru what was then the new campus, should be

Centennial Memorial Volume 321

called the River Jordan. And this was done, but they did still bet-
ter, for the meadow across the brook they named Jordan Field.
There is one joy in being numbered with the "has-beens" of the
academic world, the alors celebres of the French historians. That
is, one may look over the scenes of life with no worries for the
future and no sting for the past. What is done is done and the
future belongs to the others.

As I look over my part in the history of Indiana University, I
feel that I was in a position to lay a solid foundation for its advance.
My first act was to loosen up the bonds of tradition, to develop
courses of study which should justify themselves by leading to real
scholarship. No scholarship worthy of the name comes from
unwilling work. A ready-made course of study is the acme of ped-
agogic laziness. It is like a ready-made suit which fits nobody.

Before my day, the president had in his office a blackboard three
feet square on which was indicated the whole curriculum for the
term. Everything was cut and dried, representing as Agassiz used
to say "the dregs of learning".

In 1885 we relegated all these subjects to the freshman and
sophomore years and filled the last two with advanced work in
those fields in which we were able to develop it. As mental train-
ing, advanced work is far superior to elementary subjects, and the
fact that advanced training in science, history, languages, philo-
sophy, could be had at Bloomington soon brought a series of very
strong students. Indeed, for the number, I doubt if any other insti-
tution had so large a percentage of able and original men and women
as came to Indiana in those days.

And the general attendance began to grow. When I became
president on January 1, 1885, there were but 135 students enrolled
in college classes. In the preparatory school were as many more,
but these were soon discharged, turned over to the Bloomington
high school, thus establishing the proper relation of the University
to the high schools over the state.

Dr. Coulter and I had fought in many an arena, or, as we used
to say, on the "bloody sands of education" for freedom of choice,
the element of consent in education. This involved a plea for
scientific training, not as against any other, but as a means of grace
and development to those who found little digestible material in the
old prescribed courses of the classics.

We made no attack on the classics for those who could use
them. As Thoreau once said, "Those only talk of forgetting the
Greek who never knew it." But for freedom to choose we had

322 Indiana University

urged in season and out of season, and this was my opportunity for
making it go. And it went successfully. Next, the problem of
choice of professors became important. And in this, after some
not too successful experiments, I adopted the plan of choosing the
most promising of our alumni, promising them positions, when,
after study in the East or in Europe, they were prepared for them.

The first of these thus chosen was Horace A. Hoffman in
Greek, now completing his thirty-fifth year of service. Next came
Joseph Swain in mathematics, James A. Woodburn in history, Wil-
liam Lowe Bryan in philosophy, Allan B. Philputt in Latin, Robert
E. Lyons in chemistry, Arthur L. Foley in physics, Rufus L. Green
in mathematics, and somewhat later, Carl H. Eigenmann in zo-
ology, William A. Rawles in economics, David M. Mottier in botany,
Ernest H. Lindley in psychology, John A. Miller and Robert J.
Aley in mathematics, and others whom for the moment I may have
overlooked.

This plan served like a breath of fresh air. All these were
students of eminence, thoro and devoted. They were in sym-
pathy with new ideas in education, and perhaps, best of all, they
were intensely and wholly loyal to the University's best interests.
In early days the young men in education made a hard struggle for
the recognition of advanced work. But when the time came the
change seemed easy, and with the loosening of academic traditions
came the great increase in influence and power the colleges have
today. Jerome K. Jerome, in England, once said that the young
men butt their heads against a stone wall and find it easy to break
thru if enough young men before them have butted hard enough.
In these days, it dawned on us that Indiana was the land of poets.
Not only was there the incomparable Riley, but every county had
its own poet, usually one whose songs were worth hearing. One
of our Indiana men, Alvin Heiney, I believe, voiced the common
feeling when, on declining any front seat or place in the celestial
choir, he asked only for "a place on the bleachers where ten thous-
and Hoosier poets sit".

In those early days I used to go about the state, speaking in
every county seat on the value of higher education. Whenever I
could, I used to take Will Bryan with me and in silver tones he used
to intensify my message. He used to tell the people of his father's
farm in Monroe county, a spring in each field flowing downwards
toward a large stream "which drew after it a retinue of brooks as
noble as those of the Nile or the Jordan". And the current of learn-

Centennial Memorial Volume 323

ing once in motion in Indiana could draw a retinue of noble souls,
as worthy and as devoted as in any other academy, no mattei where
located.

Each time as I visit these institutions of the West I am im-
pressed with the future stability of our democracy. Wisdom is at
the hand of whoever will take it. From our state colleges and uni-
versities upwards of 30,000 men and women will graduate this
month. The privilege of knowing is confined to no caste nor class.
There is no "class consciousness" in democracy. We are all — as
Justice Marshall said long ago, of one class— "just citizens".

Few of us realize the immense advantage this gives to America.
In almost every other nation, the right to know is a caste privilege.
Only those of the right class can be entitled to education. No
nation has any other treasure so precious as the talent of its people,
and where education is limited by caste, so much of the native talent
goes to waste untrained.

The essential features of democracy are its provision for free-
dom, order, and justice — the freedom to know above all other free-
dom, and justice the ultimate purpose. By justice we mean that
condition in which every man and woman shall be free to make the
most out of life. A generous education should be the birthright of
every child of the republic.

There is essential stability in the democratic nation in which
discipline springs from within, as compared with a nation in which
order is enforced from without, and in which the citizen is not the
self -con trolled unit of government, but "a brick in a wall not know-
ing the nature of the edifice of which he forms part".

Should all application of force be suddenly drawn from America,
the stability of society would not be affected. Should compelling
force be withdrawn in a land of autocracy, the people would be like
sheep in a storm, not knowing what to do, or like wild horses in a
prairie fire, doing always the wrong thing. This prophecy I pub-
lished in Belgium in 1912, but I had no expectation of seeing it so
soon verified.

And the strength of this country will all be needed for the re-
demption of Europe. The last time I spoke in Bloomington, I hoped
that our nation might escape the waste, the strain, the demor-
alization, the loss of values, which always follow in the wake of
war. But this proved impossible. We cannot get peace by lying
down. We could not stand by and see Britain beaten in a righteous
cause. Nor could we see Belgium devoured or France dismembered.

324 Indiana University

When three years ago war was declared I gave this message to the
press, "We are now in the war and the only way out is forward."

The great struggle's enly half over, and our special part, the
restoration of the value of human life, is barely yet begun. We
cannot separate ourselves from humanity, one-half suffering from
starvation, the other delirious with crazy joy. A mad world and a
sad world in the aftermath of war.

And again I must say — we are a part of the mangled world —
and still as before, "The only way out is forward."

John Merle Coulter, head of the department of botany in the
University of Chicago, was the next speaker.

JOHN MERLE COULTER

It is a pleasure to renew my contact with surroundings that
were once very familiar. During nearly twenty years of college
service in the state, many of the faculty of Indiana University be-
came my intimate associates, so that my sympathetic connection with
the University extended far beyond my official connection. It is
not for me to speak of the history that this occasion commemorates.
This is a matter of record, a record of which you may well be proud.
It is more appropriate that I should speak of an important problem
that universities are facing, whose solution will be a part of your
subsequent history. Men should face forward, backed by all the
assurance that history can give, determined that the future shall be
worthy of the past .

THE NEW SPIRIT

During the war we realized that our country experienced a
wonderful tiansformation. It was as tho we had awakened sud-
denly and found ourselves in a new world. While the trans-
formation in our mateiial affairs was striking, the transformation
in the spirit of men and women was most impressive. In the ex-
periences thru which we were passing, we seemed to have been
born again, with new motives and a new outlook on life. It is this
new spirit I wish to consider, that we may realize what it is, and
whether it is worth preserving now that the stress of war is over.
Is it a spirit that is worth while only in war, or is it also the most
effective spirit in peace ? Is it something we are expected to lose and
go back to our old ways, or is it really a rebirth, a spirit that has
come to abide? Is it something we need only for a special occasion,

Centennial Memorial Volume 325

or is it something that we have always needed and have only dis-
covered the need thru a great catastrophe? The most important
things have usually come to the world thru suffering. Shall we
let this new spirit die at the moment of its birth, or shall we make it
strong and dominant?

The transformation did not consist in the fact that this new
spirit was unknown; but in the fact that it was no longer exemplified
by a small minority, for it animated the overwhelming majority. In
other words, it was not the rebirth of an individual, but the rebirth
of a nation. How shall we define this spirit? Perhaps in no more
concise and comprehensive terms than to call it the spirit of coopera-
tion and service.

You are familiar with the expression of this new spirit in com-
munities everywhere. Thousands of men and women, who had
been thinking only of their own selfish interests, were born again
into a new world of service. They came to think of life as they
never had done before, and they enjoyed it as they never did before.
They discovered the pleasure of service, the sense of being of some
use in the world, and of contributing time and work and money to a
great cause. If this same devotion had always been alive, the world
would have been much farther along in its progress. Patriotism
broke down the barriers of selfishness, and our old motto, each for
himself, was replaced by the new motto, each for all. In the period
of reconstruction we are to determine whether patriotic cooperation
shall continue or whether our selfish competition shall assert itself
again. It must be evident to all that the spirit of selfish competition
was responsible for the war. So disastrous a result should banish
that spirit forever from the desires of men.

To take advantage of this lesson and to train a new generation
into the spirit of cooperation and service is the great burden laid
upon our schools and colleges. The ordinary curriculum provides
amply for imparting facts, for developing habits of mind, for culti-
vating taste, but in the past all this has been regarded as an equip-
ment for what is often called the "game of life", which usually
means a competitive game. Such education is necessary, of course,
for it is really an equipment, but it has not saved us from the
disastrous results of competition; in fact, all these things belonged
to Prussian education, and we see how this equipment was used.

Our education must contain something more, something more
fundamental than knowledge and taste. It must contain a training
in spiiit, the spirit of cooperation and service. Such a spirit is more
important to the progress of the human race than knowledge. We

326 Indiana University

were shocked by war into the exhibition of this spirit, forced by
disaster into allowing it to dominate. It continued to live as long
as the war lasted, but it is our problem now to discover what has
been called "a moral substitute for war", something that will arouse
and keep alive in peace the same fine spiiit that the war aroused.
This is the great problem of our educational institutions today, for
they are molding the generation that will be conspicuous in the
years of reconstruction.

This spirit of cooperation and service has a wider meaning than
to develop a nation into its maximum strength and efficiency. As
citizens of a nation we may continue to work with each other and
for each other, but if we confine this spirit by a national boundary
we have advanced only one step in cooperation. It would be like
looking at an eagle in a cage, when we know that its best expression
is called out in freedom. The spirit of cooperation and service
knows no national boundaries, but seeks its expression in men every-
where. It is the effective, animating spirit of the human race as a
whole, making for its maximum development.

The spirit of cooperation is the spiiit of good-will. Men have
developed this spirit more than have nations. There is still abun-
dant selfishness among men, but when we compare the people of
today with those of a century ago, and realize how much more they
are interested in the general welfare, as shown by the increasing
organized opportunities to serve the people, we realize that good-
will among men has been growing, and is expressing itself in-
creasingly in a thousand ways.

With nations, however, the case is different. International re-
lations have continued to be based upon selfishness. "Get all you
can and give only what you must", is the international motto. It is
the business of diplomacy to see to it that this motto is followed.
A man may be a philanthropic Christian gentleman among his asso-
ciates, his life preaching the message of good-will, but when called
upon to act for his country in its relations to other countries, he
ceases to be either philanthropic or Christian. He gets what he can
for his nation, and yields only what he must to other nations. It
was not the selfishness of men that brought on the war, but the
selfishness of nations, and the sad part of it is that men must suffer
for the sins of nations.

But a nation is what its people make it. If the people cultivate
good-will in their own living and emphasize it, a nation will pres-
ently begin to express the belief of its people. There has developed
a great reservoir of good -will among men, which has been seldom

Centennial Memorial Volume 327

drawn upon, but in our crisis there was such an outpouring of good-
will, expressing itself in service, that we surprised ourselves.
Nations also, as well as individuals, learned the lesson of good-will
and mutual service. It seemed as patriotic to serve England,
France, or Belgium as it once did to serve ourselves Can these
nations ever forget the stimulus of companionship developed by
mutual service and lapse again into selfish nationalism? We talk
about the brotherhood of man as the goal of Christianity, but this
goal will never be reached until this new spirit is free to express
itself, and it never will express itself until it is included in all
education.

It may be claimed that we have been teaching this spirit; per-
haps we have, but the methods have been faulty and ineffective, for
the results have not been large. In general, so far as we have been
teaching it at all, it has been by talking, by exhortation. We have
never given it the serious attention that has been given to what are
regarded as the formal subjects, the things that train the mind. If
our education has taught us anything as to effective methods of
teaching, it is that the laboratory, which means actual contact with
material, is the effective method. Have we developed the laboratory
method in the most fundamental phase of education, the training of
the spirit? If it is of fundamental importance that young men
and women be trained in the spirit of cooperation and service, what
laboratory opportunities have we developed? Every institution is
a human laboratory, full of diverse material. The development of
cooperation and service in such a group is left largely to individual
initiative, and as a consequence it expresses itself chiefly in the
segregation of a number of congenial groups. The spirit of coopera-
tion and service has nothing in common with congenial groups; its
great mission is with uncongenial groups.

Habits of thought are formed chiefly during the period of edu-
cation, and habits of thought are largely controlled by activities.
It is one thing to talk about cooperation, and another thing to
cooperate; it is one thing to talk about the beauty of service, and
quite another thing to render service. We must devise methods
in connection with our educational programs by which cooperation
and service become habits, fixed by practice. There is no more im-
portant phase of education, when we consider the future of the
nation and of the human race.

This principle of cooperation applies not only to communities
and nations and the human race as a whole, but also to the indi-
vidual, if he is to develop his maximum strength and efficiency.

328 Indiana University

The individual is the unit in a community or nation, and therefore
adds to or subtracts from the total strength and efficiency. It is
fundamental, therefore, that each unit shall obey the law of coopera-
tion in his own development.

No phrase is more common than that each of us is a complex
of body, mind, and spirit. This means a community, which lives
either in competition or cooperation. With competition the result
is an enfeebled product; with cooperation the result is the maximum
strength of which a given individual is capable. In your individual
development, which of these two spirits is in control?

I have known even students who emphasize the body, allowing
it to compete with mind and spiril . The body is favored at the ex-
pense of mind and spirit, and the result is that the individual be-
comes either a professional athlete, which would probably be the
most desirable result in such a case, or a victim of vices. The result
in efficiency as a citizen you realize. The maximum strength and
efficiency are not secured. I have also known men who emphasize
the mind, allowing it to compete with body and spirit. The mind
is favored at the expense of body and spirit. These are the so-
called "bookworms", who are defeating their own purpose thru
competition with the body, which should keep the mind in tone, and
also thru competition with the spirit, which should direct and
make effective their mental training. The result is certainly far
short of the possibilities of the initial equipment.

I have even known men who emphasize the spirit, allowing it to
compete with body and mind. The spirit is favored at the expense
of body and mind, especially the mind. These are the "fanatics",
who are blocking themselves by lack of bodily or mental equip-
ment, or both. No one would regard them as effective citizens.

Think of your make-up as resembling that of an automobile.
The body is the machine, the mind is the motive power, and the
spirit is the pilot. Imagine stressing the machine and paying no
attention to motive power or pilot, or being solicitous about the
motive power and disregarding the machine and pilot, or thinking
only of the pilot and letting the machine and motive power run
down.

I have gotten into the habit of thinking of men as representing
these different categories: those who are simply machines, that of
course get nowhere; those who represent motive power, but apply
it to no machine; those who would pilot things, but have nothing to
pilot. Perhaps the worst combination, however, are those men who
have a machine and motive power, but no pilot. Such men run

Centennial Memorial Volume 329

amuck. Surely none of these combinations are attractive, because
none of them makes for efficiency, and none of them makes for a
desirable citizen.

You realize, on the contrary, what complete cooperation means,
which permits body, mind, and spirit to become mutually stimu-
lating. The result is that each becomes stronger thru cooperation
with the others. Cultivate all of these regions of your being ; let no
power of body or mind or spirit go uncultivated, that you may con-
tribute your full momentum to the progress of society.

When citizens represent such a pioduct we shall possess the
material for a strong nation, a nation that can contribute its full
momentum to the progress of nations and to the establishment of a
cooperative! internationalism.

With ths presentation of what I have called the new spirit, the
spirit of cooperation and service, it must be apparent that it makes
for the strength and efficiency of the individual, and thru such
individuals for the strength and efficiency of a nation. It must be
evident also that the training of such a spirit must be a part of edu-
cation, definitely provided for, not left to casual exhortations or
individual initiative, and certainly not included among electives. In
facing such a training, however, it should be recognized that it will
meet a greater obstacle than stupidity or laziness or lack of interest.
This fundamental obstacle is selfishness, which in turn is the under-
lying stimulus for competition. We are born supremely selfish,
which up to a certain stage means self -protection, but the majority
never get over it. It means the constantly recurring question of
one's own pleasure or profit. It is an example of an evil application
of a normal impulse, for a man should be self-centered to a certain
extent, to cultivate within him that dignity of purpose, that
consciousness of strength, which will lead to his best development;
but when self-centering becomes self -gratification, then follows the
whole train of evils under which society and the nations today are
groaning.

I bring this message especially to students, for they represent
the group that is to make the history of the next generation. The
destiny of the country for good or evil is entrusted to the young of
today. In this sense, therefore, in speaking to them, I am speaking
to the most important element of society, for in their keeping our
future lies. It is with this in view that our educational institutions
have been founded, and it is of the greatest importance that the
youth of today form vigorous habits of thought and action, and
realize the fundamental things that make for progress and peace.

330 Indiana University

Carry with you in your individual lives and in your lives as citizens
the thought that progress lies, not in the path of selfish competition,
but in the path of cooperation and service.

The last president before Dr. William Lowe Bryan was Joseph
Swain, '83, who is now president of Swarthmore College.

JOSEPH SWAIN
FORTY YEARS OF INDIANA

I have two advantages over Dr. Jordan and Dr. Coulter. I
concede the rest to them. I had in my administration the advan-
tages of their experience and wisdom and I am an Indiana man.

It has been suggested that I speak today of Indiana University
as I have known it. I entered Indiana in the fall of 1879, forty-one
years ago this coming fall. From that time until 1902 as student,
teacher, and president, with the exception of three years, one in
Edinburgh, as a student, and two at Stanford, I was a part of the
University and it was a part of me. It was so much a part of me
that it was many years after I left here before I could shake off
the hold it had on me and cease to think of her problems as my prob-
lems. I shall never cease to think of her nor cease to love her. It
is said that the things one remembers best of his Alma Mater are not
there at all. There are memories that cluster about the spirit of the
place. However this may be, I am glad to give you today some of
my impressions.

To me the period of 1879 to 1883, my college days, lies between
the old Indiana University and the new. I speak of the old with
reverence. An institution which had for its teachers such men as
Owen, Ballantine, Wylie, and Kirkwood was honored. All were
men whose reputations were international in scope. All had a large
personal following among the students and citizens of the com-
munity. They were all men whom it was a delight to know in their
homes and in a social way. They possessed a kind of culture which
the narrower system of the present generation of scholars rarely
produced. During my student days I felt the liberalizing influence
of Kirkwood and Wylie, on the one hand, and on the other I had
the advantage of association with the masterful personality and
inspiring enthusiasm of the man who created a new era for Indiana
University. I consider myself fortunate in having entered Indiana
as a student when David Starr Jordan entered as a teacher. We
of that day had the rare privilege of sitting at the feet of the very
best that the old faculty of gentlemen and scholars had produced

Centennial Memorial Volume 331

and to be a part of the new era which was begun under the leader-
ship of Dr. Jordan.

I was with him in Europe when the news came of the burning
of Science Hall on the old campus. It contained all his collection
of fishes, and more than one thousand pages of his unpublished
manuscript. 5 received the word of the great fire of that year before
he did and it was my place to pass the word on to him. I had never
seen him shocked. Nothing seemed to ruffle his spirits, so I con-
cluded I would give him the message without any sugar coating and
watch the result. I simply said to him that I had just received word
that Science Hall, containing all that he held dear except his family,
had been totally burned, nothing being saved. He looked for a
moment at the ground and gave one big swallow and then said,
"Well, there is only one thing to do and that is to chip in and try it
again." He did chip in and try it again. He wrote letters to his
scientific friends all over the woild. We made a collection of fishes
at Venice and other places in Europe. Collections were sent to him
at Bloomington from the Smithsonian Institution at Washington,
from the British Museum at London, and many other places. Theattic
in the one college building left by the fire was fitted up for biology
and some of the best work ever done in Indiana was done that fall.
Dr. Jordan's group of students that year contained many who after-
wards became college professors and men of reputation in many
lines. Among these were Rufus Green of Stanford, Eigenmann of
Indiana, Norman of Texas, Evermann of the United States Fish
Commission, now of California; Meek of the Field Museum, Chi-
cago; Bicknell of the American Red Cross; Bollman, who was a
preparatory student at that time but came often to the laboratory
and was perhaps the most brilliant of all; and there were many
others. Not one of that group can ever forget that term. They all
realized that not buildings and equipment but great teachers make
a university.

The election of David Starr Jordan to the presidency late in
1884 brought a new type of man to this office. His predecessor,
Dr. Moss, was a Baptist minister. The presidents of liberal arts
colleges generally were ministers in that day. The election of Dr.
Jordan brought out favorable comment in the press, commending
the idea of the election of an educator rather than a ministei. I
remember that J. N. Study, then supeiintendent of schools at Rich-
mond, Ind., wrote to the Indianapolis Journal such a letter. It was
many years, however, before the denominational colleges made this
step and some have not yet made it. It was in the second year of

332 Indiana University

Dr. Jordan's administration that the University was moved to the
present site. Monroe county came forward in the emergency with
a gift of $50,000. With this sum and $20,000 insurance money,
twenty acres were purchased in what was then known as Dunn's
Woods. There were erected Owen Hall, Wylie Hall, and Maxwell
Hall, the two former of brick and the latter of wood. The name of
Maxwell was afterward transferred to the first Library Building
erected on the campus, now used for administration offices and the
Law School.

It was during Dr. Jordan's administration that the preparatory
department was abolished. This act made the University dependent
on the high schools of the state for preparatory schools and made a
natural connection between the University and the public schools
which was helpful to both.

As the salaries were small, Dr. Jordan filled the chairs of the
University with the best young men he could secure, bringing mod-
ern training to every department, and the Indiana faculty naturally
imbibed the spirit and enthusiasm of their chief. He traveled much
over Indiana, lecturing in all parts of the state. He started a group
of older students to the University who were attracted by the elective
system and the new spirit. It was not uncommon for the teachers
to have in their classes a number of students who were their seniors.
I remember that one superintendent told me he was ambitious to
graduate with his daughter. As a matter of fact, he graduated a
year later. Dr. Jordan did not, as most executives, wholly give up
his teaching. Nearly all students took one or more subjects with
him. Thus all the students knew something of his method of
thought, his spirit, and his enthusiasm.

The elective system introduced at Indiana by Dr. Jordan made
the graduates of the University the best equipped persons in the
state to teach in the high schools. This is one reason why so large
a percentage of the graduates of Indiana became teachers. There
is no doubt of the fact that Indiana, for the number of its graduates,
has a large percentage of them successfully engaged in the work of
education.

Dr. Jordan did not allow his other multifarious duties to inter-
fere with his research work. He kept up this work thruout his
presidency here and at Stanford. It will hardly be believed by this
generation that Dr. Jordan, while president, never had a private
secretary, He wrote all his letters with his own hand.

David Starr Jordan was for twelve years a member of the
faculty of Indiana, being seven years its president. He has said

Centennial Memorial Volume 333

that a great man makes a great mark on every youth with whom he
comes in contact. Dr. Jordan made a great mark on Coulter, Bryan ,
and myself, as well as hundreds of others. These marks have in-
fluenced Indiana thru the twenty-nine years since he left the
state and are destined to influence it for generations to come. For
myself, I began with the feeling toward him which a freshman has
for his favorite professor. This relationship has continued to exist
for more than forty years. During all this period his powers have
expanded and his knowledge grown so that I look up to him now as
I did in 1879.

The spring of 1891 was a memorable one in Indiana. Senator
and Mrs. Stanford came in their private car to Bloomington. Watt
Bradfute with his nose for news soon learned of their presence.
Watt was impressed with the senator's great wealth and exclaimed
to me, "Why, he could buy out the whole of Monroe county!" But
Stanford did not buy the county but he took Jordan, Branner, Gil-
bert, Campbell, Barnes, Griggs, and myself from the faculty to the
new institution. At that time Jenks went to Cornell, Motske to
Johns Hopkins, and Naylor to DePauw. Thus ten men were taken
from Indiana.

Under these circumstances it was highly important that the
right man should first of all be secured as a successor to Dr. Jordan.

Dr. Jordan and Dr. Coulter were friends and co-workers in
the cause of scientific education in Indiana. They had for many
years worked together in educational gatherings in different parts
of Indiana and together are largely responsible for a new era of
scientific study in the public schools of the state. They also greatly
influenced the colleges. Dr. Jordan's faith in Dr. Coulter was such
that he urged his appointment as president seven years before when
he himself was chosen. It was therefore natural that Jordan should
now turn to Coulter as his successor. Coulter was unanimously
elected and his selection gave general satisfaction. He gathered
about him a young and enthusiastic faculty. The Stanford exodus
had called special attention to Indiana. Students came the next
year in larger numbers than ever before. Dr. Coulter and his new
faculty went into all parts of the state in the interest of the Uni-
versity. The next legislature was friendly. It voted $50,000 to
the University for a new building. Indeed, the State University
so prospered under the leadership of Dr. Coulter that in two years
after his election here he was called to the presidency of Lake
Forest. It was very natural that regret was widespread that he
should so soon be called away, when things were moving so smoothly.

334 Indiana University

The trustees again had to elect a new president, otherwise I might
never have been one of the "Big Four" today.

Of my own period of nine years I shall try to be brief, tho
memories crowd upon me. In these years the numbers grew from
572 to 1,354. For the first time in the history of the state the
State Normal, Purdue, and Indiana were supported by one-sixth of
a mill tax on every dollar of taxable property in the state. This
amount has been twice increased and has proved a very satisfactory
method of providing revenue for state educational institutions in
this and other states. Kirkwood Hall was erected from the $50,000
referred to above; an Assembly Hall and Kirkwood Observatory
were also erected. Wylie Hall was rebuilt after the fire and en-
larged. A new power-house long outgrown and now substituted by
another was built. For a Science Hall $100,000 was secured. A
conditional gift was made by John D. Rockefeller and the campaign
begun for the Student Building. Thirty acres were added to the
campus.

On the educational side the aim was to make as good as possible
all departments rather than to expand extensively. The historical
and literary departments were enlarged. The great impetus that
had been given by Jordan and Coulter in scientific studies had caused
these departments to develop in advance of other departments and
place arts and science courses more nearly on an equal basis.
Strong men have gone out into the state trained in English, history,
education, economics, and politics, as well as science, mathematics,
and language.

The growth of the State University was so great that the
private colleges of the state felt that something must be done either
to check the growth of the State University or to give them a new
development. They brought their case to the state legislature in
the form of an attack on the State Board of Education of which the
presidents of the three state educational institutions were ex-ofncio
members. They made a strong plea for the work of the private
institutions. They conducted a propaganda for their cause thru
the press and in public meetings thruout Indiana. The bill pro-
posed by the private colleges was brought to an open meeting of the
Committee on Education where the state schools, the private col-
leges, and public schools were represented. At this meeting the
tide began to turn. The bill of the private colleges, after a rather
bitter fight in the legislature, much talk thruout the state, and
publicity in the public press, was defeated, and the presidents of the
state schools were retained as members of the State Board of Edu-

Centennial Memorial Volume 335

cation. The state institutions, in order that there might be no just
cause for criticism, proposed a bill which was passed by the legis-
lature and authorized the Governor to appoint three additional edu-
cational men on the Board, one of whom should be a county super-
intendent. The other two were appointed from the private colleges.
While this scrap was rather ugly for a time and long drawn out,
it did good in the long run. The atmosphere was cleared and it led
to a better understanding of the needs of all the institutions and
there have been many years of good-will and cooperation by all the
educational institutions of the state. No more important legislation
has taken place in the last forty years for higher education in Indi-
ana. This struggle will never come again.

There is another incident which brought more strength to the
State University which occurred just before I left Indiana. There
was a decision by the supreme court of the state that Indiana Uni-
versity is an integral part of the state's school system. The aim
of the framers of the first constitution was to establish the public
school system of Indiana from the kindergarten up to and including
the State University. The decision by the supreme court practically
legalized this aim and Indiana University became as much an
integral part of the public school system as the elementary schools.
After this decision the question was no longer whether Indiana
should support its State University but how much the state should
support it. When we consider that in 1879 the whole income of
the University was $35,700; that there were 10 teachers and 164
students, and that this year the income is approximately $999,000,
the number of teachers 150 and 3,800 students, we realize that
Indiana has come a long way in forty years toward the realization
of the dreams of the framers of the first constitution.

When I left Indiana for Swarthmore College there was but one
man considered as my successor. The faculty, alumni, trustees,
and friends of the University generally all turned to Dr. William
Lowe Bryan as the logical man. He was a graduate of the Uni-
versity who commanded a high place as a teacher, scholar, and
thinker on educational problems. He had shown great loyalty to
Indiana University and had declined numerous calls East and West
in order that he might serve Indiana. He had been a member of
the faculty under the three administrations previous to his. He
had attained greater distinction as an educational leader at the time
of his election than any of his predecessors at the time of their
election. His advice had been sought and freely given on all the
leading problems of the University. After much hesitation and

336 Indiana University

misgiving on his part, he accepted the unanimous election of the
trustees. During his term of eighteen years he has witnessed the
greatest development of the University. The attendance has grown
from 334 in 1902 to 3,800 in 1920; the income from $129,800 to
$999,000; the number of teachers from 66 to 150. In this period
the number of graduate students has greatly increased and the
Graduate School been formally recognized. Schools and depart-
ments and courses have been established as follows: Education,
Medicine, Extension, Journalism, Comparative Philology, Anatomy,
Hygiene, Social Service, Political Science, Physiology, Music, Mili-
tary Science, Commerce, a Training School for Nurses, Waterman
Institute for Research, and combined courses in Arts, Law, and
Medicine. The campus has been increased from 50 to 120 acres.
Science Hall, for which money was secured in the previous period,
was completed. The campaign for $100,000 for a Student Building
was finished and the building erected. The new power-house,
Library Building, Men's Gymnasium, Robert W. Long Hospital,
and the new Medical Building were all completed. The high
character and the standing of Indiana has been attested by many
educational organizations both on public and private founda-
tions. Suggestions were made resulting in the greater develop-
ment and expansion due to greater appreciation by the state. All
this is important, but much more do we rejoice in the character of
the work done here which is attested by the high place that her
alumni now take in all parts of the Union. Wherever I go in the
United States I meet Indiana men and women who are loyal and
an honor to their Alma Mater.

Did time permit, there are many things I should like to say
but I content myself with two things more. I think the best thing
about Indiana University has been its strong faculty foi the money
available. I believe Indiana has had a very strong faculty. In this
connection I take what I hope is a pardonable pride in the personnel
of the men filling the offices of general administration. These men
were in office when I left eighteen years ago and had been my
trusted helpers many years before. Where else will you find four
such men working together in one institution for so many years as
Bursar Smith, who has built up such a strong University office;
John W. Cravens, who has filled a unique place for a quarter
of a century; Dean Hoffman, who has so well earned the right
to retire; and, lastly, the head of the University himself, whom we
all so greatly admire, Dr. William Lowe Bryan? I wonder how
many of those who see these men and work with them every day

Centennial Memorial Volume 337

realize what it means to have such a quartet of administrative
officers.

Now, finally, allow me to say that in these few minutes it is
impossible to give a finished sketch and express the joy I have in
coming back and witnessing this magnificent development, but I
can say for the past as was said by Paul, "We have planted, Apollos
has watered, and God has given the increase." For the future I
can say with Whittier,

Our Father's God from out whose hand
The centuries fall like grains of sand,
We meet today, united, free,
Loyal to our land and thee,
To thank thee for the era done,
And trust thee in the opening one.

After the three addresses, President Bryan called on the fol-
lowing deans, who presented the candidates for degrees in their
respective Schools: Horace A. Hoffman, '81, dean of the College
of Liberal Arts, 240 candidates for the A.B. degree, and 31 for the
B.S.; Charles M. Hepburn, dean of the School of Law, 21 candi-
dates for the LL.B. degree and 2 for the J.D. (in addition, 7 LL.B.
candidates and 1 J.D., whose names were starred on the program,
will receive their degrees in the fall of 1920 if their work is com-
pleted by that time); Carl H. Eigenmann, '86, dean of the Gradu-
ate School, 21 candidates for the A.M. and 5 for the Ph.D.;
Charles P. Emerson, dean of the Medical School, 11 candidates
for the Graduate Nurse degree, 48 for the M.D.,and 3 M.D. cum
laude. In all, 382 persons received diplomas.

The following students graduated with distinction: Chester
Albert Amick, chemistry, Scipio; Jessie Frances Arnold, Romance
languages, Stockwell; Gordon Wesley Batman, anatomy, Mitchell;
Claude Elmer Cogswell, history, Bloomington; Addie Viola Cover-
dale, English, Fort Wayne; Charles Edmon Dickinson, English,
Lowell; Byron K. Elliott, economics, Indianapolis; Glenn Pierre
Galloway, mathematics, Pierceton; Kenneth Jennings Good, his-
tory, Knox; May Avis Iden, English, Etna Green; Henry Calvin
Mohler, history, Roann; Bessie Newlon, English, Salem; Thomas
Rossman Palfrey, Romance languages, Vincennes; Mabel Vienna
Phillips, English, Bloomfield; John Craig Sample, economics, At-
tica; Mary Alice Seller, Latin, Bloomington; Hiram Elijah Stone-
cipher, Latin, Zionsville; Herman Steiner Strauss, economics, Fort
Wayne; Martha Esther Beatrice Swanson, Latin, Clarks Hill; Mer-
lin S. Temple, mathematics, Kendallville.

338 Indiana University

Those graduating with high distinction were: Mildred Marie
Begeman, Latin, Fowler; Lester Irving Bockstahler, physics, Santa
Claus; Cecil Calvert Craig, mathematics, Otwell; Edward Scott
Johnston, Latin, Bloomington; William Raimond Ringer, philoso-
phy, Williamsport ; Kenyon Stevenson, history, Frankfort.

Secretary John W. Cravens announced the following prize
awards and gifts:

The Norton-Mavor Latin prize was awarded to Philip Lowen-
thal, of Evansville. This piize consists of the interest on $200
given by Lester L. Norton, '71 (who died June 11), in memory
of his daughter, Caroline Buskirk Norton-Mavor, '07, for excel-
lence of scholarship in freshman Latin.

The John W. Foster prize was awarded to Martha E. Neal,
'20, of Vincennes. This prize of $50 is derived from a fund of
$1,000 given to the University by the late John W. Foster, '55, and
is awarded annually for the best essay by an undergraduate on
some subject connected with the political and diplomatic history
of the United States. This year the subject for competition was
"Japanese-American Relations since 1900".

Benjamin F. Long, '01, of Logansport, a trustee of Indiana
University, gave $500 to a School of Law Loan Fund, to be avail-
able to students in the Law School under the usual regulations re-
lating to loan funds.

Dr. Bernard D. Ravdin, '14, of Evansville, announced that the
Ravdin Medal was awarded to E. Vernon Hahn, '20, of Indianapolis.
This prize is given to the member of the senior class in the Medical
School who makes the highest average in the four-year course.

The Pickhardt-Six Memorial Loan Fund described above was
announced, as were also the alumnae subscriptions for scholarships
and dormitory furnishings and Mrs. Bryan's gift of $1,000.

The Bloomington alumnae of Kappa Kappa Gamma offered a
silver loving cup to be given to the University woman who has the
highest scholarship this year. The winner of the prize [announced
later], was Estelle Brown Owen, of Fort Wayne. A similar gift is to
be offered each year.

The honorary degree, LL.D., was conferred on four persons:
John Merle Coulter, Ph.D. '84, Joseph Swain, '83, Enoch Albert
Bryan, '78, and Horace A. Hoffman, '81. In presenting Dr. Coulter,
Professor Arthur L. Foley, '90, head of the physics department in
the University, said:

Centennial Memorial Volume 339

Mr. President, John Merle Coulter was born in China, the son
of American missionary parents who early returned to Indiana to
live. He received his bachelor's degree at Hanover College in 1870,
his master's degree in 1873, and his doctor's degree at Indiana Uni-
versity, 1882. He was for five years professor of natural science at
Hanover, two years professor of biology at Wabash, two years
(1891 to 1893) professor of botany and president of Indiana Uni-
versity, and three years president of Lake Forest. Since 1896 he
has been professor and head of the department of botany of the
University of Chicago. He founded the Botanical Gazette in 1875
and has remained its editor for forty-five years. He is the author
of several textbooks and of a large number of papers descriptive of
his scientific investigations in systematic botany and morphology, in
which he is a recognized authority. He is a member of the National
Academy and of many other learned societies of America and
Europe, past president of many of them, the retiring president of the
American Association.

In recognition of his distinguished career as a scholar, edu-
cator, investigator, editor, author, and executive, he is presented for
the degree of doctor of laws.

Joseph Swain was introduced by Secretary John W. Cravens,
'97, who paid him the following tribute:

Joseph Swain, born in Indiana, he has reflected honor upon
his native state; graduate of Indiana University, he has brought
additional renown to his Alma Mater ; professor in a sister institution
of the West, he left his impress there ; president of a sister institu-
tion of the East, his genius as an executive brought to the college
still greater strength and opportunity for service; professor in Indi-
ana University and, later, for nine epoch-making years, its president,
his record for achievement was eminent; father of the fraction-of-
a-mill tax that placed the institution on a firm financial basis; co-
worker with his wife, Frances Morgan Swain, in starting the move-
ment which resulted in the erection of the Student Building; dis-
tinguished as a judge of men ; a diplomat of the highest type when
diplomacy is demanded; man of indomitable will when justice is at
stake; as an individual, educator, and executive, he has stood for
character and culture; loyalty to friends has ever been one of his
chief virtues; he has been prominent and influential in the edu-
cational affairs of state and nation ; for all these things and more,

340 Indiana University

Indiana University is deeply indebted to him, and in grateful recog-
nition, he is presented for the institution's highest academic degree,
doctor of laws.

Enoch Albert Bryan, brother of President William Lowe Bryan,
received the degree after being presented by Professor James A.
Woodburn, '76, head of the history department of the University,
who spoke thus:

Ladies and gentlemen, upon the initiative of members of our
faculty without consultation with our president and without his
knowledge, it was unanimously voted by the faculty and Board of
Trustees that the honorary degree of doctor of laws (LL.D.) be con-
ferred upon Enoch Albert Bryan, commissioner of education of
Idaho.

Mr. President, in accordance with this vote of the University
authorities, I have the honor to present for the degree of doctor of
laws your brother, Enoch Albert Bryan, bachelor of arts, Indiana
University, 1878; master of arts, Harvard University, 1893; doctor
of laws, Monmouth College, 1902, Michigan Agricultural College,
1907; president of Vincennes University, from 1882 to 1893; presi-
dent of the State College of Washington, from 1893 to 1916; com-
missioner of education of the state of Idaho since 1917. A college
president and administrator of distinguished success; a builder of
a great educational institution in the state of Washington, to whose
early beginnings and progress he has given nearly a quarter of a
century of unselfish and courageous service, a service not excelled
in the field of education in the great Northwest; a constructive
leader of educational opinion ; a thoughtful and productive student
of the problems of education in their relation to agriculture, to the
mechanic arts, to the material resources of the nation and the wel-
fare of the people ; at present the head of the educational system of the
state of Idaho; a true teacher, a devoted friend and guide to aspiring
youth; a man, among the greatest of Indiana's sons, whose dis-
tinguished career has reflected honor upon himself and his Alma
Mater.

Horace A. Hoffman, '81, professor of Greek, dean of the Col-
lege of Liberal Arts, and vice-president of the University, who re-
tires August 1 on a Carnegie pension, was presented by Professor
Ulysses G. Weatherly, head of the department of economics and
sociology in the University. He spoke these words of his colleague :

Centennial Memorial Volume 341

Mr. President, I present to you for the degree doctor of laws,
Horace Addison Hoffman, bachelor of arts, Indiana, 1881 ; master
of arts, Harvard, 1884; instructor in Latin and Greek, 1881-83;
professor of Greek, 1885-1920; dean of the College of Liberal Arts,
1894-1920; vice-president, 1919-20. A wise counsellor, a fear-
less and capable executive, a representative of the best traditions of
scholarship, he now lays down his academic office with the respect
of the public and the affectionate regard of his colleagues.

David Starr Jordan received the LL.D. degree from Indiana
University in 1909.

The president's address to the senior class follows:
WILLIAM LOWE BRYAN
PARADISE

Two men, a poet and a physician — the poet was Maeterlinck
and I use his language — stood on a hill in Normandy overlooking a
plain where peasants were harvesting wheat. The distant scene was
very lovely. Overhead a magnificent sky. Far away the ocean.
By it the parish church with its cluster of lime trees and its homely
graveyard. And yonder the peasants, men and women, with simple,
strong, rhythmic movements building in the wheat stack what the
physician calls their monument of life. The distant scene, says he,
the air of evening weave their joyous cries into a kind of song with-
out words which replies to the noble song of the leaves as they
whisper over head.

When the two men had for a time sensed from afar this ex-
quisite pastoral symphony — type of all pastoral poems and songs —
they drew near where the peasants were at work. Then all the
beauty vanished. The physician noted that they suffered from the
curses of overwork and vice. Some were alcoholic, diseased, de-
formed, imbecile. Some he knew to be mean, avaricious, jealous,
obscene. I could give you, said he, the minutest details of the mean-
ness, deceit, injustice, malice which underlie this picture of ethereal
toil. This, he declared, is the truth of practical life based upon the
most precise and only facts which we can observe and test.

But then, the physician continued, let us look again. Let us not
reject a single one of these sordid facts. But let us see also the

JThe story of the "Three Distances" is condensed (quoted and paraphrased) from Maeterlinck's
Life of the Bee, pages 328-344 (translated by Sutro).

342 Indiana University

great and curious force which lies back of them. Lowly as they
are, these peasants are not so low as their ancestors before the
French Revolution. Just as they are, they share in the upward
struggle of life and mind.

What one thinks of life as a whole, says Maeterlinck, and of
almost every moment of it depends upon whether he sees it from
the first or the second or the third of these three distances — far off
in the glow of romance, close up to its ugly worst, or inside where
life makes its upward fight.

These three views show the three estates of men.

I. PARADISE

The first is Paradise. Paradise of children, Paradise of poets,
Paradise of those who expect at once the Age of Gold. It is the
Land where Santa Claus is still alive. It is the Land of Song where

The year's at the spring
And the day's at the morn ;

The lark's on the wing;

God's in his heaven —
All's right with the world!

All's right with the world. So thought the captive Jew in
Babylon. The warfare of his people was accomplished, their
iniquities were pardoned, their afflictions overpast. They were now
to go back and reign in a glorified Jerusalem to which the drome-
daries of Midian and the flocks of Kedar and the ships of Tarshish
and the kings of strangers would come bringing the wealth and
homage of the world.

All's right with the world. So thought the French Republicans
in 1790 when two hundred thousand of them, men and women, rich
and poor, ran together with spades and barrows to erect on the
Field of Mars an Altar of Liberty. A year before they had pulled
down the Bastille. With it they had pulled down the world-old
tyrannies of Church and State. And now they were to establish
the reign of Liberty, Equality, and Fraternity forevermore.

All's right with the world. So thought our liberated blacks in
1865. I remember a song they sang in honor of one of their
prophets who had foretold the good day and who had left the dying
charge that he be wakened from his grave for the Great Jubilee. In
'65 they thought that the Great Jubilee was at hand and sang:

Centennial Memorial Volume 343

The good time's coming,

It's almost here.

It's been long, long, long on the way.

Now run tell Elijah

To hurry up Pomp

To meet us at the gum tree

Down by the swamp

To wake Nicodemus today.

All's right with the world. So thought millions of men and
women, in all the warring nations on Armistice Day of 1918. War
is at an end, they cried. We have finished with war in this horrible
four-year Armageddon. We have been tormented with sword and
with hunger and with death. We have drunk of the wine of the
wrath of God which was poured out without mixture into the cup
of His indignation. But all that is now past. The oppression of
the laborer is past. The oppression of the backward races and of
the little nations is past. The wicked devices of secret diplomacy,
with its secret covenants, secretly arrived at — all that is past. The
Age of Gold has come. We have found Paradise.

II. PARADISE LOST

But, alas, it is hard to stay in Paradise. Clergymen with nicely
laundered voices hush the memory of Adam's fall and the Lamenta-
tions of Jeremiah and the despair of Ecclesiastes and the torments
of Job and the hell of John Calvin and make the text read: "Except
ye repent (in a degree) and be converted (to an extent) ye shall be
damned (in a measure) . " But that text will not do for the physician
who every day sees disease at its ugliest. It will not do for the
social physician who finds in several districts of one Indiana town-
ship more than half the children imbecile as a result of vice. And
that jellyfish text will not now do for any of us who find a World
Peace of bloodshed and wholesale starvation not less dreadful than
the World War. No wonder we have the great pessimists Moliere,
Schopenhauer, Swift, Nietsche. Shakespeare, the greatest of them,
did not imagine any city or state in which a great and good man
could succeed or even survive except as a hermit. Shakespeare has
no hero. Brutus and Hamlet go down to death and the generous
but disillusioned Timon cries

. . . . All is oblique

There's nothing level in our cursed natures

But direct villany. Therefore be abhorred

All feasts, societies, and throngs of men.

Timon will to the woods where he shall find
The unkindest beast more kinder than mankind.

344 Indiana University

III. PARADISE REGAINED

Nevertheless — It is possible to know the worst and not be a
pessimist — to meet the worst without fear, without surrender.

The scholar at his best does so. The scholar undertakes to
destroy the plagues, yellow fever, tuberculosis, syphilis, and the rest.

The scholar undertakes to destroy the conditions which multiply
the epileptic, the blind, the imbecile.

The scholar undertakes to fight poverty by finding new and
unlimited energies in place of coal and by furnishing the conditions
for economic liberty which underlies political liberty.

The scholar knows the physical hells better than anyone else
and he is not afraid. Without fear, without haste, without rest, he
goes about to destroy them and to make not a new heaven but a new
earth. In all these things this University, thruout its hundred
years, has played and now plays its part.

Still greater is the work of poet and prophet. These men do
not give us food or coal or medicine. They give us a more neces-
sary thing. They teach us with what will to meet the meanness,
uncleanness, cruelty, treachery, and hate which are everywhere
among men and in all human institutions. They are not all alike,
these men. They are of every sort. There are almost four hun-
dred of you graduates and you have every variety of disposition and
of experience. But the one of you whose experience is most bitter
and whose disposition is most black can find a great man who is
like yourself, — who has met the worst that you have met and has
fought his way thru. One like Elijah fights to the end with the
courage of despair. One like William James fights not with despair,
with cheer rather and exultation, a tiumpet at his lips. One like
Booker Washington is victim of a race hatred from which there
seems no escape — and he escapes. No man — I heard him say it — no
race shall degrade me by making me hate them. One like Lincoln
faces the tragic years with grief but also with laughter, with un-
broken patience and unbroken will.

Does no one of these men win you to his banner of faith and
of battle?

Then I show you a greater sight.

I show you the countless multitude of nameless men and women
who come up thru the awful centuries covered with dust and
blood but who never quite despair and who never surrender. Jew
and Greek, Barbarian and Scythian, Scholar and Clown, Publican,
Thief and Harlot — how different they are, how alike they are — the
glory and shame of the world!

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Go up above them if you can — as far as you can — into the world
of beauty and goodness even as the Son of Man went up into the
Mountain of Transfiguration.

But you can never go high enough alone to reach Paradise.

You must go down with the Son of Man into the thick of the
struggling multitude. You belong with them. You are of one
blood and of like passions with them. You must march with them.
You must march in the dread pageant which goes to Golgotha. It
may be to hang there between thieves, and it may be to find victory
when you can say to one of them: Brother, this day together we
enter Paradise.

UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LI